Dictator

The others agreed and we set off at once, all four of us, with a few slaves for protection – along the slope of the Palatine, down the steps into the valley and across the road of Jugarius to the foot of the Tarpeian Rock. The air was eerily still and torpid with an approaching storm; the thoroughfare, normally busy with ox carts, was deserted apart from a few people wandering in the direction of the Forum. Their expressions were stunned, bewildered, fearful. And certainly if one sought for portents one had only to glance up at the sky. Massy dense black clouds seemed to be pressing down upon the roofs of the temples, and as we began to climb the steep flight of steps there was a flash and a crack of thunder. The rain was cold and heavy. The stones became slippery. We had to pause halfway to recover our breath. Beside us a stream ran over the green mossy rock and turned into a waterfall; below us I could see the curve of the Tiber, the city walls, the Field of Mars. I realised then how shrewd a piece of military planning it had been to retire straight from the scene of the assassination to the Capitol: its sheer cliffs made it a naturally impregnable fortress.

We pressed on until we came to the gate at the summit, which was guarded by gladiators, fearsome-looking characters from Nearer Gaul. With them was one of Decimus’s officers. He recognised Cicero and ordered the men to admit us, then he conducted us himself into the walled compound, past the chained dogs that guarded the place at night, and into the Temple of Jupiter, where at least a hundred men were gathered, sheltering in the gloom from the rain.

As Cicero entered he was greeted with applause and he went round shaking hands with all of the assassins apart from Brutus, whose hand was bandaged because of the wound Cassius had accidentally inflicted on him. They had changed out of their bloodied clothes into freshly laundered togas, and their demeanour was sober, even grim, with nothing left of the euphoria that had immediately followed the killing. I was amazed to see how many of Caesar’s closest followers had rushed to join them: L. Cornelius Cinna, for example, the brother of Caesar’s first wife and uncle of Julia – Caesar had recently made him praetor, yet here he was with his ex-brother-in-law’s murderers. And here too was Dolabella – the ever-faithless Dolabella – who had raised not a finger to defend Caesar in the Senate chamber, and who now had his arm round the shoulder of Decimus, the man who had lured their old chief to his doom. He came over to join in the conversation that Cicero was having with Brutus and Cassius.

Brutus said, ‘So you approve of what we have done?’

‘Approve? It’s the greatest deed in the history of the republic! But tell me,’ asked Cicero, with a glance around the sombre interior, ‘why are you all cooped up here out of sight like criminals? Why aren’t you down in the Forum rallying the people to your cause?’

‘We are patriots, not demagogues. Our aim was to remove the tyrant, nothing more.’

Cicero stared at him in surprise. ‘But then who is running the country?’

Brutus said, ‘At the moment, no one. The next step is to establish a new government.’

‘Shouldn’t you simply declare yourselves to be the government?’

‘That would be illegal. We didn’t pull down a tyrant in order to set ourselves up as tyrants in his place.’

‘Well then summon the Senate here now, to this temple – you have the power as praetors – and let the Senate declare a state of emergency until elections can be held. That would be entirely legal.’

‘We think it would be more constitutional if Mark Antony, as consul, summoned the Senate.’

‘Mark Antony?’ Cicero’s surprise was turning to alarm. ‘You mustn’t let him anywhere near this business. He has all of Caesar’s worst qualities and none of his best.’ He appealed to Cassius to back him up.

Cassius said, ‘I agree with you. In my view we should have killed him at the same time as we killed Caesar. But Brutus wouldn’t tolerate it. Therefore Trebonius delayed him on his way in to the chamber, so that he could get away.’

‘And where is he now?’

‘Presumably in his house.’

‘That I would doubt, knowing him,’ said Dolabella. ‘He will be busy in the city.’

Throughout these exchanges I had noticed Decimus talking to a couple of his gladiators. Now he hurried across, his expression grim. He said, ‘There’s a report that Lepidus is moving his legion off Tiber Island.’

Cassius said, ‘We’ll be able to see for ourselves from here.’

We went outside and followed Cassius and Decimus around the side of the great temple to the raised paved area to the north that gives a view for miles over the Field of Mars and beyond. And there was no doubt of it: the legionaries were marching across the bridge and forming up on the riverbank nearest the city.

Brutus betrayed his anxiety by a constant tapping of his foot. He said, ‘I sent a messenger to Lepidus hours ago but he hasn’t returned an answer.’

Cassius pointed. ‘That’s his answer.’