Then Cicero rose. ‘Including your own appointment, of course?’
Antony replied, with a first hint of menace, ‘Yes, obviously including my own – unless, that is, you object?’
‘And including Dolabella’s, as your fellow consul? That was Caesar’s wish as well, as I recall, until you blocked it by your auguries.’
I glanced across the temple to Dolabella, suddenly leaning forward in his place.
This was obviously a bitter draught for Antony to swallow – but swallow it he did. ‘Yes, in the interests of unity, if that is the will of the Senate – including Dolabella’s.’
Cicero pressed on. ‘And you confirm therefore that both Brutus and Cassius will continue as praetors, and afterwards will be the governors of Nearer Gaul and Syria, and that Decimus will in the meantime take control of Nearer Gaul, with the two legions already allotted to him?’
‘Yes, yes and yes.’ There were whistles of surprise, some groans and some applause. ‘And now,’ continued Antony, ‘will your side agree: all acts and appointments issued before Caesar’s death are to be confirmed by the Senate?’
Later Cicero said to me that before he rose to make his answer, he tried to imagine what Cato would have done. ‘And of course he would have said that if Caesar’s rule was illegal, it followed that his laws were illegal too and we should have new elections. But then I looked out of the door and saw the soldiers and asked myself how we could possibly have elections in these circumstances – there would be a bloodbath.’
Slowly Cicero got to his feet. ‘I cannot speak for Brutus, Cassius and Decimus, but speaking for myself, since it is to the advantage of the state, and on condition that what goes for one goes for all – yes, I agree that the Dictator’s appointments should be allowed to stand.’
‘I cannot regret it,’ he told me afterwards, ‘because I could have done nothing else.’
The Senate continued its deliberations for the whole of that day. Antony and Lepidus also laid a motion calling for Caesar’s grants to his soldiers to be ratified by the Senate, and in view of the hundreds of veterans waiting outside, Cicero could hardly dare to oppose that either. In return Antony proposed abolishing forever the title and functions of dictator; it passed without protest. About an hour before sunset, after issuing various edicts to the provincial governors, the Senate adjourned and walked through the smoke and squalor of the Subura to the Forum, where Antony and Lepidus gave an account to the waiting crowd of what had just been agreed. The news was greeted with relief and acclamation, and this sight of Senate and people in civic harmony was almost enough to make one imagine the old republic had been restored. Antony even invited Cicero up on to the rostra, the first time the ageing statesman had appeared there since he had addressed the people after his return from exile. For a moment he was too emotional to speak.
‘People of Rome,’ he said at last, gesturing to quiet the ovation, ‘after the agony and violence not just of the last few days but of the last few years, let past grievances and bitterness be set aside.’ Just at that moment a shaft of sunlight pierced the clouds, gilding the bronze roof of Jupiter’s temple on the Capitol, where the white togas of the conspirators were plainly visible. ‘Behold the sun of Liberty,’ cried Cicero, seizing the moment, ‘shining once again over the Roman Forum! Let it warm us – let it warm the whole of humanity – with the beneficence of its healing rays.’
Shortly afterwards Brutus and Cassius sent a message down to Antony that in view of what had been decided at the Senate, they were willing to leave their stronghold, but only on condition that he and Lepidus sent hostages to remain on the Capitol overnight as a guarantee of their safety. When Antony went up on to the rostra and read this aloud, there were cheers. He said, ‘As a token of my good faith, I am willing to pledge to them my own son – a lad of barely three, who the gods know I love more than any living thing. Lepidus,’ he said, holding out his hand to the Master of Horse who was standing next to him, ‘will you do the same with your son?’
Lepidus had little choice but to agree, and so the two boys – one a toddler, the other in his teens – were collected from their homes and taken with their attendants up on to the Capitol. As dusk fell, Brutus and Cassius appeared, descending the steps without an escort. Yet again the crowd roared its pleasure, especially when they shook hands with Antony and Lepidus, and accepted a public invitation to dine with them as a symbol of reconciliation. Cicero was also invited but he declined. Utterly exhausted by his efforts over the past two days, he went home to sleep.
At dawn the following day the Senate met again in the Temple of Tellus; and once again I went with Cicero.