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 certainly was a handsome figure: one had to give him that. Gambling was his vice, not drink, and I suppose throwing dice leaves less of a mark upon a man.
'Well, Curius,' said Cicero quietly, 'this is a terrible business.'
'I'll talk to you alone, not in front of others.'
'Not talk in front of others? By the gods, you'll talk in front of the entire Roman people if I say so! Did you kill her?'
'Damn you, Cicero!' Curius swore, and lunged towards the consul, but Quintus was on his feet in a moment and blocked his way.
'Steady, Senator,' he warned.
'Did you kill her?' repeated Cicero.
'No!'
'But you know who did?'
'Yes! You!' Once more he tried to push his way past Quintus, but Cicero's brother was an old soldier, and stopped him easily. 'You killed her, you bastard,' he shouted again, struggling against Quintus's restraining arms, 'by making her your spy!'
'I'm prepared to bear my share of guilt,' replied Cicero, gazing at him coolly. 'Will you?'
Curius muttered something inaudible, pulled himself free of Quintus and turned away.
'Does Catilina know you're here?'
Curius shook his head.
'Well, that at least is something. Now listen to me. I'm offering you a chance, if you've brains enough to take it. You've hitched your fate to a madman. If you didn't know it before, you must realise it now. How did Catilina know she'd been to see me?'
Again Curius mumbled something no one could hear. Cicero cupped his hand to his ear. 'What? What are you saying?'
'Because I told him!' Curius glared at Cicero with tearful eyes. He struck his breast with his fist. 'She told me, and I told him!' And he struck himself again hard, hard, hard blows in the manner of some Eastern holy man lamenting the dead.
'I need to know everything. Do you understand me? I need names, places, plans, times. I need to know who exactly will strike at me, and in what location. It's treason if you don't tell me.'
'And treachery if I do!'
'Treachery against evil is a virtue.' Cicero got to his feet. He put his hands on Curius's shoulders and stared hard into his face. 'When your lady came to see me, it was your safety as much as mine that was her concern. She made me promise, on the lives of my children, that I would grant you immunity if this plot was ever exposed. Think of her, Curius, lying there beautiful, brave, broken. Be worthy of her love and her memory, and act now as you know she would have wanted.'
Curius wept; indeed, I could hardly restrain my own tears, such was the pitiful vision Cicero conjured up: that, and the promise of immunity, did the trick. When Curius had pulled himself together sufficiently, he promised to get word to Cicero the moment he heard any definite news of Catilina's plans. Thus Cicero's thin line of information from the enemy's camp remained intact.
He did not have long to wait.
The following day was election eve, and Cicero was due to preside over the senate. But because of the fear of an ambush, he had to follow a circuitous route, along the Esquiline and down to the Via Sacra. The journey took twice as long as usual, and it was mid-afternoon by the time we arrived. His curule chair was placed on the doorstep and he sat there in the shade, reading through some letters, surrounded by his lictors, waiting for the auguries to be taken. Several senators wandered over to ask if he had heard what Catilina was supposed to have said that morning. Apparently he had addressed a meeting in his house in the most inflammatory terms. Cicero replied that he had not, and sent me off to see if I could discover anything. I walked around the senaculum and approached one or two senators with whom I was on friendly terms. The place was certainly buzzing with rumours. Some said that Catilina had called for the richest men in Rome to be murdered, others that he had urged an uprising. I jotted a few sentences down, and was just returning to Cicero when Curius brushed past me and slipped into my hand a note. He was sickly white with terror. 'Give this to the consul,' he whispered, and before I could reply he was gone. I looked around. A hundred or more senators were talking in small groups. As far as I could tell, no one had seen the encounter.
Curius wept; indeed, I could hardly restrain my own tears, such was the pitiful vision Cicero conjured up: that, and the promise of immunity, did the trick. When Curius had pulled himself together sufficiently, he promised to get word to Cicero the moment he heard any definite news of Catilina's plans. Thus Cicero's thin line of information from the enemy's camp remained intact.
He did not have long to wait.
The following day was election eve, and Cicero was due to preside over the senate. But because of the fear of an ambush, he had to follow a circuitous route, along the Esquiline and down to the Via Sacra. The journey took twice as long as usual, and it was mid-afternoon by the time we arrived. His curule chair was placed on the doorstep and he sat there in the shade, reading through some letters, surrounded by his lictors, waiting for the auguries to be taken. Several senators wandered over to ask if he had heard what Catilina was supposed to have said that morning. Apparently he had addressed a meeting in his house in the most inflammatory terms. Cicero replied that he had not, and sent me off to see if I could discover anything. I walked around the senaculum and approached one or two senators with whom I was on friendly terms. The place was certainly buzzing with rumours. Some said that Catilina had called for the richest men in Rome to be murdered, others that he had urged an uprising. I jotted a few sentences down, and was just returning to Cicero when Curius brushed past me and slipped into my hand a note. He was sickly white with terror. 'Give this to the consul,' he whispered, and before I could reply he was gone. I looked around. A hundred or more senators were talking in small groups. As far as I could tell, no one had seen the encounter.
I hurried over to Cicero and handed him the message. I bent to his ear and whispered, 'It's from Curius.'
He opened it, studied it for a moment, and his face tensed. He passed it up to me. It said, You will be murdered tomorrow during the elections. At just that moment the augurs came up and declared that the auspices were propitious. 'Are you certain about that?' asked Cicero in a grim voice. Solemnly they assured him that they were. I could see him weighing in his mind what best to do. Finally he stood and indicated to his lictors that they should pick up his chair, and he followed them into the cool shadows of the senate chamber. The senators filed in behind us. 'Do we know what Catilina actually said this morning?'
'Not in any detail.'
As we walked up the aisle he said to me quietly, 'I fear this warning may have some substance to it. If you think about it, it's the one time when they can be sure precisely where I'll be on the Field of Mars, presiding over the ballot. And with all those thousands of people milling around, how easy it would be for ten or twenty armed men to hack their way through to me and take me down.' By this time we had reached the dais and the benches were filling. He glanced back, searching the white-robed figures. 'Is Quintus here?'