Rivals of the Republic Read online

“Ha! Servilius Caepio! How’s that seductive sister of yours? I hope she may come tonight if her stick of a husband will let her off the leash. Speaking of sticks, your brother Cato’s here somewhere too.” His gaze flickered back toward Hortensia and he shook his head wonderingly. “It seems quite wrong to me. What do you mean by snapping up this little lady for yourself, completely out of your league. Were I not a married man …” Pompey roared with laughter and dug Hortensius in the ribs just as he had Quintus. “I am your daughter’s greatest admirer, Hortensius. I make no secret of the fact.”

  Hortensius raised a faintly contemptuous eyebrow but to Hortensia’s relief, made no remark in reply to this sally.

  “Go, go and enjoy yourselves –” Pompey waved them magnanimously toward an open door off the atrium, leading into the garden. “– we’re going to eat outside – they’re just laying the food out. All very casual, no standing on ceremony at my house as you know. My wife Mucia will want to greet you all. I’d better go and rescue her from Crassus, he’s giving her the full charm offensive.”

  Hortensia started at the mention of Crassus and turned around quickly to see his tall, sleek figure arching over Mucia Tertia like an obsequious willow tree, smothering her with the full impact of his all-embracing smile. Pompey rolled his eyes, winked conspiratorially at Hortensius’s party and disappeared back into the throng.

  They wandered outside as instructed and were soon joined by Caecilius and Claudia. The latter wanted nothing more than to engage Lutatia and Hortensia in a gossipy appraisal of the fashions worn by all the women present.

  “Will you look at that necklace Tertulla is wearing, Crassus must have paid a fortune for it, I don’t think I’ve ever seen larger pearls … Oh, there’s your sister-in-law Servilia, my dear, I do wish someone would tell her that shade of yellow is really not the thing, such a vulgar color. How lovely our hostess looks, though with her figure I can’t help but feel a less voluminous choice of material would have been wise … Well, well, so she’s here – Clodia Pulcher, look, she’s pregnant you know, though the rumor is the father isn’t her husband …”

  Since Hortensius, Caecilius and Caepio soon began discussing political affairs, this split of the conversation left Quintus standing on his own, and after several minutes spent staring, sulkily scuffing the grass with his sandals, he soon wandered off in the direction of the peristyle, ignoring the concerned enquiry of his mother.

  Hortensia soon felt equally bored, and though she maintained an expression of polite attention as Claudia continued her commentary, her ear was soon caught by snippets of what her father and his colleagues were saying. “… Another raid on the Appian Way yesterday … one of them’s got to get a grip on the situation … coming to something when pirates think they can dictate to Rome …” She listened with mild interest, letting her eye wander around the gardens on the pretext of joining in with Claudia’s observations.

  The majority of those present were from her own family’s social set and Hortensia recognized several people she knew. There was her brother-in-law Cato, looking severe as he sipped abstemiously from an elaborate goblet and who soon came over to join the circle around Hortensius. Over by a fish-pond in the middle of the ambulatio, a separate court had formed around Crassus. Hortensia saw him nod in the direction of her party and say something which made those around him roar with laughter. She fumed silently, guessing it was a joke at her father’s expense. A few other knowing smirks as they arrived had already brought it home to her that her father’s impending loss to Cicero was being much enjoyed as a topic of gossip. Her brooding thoughts were then interrupted by her mother, who took advantage of a lull in Claudia’s monologue to ask Hortensia anxiously if she would go and see that her brother was all right.

  “He doesn’t know anyone here, I’m worried about him going off by himself.”

  “You shouldn’t fuss so much over him, Mama, he’s probably just gone to watch the acrobats. Besides, he does know people. If Servilia is here then Brutus must be too, they’re not so far apart in age. Brutus will look after him.”

  Lutatia looked doubtful. “Quintus gets into such a rage sometimes. I do wish …”

  But she had lost her audience. Hortensia’s attention had been caught by a sudden change in atmosphere among the group of men alongside them. They were muttering and glancing surreptitiously toward the villa, while Cato had his head bent toward his brother and was issuing some apparently urgent instruction. “I think he means to approach us,” she heard Caepio say in apparent surprise.

