'What experience? You're not even a member of the senate.'
'Well then, damn you! Why did you bother even coming to see me if you're so certain we're going to lose?'
His expression was one of such outrage, Cicero burst out laughing. 'Who said anything about losing? Did I? Young fellow,' he continued, putting his arm around Clodius's shoulders, 'I know a thing or two about winning elections, and I can tell you this: you have every chance of winning – just as long as you do exactly as I tell you. But you need to wake up before it's too late. That is why I wanted to see you.'
And so saying, he walked Clodius round and round the atrium and explained his plan, while I followed with my notebook open and took down his directions.
VII
Cicero informed only the most trusted senators of his intention to propose a triumph for Lucullus – men like his brother Quintus; the former consul C. Piso; the praetors Pomptinus and Flaccus; friends such as Gallus, Marcellinus and the elder Frugi; and the patrician leaders Hortensius, Catulus and Isauricus. They in turn initiated others into the scheme. All were sworn to secrecy, told on which day to attend the chamber and requested above everything to keep together, whatever happened, until the house adjourned. Cicero did not tell Hybrida.
On the appointed date the senate house was unusually crowded. Elderly nobles who had not attended for many years were present, and I could see that Caesar scented danger of some kind, for he had a habit at such moments of almost literally sniffing the air, tilting his head back slightly and peering around him suspiciously (he did exactly that, I remember, moments before he was murdered). But Cicero had arranged the whole thing masterfully. A very tedious bill was at that time making its way on to the statute book, restricting the right of senators to claim expenses for unofficial trips to the provinces. This is precisely the sort of self-interested legislation that excites every elected bore in politics, and Cicero had lined up an entire bench of them and promised each he could speak for as long as he liked. The moment he read out the order of business some senators groaned and rose to leave, and after about an hour of listening to Q. Cornificius – a very dreary speaker at the best of times – attendance was thinning fast. Some of our side pretended to go, but actually lingered in the streets close to the senate house. Eventually even Caesar could stand it no longer and departed, together with Catilina.
Cicero waited a little longer, then stood and announced that he had received a new motion that he would like to place before the house. He called on Lucullus's brother Marcus to speak, who thereupon read out a letter from the great general requesting that the senate grant him a triumph before the consular elections. Cicero declared that Lucullus had waited long enough for his just reward and he would now put the matter to a vote. By this time the patrician benches had filled up again with those who had been lurking nearby, whilst on the populists' side there was hardly anyone to be seen. Messengers ran off to fetch Caesar. Meanwhile, all who favoured a triumph for Lucullus moved to stand around his brother, and after heads had been counted, Cicero duly declared that the motion had been passed by 120 to 16 and that the house should stand adjourned. He hurried down the aisle, preceded by his lictors, just as Caesar and Catilina arrived at the door. They obviously realised that they had been ambushed and had lost something significant, but it would take them an hour or two to work out exactly what. For now they could only stand aside and let the consul's procession pass. It was a delicious moment, and Cicero relived it again and again over dinner that night.
The trouble really started the following day in the senate. Belatedly the populists' benches were packed, and it was a rowdy house. Crassus, Catilina and Caesar had by this time worked out what Cicero was up to, and one after the other they rose to demand that the vote be taken again. But Cicero would not be intimidated. He ruled that there had been a proper quorum, Lucullus deserved his triumph, and the people were in need of a spectacle to cheer them up: as far as he was concerned, the issue was closed. Catilina, however, refused to sit down, and continued to demand a re-vote. Calmly Cicero tried to move on to the bill about travel expenses. As the uproar continued I thought the session might have to be suspended. But Catilina still had not entirely given up hope of winning power by the ballot box rather than the sword, and he recognised that the consul was right in one respect at least: the urban masses always enjoyed a triumph, and would not understand why they had been promised the pleasure one day only to be deprived of it the next. At the last moment he threw himself heavily back on to the front bench, sweeping his arm dismissively at the chair in a gesture of anger and disgust. Thus it was settled: Lucullus would have his day of glory in Rome.
That night Servius came to see Cicero. He brusquely rejected the offer of a drink and demanded to know if the rumours were true.
'What rumours?'
'The rumours that you've abandoned me and are supporting Murena.'
'Of course they're not true. I'll vote for you, and shall say as much to anyone who asks me.'
'Then why have you arranged to ruin my chances by filling the city with Murena's old legionaries in the week of the poll?'
'The question of when Lucullus holds his triumph is entirely a matter for him' – an answer that, while true in a strictly legal sense, was grossly misleading in every other. 'Are you sure you won't have a drink?'
'Do you really think I'm such a fool as that?' Servius's stooped frame was quivering with emotion. 'It's bribery, plain and simple. And I give you fair warning, Consuclass="underline" I intend to lay a bill before the senate making it illegal for candidates, or their surrogates, to hold either banquets or games just before an election.'
'Listen, Servius, may I give you some advice? Money, feasting, entertainment – these have always been a part of an election campaign, and always will be. You can't just sit around waiting for the voters to come to you. You need to put on a show. Make sure you go everywhere in a big crowd of supporters. Spread a little money around. You can afford it.'
'That's bribing the voters.'
'No, it's enthusing them. Remember, these are poor citizens for the most part. They need to feel their vote has value, and that great men have to pay them some attention, if only once a year. It's all they have.'
'Cicero, you completely amaze me. Never did I think to hear a Roman consul say such a thing. Power has entirely corrupted you. I shall introduce my bill tomorrow. Cato will second the motion and I expect you to support it – otherwise the country will draw its own conclusions.'
'Typical Servius – always the lawyer, never the politician! Don't you understand? If people see you going around not to canvass but to collect evidence for a prosecution, they'll think you've given up hope. And there's nothing more fatal during an election campaign than to appear unconfident.'
'Let them think what they like. The courts will decide. That is what they're there for.'
The two men parted badly. Nevertheless, Servius was right in one respect: Cicero, as consul, could hardly let himself be seen to condone bribery. He was obliged to support the campaign finance reform bill when Servius and Cato laid it before the senate the next day.
Election canvasses normally lasted four weeks; this one went on for eight. The amount of money expended was amazing. The patricians set up a war chest to fund Silanus into which they all paid. Catilina received financial support from Crassus. Murena was given one million sesterces by Lucullus. Only Servius made a point of spending nothing at all, but went around with a long face, accompanied by Cato and a team of secretaries recording every example of illegal expenditure. Throughout this time Rome slowly filled with Lucullus's veterans, who camped out on the Field of Mars by day and came into the city at night to drink and gamble and whore. Catilina retaliated by bringing in supporters of his own, mostly from the north-west, in particular Etruria. Ragged and desperate, they materialised out of the primeval forests and swamps of that benighted region: ex-legionaries, brigands, herdsmen. Publius Cornelius Sulla, nephew of the former dictator, who supported Catilina, paid for a troop of gladiators, ostensibly to entertain but really to intimidate. At the head of this sinister assembly of professional and amateur fighters was the former centurion Gaius Manlius, who drilled them in the meadows across the river from the Field of Mars. There were terrible running battles between the two sides. Men were clubbed to death; men drowned. When Cato, in the senate, accused Catilina of organising this violence, Catilina slowly got to his feet.