Lustrum

Lucullus drove across the forum in his chariot, he was followed on horseback by Murena, who had finally arrived in Rome for the election, having left his province to the care of his brother. He received a great ovation from the multitudes. The consular candidate looked the very picture of a war hero, in his gleaming breastplate and gorgeous scarlet-plumed helmet, even though he had not fought in the army for years and had grown rather plump in Further Gaul. Both men dismounted and started climbing the steps to the Capitol, where Caesar waited with the College of Priests. Lucullus was ahead, of course, but his legate was only a few paces behind, and I appreciated then Cicero's genius in laying on what was in effect an immense election rally for Murena. Each of the veterans received a bounty of nine hundred and fifty drachmas, which in those days was about four years' pay, and then the entire city and the surrounding neighbourhoods weretreated to a lavish banquet. 'If Murena can't win after this,' Cicero observed to me, as he set off for the official dinner, 'he doesn't deserve to live.'
    The next day, the public assembly voted the bill of Servius and Cato into law. When Cicero returned home, he was met by Terentia. Her face was white and trembling but her voice was calm. She had just come from the Temple of the Good Goddess, she said. She had some terrible news. Cicero must brace himself. Her friend, that noble lady who had come to her to warn her of the plot against his life, had that morning been discovered dead in the alley beside her house. Her head had been smashed in from behind by a hammer, her throat cut and her organs removed.
    As soon as he had recovered from the shock, Cicero summoned Quintus and Atticus. They came at once and listened, appalled. Their first concern was for the consul's safety. It was agreed that a couple of men would stay in the house overnight and patrol the downstairs rooms. Others would escort him in public during the day. He would vary his route to and from the senate. A fierce dog would be acquired to guard the door.
    'And how long must I go on living like a prisoner? Until the end of my life?'
    'No,' responded Terentia, displaying her rare gift for getting to the heart of the matter, 'until the end of Catilina's life, because as long as he's in Rome, you'll never be safe.'
    He saw the wisdom of this, reluctantly grunted his assent, and Atticus went off to send a message to the Order of Knights. 'But why did he have to
kill
her?' Cicero wondered aloud. 'If he suspected she was my informant, why couldn't he simply have warned Curius not to speak openly in front of her?'
    'Because,' said Quintus, 'he likes killing people.'
    Cicero thought for a while, then turned to me. 'Send one of the lictors to find Curius, and tell him I want to see him, straight away.'
    'You mean to invite into your house someone who is part of a plot to murder you?' exclaimed Quintus. 'You must be mad!'
    'I won't be alone. You'll be here. He probably won't come. But if he does, at least we may find out something.' He glanced around at our worried expressions. 'Well? Does anyone have a better idea?'
    Nobody did, so I went out to the lictors, who were playing bones in a corner of the atrium, and ordered the most junior to find Curius and bring him back to the house.
    It was one of those endless hot summer days when the sun seems reluctant to sink, and I remember how still it was, the motes of dust motionless in the shafts of fading light. On such evenings, when the only sounds even in the city are the drone of insects and the soft trilling of the birds, Rome seems older than anywhere in the world; as old as the earth itself; entirely beyond time. How impossible it was to believe that forces were at work at its very heart – in the order of the senate – that might destroy it! We sat around quietly, too tense to eat the meal that had been set upon the table. The additional bodyguards ordered by Atticus arrived and stationed themselves in the vestibule. When, after an hour or two, the lengthening shadows made the house gloomy, and the slaves went round lighting the candles, I assumed that Curius either had not been found, or had refused to come. But then at last we heard the front door open and slam shut, and the lictor came in with the senator, who looked around him suspiciously – first at Cicero, then at Atticus, Quintus, Terentia and me, and then back at Cicero again. He certainlywas a handsome figure: one had