‘Perhaps there isn’t one. Perhaps he is sincere.’
Cicero shook his head. ‘No, he has some plan, but he’s keeping it well hidden. Certainly he’s more cunning than I gave him credit for.’
When the session resumed, it soon became not so much a debate as a negotiation. First Antony warned that when the news of the assassination reached the provinces, particularly Gaul, it might lead to widespread rebellion against Roman rule: ‘In the interests of maintaining strong government in a time of emergency, I propose that all the laws promulgated by Caesar, and all appointments of consuls, praetors and governors made before the Ides of March should be confirmed by the Senate.’
Then Cicero rose. ‘Including your own appointment, of course?’
Antony replied, with a first hint of menace, ‘Yes, obviously including my own – unless, that is, you object?’
‘And including Dolabella’s, as your fellow consul? That was Caesar’s wish as well, as I recall, until you blocked it by your auguries.’
I glanced across the temple to Dolabella, suddenly leaning forward in his place.
This was obviously a bitter draught for Antony to swallow – but swallow it he did. ‘Yes, in the interests of unity, if that is the will of the Senate – including Dolabella’s.’
Cicero pressed on. ‘And you confirm therefore that both Brutus and Cassius will continue as praetors, and afterwards will be the governors of Nearer Gaul and Syria, and that Decimus will in the meantime take control of Nearer Gaul, with the two legions already allotted to him?’
‘Yes, yes and yes.’ There were whistles of surprise, some groans and some applause. ‘And now,’ continued Antony, ‘will your side agree: all acts and appointments issued before Caesar’s death are to be confirmed by the Senate?’
Later Cicero said to me that before he rose to make his answer, he tried to imagine what Cato would have done. ‘And of course he would have said that if Caesar’s rule was illegal, it followed that his laws were illegal too and we should have new elections. But then I looked out of the door and saw the soldiers and asked myself how we could possibly have elections in these circumstances – there would be a bloodbath.’
Slowly Cicero got to his feet. ‘I cannot speak for Brutus, Cassius and Decimus, but speaking for myself, since it is to the advantage of the state, and on condition that what goes for one goes for all – yes, I agree that the Dictator’s appointments should be allowed to stand.’
‘I cannot regret it,’ he told me afterwards, ‘because I could have done nothing else.’
The Senate continued its deliberations for the whole of that day. Antony and Lepidus also laid a motion calling for Caesar’s grants to his soldiers to be ratified by the Senate, and in view of the hundreds of veterans waiting outside, Cicero could hardly dare to oppose that either. In return Antony proposed abolishing forever the title and functions of dictator; it passed without protest. About an hour before sunset, after issuing various edicts to the provincial governors, the Senate adjourned and walked through the smoke and squalor of the Subura to the Forum, where Antony and Lepidus gave an account to the waiting crowd of what had just been agreed. The news was greeted with relief and acclamation, and this sight of Senate and people in civic harmony was almost enough to make one imagine the old republic had been restored. Antony even invited Cicero up on to the rostra, the first time the ageing statesman had appeared there since he had addressed the people after his return from exile. For a moment he was too emotional to speak.
‘People of Rome,’ he said at last, gesturing to quiet the ovation, ‘after the agony and violence not just of the last few days but of the last few years, let past grievances and bitterness be set aside.’ Just at that moment a shaft of sunlight pierced the clouds, gilding the bronze roof of Jupiter’s temple on the Capitol, where the white togas of the conspirators were plainly visible. ‘Behold the sun of Liberty,’ cried Cicero, seizing the moment, ‘shining once again over the Roman Forum! Let it warm us – let it warm the whole of humanity – with the beneficence of its healing rays.’
Shortly afterwards Brutus and Cassius sent a message down to Antony that in view of what had been decided at the Senate, they were willing to leave their stronghold, but only on condition that he and Lepidus sent hostages to remain on the Capitol overnight as a guarantee of their safety. When Antony went up on to the rostra and read this aloud, there were cheers. He said, ‘As a token of my good faith, I am willing to pledge to them my own son – a lad of barely three, who the gods know I love more than any living thing. Lepidus,’ he said, holding out his hand to the Master of Horse who was standing next to him, ‘will you do the same with your son?’
Lepidus had little choice but to agree, and so the two boys – one a toddler, the other in his teens – were collected from their homes and taken with their attendants up on to the Capitol. As dusk fell, Brutus and Cassius appeared, descending the steps without an escort. Yet again the crowd roared its pleasure, especially when they shook hands with Antony and Lepidus, and accepted a public invitation to dine with them as a symbol of reconciliation. Cicero was also invited but he declined. Utterly exhausted by his efforts over the past two days, he went home to sleep.
At dawn the following day the Senate met again in the Temple of Tellus; and once again I went with Cicero.
It was astonishing to enter and see Brutus and Cassius sitting a few feet away from Antony and Lepidus and even from Caesar’s father-in-law, L. Calpurnius Piso. There were far fewer soldiers hanging around the door and the atmosphere was tolerant, indeed notable for a certain dark humour. For example when Antony rose to open the session he welcomed back Cassius in particular and said that he hoped this time he wasn’t carrying a concealed dagger, to which Cassius replied that he wasn’t, but would certainly bring a large one if ever Antony tried to set himself up as a tyrant. Everyone laughed.
Various items of business were transacted. Cicero proposed a motion thanking Antony for his statesmanship as consul, which had averted a civil war; it passed unanimously. Antony then proposed a complementary motion thanking Brutus and Cassius for their part in preserving the peace; that too was accepted without objection. Finally Piso rose to express his thanks to Antony for providing guards to protect his daughter Calpurnia and all Caesar’s property on the night of the assassination.
He went on: ‘It remains for us now to decide what to do with Caesar’s body and with Caesar’s will. As regards the body, it has been brought back from the Field of Mars to the residence of the chief priest, has been anointed and awaits cremation. As regards the will, I must tell the house that Caesar made a new one six months ago, on the Ides of September, at his villa near Lavicum, and sealed and deposited it with the Chief Vestal. No one knows its contents. In the spirit of openness and trust that has now been established, I move that both these things – the funeral and the reading of the will – should be conducted in public.’
Antony spoke strongly in favour of the proposal. The only senator who rose to object was Cassius. ‘This seems to me a dangerous course. Remember what happened the last time there was a public funeral for a murdered leader – when Clodius’s followers burned down the Senate house? Just as we’ve established a fragile peace, it would be insanity to put it at risk.’
Antony said, ‘From what I’ve heard, Clodius’s funeral was allowed to get out of hand by some who might have known better.’ He paused for laughter: everyone knew he was now married to Clodius’s widow, Fulvia. ‘As consul, I shall preside over Caesar’s funeral, and I can assure you order will be maintained.’