Imperium - Харрис Роберт. Страница 78

We were kept back until the last of the senators had gone in, and then permitted to run to the bar of the house. I secured my usual decent vantage point beside the doorjamb and was immediately aware of someone squeezing in beside me. It was Atticus, looking white with nerves. “How does he find it within himself to do this?” he asked, but before I could say anything Figulus got up to report on the failure of his bill at the popular assembly. He droned on for a while, and then called on Mucius to explain his conduct in vetoing a measure which had been adopted by the house. There was an oppressive, restless air in the chamber. I could see Catilina and Hybrida among the aristocrats, with Catulus seated just in front of them on the consular bench, and Crassus a few places along from him. Caesar was on the same side of the chamber, on the bench reserved for ex-aediles. Mucius got up and in a dignified way explained that his sacred office called on him to act in the interests of the people, and that the lex Figula, far from protecting those interests, was a threat to their safety and an insult to their honor.

“Nonsense!” shouted a voice from the opposite side of the aisle, which I recognized at once as Cicero’s. “You were bought!”

Atticus gripped my arm. “Here he goes!” he whispered.

Mucius continued. “My conscience-”

“Your conscience had nothing to do with it, you liar! You sold yourself like a whore!”

There came that low grumble of noise which is caused by several hundred men all muttering to one another at once, and suddenly Cicero was on his feet, his arm outstretched, demanding the floor. At that same moment I heard a voice behind me calling to be let through, and we shuffled out of the way to allow a late-arriving senator, who proved to be Hortensius, access to the chamber. He hurried down the aisle, bowed to the consul, and took his place next to Catulus, with whom he quickly struck up a whispered conversation. By this time Cicero’s supporters among the pedarii were bellowing that he should be allowed to speak, which, given that he was a praetorian, and outranked Mucius, he was undeniably entitled to do. Very reluctantly, Mucius allowed himself to be pulled down by the senators seated around him, whereupon Cicero pointed at him-his white-draped arm held out straight and rigid, like some statue of avenging Justice-and declared: “A whore you are, Mucius-yes, and a treacherous one at that, for only yesterday you declared to the popular assembly that I was not fit to be consul: I, the first man to whom you turned when you were prosecuted for robbery! Good enough to defend you, Mucius, but not good enough to defend the Roman people, is that it? But why should I care what you say about me, when the whole world knows you were paid to slander me?”

Mucius turned scarlet. He shook his fist and started shouting insults in return, but I could not make them out over the general tumult. Cicero regarded him with contempt, then held up his hand for silence. “But who is Mucius in any case?” he said, spitting out the name and dismissing it with a flick of his fingers. “Mucius is just one solitary whore in a whole hired troupe of common prostitutes. Their master is a man of noble birth, bribery his chosen instrument-and believe me, gentlemen, he plays it like a flute! He is a briber of juries, a briber of voters and a briber of tribunes. Little wonder he loathed our bill against bribery, and that the method he used to stop it should have been-bribery!” He paused and lowered his voice. “I should like to share some information with the house.” The Senate now went very quiet. “Last night, Antonius Hybrida and Sergius Catilina met, together with others, at the house of this man of noble birth-”

“Name him!” shouted someone, and for a moment I thought that Cicero might actually do so. He stared across the aisle at Crassus with such calculated intensity that he might as well have gone over and touched him on the shoulder, so clear was it whom he had in mind. Crassus sat up slightly in his seat and slowly leaned forward, never taking his eyes from Cicero; he must have wondered what was coming. One could feel the entire chamber holding its breath. But Cicero had different quarry to chase, and with an almost palpable effort of will, he dragged his gaze away from Crassus.

“This man, as I say, of noble birth, having bribed away the bribery bill, has a new scheme in mind. He intends now to bribe his way to the consulship, not for himself but for his two creatures, Hybrida and Catilina.”

Naturally, both men instantly jumped up to protest, as Cicero must have calculated they would. But as their rank was no higher than his, he was entitled to leave them standing. “Well, there they are,” he said, turning to the benches behind him, “the best that money can buy!” He let the laughter build and chose the perfect moment to add, “As we lawyers say-caveat emptor!”

Nothing is more injurious to a politician’s dignity and authority than to be mocked, and if it happens it is vitally important to appear entirely unconcerned. But Hybrida and Catilina, buffeted by gusts of merriment from every side, could not decide whether to remain defiantly standing or to sit and feign indifference. They ended up trying to do both, bobbing up and down like a pair of workmen at either end of a pump handle, which only increased the general hilarity. Catilina in particular was obviously losing his temper, for as with many arrogant men the one thing he could not abide was to be teased. Caesar tried to come to their rescue, rising to demand what point Cicero was trying to make, but Cicero refused to acknowledge his intervention, and the consul, enjoying himself like everyone else, declined to call Cicero to order.

“Let us take the lesser first,” continued Cicero, after both his targets had finally sunk back into their seats. “You, Hybrida, should never even have been elected praetor, and would not have been had I not taken pity on you, and recommended you to the centuries. You live openly with a courtesan, you cannot speak in public, you can barely remember your own name without the assistance of a nomenclator. You were a thief under Sulla, and a drunkard thereafter. You are, in short, a joke; but a joke of the worst sort-a joke that has gone on too long.”

The chamber was much quieter now, for these were insults which would oblige a man to be your enemy for life, and as Cicero turned toward Catilina, Atticus’s anxious grip on my arm tightened. “As for you, Catilina, is it not a prodigy and a portent of evil times that you should hope for, or even think of, the consulship? For from whom do you ask it? From the chiefs of the state, who, two years ago, refused even to allow you to stand for it? Do you ask it from the order of knights, which you have slaughtered? Or from the people, who still remember the monstrous cruelty with which you butchered their leader-my kinsman-Gratidianus, and carried his still-breathing head through the streets to the Temple of Apollo? Do you ask it from the senators, who by their own authority had almost stripped you of all your honors, and surrendered you in chains to the Africans?”

“I was acquitted!” roared Catilina, leaping back to his feet.

“Acquitted!” mocked Cicero. “You? Acquitted? You-who disgraced yourself by every sort of sexual perversion and profligacy, who dyed your hands in the wickedest murder, who plundered the allies, who violated the laws and the courts of justice? You, who married in adultery the mother of the daughter you first debauched? Acquitted? Then I can only imagine that Roman knights must have been liars; that the documentary evidence of a most honorable city was false; that Quintus Metellus Pius told lies; that Africa told lies. Acquitted! O wretched man, not to see that you were not acquitted by that decision, but only reserved for some more severe tribunal, and some more fearful punishment!”