  “He has a nerve if he does,” Caecilius growled.

  “Calm yourself, Caecilius,” came Hortensius’ urbane reply. “It is a party after all. Old Chickpea probably feels he has a duty to mingle.”

  Hortensia glanced around and to her astonishment realized that none other than Cicero and his wife Terentia were making their way through the chattering crowd in their direction, attracting a great deal of notice as they went.

  Although he had been pointed out to her in the forum, this was the first time Hortensia had ever seen her father’s adversary up close. He was extremely tall, with at least a head’s advantage on Hortensius, and his pale, angular face was dominated by intense black eyes. Though not yet forty, his close-cropped hair was already graying at the temples, but there was a restless energy about him, quite different from her father’s magnificent air of unruffled insouciance. They came to a halt in front of Hortensius’s party and for a moment nobody said anything. Hortensius’s blue eyes glittered and a strange little smile tugged at his lips, but he made no attempt to break the tense hush and as usual the task of peace broker fell to Caepio.

  “A very good evening to you both,” he nodded. “Wonderful night isn’t it?”

  “Good evening indeed, gentlemen. And ladies,” Cicero added, nodding to Claudia, Hortensia and Lutatia, who kept glancing nervously at her husband.

  “Are you enjoying the party?” persisted Caepio, realizing that no one else was going to come to his aid.

  Cicero shrugged. “Terentia enjoys these affairs more than I do. Personally I would have preferred to spend the evening at home but we live close by so we can always leave early. I have another busy day in court tomorrow.”

  Hortensia was incensed by this provocative allusion to the ongoing trial, and glanced at her father, who was still wearing a seemingly relaxed smile. But out of the corner of her eye she could just discern the twitchy movement of his fingers by his side, twisting and tugging at a fold of his clothing in that way which advertised to all who knew him that he was not as calm as he looked. She wished he would say something, come up with one of his characteristically acerbic set-downs and put Cicero in his place.

  She felt Caepio take her hand in his and was momentarily reassured.

  “You must allow me to present my wife Hortensia. I don’t believe you have met.”

  Hortensia could hear the warning note that she knew was meant only for her and she bit her lip, suppressing her first instinct to snatch her hand back from her husband. She returned Cicero’s nod with an infinitesimal one of her own, aware that a great many eyes were focused on their party.

  “A great pleasure,” said Cicero. His voice, Hortensia reluctantly owned, was compelling – strong and smooth, but with a slight rasp which she could imagine him using to great rhetorical effect in the law court. “Allow me in turn to present my wife Terentia.”

  He gestured casually toward the woman next to him and there was nothing for it but to go through the formalities of greeting once more. Terentia tilted her head and peered at Hortensia with disconcerting curiosity. Despite her small stature, she had a presence about her and a strong, characterful face. Looking at her up close, Hortensia was reminded of someone, but could not think who.

  “Yes, I should have called on you after your marriage,” she said in a forthright, matter-of-fact voice. “You’ll have to forgive me for not doing so. It all seemed rather awkward.” It was difficult to tell whether Terentia meant the remark malic
iously or not. But she carried on in apparent disregard of the perilous social terrain into which she was plunging. “You are not quite as I expected. I was told you take after your father in a number of ways, and you have his coloring certainly. But the cast of your features is more your mother’s.”

  She turned to Lutatia, who looked mortified at suddenly becoming the center of attention. “I haven’t seen you in some time, tell me, are you well?”

  “Quite well, I thank you,” stammered Lutatia.

  “You must be very proud of your daughter. She is an excellent advocate, or so I am told. My husband will have to watch his back.”

  Cicero looked rather amused and not a little disdainful at this suggestion but Hortensia was taken aback. Terentia smiled knowingly at her.

  “I have my sources, you see.”

  She leant on her husband’s arm in a clear signal that they should take their leave, and they sauntered on to join another group of party-goers, leaving a pregnant silence in their wake. Claudia was the first to break it.

