By the time the ceremony was over, an immense full moon had risen like a blue sun and was casting an unhealthy light across the scene. It did at least have the merit of illuminating our path very clearly as we turned to descend, but then occurred two events that were to be talked about for weeks afterwards. First, the moon was suddenly and inexplicably blotted out, exactly as if it had been plunged into a black pool, and the procession, which had been relying on its light, was obliged to come to an abrupt and undignified halt while more torches were lit. The interruption did not last long, but it is strange how being stranded on a mountain path in darkness can work on one's imagination, especially if the vegetation around one is sown with hanging effigies. Quite a few voices were raised in panic, not least when it was realised that all the other stars and constellations were still shimmering brightly. I raised my eyes to the heavens with the rest, and that was when we saw a shooting star pointed at the tip like a flaming spear spurt across the night sky to the west, exactly in the direction of Rome, where it faded and vanished. Loud exclamations of wonder were followed by more mutterings in the dark as to what all this portended.
Cicero said nothing, but waited patiently for the procession to resume. Later that night, after we had safely reached Tusculum, I asked him what he made of it all. 'Nothing,' he replied, warming his chilled bones at the fire. 'Why should I? The moon went behind a cloud and a star crossed the sky. What else is there to be said?'
The following morning a message arrived from Quintus, who was looking after Cicero's interests back in Rome. Cicero read the letter and then showed it to me. It reported that a great wooden cross had been erected on the Field of Mars, rising starkly over the snowy plain, and that the plebs were flocking out of the city to look at it. 'Labienus is going around openly saying that the cross is for Rabirius, and that the old man will be hanging from it by the end of the month. You should return as soon as possible.'
'I will say one thing for Caesar,' said Cicero. 'He doesn't waste much time. His court hasn't even heard any evidence yet, but he wants to keep up the pressure on me.' He stared into the fire. 'Is the messenger still here?'
'He is.'
'Send a note ahead to Quintus and tell him we'll be back by nightfall, and another to Hortensius. Say I appreciated his visit the other day. Tell him I have thought the matter over and I shall be delighted to appear beside him in defence of Gaius Rabirius.' He nodded to himself. 'If it's a fight Caesar wants, he shall have one.' When I reached the door he called me back. 'Also, send one of the slaves to find Hybrida, and ask him if he would care to travel back with me in my carriage to Rome, to settle our arrangement. I need to have something in writing before Caesar gets to him and persuades him to change his mind.'
Thus I found myself later that day seated opposite one consul and next to the other, trying to write down the terms of their agreement as we bounced along the Via Latina. An escort of lictors rode ahead of us. Hybrida brought out a small flask of wine from which he took regular nips, occasionally offering it with a shaky hand to Cicero, who declined politely. I had never seen Hybrida for an extended period at such close quarters before. His once-noble nose was red and squashed broken in battle he always claimed, but everyone knew he had got it in a tavern brawl his cheeks were purple and his breath smelt so strongly of drink I felt I should go dizzy from the fumes. Poor Macedonia, I thought, to have such a creature as its governor. Cicero proposed that they should simply swap provinces, which would save having to put the matter to a vote in the senate. ('As you want,' said Hybrida. 'You're the lawyer.') In return for receiving Macedonia, Hybrida undertook to oppose the populists' bill and to support the defence of Rabirius. He also agreed to pay Cicero one quarter of the revenue he derived as governor. Cicero, for his part, promised to do his best to ensure that Hybrida's term was extended to two or three years, and to act as his defence counsel in the event that he was afterwards prosecuted for corruption. He hesitated over this last condition, as the chances of Hybrida being put on trial, given his character, were plainly high, but in the end he gave an undertaking and I wrote it down.
When the haggling was concluded, Hybrida produced his flask again, and this time Cicero consented to take a sip. I could tell by his expression that the wine was undiluted and not to his taste, but he pretended to find it pleasant, and then the two consuls settled back in their seats, seemingly satisfied at a job well done.
'I always thought,' said Hybrida, suppressing a burp, 'that you rigged that ballot for our provinces.'
'How could I have done that?'
'Oh, there are plenty of ways, as long as the consul's in on it. You can have the winning token hidden in your palm and substitute it for the one you draw. Or the consul can do it for you when he announces what you've got. So you really didn't do that?'
'No,' said Cicero, slightly affronted. 'Macedonia was mine by right.'
'Is that a fact?' Hybrida grunted and raised his flask. 'Well, we've fixed it now. Let's drink to fate.'
