Brutus spoke first, and although I can remember his sombre opening line – ‘As my noble ancestor Junius Brutus drove the tyrant-king Tarquin from the city, so today have I rid us of the tyrant-dictator Caesar’ – the rest of it I have forgotten. That was the problem. He had obviously laboured hard over it for days, and no doubt as an essay on the wickedness of despotism it read well. But as Cicero had long tried to convince him, a speech is a performance, not a philosophical discourse: it must appeal to the emotions more than to the intellect. A fiery oration at that moment might have transformed the situation – might have inspired the crowd to defend the Forum and their liberty from the soldiers who even now were massing on the Field of Mars. But Brutus gave them a lecture that was three parts history to one part political theory. I could hear Cicero beside me muttering under his breath. It did not help that while he was speaking, Brutus’s wound began to bleed beneath its bandage; one was distracted from what he was saying by that gory reminder of what he had done.
After what felt like a long time, Brutus ended to applause best described as thoughtful. Cassius spoke next, and not badly either, for he had taken lessons in oratory from Cicero in Tusculum. But he was a professional soldier who had spent little time in Rome: he was respected but he was not much known, let alone loved. He received less applause even than Brutus. The disaster, however, was Cinna. He was an orator of the old-fashioned, melodramatic school, and tried to inject some passion into proceedings by tearing off his praetorian robe and hurling it from the rostra, denouncing it as the gift of a despot that he was ashamed to be seen wearing. The hypocrisy was too much to bear. Someone yelled out, ‘You didn’t say that yesterday!’ The remark was cheered, which emboldened another heckler to shout: ‘You’d have been nothing without Caesar, you old has-been!’ In the chorus of jeering, Cinna’s voice was lost – and the meeting with it.
Cicero said, ‘Now this is a fiasco.’
‘You are the orator,’ said Decimus. ‘Will you say something to retrieve the situation?’ and to my horror I saw that Cicero was tempted. But at that moment Decimus was handed a new report that Lepidus’s legion appeared to be moving towards the city. He beckoned urgently to the praetors to come down off the rostra, and with as much confidence as we could muster, which was little, we all trooped back up to the Capitol.
It was typical of Brutus’s other-worldliness that he should have believed right up until the last moment that Lepidus would never dare to break the law by bringing an army across the sacred boundary and into Rome. After all, he assured Cicero, he knew the Master of Horse extremely welclass="underline" Lepidus was married to his sister Junia Secunda (just as Cassius was married to his half-sister Junia Tertia).
‘Believe me, he’s a patrician through and through. He won’t do anything illegal. I have always found him an absolute stickler for dignity and protocol.’
And at first it seemed he might be right, as the legion, after crossing the bridge and moving towards the city walls, halted on the Field of Mars and pitched camp about half a mile away. Then soon after nightfall, we heard the plaintive notes of the war horns. They set the dogs barking in the walled compound of the temple and sent us hurrying out to see what was going on. Heavy cloud obscured the moon and stars but the distant lights of the legion’s campfires shone clearly in the darkness. Even as we watched, the fires seemed to splinter and rearrange themselves into snakes of fire.
Cassius said, ‘They are marching with torches.’
A line of light began wavering along the road towards the Carmenta Gate. Presently on the moist night air we heard the faint tramp of the legionaries’ boots. The gate was almost directly beneath us, obscured from sight by outcrops of rock. Lepidus’s vanguard found it locked and hammered for admittance and cried out to the porter. But I guess he must have run away. There was a long interval when nothing happened. Then a battering ram was brought up. A series of heavy thuds was followed by the noise of splintering wood. Men cheered. Leaning over the parapet, we watched the legionaries with their torches slip quickly through the ruptured gate, deploy around the base of the Capitol and fan out across the Forum to secure the main public buildings.
Cassius said, ‘Will they attack us tonight, do you think?’
‘Why should they,’ replied Decimus bitterly, ‘when they can take us at their leisure in the daylight?’ The anger in his tone suggested he held the others responsible, that he regarded himself as having fallen in among fools. ‘Your brother-in-law, Brutus, has proved more ambitious and more daring than you led me to believe.’
Brutus, his foot tapping ceaselessly, did not respond.
Dolabella said, ‘I agree, a night attack would be too hazardous. Tomorrow is when they’ll make their move.’
Now Cicero spoke up. ‘The question is surely whether Lepidus is acting in alliance with Antony or not. If he is, then our position is frankly hopeless. If he isn’t, then I doubt Antony will want him to have the sole glory of wiping out Caesar’s assassins. That, gentlemen, I fear, is our best hope.’
Cicero was now obliged to take his chances with the rest: it would have been far too risky to attempt to leave – not in darkness, with the place surrounded by potentially hostile soldiers and with Antony at large in the city. So there was nothing for it except to settle down for the night. It was to our advantage that the summit of the Capitol can only be approached in four ways: by the Moneta Steps to the north-east, the Hundred Steps to the south-west (the route we had climbed that afternoon) and by the two routes that lead up from the Forum – one a flight of stairs, the other a steep road. Decimus strengthened the guard of gladiators at the top of each and then we all retreated to the Temple of Jupiter.
I cannot say we got much rest. The temple was damp and chilly, the benches hard, the memory of the day’s events too vivid. The dim light from the lamps and candles played upon the stern faces of the gods; from the shadows of the roof the wooden eagles looked down with disdain. Cicero talked for a while with Quintus and Atticus – quietly, so as not to be overheard. He couldn’t believe how ill-thought-out the assassination had been. ‘Was ever a deed carried through with such manly resolution and yet such childish judgement? If only they had brought me into their confidence! I could at least have told them that if you are going to kill the devil, there’s no point in leaving his apprentice alive. And how could they have neglected Lepidus and his legion? Or let an entire day go by with no attempt to seize control of the government?’
The edge of frustration in his voice, if not the words themselves, must have carried to Brutus and Cassius, who were sitting nearby, and I saw them look across at Cicero and frown. He noticed them too. He lapsed into silence and sat propped up against a pillar, huddled in his toga, doubtless brooding on what had been done, what hadn’t, and what might be done yet.
With the dawn it became possible to see the main event that had occurred overnight. Lepidus had moved perhaps a thousand men into the city. The smoke from their cooking fires rose over the Forum. A further three thousand or so remained encamped on the Field of Mars.
Cassius, Brutus and Decimus convened a meeting to discuss what should be done. Cicero’s proposal of the previous day, that they should summon the Senate to the Capitol, had plainly been overtaken by events. Instead it was decided that a delegation of ex-consuls, none of whom had been party to the assassination, should go to the house of Mark Antony and ask him formally, as consul, to convene the Senate. Servius Sulpicius, C. Marcellus and L. Aemilius Paullus, the brother of Lepidus, all volunteered to go, but Cicero refused to join them, arguing that the group would do better to approach Lepidus directly: ‘I don’t trust Antony. Besides, any agreement reached with him will only have to be approved by Lepidus, who at the moment is the man with the power, so why not deal with him and cut out Antony altogether?’ But Brutus’s argument that Antony had legal if not military authority carried the day, and in the middle of the morning the former consuls set off, preceded by an attendant carrying a white flag of truce.