masculine rumble of approval from the patricians'.
'A dagger,' he repeated, 'with a long blade.' He licked his thumb and flicked open the first notebook. 'Clause one, page one, line one. The election of the ten commissioners …'
In this way he cut straight through the posturing and sentiment to the nub of the issue, which was, as it always is, power. 'Who proposes the commission?' he asked. 'Rullus. Who determines who is to elect the commissioners? Rullus. Who summons the assembly to elect the commissioners? Rullus …' The patrician senators began joining in, chanting the unfortunate tribune's name after every question. 'Who declares the results?'
'Rullus!' boomed the senate.
'Who alone is guaranteed a place as a commissioner?'
'Rullus!'
'Who wrote the bill?'
'
Rullus!
' And the house collapsed in tears of laughter at its own wit, while poor Rullus flushed pink and looked this way and that as if seeking somewhere to hide. Cicero must have gone on for half an hour in this fashion, clause by clause, quoting the bill and mocking it and shredding it, in such savage terms that the senators around Caesar and on the tribunes' bench began to look distinctly grim. To think that he had had only an hour or so to collect his thoughts was marvellous. He denounced it as an attack on Pompey – who could not stand for election to the commission
in absentia
– and as an attempt to re-establish the kings in the guise of commissioners. He quoted freely from the bill – '
The ten commissioners shall settle any colonists they like in whatever towns and districts they choose, and assign them lands wherever they please
' – and made its bland language sound like a call for tyranny.
'What then? What kind of settlement will be made in those lands? What will be the method and arrangement of the whole affair? “Colonies will be settled there,” Rullus says. Where? Of what kind of men? In what places? Did you, Rullus, think that we should hand over to you, and to the real architects of your schemes' – and here he pointed directly at Caesar and Crassus – 'the whole of Italy unarmed, that you might strengthen it with garrisons, occupy it with colonies, and hold it bound and fettered by every kind of chain?'
There were shouts of 'No!' and 'Never!' from the patrician benches. Cicero extended his hand and averted his gaze from it, in the classic gesture of rejection. 'Such things as theseI will resist passionately and vigorously. Nor will I, while I am consul, allow men to set forth those plans against the state which they have long had in mind. I have decided to carry on my consulship in the only manner in which it can be conducted with dignity and freedom. I will never seek to obtain a province, any honours, any distinctions or advantage, nor anything that a tribune of the people can prevent me from obtaining.'
He paused to emphasise his meaning. I had my head down, writing, but at that I looked up sharply.
I will never seek to obtain a province
. Had he really just said that? I could not believe it. As the implications of his words sank in, the senators began to murmur.
'Yes,' said Cicero, over the swelling notes of disbelief, 'your consul, on this first of January, in a crowded senate, declares that, if the republic continues in its present state, and unless some danger arises that he cannot honourably avoid meeting, he will not accept the government of a province.'
I glanced across the aisle to where Quintus was sitting. He looked as if he had just swallowed a wasp. Macedonia – that shimmering prospect of wealth and luxury, of independence from a lifetime of drudgery in the law courts – was gone!
'Our republic has many hidden wounds,' declared Cicero, in the sombre tone he always used in peroration. 'Many wicked designs of evil citizens are being formed. Yet there is no external danger. No king, no people, no nation is to be feared. The evil is confined entirely within our gates. It is internal and domestic. It is the duty of
'A dagger,' he repeated, 'with a long blade.' He licked his thumb and flicked open the first notebook. 'Clause one, page one, line one. The election of the ten commissioners …'
In this way he cut straight through the posturing and sentiment to the nub of the issue, which was, as it always is, power. 'Who proposes the commission?' he asked. 'Rullus. Who determines who is to elect the commissioners? Rullus. Who summons the assembly to elect the commissioners? Rullus …' The patrician senators began joining in, chanting the unfortunate tribune's name after every question. 'Who declares the results?'
'Rullus!' boomed the senate.
'Who alone is guaranteed a place as a commissioner?'
'Rullus!'
'Who wrote the bill?'
'
Rullus!
' And the house collapsed in tears of laughter at its own wit, while poor Rullus flushed pink and looked this way and that as if seeking somewhere to hide. Cicero must have gone on for half an hour in this fashion, clause by clause, quoting the bill and mocking it and shredding it, in such savage terms that the senators around Caesar and on the tribunes' bench began to look distinctly grim. To think that he had had only an hour or so to collect his thoughts was marvellous. He denounced it as an attack on Pompey – who could not stand for election to the commission
in absentia
– and as an attempt to re-establish the kings in the guise of commissioners. He quoted freely from the bill – '
The ten commissioners shall settle any colonists they like in whatever towns and districts they choose, and assign them lands wherever they please
' – and made its bland language sound like a call for tyranny.
'What then? What kind of settlement will be made in those lands? What will be the method and arrangement of the whole affair? “Colonies will be settled there,” Rullus says. Where? Of what kind of men? In what places? Did you, Rullus, think that we should hand over to you, and to the real architects of your schemes' – and here he pointed directly at Caesar and Crassus – 'the whole of Italy unarmed, that you might strengthen it with garrisons, occupy it with colonies, and hold it bound and fettered by every kind of chain?'
There were shouts of 'No!' and 'Never!' from the patrician benches. Cicero extended his hand and averted his gaze from it, in the classic gesture of rejection. 'Such things as theseI will resist passionately and vigorously. Nor will I, while I am consul, allow men to set forth those plans against the state which they have long had in mind. I have decided to carry on my consulship in the only manner in which it can be conducted with dignity and freedom. I will never seek to obtain a province, any honours, any distinctions or advantage, nor anything that a tribune of the people can prevent me from obtaining.'
He paused to emphasise his meaning. I had my head down, writing, but at that I looked up sharply.
I will never seek to obtain a province
. Had he really just said that? I could not believe it. As the implications of his words sank in, the senators began to murmur.
'Yes,' said Cicero, over the swelling notes of disbelief, 'your consul, on this first of January, in a crowded senate, declares that, if the republic continues in its present state, and unless some danger arises that he cannot honourably avoid meeting, he will not accept the government of a province.'
I glanced across the aisle to where Quintus was sitting. He looked as if he had just swallowed a wasp. Macedonia – that shimmering prospect of wealth and luxury, of independence from a lifetime of drudgery in the law courts – was gone!
'Our republic has many hidden wounds,' declared Cicero, in the sombre tone he always used in peroration. 'Many wicked designs of evil citizens are being formed. Yet there is no external danger. No king, no people, no nation is to be feared. The evil is confined entirely within our gates. It is internal and domestic. It is the duty of
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