We had reached the plain, and the fields beyond the road stretched flat and bare. Hybrida started humming to himself.
'Tell me, Hybrida,' said Cicero after a while, 'did you lose a boy a few days ago?'
'A what?'
'A boy. About twelve years old.'
'Oh, him,' replied Hybrida, in an offhand way, as if he were in the regular habit of losing boys. 'You heard about that?'
'I didn't just hear about it, I saw what was done to him.' Cicero was suddenly staring at Hybrida with great intensity. 'As a mark of our new friendship, will you tell me what happened?'
'I'm not sure I should do that.' Hybrida gave Cicero a crafty look. Drunkard he might have been, but he was not without cunning, even in his cups. 'You've said some hard things about me in the past. I've got to get used to trusting you.'
'If you mean by that remark, will anything you say privately go beyond the two of us, let me put your mind at ease. We are now bound together, Hybrida, whatever may have happened between us earlier. I shan't do anything to jeopardise our alliance, which is at least as precious to me as it is to you, even if you tell me you killed the boy yourself. But I feel I need to know.'
'Very prettily put.' Hybrida burped again and nodded to me. 'And the slave?'
'He is utterly trustworthy.'
'Then have another drink,' said Hybrida, once more holding out the flask, and when Cicero hesitated he shook it in his face. 'Go on. I can't abide a man who stays sober while others drink.' So Cicero swallowed his distaste and took another gulp of wine, while Hybrida described what had happened to the boy as cheerfully as if he were relating a tale from a hunting trip. 'He was a Smyrnan. Very musical. I forget his name. He used to sing to my guests at dinner. I lent him to Catilina for a party just after Saturnalia.' He took another swig. 'Catilina really hates you, doesn't he?'
'Very prettily put.' Hybrida burped again and nodded to me. 'And the slave?'
'He is utterly trustworthy.'
'Then have another drink,' said Hybrida, once more holding out the flask, and when Cicero hesitated he shook it in his face. 'Go on. I can't abide a man who stays sober while others drink.' So Cicero swallowed his distaste and took another gulp of wine, while Hybrida described what had happened to the boy as cheerfully as if he were relating a tale from a hunting trip. 'He was a Smyrnan. Very musical. I forget his name. He used to sing to my guests at dinner. I lent him to Catilina for a party just after Saturnalia.' He took another swig. 'Catilina really hates you, doesn't he?'
'I expect so.'
'Me, I'm easier by nature. But Catilina? Oh no! He's a Sergius through and through. Can't bear the thought that he was beaten to the consulship by a common man, and a provincial to boot.' He pursed his lips and shook his head. 'After you won the election, I swear he lost his mind. Anyway, at this party he was pretty wild, and to cut a long tale short, he suggested we should swear an oath, a sacred oath, which required a sacrifice appropriate to the undertaking. He had my boy summoned, and told him to start singing. And then he got behind him and' Hybrida made a sweeping gesture with his fist 'bang. That was it. Quick at least. The rest I didn't stay for.'
'Are you telling me Catilina killed the boy?'
'He split his skull.'
'Dear gods! A Roman senator! Who else was present?'
'Oh, you know Longinus, Cethegus, Curius. The usual gang.'
'So four members of the senate five including you?'
'You can leave me out of it. I was sickened, I can tell you. That lad cost me thousands.'
'And what kind of oath appropriate to such an abomination did he have you all swear?'
'Actually, it was to kill you,' said Hybrida cheerfully, and raised his flask. 'Your health.' Then he burst out laughing. He laughed so much, he spluttered the wine. It leaked from his battered nose and trickled down his stubbled chin and stained the front of his toga. He brushed at it ineffectively, and then gradually the motions ceased. His hand dropped, he slowly nodded forwards, and very soon after that he fell asleep.
This was the first occasion on which Cicero heard of any conspiracy against him, and to begin with he was unsure how to respond. Was it just some piece of drunken, bestial debauchery, or was it to be taken as a serious threat? As Hybrida started snoring, Cicero gave me a look of infinite revulsion and passed the remainder of the journey in silence with his arms folded, a brooding expression on his face. As for Hybrida, he slept all the way to Rome, so deeply that when we reached his house he had to be lifted out of the carriage by the lictors and laid out in the vestibule. His slaves seemed entirely used to receiving their master in this fashion, and as we left, one was tipping a jug of water over the consul's head.
Quintus and Atticus were waiting when we arrived home, and Cicero quickly told them what he had heard from Hybrida. Quintus was all for making the story public at once, but Cicero was not convinced. 'And then what?' he asked.