Lustrum

'Of course not,' I said.

'That would simply be too appalling to contemplate. Those blades were intended to cut my throat.'

'Pompey would never do anything to harm either you or the state,' I assured him.

The following day Pompey asked Cicero to come and see him.

The Warden of Land and Sea had taken up residence again in his old house on the Esquiline Hill. Over the summer its appearance had been transformed. Dozens of the ramming beaks from captured pirates' warships now bristled from the walls. Some were fashioned in bronze to look like gorgons' heads. Others bore the snouts and horns of animals. Cicero had not seen them before, and regarded them with great distaste. 'Imagine having to sleep here every night,' he said as we waited for the porter to open the door. 'It's like the death chamber of a pharaoh.' And from this time on he often privately referred to Pompey as 'The Pharaoh' or sometimes 'The Shah'.

A large crowd stood outside, admiring the house. Inside, the public rooms were thronged with petitioners hoping to find space to feed at Pompey's golden trough. Some were bankrupt senators looking to sell their votes. Others were businessmen with schemes in which they hoped to persuade Pompey to invest. There were ship-owners and horse-trainers and furniture-makers and jewellers, and some who were plainly just beggars, out to catch Pompey's sympathy with a hard-luck story. Much to their envy, we were shown straight past all these mendicants and into a large private room. In one corner was a tailor's dummy displaying Pompey's triumphal toga and the cloak of Alexander; in another a large head of Pompey made entirely of pearls, which I recognised from the triumphal parade. And in the centre, set up on two trestles, was an architect's model of an immense complex of buildings, over which loomed Pompey, holding a pair of toy wooden temples in either hand. A group of men behind him seemed to be waiting anxiously for his decision.

'Ah,' he said, looking up, 'here is Cicero. He's a clever fellow. He will have a view. What do you think, Cicero? Should I build four temples here, or three?'

'I always build my temples in fours,' replied Cicero, 'providing I have the space.'

'Excellent advice!' exclaimed Pompey. 'Four it will be,' and he set them down in a row, to the applause of his audience. 'We shall decide which gods they are to be dedicated to later. Well?' he said to Cicero, gesturing to the model. 'What do you think?'

Cicero peered down at the elaborate construction. 'Most impressive. What is it? A palace?'

'A theatre, with seating for ten thousand. Here will be public gardens, surrounded by a portico. And here temples.' He turned to one of the men behind him, who I realised must be architects. 'Remind me again: how big is it going to be?'

'The whole construction will extend for a quarter of a mile, Excellency.'

Pompey grinned and rubbed his hands. 'A building a quarter of a mile in length! Imagine it!'

'And where is it to be built?' asked Cicero.

'On the Field of Mars.'

'But where will the people vote?'

'Oh, here somewhere,' said Pompey, waving his hand vaguely, 'or down here by the river. There'll still be plenty of room. Take it away, gentlemen,' he ordered, 'take it away and start digging the foundations, and don't worry about the cost.'

After they had gone, Cicero said, 'I don't wish to sound pessimistic, Pompey, but I fear you may have trouble over this with the censors.'

'Why?'

'They've always forbidden the building of a permanent theatre in Rome, on moral grounds.'

'I've thought of that. I shall tell them I'm building a shrine to Venus. It will be incorporated into the stage somehow – these architects know what they're doing.'

'You think the censors will believe you?'

'Why wouldn't they?'

'A shrine to Venus a quarter of a mile long? They might think you're taking your piety to extreme lengths.'

But Pompey was in no mood for teasing, especially not by Cicero. All at once his generous mouth shrank into a pout. His lips quivered. He was famous for his short temper, and for the first time I witnessed just how quickly he could lose it. 'This city!' he cried. 'It's so full of little men – just jealous little men! Here I am, proposing to donate to the Roman people the most marvellous building in the history of the world, and what thanks do I receive? None. None! ' He kicked over one of the trestles. I was reminded of little Marcus in his nursery after he had been made to put away his games. 'And speaking of little men,' he said menacingly, 'why hasn't the senate given me any of the legislation I asked for? Where's the bill to ratify my settlements in the East? And the land for my veterans – what's become of that?'

'These things take time…'

'I thought we had an understanding: I would support you in the matter of Hybrida, and you would secure my legislation for me in the senate. Well, I've done my part. Where's yours?'

'It is not an easy matter. I can hardly carry these bills on my own. I'm only one of six hundred senators, and unfortunately you have plenty of opponents among the rest.'

'Who? Name them!'

'You know who they are better than I. Celer won't forgive you for divorcing his sister. Lucullus is still resentful that you took over his command in the East. Crassus has always been your rival. Cato feels that you act like a king-'

'Cato! Don't mention that man's name in my presence! It's entirely thanks to Cato that I have no wife!' The roar of Pompey's voice was carrying through the house, and I noticed that some of his attendants had crept up to the door and were standing watching. 'I put off raising this with you until after my triumph, in the hope that you'd have made some progress. But now I am back in Rome and I demand that I am given the respect I'm due! Do you hear me? I demand it!'

'Of course I hear you. I should imagine the dead can hear you. And I shall endeavour to serve your interests, as your friend, as I always have.'

'Always? Are you sure of that?'

'Name me one occasion when I was not loyal to your interests.'

'What about Catilina? You could have brought me home then to defend the republic.'

'And you should thank me I didn't, for I spared you the odium of shedding Roman blood.'

'I could have dealt with him like that!' Pompey snapped his fingers.

'But only after he had murdered the entire leadership of the senate, including me. Or perhaps you would have preferred that?'

'Of course not.'

'Because you know that was his intention? We found weapons stored within the city for that very purpose.'

Pompey glared at him, and this time Cicero stared him out: indeed, it was Pompey who turned away first. 'Well, I know nothing about any weapons,' he muttered. 'I can't argue with you, Cicero. I never could. You've always been too nimble-witted for me. The truth is, I'm more used to army life than politics.' He forced a smile. 'I suppose I must learn that I can no longer simply issue a command and expect the world to obey it. “Let arms to toga yield, laurels to words” – isn't that your line? “O, happy Rome, born in my consulship” – there, you see? There's another. You can tell what a student I have become of your work.'

Pompey was not normally a man for poetry, and it was immediately clear to me that the fact that he could recite these lines from Cicero's consular epic – which had just started to be read all over Rome – was proof that he was dangerously jealous. Still, he somehow managed to bring himself to pat Cicero on the arm, and his courtiers exhaled with relief. They drifted away from the entrance, and gradually the sounds of the house resumed, whereupon Pompey – whose bonhomie could be as abrupt and disconcerting as his rages – suddenly announced that they should drink some wine. It was brought in by a very beautiful woman, whose name, I discovered afterwards, was Flora. She was one of the most famous courtesans in Rome and was living under Pompey's roof while he was between wives. She always wore a scarf around her neck, to conceal, she said, the bite marks Pompey inflicted when he was making love. She poured the wine demurely and then withdrew, while Pompey showed us Alexander's cloak, which had, he said, been found in Mithradates's private apartments. It looked very new to me, and I could see that Cicero was having difficulty keeping a straight face. 'Imagine,' he said in a hushed voice, feeling the material with great reverence, 'three hundred years old, and yet it looks as though it was made less than a decade ago.'