Lustrum

Those were his last words to me that evening. He went off to his bed and I, after I had blown out the candles in the study, retired to mine. I said good night to the guards in the atrium and carried my lamp to my tiny room. I placed it on the night-stand beside my cot, undressed, and lay awake as usual thinking over the events of the day, until slowly I felt my mind beginning to dissolve into sleep.

It was midnight – very quiet.

I was woken by fists pounding on the front door. I sat up with a start. I could only have been asleep for a few moments. The distant hammering came again, followed by ferocious barking, shouts and running feet. I seized my tunic and pulled it on as I hurried into the atrium. Cicero, fully dressed, was already descending the stairs from his bedroom, preceded by two guards with drawn swords. Behind him, wrapped in a shawl, was Terentia, with her hair in curlers. The banging resumed again, sharper now – sticks or shoes beating against the heavy wood. Little Marcus started howling in the nursery. 'Go and ask who it is,' Cicero told me, 'but don't open the door,' and then, to one of the knights: 'Go with him.'

Cautiously I advanced along the passage. We had a guard dog by this time – a massive black and brown mountain dog named Sargon, after the Assyrian kings. He was snarling and barking and yanking on his chain with such ferocity I thought he would tear it from the wall. I called out, 'Who's there?'

The reply was faint but audible: 'Marcus Licinius Crassus!'

Above the noise of the dog I called to Cicero: 'He says it's Crassus!'

'And is it?'

'It sounds like him.'

Cicero thought about it for a moment. I guessed he was calculating that Crassus would cheerfully see him dead, but also that it was hardly likely that a man of Crassus's eminence would try to murder a serving consul. He drew back his shoulders and smoothed down his hair. 'Well then, if he says it's Crassus, and it sounds like Crassus, you'd better let him in.'

I opened the door a crack to see a group of a dozen men holding torches. The bald head of Crassus shone in the yellow light like a harvest moon. I opened the door wider. Crassus eyed the snarling dog with distaste, then edged past it into the house. He was carrying a scruffy leather document case. Behind him came his usual shadow, the former praetor Quintus Arrius, and two young patricians, friends of Crassus who had only lately taken their seats in the senate – Claudius Marcellus and Scipio Nasica, whose names had featured on the most recent list of Catilina's potential sympathisers. Their escort tried to follow them in but I told them to wait outside: four enemies at one time was quite enough, I decided. I relocked the door.

'So what's all this about, Crassus?' asked Cicero as his old foe stepped into the atrium. 'It's too late for a social call and too early for business.'

'Good evening, Consul.' Crassus nodded coldly. 'And good evening to you, madam,' he said to Terentia. 'Our apologies for disturbing you. Don't let us keep you from your bed.' He turned his back on her and said to Cicero, 'Is there somewhere private we can talk?'

'I'm afraid my friends get nervous if I leave their sight.'

'Are you suggesting we're assassins?'

'No, but you keep company with assassins.'

'Not any longer,' said Crassus with a thin smile, and patted his document case. 'That's why we're here.'

Cicero hesitated. 'All right, in private, then.' Terentia started to protest. 'Don't alarm yourself, my dear. My guards will be right outside the door, and the strong arm of Tiro will be there to protect me.' (This was a joke.)

He ordered some chairs to be taken to his study, and the six of us just about managed to squeeze into it. I could see that Cicero was nervous. There was something about Crassus that always made his flesh crawl. Still, he was polite enough. He asked his visitors if they would like some wine, but they declined. 'Very well,' he said. 'Sober is better than drunk. Out with it.'

'There's trouble brewing in Etruria,' began Crassus.

'I know the reports. But as you saw when I tried to raise the matter, the senate won't take it seriously.'

'Well, they need to wake up quickly.'

'You've certainly changed your tune!'

'That's because I've come into possession of certain facts. Tell him, Arrius.'

'Well,' said Arrius, looking shifty. He was a clever fellow, an old soldier, low-born, and Crassus's creature in all matters. He was much mocked behind his back for his silly way of speaking, adding an 'h' to some of his vowels, presumably because he thought it made him sound educated. 'I was in Hetruria up till yesterday. There are bands of fighters gathering right across the region. I hunderstand they're planning to hadvance on Rome.'

'How do you know that?'

'I served with several of the ringleaders in the legions. They tried to persuade me to join them, and I let them think I might – purely to gather hintelligence, you hunderstand,' he added quickly.

'How many of these fighters are there?'

'I should say five thousand, maybe ten.'

'As many as that?'

'If there aren't that many now, there will be soon enough.'

'Are they armed?'

'Some. Not all. They have a plan, though.'

'And what is this plan?'

'To surprise the garrison at Praeneste, seize the town, fortify it, and use it as a base to rally their forces.'

'Praeneste is almost impregnable,' put in Crassus, 'and less than a day's march from Rome.'

'Manlius has also sent supporters the length and breadth of Hitaly to stir up hunrest.'

'My, my,' said Cicero, looking from one to the other, 'how well informed you are!'

'You and I have had our disagreements, Consul,' said Crassus coldly, 'but I'm a loyal citizen, first and last. I don't want to see a civil war. That's why we're here.' He placed the document case on his lap, opened it and pulled out a bundle of letters. 'These messages were delivered to my house earlier this evening. One was addressed to me; two others were for my friends here, Marcellus and young Scipio, who happened to be dining with me. The rest are addressed to various other members of the senate. As you can see, the seals on those are still unbroken. Here you are. I want there to be no secrets between us. Read the one that came for me.'

Cicero gave him a suspicious look, glanced through the letter quickly and then handed it to me. It was very short: The time for talking is over. The moment for action has arrived. Catilina has drawn up his plans. He wishes to warn you there will be bloodshed in Rome. Spare yourself and leave the city secretly. When it is safe to return, you will be contacted. There was no signature. The handwriting was neat and entirely without character: a child could have done it.

'You see why I felt we had to come straight away,' said Crassus. 'I've always been a supporter of Catilina. But we want no part of this.'

Cicero put his chin in his hand and said nothing for a while. He looked from Marcellus to Scipio. 'And the warnings to you both? Are they exactly the same?' The two young senators nodded. 'Anonymous?' More nods. 'And you've no idea who they're from?' They shook their heads. For two such arrogant young Roman noblemen, they were as docile as lambs.

'The identity of the sender is a mystery,' declared Crassus. 'My doorkeeper brought the letters in to us when we'd finished dinner. He didn't see who delivered them – they were left on the step and whoever was the courier ran away. Naturally Marcellus and Scipio read theirs at the same time as I read mine.'

'Naturally. May I see the other messages?'

Crassus reached into his document case and gave him the unopened letters one at a time. Cicero examined each address in turn and showed it to me. I remember a Claudius, an Aemilius, a Valerius and others of that ilk, including Hybrida: about eight or nine in total; all patricians.