'And what's to stop Hybrida simply taking Macedonia off you and supporting the prosecution of Rabirius?' persisted Quintus.
'Why would he bother? His only reason for joining their schemes was money. Now he can pay off his debts without them. Besides, nothing's signed and sealed – I can always change my mind. And meanwhile by this noble gesture I show the people I'm a man of principle who puts the welfare of the republic ahead of his own personal gain.'
Quintus looked at Atticus. Atticus shrugged. 'The logic is sound,' he said.
'And what do you think, Terentia?' asked Quintus.
Cicero's wife had kept very quiet, which was unlike her. Even now she did not say anything, but continued to stare at her husband, who stared back at her impassively. Slowly she reached up to her hair, and from those tight dark curls she plucked the diadem that was fastened there. Still without taking her eyes from Cicero's face she removed the necklace from her throat, unclipped the emerald brooch from her breast, and slid the gold bracelets from each of her wrists. Finally, grimacing with the effort, she pulled the rings off her fingers. When she had finished, she cupped all this newly purchased jewellery in her two hands, and let it fall. The glittering gems and precious metal scattered noisily across the mosaic floor. Then she turned and walked out of the room.
IV
We had to leave Rome at first light the next morning, part of that great exodus of magistrates, their families and retainers required to attend the Latin Festival on the Alban Mount. Terentia accompanied her husband, and the atmosphere between them inside their carriage was as chilly as the January mountain air outside. The consul kept me busy, dictating first a long dispatch to Pompey, describing political affairs in Rome, and then a series of shorter letters to each of the provincial governors, while Terentia kept her eyes averted from him and pretended to sleep. The children travelled with their nurse in another carriage. Behind us stretched a great convoy of vehicles conveying the elected rulers of Rome – first Hybrida and then the praetors: Celer, Cosconius, Pompeius Rufus, Pomptinus, Roscius, Sulpicius, Valerius Flaccus. Only Lentulus Sura, as urban praetor, stayed behind in the city to guard its welfare. 'The place will burn to the ground,' observed Cicero, 'with that idiot in charge.'
We reached Cicero's house at Tusculum early in the afternoon, but there was little time to rest, as he had to leave almost at once to judge the local athletes. The highlight of the Latin Games was traditionally the swinging competition, with so many points awarded for height, so many for style, and so many for strength. Cicero had not a clue which competitor was the best, and so ended up announcing that all were equally worthy victors and that he would award a prize to everyone, paid for out of his own pocket. This gesture won warm applause from the assembled country folk. As he rejoined Terentia in the carriage, I heard her remark to him, 'Presumably Macedonia will pay?' He laughed, and that was the beginning of a thaw between them.
The main ceremony took place at sunset on the summit of the mountain, which was accessible only by a steep and twisting road. As the sun sank, it grew brutally cold. Snow lay ankle-deep on the rocky ground. Cicero walked at the head of the procession, surrounded by his lictors. Slaves carried torches. From all the branches of the trees and in the bushes the locals had hung small figures or faces made of wood or wool, a reminder of a time when human sacrifice had been practised and a young boy would be strung up to speed the end of winter. There was something indescribably melancholy about the whole scene – the bitter chill, the gathering twilight, and those sinister emblems rustling and turning in the wind. On the highest piece of ground the altar fire spat out orange sparks against the stars. An ox was sacrificed to Jupiter, and libations of milk from the nearby farms were also offered. 'Let the people refrain from strife and quarrelling,' proclaimed Cicero, and the traditional words seemed weighted with an extra meaning that evening.
By the time the ceremony was over, an immense full moon had risen like a blue sun and was casting an unhealthy light across the scene. It did at least have the merit of illuminating our path very clearly as we turned to descend, but then occurred two events that were to be talked about for weeks afterwards. First, the moon was suddenly and inexplicably blotted out, exactly as if it had been plunged into a black pool, and the procession, which had been relying on its light, was obliged to come to an abrupt and undignified halt while more torches were lit. The interruption did not last long, but it is strange how being stranded on a mountain path in darkness can work on one's imagination, especially if the vegetation around one is sown with hanging effigies. Quite a few voices were raised in panic, not least when it was realised that all the other stars and constellations were still shimmering brightly. I raised my eyes to the heavens with the rest, and that was when we saw a shooting star – pointed at the tip like a flaming spear – spurt across the night sky to the west, exactly in the direction of Rome, where it faded and vanished. Loud exclamations of wonder were followed by more mutterings in the dark as to what all this portended.
Cicero said nothing, but waited patiently for the procession to resume. Later that night, after we had safely reached Tusculum, I asked him what he made of it all. 'Nothing,' he replied, warming his chilled bones at the fire. 'Why should I? The moon went behind a cloud and a star crossed the sky. What else is there to be said?'
The following morning a message arrived from Quintus, who was looking after Cicero's interests back in Rome. Cicero read the letter and then showed it to me. It reported that a great wooden cross had been erected on the Field of Mars, rising starkly over the snowy plain, and that the plebs were flocking out of the city to look at it. 'Labienus is going around openly saying that the cross is for Rabirius, and that the old man will be hanging from it by the end of the month. You should return as soon as possible.'
'I will say one thing for Caesar,' said Cicero. 'He doesn't waste much time. His court hasn't even heard any evidence yet, but he wants to keep up the pressure on me.' He stared into the fire. 'Is the messenger still here?'
'He is.'
'Send a note ahead to Quintus and tell him we'll be back by nightfall, and another to Hortensius. Say I appreciated his visit the other day. Tell him I have thought the matter over and I shall be delighted to appear beside him in defence of Gaius Rabirius.' He nodded to himself. 'If it's a fight Caesar wants, he shall have one.' When I reached the door he called me back. 'Also, send one of the slaves to find Hybrida, and ask him if he would care to travel back with me in my carriage to Rome, to settle our arrangement. I need to have something in writing before Caesar gets to him and persuades him to change his mind.'
Thus I found myself later that day seated opposite one consul and next to the other, trying to write down the terms of their agreement as we bounced along the Via Latina. An escort of lictors rode ahead of us. Hybrida brought out a small flask of wine from which he took regular nips, occasionally offering it with a shaky hand to Cicero, who declined politely. I had never seen Hybrida for an extended period at such close quarters before. His once-noble nose was red and squashed – broken in battle he always claimed, but everyone knew he had got it in a tavern brawl – his cheeks were purple and his breath smelt so strongly of drink I felt I should go dizzy from the fumes. Poor Macedonia, I thought, to have such a creature as its governor. Cicero proposed that they should simply swap provinces, which would save having to put the matter to a vote in the senate. ('As you want,' said Hybrida. 'You're the lawyer.') In return for receiving Macedonia, Hybrida undertook to oppose the populists' bill and to support the defence of Rabirius. He also agreed to pay Cicero one quarter of the revenue he derived as governor. Cicero, for his part, promised to do his best to ensure that Hybrida's term was extended to two or three years, and to act as his defence counsel in the event that he was afterwards prosecuted for corruption. He hesitated over this last condition, as the chances of Hybrida being put on trial, given his character, were plainly high, but in the end he gave an undertaking and I wrote it down.