Lustrum

man who founded this city, so you and your descendants will be able to hold in honour the man who has saved the city
.'
    'What?' exclaimed Atticus. 'I don't remember him saying that.'
    'Well he didn't,' I replied. 'For him to have compared himself to Romulus at such a moment would have seemed absurd. And listen to this.' I lowered my voice and looked around to make sure Cicero was nowhere near. '
In recognition of such great services
,
citizens, I shall demand of you no reward for my valour, no signal mark of distinction, no monument in my honour, except that this day be remembered for all time, and that the immortal gods should be thanked that there have arisen at such a moment in our history two men, one of whom has carried your empire to the limits not of earth but of heaven, and one who has preserved the home and seat of this empire …
'
    'Let me see that,' demanded Atticus. He grabbed the speech from my hands and read it through, shaking his head in disbelief. 'Putting yourself on the same level as Romulus is one thing: comparing yourself with Pompey is quite another. It would be dangerous enough if someone else said it about him, but for him to say it about
himself
… ? Let's just hope Pompey doesn't get to hear of it.'
    'He's bound to.'
    'Why?'
    'I've been ordered to send him a copy.' Once again I checked that no one was listening. 'Forgive me, sir, if I am speaking out of turn,' I said, 'but I'm becoming quite concerned about him. He's not been the same since the executions. He isn't sleeping well, he won't listen to anyone, and yet he can't bear to spend even an hour by himself. I think the sight of the dead men has affected him – you know how squeamish he is.'
    'It's not his delicate stomach that's troubling him, it's his conscience. If he were entirely satisfied that what he did was right, he wouldn't feel the need to justify himself so endlessly.'
    It was a shrewd remark, and I feel sorrier for Cicero in retrospect than I did at the time, for it must be a lonely business trying to turn oneself into a public monument. However, by far his greatest folly was not the vainglorious letter to Pompey, or the endless boasting, or the amended speeches: it was a house.
    Cicero was not the first politician, and I am sure he will notbe the last, to covet a house beyond his means. In his case the property was the boarded-up mansion on the Palatine next to Celer's on Victory Rise that he had noticed when he went to persuade the praetor to take command of the army against Catilina. It now belonged to Crassus, but before that it had been the property of the immensely wealthy tribune M. Livius Drusus. The story went that the architect who built it had promised Drusus he would make sure he was not overlooked by any of his neighbours. 'No,' responded Drusus, 'rather construct it so that all my fellow citizens may see everything I do.' That was the sort of place it was: high up on the hill, tall, wide and ostentatious, easily visible from every part of the forum and the Capitol. Celer's house was on one side of it, and on the other was a large public garden and a portico that had been put up by Catulus's father. I do not know who planted the idea of buying the house in Cicero's head. I fancy it might have been Clodia. Certainly she told him over dinner one night that it was still on the market and that it would be 'wonderfully amusing' to have him as a next-door neighbour. Naturally that was enough to set Terentia dead against the purchase from the start.
    'It is modern and it is vulgar,' she told him. 'It is a parvenu's idea of where a gentleman might live.'
    'I am the Father of the Nation. The people will like the idea that I am looking down on them in a paternal manner. And it's where we deserve to be, up there among the Claudii, the Aemilii Scauri, the Metelli – the Ciceros are a great family now. Besides, I thought you hated this place.'
    'It's not moving in principle I object to, husband; it's moving
there
. And how can you possibly afford it? It's one of the largest houses in Rome – it must be worth at least ten million.'
    'I shall go and talk to Crassus. Maybe he'll let me have it cheap.'
    Crassus's own mansion, which was also on the Palatine, was deceptively modest on the outside, especially for a man who was rumoured to have eight thousand amphorae filled with silver coin. Inside he sat with his abacus and his account books and the team of slaves and freedmen who ran his business interests. I accompanied