Dictator

Tullia hesitated before replying. ‘Father, the last thing I want to do is to add to your anxieties. That’s why until this moment I’ve said nothing. But now that you seem stronger, I think you ought to know why I wanted to come, and why Mother wanted to stop me. She and Philotimus have been plundering your estate for months – perhaps years. Not just the rent from your properties, but your houses themselves. You’d barely recognise some of them any more – they’ve been almost entirely stripped.’

Cicero’s first reaction was disbelief. ‘It can’t be true. Why? How could she do such a thing?’

‘I can only tell you what she said to me: “He may sink into ruin because of his own folly but I shan’t let him take me with him.”’ Tullia paused and added quietly, ‘If you want the truth, I believe she’s been taking back her dowry.’

And now Cicero began to grasp the situation. ‘You mean she’s divorcing me?’

‘I don’t think she’s fully decided yet. But I believe she’s taking precautions in case it comes to that and you no longer have the means of repaying her yourself.’ She leaned across the table and grasped his hand. ‘Try not to be too angry with her, Father. Money is her only means of independence. She still has very strong feelings for you, I know it.’

Cicero, unable to control his emotions, left the table and went out into the garden.

Of all the disasters and betrayals that had struck him over recent years, this was the worst. It completed the collapse of his fortunes. He was numbed by it. What made it harder was that Tullia begged him to say nothing about it until such time as he could confront Terentia face to face, otherwise her mother would know it was she who was his informant. The notion of a meeting seemed a remote prospect. And then, out of the blue, just as the heat of the summer was starting to become uncomfortable, a letter arrived from Caesar.

Caesar Dictator to Cicero Imperator.

I have received various messages from your brother complaining of dishonesty on your part towards me and insisting that but for your influence he would never have taken up arms against me. I have sent these letters to Balbus to pass on to you. You may do with them as you wish. I have pardoned him, and his son. They may live where they please. But I have no desire to renew relations with him. His behaviour towards you confirms a certain low opinion I had begun to form of him in Gaul.

I am travelling ahead of my army and will return to Italy earlier than expected next month, landing at Tarentum, when I hope it will be possible for us to meet to settle matters regarding your own future once and for all.

Tullia was greatly excited when she read this: she called it ‘a handsome letter’. But Cicero was secretly thrown into confusion. He had hoped he would be allowed to make his way back quietly to Rome, without fuss. He viewed the prospect of actually meeting Caesar with dread. The Dictator would doubtless be friendly enough, even if the gang around him were rough and insolent. However, no amount of politeness could disguise the basic truth: that he would be begging for his life from a conqueror who had usurped the constitution. Meanwhile fresh reports were coming in almost every day from Africa, where Cato was raising a huge new army to continue to uphold the republican cause.

He put on a cheerful face for Tullia’s sake, only to collapse into agonies of conscience once she had gone to bed. ‘You know that I have always tried to steer the right course by asking myself how history would judge my actions. Well, in this instance I can be certain of the verdict. History will say that Cicero wasn’t with Cato and the good cause because in the end Cicero was a coward. Oh, I have made such a mess of it all, Tiro! I actually believe Terentia is quite right to salvage what she can from the wreckage and divorce me.’

Soon afterwards Vatinius brought the news that Caesar had landed at Tarentum and wished to see Cicero the day after tomorrow.

Cicero said, ‘Where exactly are we to go?’

‘He is staying in Pompey’s old villa by the sea. Do you know it?’

Cicero nodded. No doubt he was recalling his last visit, when he and Pompey had skimmed stones across the waves. ‘I know it.’