The ensuing debate was full of mischief. As Cicero wrote to Brutus, That day I realised that gratitude has considerably fewer votes in the Senate than spite.
Isauricus, as jealous of Octavian as he had been of Antony, objected to the idea of awarding him an ovation, which would allow him to parade with his legions through Rome. In the end Cicero was only able to carry his proposal by agreeing to give Decimus the even greater honour of a triumph. A commission of ten men was set up to settle the remuneration, in cash and land, of all the soldiers: the idea was to draw them away from Octavian, reduce their bounty and put them on the payroll of the Senate. To add insult to this injury, neither Octavian nor Decimus was invited to join the commission. Calenus, dressed in mourning, also demanded that his son-in-law’s doctor, Glyco, be arrested and examined under torture if necessary to determine whether Pansa’s death was murder: ‘Remember we were assured to begin with that his injuries were not serious, but now we can see that certain persons stand to gain greatly by his removal’ – an obvious reference to Octavian.All in all it was a bad day’s work, and Cicero had to sit down that night and explain to Octavian what had happened.
I am sending you by the same courier the resolutions that have today been agreed by the Senate. I hope you will accept the logic of our placing you and your soldiers under the command of Decimus, just as you were previously subordinate to the consuls. The Commission of Ten is a bit of nonsense I shall try to have rescinded: give me time. You should have been there, my dear friend, to hear the encomia! The rafters rang with praise of your daring and loyalty, and I am glad to say that you will be the youngest commander in the history of the republic to be granted the distinction of an ovation. Press on with your pursuit of Antony, and keep that place in your heart for me that I keep in mine for you.
After that there was silence.
For a long time Cicero heard nothing from the theatre of operations. That was not surprising. It was remote, inhospitable country. He comforted himself by imagining Antony with his lonely band of followers struggling along the inaccessible narrow mountain passes while Decimus raced to try to cut him off. It was not until the thirteenth day of May that news arrived from Decimus – and then, as is often the way with these things, not one but three dispatches arrived all at once. I took them straight to Cicero in his study; he opened the document case greedily and read them aloud in order. The first was dated the twenty-ninth of April and put Cicero on his guard at once: I shall try to ensure that Antony is unable to maintain himself in Italy. I shall be after him immediately.
‘Immediately?’ said Cicero, checking again the date at the head of the letter. ‘What is he talking about? He’s already writing eight days after Antony fled Mutina …’
The next dispatch was written a week later, when Decimus was finally on the march: