Conspirata by Robert Harris Read Free Book Online Page A

shoulder, 'this is Tiro, who has been my chief private secretary since before I was a senator. You are to regard an order from him as an order from me, and all business that it is to be discussed with me may also be raised with him. I prefer written to oral reports. I rise early and work late. I won't tolerate bribes, or corruption in any form, or gossip. If you make a mistake, don't be afraid to tell me, but do it quickly. Remember that, and we shall get along well enough. And now: to business!'
    After this little speech, which left me blushing, the lictors were handed their new rods along with a purse of money for each man, and finally Cicero's curule chair was brought down from the roof and displayed to the crowd. It drew gasps and a round of applause all to itself, as well it might, for it was carved from Numidian ivory, and had cost over a hundred thousand sesterces ('Macedonia will pay!'). Then everyone drank more wine - even little Marcus took some from an ivory beaker - the flute-players started up, and we went out into the street to begin the long walk across the city.
    It was still icy cold, but the sun was coming up, breaking over the rooftops in lines of gold, and the effect of the light on the snow was to give Rome a celestial radiance such as I had never seen before. The lictors led the parade; four of them carried aloft the curule chair on an open litter. Cicero walked beside Terentia. Tullia was behind him, accompanied by her fiancé , Frugi. Quintus carried Marcus on his shoulders, while on either side of the consular family marched the knights and the senators in gleaming white. The flutes piped, the drums beat, the dancers leaped.
    Citizens lined the streets and hung out of their windows to watch. There was much cheering and clapping, but also - to be honest - some booing, especially in the poorer parts of Subura, as we paraded along the Argiletum towards the forum. Cicero nodded from side to side, and occasionally raised his right hand in salute, but his expression was very grave, and I knew he must be turning over in his mind what lay ahead. In the period before a big speech a part of him was always unreachable. Occasionally I saw both Atticus and Quintus try to speak to him, but he shook his head, wishing to be left alone with his thoughts.
    When we reached the forum it was packed with crowds. We passed the rostra and the empty senate house and finally began our ascent of the Capitol. The smoke from the altar fires was curling above the temples. I could smell the saffron burning, and hear the lowing of the bulls awaiting sacrifice. As we neared the Arch of Scipio I looked back, and there was Rome - her hills and valleys, towers and temples, porticoes and houses all veiled white and sparkling with snow, like a bride in her gown awaiting her groom.
    We entered the Area Capitolina to find the remainder of the senate waiting for us, arrayed before the Temple of Jupiter. I was ushered along with Cicero's family and the rest of the household to the wooden stand that had been erected for spectators. A trumpet blast echoed off the walls, and the senators turned as one to watch as Cicero passed through their ranks - all those crafty faces, reddened by the cold, their covetous eyes studying the consul-elect: the men who had never won the consulship and knew they never would, the men who desired it and feared they might fail, and those who had held it once and still believed it was rightly theirs. Hybrida, Cicero's fellow consul, was already  in position at the foot of the temple steps. Above the scene the great bronze roof looked molten in the brilliant winter sunshine. Without acknowledging one another, the two consuls-elect slowly mounted to the altar, where the chief priest, Metellus Pius, lay on a litter, too sick to get to his feet. Surrounding Pius were the six Vestal Virgins and the other fourteen pontiffs of the state religion. I could clearly make out Catulus, who had rebuilt the temple on behalf of the