Dictator

Philotimus, plumper than ever and already sweating in the summer heat, flushed even redder and started to stammer that he couldn’t recall the details precisely: it was more than a year ago; he would have to consult his accounts and they were in Rome.

Cicero threw up his hands. ‘Come now, man, you must remember. It’s not that long ago. We’re talking about tens of thousands. What has become of it all?’

But Philotimus would only repeat the same tale over and over: he was very sorry; he couldn’t remember; he would need to check.

‘I’m beginning to think you’ve pocketed the money yourself.’

Philotimus denied it.

Suddenly Cicero said, ‘Does my wife know about this?’

At the mention of Terentia, a remarkable change came over Philotimus. He stopped squirming and became completely silent, and no matter how many times Cicero pressed him, he refused to say another word. Eventually Cicero told him to clear off out of his sight. After he had gone he said to me, ‘Did you note that last piece of impertinence? Talk about defending a lady’s honour – it was as if he thought I wasn’t fit to utter my own wife’s name.’

I agreed it was remarkable.

‘Remarkable – that’s one word for it. They were always very close, but ever since I went into exile …’

He shook his head and didn’t finish the sentence. I made no reply. It did not seem proper to comment. To this day I have no idea whether his suspicions were correct. All I can say is that he was deeply perturbed by the whole affair and wrote at once to Atticus asking him to investigate discreetly: I can’t put all I fear into words.

A month before the end of his official term as governor, Cicero, escorted by his lictors, set off back to Rome taking me and the two boys with him and leaving his quaestor in charge of the province.

He knew he could face censure for abandoning his post prematurely and for placing Cilicia in the hands of a first-year senator, but he calculated that with Caesar’s governorship of Gaul about to come to an end, most men would have bigger issues on their minds. We travelled via Rhodes, which he wanted to show to Quintus and Marcus. He also desired to visit the tomb of Apollonius Molon, the great tutor of oratory whose lessons almost thirty years before had started him on his political ascent. We found it on a headland looking across the Carpathian Straits. A simple white marble stone bore the orator’s name, and beneath it was carved in Greek one of his favourite precepts: Nothing dries more quickly than a tear. Cicero stood looking at it for a long time.

Unfortunately the diversion to Rhodes slowed our return considerably. The Etesian winds were unusually strong that summer, blowing in from the north day after day, and they trapped our open boats in harbour for three weeks. During that period the political situation in Rome worsened sharply, and by the time we reached Ephesus there was a sackful of alarming news waiting for Cicero. The nearer the struggle approaches, wrote Rufus, the plainer the danger appears. Pompey is determined not to allow Caesar to be elected consul unless he surrenders his army and provinces; whereas Caesar is persuaded that he cannot survive if he leaves his army. So this is what their love affair, their scandalous union has come to – not covert backbiting, but outright war!

In Athens, a week later, Cicero found more letters, including ones from both Pompey and Caesar, each complaining about the other and appealing to his loyalty. As far as I am concerned, he may be consul or he may keep his legions, wrote Pompey, but I am certain that he cannot do both; I assume that you agree with my policy and will stand resolutely on my side and on the side of the Senate as you have always done. And from Caesar: I fear that Pompey’s noble nature has blinded him to the true intentions of those individuals who have always wished me harm; I rely upon you, dear Cicero, to tell him that I cannot be, should not be, and will not be left defenceless.