Lustrum

our republic. I intend that every man here who desires to speak shall have the chance to do so. I do not mean to express a view myself—' He held up his hand to quell the objections. 'No one can say I have not played the part of leader in this matter. But henceforth I wish to be the senate's servant, and whatever you decide, you may be sure I shall put into effect. I would rule only that your decision must be reached today, before nightfall. We cannot delay. Your punishment, whatever form it takes, must be a swift one. I now call Decimus Junius Silanus to give his opinion.'
    It was the privilege of the senior consul-elect always to speak first in debates, but I am sure that on that particular day it was an honour Silanus would happily have forgone. Up to now I have not had much to say about Silanus, in part because I find it hard to remember him: in an age of giants, he was a dwarf – respectable, grey, dull, prone to bouts of ill health and enervating gloom. He would never have won the prize in a thousand years but for theenergy and ambition of Servilia, who was so determined that her three daughters should have a consul for a father, she made herself Caesar's mistress to further her husband's career. Glancing occasionally with nervous eyes along the front bench to the man who was cuckolding him, Silanus spoke haltingly of the competing claims of justice and mercy, of security and liberty, of his friendship with Lentulus Sura and his hatred of traitors. What was he driving at? It was impossible to tell. Finally Cicero had to ask him directly what penalty he was recommending. Silanus took a deep breath and closed his eyes. 'Death,' he said.
    The senate stirred as the dreadful word was spoken. Murena was called next. I could see why Cicero had favoured him to be consul over Servius at a time of crisis. There was something solid and four-square about him as he stood with his legs apart and his pudgy hands on his hips. 'I am a soldier,' he said. 'Rome is at war. Out in the countryside women and children are being ravished, temples pillaged, crops destroyed; and now our vigilant consul has discovered that similar chaos was being plotted in the mother city. If I found men in my camp planning to set it afire and murder my officers, I would not hesitate for an instant to order their execution. The penalty for the traitors is always, must be – and can only be – death.'
    Cicero worked his way along the front bench, calling one ex-consul after another. Catulus made a blood-curdling speech about the horrors of butchery and arson and also came out firmly in support of death; so did the two Lucullus brothers, Piso, Curio, Cotta, Figulus, Volcacius, Servilius, Torquatus and Lepidus; even Caesar's cousin Lucius came down reluctantly for the supreme penalty. Taken together with Silanus and Murena, that made fourteen men of consular rank all arguing for the same punishment. No voice was raised against. It was so one-sided, Cicerolater told me he feared he might be accused of rigging the vote. After several hours during which nothing had been heard except demands for death, he rose and asked if there was any man who wished to propose a different sentence. All heads naturally turned to Caesar. But it was an ex-praetor, Tiberius Claudius Nero, who was the first on his feet. He had been one of Pompey's commanders in the war against the pirates, and he spoke on his chief's behalf. 'Why are we in such a hurry, gentlemen? The conspirators are safely under lock and key. I believe we should summon Pompey the Great home to deal with Catilina. Once the leader is defeated, then we can decide at our leisure what to do with his minions.'
    When Nero had finished, Cicero asked, 'Does anyone else wish to speak against an immediate sentence of death?'
    That was when Caesar slowly uncrossed his legs and rose to his feet. Immediately a great cacophony of shouts and jeering rang out, but Caesar had obviously anticipated this and had prepared his response. He stood with his hands behind his back, patiently waiting until the noise had died down. 'Whoever, gentlemen, is pondering a difficult question,' he said in his quietly threatening voice, 'ought to clear his mind of all hatred and anger, as well as affection and compassion. It isn't easy to discern the truth if one gives way to emotion.' He uttered the last word with such stinging contempt, it had the effect of briefly silencing his opponents. 'You may ask why I oppose the death