Cicero refused to believe it. Only when he read Decimus’s letter did he have to concede there was no doubt. ‘But Hirtius is dead as well – killed while storming Antony’s camp. I have a letter here from young Caesar confirming that he has taken custody of the body.’
‘Both consuls are dead?’
‘It’s unimaginable.’ Cicero appeared so dazed by the news, I thought he might topple backwards down the steps. ‘In the entire existence of the republic, only eight consuls have died during their year in office. Eight – in nearly five hundred years! And now we lose two in the same week!’
Some of the passing senators had stopped to look at them. Conscious that they were being overheard, Cicero drew Cornutus to one side and spoke to him in a quiet, urgent voice. ‘This is a dark moment, but we must live through it. Nothing can be allowed to impede our pursuit and destruction of Antony. That is the alpha and omega of our policy. There are plenty of our colleagues who will try to exploit this tragedy to create mischief.’
‘Yes, but who will command our forces in the absence of the consuls?’
Cicero made a sound that was something between a groan and a sigh and put his hand to his brow. What a mess this made of all his careful planning, of all his delicate balancing of power! ‘Well, I suppose there’s no alternative. It will have to be Decimus. He’s the senior in age and experience, and he’s the governor of Nearer Gaul.’
‘What about Octavian?’
‘Leave Octavian to me. But we will need to vote him the most extraordinary thanks and honours if we’re to keep him in our camp.’
‘Is it wise to make him up to be so mighty? One day he’ll turn on us, I’m sure of it.’
‘Perhaps he will. But we can deal with him later. He can be raised, praised and erased.’
It was the sort of cynical remark Cicero often made for effect: a play on words; a knowing joke, nothing more. Cornutus said, ‘Very good, I must remember that – raised, praised, erased.’ Then the two discussed how best to break the news to the Senate, what motions should be proposed and how the votes should be taken, and after that they proceeded into the temple.
‘The nation has sustained a triumph and a tragedy in the same breath,’ Cicero told the silent Senate. ‘A mortal danger has been lifted but only at a mortal price. The news has just been received that we have won a second and decisive victory at Mutina. Antony is in flight with his few remaining followers, to where we do not know – to the north, to the mountains, to the gates of hell itself for all we care!’ (My notes record cheers at this point.) ‘But gentlemen, I have to tell you: Hirtius is dead. Pansa is dead.’ (Gasps, cries, protests.) ‘The gods demanded a sacrifice in expiation for our weakness and our folly over recent months and years, and our two gallant consuls have paid it in full measure. In due course their earthly remains will be returned to the city. We will lay them to rest with solemn honours. We will build a great monument to their valour that men will gaze upon for a thousand years. But we will honour them best by finishing the task they so nearly completed and extirpating Antony once and for all. (Applause.)
‘I propose that in the light of the loss of our consuls at Mutina, and mindful of the need to prosecute the war to its end, Decimus Junius Albinus be appointed commander-in-chief of the Senate’s armies in the field and that Gaius Julius Caesar Octavianus should be his deputy in all matters; and that in recognition of their brilliant generalship, heroism and success, the name of Decimus Junius Albinus should be added to the Roman calendar to mark his birthday for eternity, and that Gaius Julius Caesar Octavianus should be awarded the honour of an ovation as soon as it is convenient for him to come to Rome to receive it.’
The ensuing debate was full of mischief. As Cicero wrote to Brutus, That day I realised that gratitude has considerably fewer votes in the Senate than spite. Isauricus, as jealous of Octavian as he had been of Antony, objected to the idea of awarding him an ovation, which would allow him to parade with his legions through Rome. In the end Cicero was only able to carry his proposal by agreeing to give Decimus the even greater honour of a triumph. A commission of ten men was set up to settle the remuneration, in cash and land, of all the soldiers: the idea was to draw them away from Octavian, reduce their bounty and put them on the payroll of the Senate. To add insult to this injury, neither Octavian nor Decimus was invited to join the commission. Calenus, dressed in mourning, also demanded that his son-in-law’s doctor, Glyco, be arrested and examined under torture if necessary to determine whether Pansa’s death was murder: ‘Remember we were assured to begin with that his injuries were not serious, but now we can see that certain persons stand to gain greatly by his removal’ – an obvious reference to Octavian.
All in all it was a bad day’s work, and Cicero had to sit down that night and explain to Octavian what had happened.
I am sending you by the same courier the resolutions that have today been agreed by the Senate. I hope you will accept the logic of our placing you and your soldiers under the command of Decimus, just as you were previously subordinate to the consuls. The Commission of Ten is a bit of nonsense I shall try to have rescinded: give me time. You should have been there, my dear friend, to hear the encomia! The rafters rang with praise of your daring and loyalty, and I am glad to say that you will be the youngest commander in the history of the republic to be granted the distinction of an ovation. Press on with your pursuit of Antony, and keep that place in your heart for me that I keep in mine for you.
After that there was silence.
For a long time Cicero heard nothing from the theatre of operations. That was not surprising. It was remote, inhospitable country. He comforted himself by imagining Antony with his lonely band of followers struggling along the inaccessible narrow mountain passes while Decimus raced to try to cut him off. It was not until the thirteenth day of May that news arrived from Decimus – and then, as is often the way with these things, not one but three dispatches arrived all at once. I took them straight to Cicero in his study; he opened the document case greedily and read them aloud in order. The first was dated the twenty-ninth of April and put Cicero on his guard at once: I shall try to ensure that Antony is unable to maintain himself in Italy. I shall be after him immediately.
‘Immediately?’ said Cicero, checking again the date at the head of the letter. ‘What is he talking about? He’s already writing eight days after Antony fled Mutina …’
The next dispatch was written a week later, when Decimus was finally on the march:
The reasons, my dear Cicero, why I was unable to pursue Antony at once are these. I had no cavalry, no pack animals. I did not know of Hirtius’s death. I did not trust Caesar until I had met and talked to him. So the first day passed. Early on the next I had a message from Pansa summoning me to Bononia. As I was on my way, I received the report of his death. I hastened back to my own apology for an army. It is most sadly reduced and in very bad shape through lack of all the necessities. Antony got two days’ start of me and made far longer marches as the pursued than I as the pursuer, for he went helter-skelter, while I moved in regular order. Wherever he went he opened up the slave barracks and carried off the men, stopping nowhere until he reached Vada. He seems to have made up a pretty sizeable body. He may go to Lepidus.
If Caesar had listened to me and crossed the Apennines I should have put Antony in so tight a corner that he would have been finished by lack of supplies rather than cold steel. But there is no giving orders to Caesar, nor by Caesar to his army – both very bad things. What alarms me is how this situation can be straightened out. I cannot any longer feed my men.