  “Awful woman,” she expostulated. “Terrible dress.”

  Caecilius looked both cross and confused. “What did she mean at the end there? Excellent advocate? What on earth was she talking about? Hortensius?”

  Caepio glanced first at Hortensia, who seemed in no mood to speak, then at Hortensius, who also said nothing. He answered for both as diplomatically as he could.

  “You have not then heard about Hortensia’s great success? She was kind enough to speak on behalf of a lady married to one of my dependents, in the family court a few days ago. She acquitted herself quite splendidly and the judgment came down in her favor.”

  A cloud of disapproval descended over Cato’s austere features and Caecilius looked thunderstruck.

  “I warned you Hortensius, where all this would end,” intoned Caecilius, shaking his head. “Declamations, rhetoric training … it is no education for a girl and so I told you.”

  Cato cleared his throat. “Far be it from me to pass judgment myself but I confess I am surprised at you, Caepio. She will be talked about in the same breath as that harpy Afrania.”

  “Nonsense, I’m very proud of her,” replied Caepio bracingly before adding, “Besides, it’s unlikely to happen again.” Everyone looked at Hortensius.

  “Shall we go and eat?” he suggested with a bland smile and strolled off toward the stretch of grass outside the portico where clusters of tables had now been laid out, with large cushions and low couches arranged around them. After a moment’s hesitation, Claudia seconded this proposal with great alacrity, scolding Caecilius and Caepio for dawdling so long with their own companions, and propelling them toward the dining area, all the while talking at the top of her voice and managing to greet any number of people as she went.

  They took up their places on a group of couches which had been thoughtfully draped with blankets for the warmth and comfort of the guests, and were brought a succession of courses including peppered mushrooms, peacocks’ eggs, spit-roasted boar, thrushes with honey, ham with figs and bay leaves and finishing with a fricassée of roses and sweet-wine cakes. Children darted around from table to table, vying for the attention of the adults or retreating in groups to play catch with a harpastum ball in the surrounding gardens. Pompey occupied a huge couch of his own at the central table and his loud, booming laugh echoed over the happily buzzing throng and the gentle accompaniment of the lyre players. As the sweet course was served, he clapped his hands and a troupe of Hispanian musicians appeared, a triumphalist allusion to the conquest that his upcoming games would celebrate.

  Listening to the high, echoing call of the Hispanian players’ pipes, Hortensia briefly thought of Lucrio and a vision came into her mind. A long road stretching as far as the eye could see across a rust-red landscape, shimmering with the dust kicked up by passing legions of Roman soldiers. A small farm-worker’s cottage, surrounded by grazing goats and roughly marked-out patches of dark brown earth. A mother and father with their two small boys, standing respectfully to attention as the invading army passed by. For a moment, Hortensia felt confused. Why should she not do as her husband advised and leave these men to their games of war? Rome was not the beacon of prosperity and peace to its empire that she had once believed it to be. Did it really matter who governed it? What – or who – was she trying to protect? She glanced at her father, who was smiling at something Caepio had said to him.

  Then she saw Marcus Licinius Crassus, seated at the table next to Pompey’s. He was diverting some of the younger guests by making silver denarii disappear and reappear out of his sleeve before bestowing the coins on the children, who of course begged him to perform the trick again and again and called over their parents and friends to watch. A lock of his oil-sleek hair flopped over his face but he didn’t notice, so intent was the look of greedy pleasure on his wine-flushed cheeks.

  Hortensia made her resolution. Petro or no Petro, she had to warn Pompey that there was a plot against him. To let a man like Crassus win was unthinkable and she had to protect her father too. She would not betray Cornelia’s confidence and risk reprisals for the Vestals, nor would she mention the involvement of Crassus – that would be to throw fat on the fire when she still did not really know the nature of the plot which might not succeed in any case. But she would put Pompey on his guard, encourage him to take care with his safety, perhaps increase his personal bodyguard. He seemed to have taken a liking to her and perhaps that would help her word carry more weight.

