Dictator

The nervous strain under which he lived during those early days of April, while waiting for word from Mutina, was indescribable. First there would be good news. After months without contact, Cassius at last wrote to say that he was taking complete control of Syria: that all sides – Caesareans, republicans and the last remaining Pompeians – were flocking to him and that he had under his command a united army of no fewer than eleven legions. I want you to know that you and your friends at the Senate are not without powerful support, so you can defend the state in the best interests of hope and courage. Brutus also was meeting with success and had raised a further five legions, some twenty-five thousand men, in Macedonia. Young Marcus was with him, recruiting and training cavalry: Your son earns my approval by his energy, endurance, hard work and unselfish spirit, in fact by every kind of service.

But then would come more ominous dispatches. Decimus was in desperate straits after more than four months trapped in Mutina. He could only communicate with the outside world by carrier pigeon, and the few birds that got through brought news of starvation, disease and low morale. Lepidus meanwhile was moving his legions closer to the scene of the impending battle with Antony, and he urged Cicero and the Senate to consider a fresh offer of peace talks. Cicero was so incensed by this weak and arrogant man’s presumption that he dictated to me a letter that went off that same night:

Cicero to Lepidus.

I rejoice at your desire to make peace among citizens but only if you can separate that peace from slavery. Otherwise you should understand that all men of sense have taken a resolution to prefer death to servitude. You will act more wisely in my judgement if you meddle no further in this affair, which is not acceptable either to the Senate or the people, or to any honest man.

Cicero was under no illusions. The city and the Senate still harboured hundreds of Antony’s supporters. If Decimus surrendered, or if the armies of Hirtius, Pansa and Octavian were defeated, he knew he would be the first to be seized and murdered. As a safety precaution he ordered home two of the three legions stationed in Africa to defend Rome. But they would not arrive until the middle of the summer.

It was on the twentieth day of April that the crisis finally broke. Early that morning, Cornutus, the urban praetor, hurried up the hill. With him was a messenger who had been dispatched by Pansa six days earlier. Cornutus’s expression was grim. ‘Tell Cicero,’ he said to the messenger, ‘what you’ve just told me.’

In a trembling voice the messenger said, ‘Vibius Pansa regrets to report a catastrophic defeat. He and his army were surprised by the forces of Mark Antony at the settlement of Forum Gallorum. The lack of experience of our men was immediately evident. The line broke and there was a general slaughter. The consul managed to escape but is himself wounded.’

Cicero’s face turned grey. ‘And Hirtius and Caesar? Any news of them?’

Cornutus said, ‘None. Pansa was on his way to their camp but was attacked before he could join them.’

Cicero groaned.

Cornutus said, ‘Should I summon a meeting of the Senate?’

‘Dear gods, no!’ To the messenger Cicero said, ‘Tell me the truth – does anyone else in Rome yet know about this?’

The messenger bowed his head. ‘I went first to the consul’s home. His father-in-law was there.’

‘Calenus!’

Cornutus said grimly, ‘He knows it all, unfortunately. He’s in the Portico of Pompey at this very moment, on the exact spot where Caesar was struck down. He’s telling anyone who’ll listen that we’re paying the price for an impious killing. He accuses you of planning to seize power as dictator. I believe he’s gathering quite a crowd.’

I said to Cicero, ‘We ought to get you out of Rome.’