Dictator

Pompey wouldn’t hear of it. Indeed he seemed to take a malicious pleasure in running through all the possible commands that might now fall to Cicero, with their various unique drawbacks – extreme distance from Rome, rebellious tribesmen, ferocious customs, hostile climates, savage wild beasts, impassable roads, incurable local diseases and so forth. Lots to determine who went where were drawn at a special session of the Senate, with Pompey in the chair. Cicero went up and plucked his token from the urn and handed it to Pompey, who read out the result with a smile: ‘Marcus Tullius draws Cilicia.’

Cilicia! Cicero could barely conceal his dismay. This mountainous, primitive homeland of pirates at the extreme eastern edge of the Mediterranean – which included within its administration the island of Cyprus – was about as far away from Rome as it was possible to get. It also shared a border with Syria, and so was within range of the Parthian army, if Cassius was unable to hold them in check. Finally, to cap Cicero’s woes, the current governor was Clodius’s brother, Appius Clodius Pulcher, who could be relied upon to make his successor’s life as difficult as possible.

I knew he would expect me to go with him and I tried desperately to think of excuses why I should stay behind. He had just completed On the Republic. I told him that in my view I would be more use to him in Rome, overseeing its publication.

‘Nonsense,’ he said, ‘Atticus will take care of copying and circulation.’

‘There’s also my health,’ I continued, ‘I’ve never really recovered from that fever I contracted at Arpinum.’

‘In that case a sea voyage will do you good.’

And so it went on. My every objection was met by an answer. He started to become offended. But I had a bad feeling about this expedition. Although he swore we would only be gone a year, I sensed it would be longer. Rome felt strangely impermanent to me. Perhaps it was a consequence of having to pass the burnt-out shell of the Senate house every day, or maybe it was my knowledge of the widening split between Pompey and Caesar. Whatever the reason, I had a superstitious dread that if I left I might never come back, and that even if I did return it would be to a different city.

Eventually Cicero said, ‘Well, I cannot force you to come – you’re a free man now. But I feel you owe me this one last service, and I’ll make a bargain with you. When we return, I’ll give you the money to buy that farm you’ve always wanted, and I shan’t press you to perform any more duties for me. The rest of your life will be your own.’

I could hardly refuse such an offer, and so I tried to ignore my forebodings and set about helping him plan his administration.

As governor of Cilicia, Cicero would have command of a standing army of about fourteen thousand men, with every prospect of having to fight a war. He decided therefore to appoint two legates with military experience. One was his old comrade Caius Pomptinus, the praetor who had helped him round up Catilina’s co-conspirators. For the second he turned to his brother Quintus, who had expressed a strong desire to quit Gaul. At first his service under Caesar had been a great success. He had taken part in the invasion of Britain, and on his return Caesar had placed him in command of a legion that soon afterwards was attacked in its winter camp by a vastly superior force of Gauls. The fighting had been fierce: nine tenths of the Romans had been wounded. But Quintus, although ill and exhausted, had kept a cool head and the legion had survived the siege long enough for Caesar to arrive and relieve them; afterwards he had been singled out for praise by Caesar in his Commentaries.

The following summer he was promoted to command of the newly formed Fourteenth Legion. This time, however, he had disobeyed Caesar’s orders. Instead of keeping all his men in camp, he had sent out several hundred raw recruits to forage for food. They had been cut off by an invading force of Germans. Caught in the open, they had stood gaping at their commanders, unsure of what to do, and half of them had been massacred when they tried to make a run for it. All my previous good standing with Caesar has been destroyed, Quintus wrote sadly to his brother. He treats me to my face with civility but I detect a certain coldness, and I know he goes behind my back to consult with my junior officers; in short I fear I may never fully regain his trust. Cicero wrote to Caesar asking if his brother might be allowed to join him in Cilicia; Caesar readily agreed; and two months later Quintus arrived back in Rome.