  Resolved in this decision, Hortensia waited hopefully for an opportunity and was rewarded toward the end of the evening when Pompey came over to their table and sat down on the couch next to her. She had a shrewd suspicion that he had timed his moment, since Caepio, Hortensius, Cato and Caecilius had all got up from the table and joined a group of senators in the far corner of the garden. Claudia was gossiping with friends nearby and the only people still reclining around the remnants of the feast were Hortensia and her mother, who was fretting about Quintus. He had made a brief appearance at dinner but disappeared during the main courses and Lutatia was wondering aloud to Hortensia whether she ought to go and look for him.

  “Enjoying yourselves I hope?” asked Pompey enthusiastically as he sank heavily on to the blanketed couch, leaning over to scoop a handful of nuts from a bowl and popping them rapidly into his mouth one by one.

  “Hugely, thank you, sir,” smiled Hortensia.

  “Ah well, I can’t take too much of the credit,” said Pompey, looking gratified all the same. “Mucia handles this sort of thing. But I’m glad if you’re pleased with it. Nice to see so many families here. I’m always telling Crassus, that’s what Rome’s all about – family. We should get a little portrait done and put it on the coins.” He laughed uproariously.

  Lutatia spoke up. “Are your own children here somewhere, sir?”

  “Oh yes, yes I expect so. They’re still pups you know, barely out of short tunics. Ah, see, there’s little Pompeia over there, clinging to her mother’s skirts. My boy Gnaeus has just turned five, he’ll be tearing around somewhere, takes after his Papa.”

  Lutatia sighed. “I wish the same were true of Quintus. Hortensia, you wouldn’t ask Caepio to have a quick look for him, would you?”

  Pompey’s face brightened.

  “Better than that, I can tell you just where to find him, madam. He’s over by the balustrade, saw him there myself a moment ago. Here.” He snapped his fingers and a slave came running over. “Faro here will show you. Do go, you get one of the best views over the city from that part of the garden. I insist on you seeing it and then you can bring the boy back and we can talk more about those soldiering ambitions of his.”

  Lutatia looked doubtful glancing at Hortensia, but Pompey winked and gave a little salute.

  “You may leave her safely in my care, madam, fear not. My wife will play chaperone. She’s like a dragon with a hundred eyes, believe me.” He gestured with his thumb toward the neighboring couch where Mucia Tert
ia formed one of the group which Claudia had joined.

  “Do go, Mama,” encouraged Hortensia. “Quintus would be so disappointed to think he had missed an audience with the general.”

  After some more anxious indecision, Lutatia allowed herself to be led away by Pompey’s slave. Pompey turned back to Hortensia and gave a comical roll of his eyes.

  “You’re not really that pasty-faced boy’s sister, are you?”

  Hortensia couldn’t help but laugh though she tried to be reproving in her reply. “That is indeed my brother, sir, and I’ll thank you not to insult him. He’s a great admirer of yours and has studied all of your campaigns – he’d very much like to emulate you.”

  “Impossible. Never seen such skinny knees on a boy. Reminds me of a pet chicken I had when I was a nipper.”

  Hortensia looked around to make sure that no one was standing behind them and then lowered her voice.

  “These pleasantries about my brother aside, I am glad to have a moment to talk with you, sir. I have heard something … a whisper only … but I feel honor bound to inform you of it.”

  Pompey raised his brows in surprise.

  “This is a city of rumors, sir, as you well know, but one has reached me which I hope you will take seriously. You must forgive me if I do not reveal my sources, but I have received word that there may be a conspiracy against you. I wish I could give you more information and indeed I don’t know exactly what is being planned, but I am anxious on your behalf sir and I can only urge that you have a care to the possible danger.”

  She expected Pompey to be intrigued at the very least and was prepared for him to press for more information, even to become angry and defensive. But instead he waited for her to finish, and then chuckled.

  “I am indeed in danger, my dear. Great danger, from an assassin sitting right next to me on this couch.”

  Hortensia was bewildered. “What do you mean?”

  “Don’t you know you could fell a man with one dart from those eyes?” he asked solemnly.