Lucullus.”
“Lucullus is too far away, and besides, he has his hands full. As for Crassus—well, it is true that Crassus hates Pompey’s guts. But the thing about Crassus is that he is not a proper soldier. He is a businessman, and that type always cuts a deal.”
“And then there is the little matter of its being completely unconstitutional. You have to be forty-two at the time of the consular election, and Pompey is how old?”
“Just thirty-four.”
“Indeed. Almost a year younger than me. And a consul is also required to have been elected to the Senate and to have served as praetor, neither of which has Pompey achieved. He has never made a political speech in his life. To put the matter simply, Palicanus, seldom has a man been less qualified for the post.”
Palicanus made a dismissive gesture. “All that may be true, but let us face facts—Pompey has run whole countries for years, and done it with proconsular authority to boot. He is a consul, in all but name. Be realistic, Cicero. You cannot expect a man such as Pompey to come back to Rome and start at the bottom, running for quaestor like some political hack. What would that do to his dignity?”
“I appreciate his feelings, but you ask my opinion, and I am giving it to you, and I tell you the aristocrats will not stand for it. All right, perhaps if he has ten thousand men outside the city, they will have no choice but to let him become consul, but sooner or later his army will go home and then how will he…Ha!” Cicero suddenly threw back his head and started laughing. “That is very clever.”
“You have seen it?” said Palicanus, with a grin.
“I have seen it.” Cicero nodded appreciatively. “Very good.”
“Well, I am offering you the chance to be a part of it. And Pompey the Great does not forget his friends.”
At the time I had not the least idea of what they were talking about. Only when we were walking home afterwards did Cicero explain everything to me. Pompey was planning to seek the consulship on the platform of a full restoration of tribunician power. Hence Palicanus’s surprising move in becoming a tribune. The strategy was not born of some altruistic desire on Pompey’s part to give the Roman people greater liberty—although I suppose it is just possible he was occasionally pleased to lie in his bath in Spain and fancy himself a champion of citizens’ rights—no: it was purely a matter of self-interest. Pompey, as a good general, saw that by advocating such a program he would trap the aristocrats in a pincer movement, between his soldiers encamped beyond the walls of Rome and the common people on the city’s streets. Hortensius, Catulus, Metellus, and the rest would have no choice but to concede both Pompey’s consulship and the tribunes’ restoration, or risk annihilation. And once they did, Pompey could send his army home, and if necessary rule by circumventing the Senate and appealing directly to the people. He would be unassailable. It was, as Cicero described it to me, a brilliant stroke, and he had seen it in that flash of insight as he sat on Palicanus’s couch.
“What exactly would be in it for me?” asked Cicero.
“A reprieve for your client.”
“And nothing else?”
“That would depend on how good you were. I cannot make specific promises. That will have to wait until Pompey himself gets back.”
“That is a rather weak offer, if I may say so, my dear Palicanus.”
“Well, you are in a rather weak position, if I may say so, my dear Cicero.”
Cicero stood. I could see he was put out. “I can always walk away,” he said.
“And leave your client to die in agony on one of Verres’s crosses?” Palicanus also stood. “I doubt it, Cicero. I doubt you are that hard.” He took us out then, past Pompey as Jupiter, past Pompey as Alexander. “I shall see you and your client at the basilica tomorrow morning,” he said, shaking hands with Cicero on the doorstep. “After that you will be in
“Lucullus is too far away, and besides, he has his hands full. As for Crassus—well, it is true that Crassus hates Pompey’s guts. But the thing about Crassus is that he is not a proper soldier. He is a businessman, and that type always cuts a deal.”
“And then there is the little matter of its being completely unconstitutional. You have to be forty-two at the time of the consular election, and Pompey is how old?”
“Just thirty-four.”
“Indeed. Almost a year younger than me. And a consul is also required to have been elected to the Senate and to have served as praetor, neither of which has Pompey achieved. He has never made a political speech in his life. To put the matter simply, Palicanus, seldom has a man been less qualified for the post.”
Palicanus made a dismissive gesture. “All that may be true, but let us face facts—Pompey has run whole countries for years, and done it with proconsular authority to boot. He is a consul, in all but name. Be realistic, Cicero. You cannot expect a man such as Pompey to come back to Rome and start at the bottom, running for quaestor like some political hack. What would that do to his dignity?”
“I appreciate his feelings, but you ask my opinion, and I am giving it to you, and I tell you the aristocrats will not stand for it. All right, perhaps if he has ten thousand men outside the city, they will have no choice but to let him become consul, but sooner or later his army will go home and then how will he…Ha!” Cicero suddenly threw back his head and started laughing. “That is very clever.”
“You have seen it?” said Palicanus, with a grin.
“I have seen it.” Cicero nodded appreciatively. “Very good.”
“Well, I am offering you the chance to be a part of it. And Pompey the Great does not forget his friends.”
At the time I had not the least idea of what they were talking about. Only when we were walking home afterwards did Cicero explain everything to me. Pompey was planning to seek the consulship on the platform of a full restoration of tribunician power. Hence Palicanus’s surprising move in becoming a tribune. The strategy was not born of some altruistic desire on Pompey’s part to give the Roman people greater liberty—although I suppose it is just possible he was occasionally pleased to lie in his bath in Spain and fancy himself a champion of citizens’ rights—no: it was purely a matter of self-interest. Pompey, as a good general, saw that by advocating such a program he would trap the aristocrats in a pincer movement, between his soldiers encamped beyond the walls of Rome and the common people on the city’s streets. Hortensius, Catulus, Metellus, and the rest would have no choice but to concede both Pompey’s consulship and the tribunes’ restoration, or risk annihilation. And once they did, Pompey could send his army home, and if necessary rule by circumventing the Senate and appealing directly to the people. He would be unassailable. It was, as Cicero described it to me, a brilliant stroke, and he had seen it in that flash of insight as he sat on Palicanus’s couch.
“What exactly would be in it for me?” asked Cicero.
“A reprieve for your client.”
“And nothing else?”
“That would depend on how good you were. I cannot make specific promises. That will have to wait until Pompey himself gets back.”
“That is a rather weak offer, if I may say so, my dear Palicanus.”
“Well, you are in a rather weak position, if I may say so, my dear Cicero.”
Cicero stood. I could see he was put out. “I can always walk away,” he said.
“And leave your client to die in agony on one of Verres’s crosses?” Palicanus also stood. “I doubt it, Cicero. I doubt you are that hard.” He took us out then, past Pompey as Jupiter, past Pompey as Alexander. “I shall see you and your client at the basilica tomorrow morning,” he said, shaking hands with Cicero on the doorstep. “After that you will be in
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