Imperium by Robert Harris Read Free Book Online

he appeared highly amused. “That was Verres’s father. He has promised to write to his son, urging him to drop the prosecution, if we agree not to bring the matter back to the Senate.”
    Poor Sthenius was so relieved, I thought he might die from gratitude. He dropped to his knees and began kissing the senator’s hands. Cicero made a sour face and gently raised him to his feet. “Really, my dear Sthenius, save your thanks until I have actually achieved something. He has only promised to write, that is all. It is not a guarantee.”
    Sthenius said, “But you will accept the offer?”
    Cicero shrugged. “What choice do we have? Even if I retable the motion, they will only talk it out again.”
    I could not resist asking why, in that case, Hortensius was bothering to offer a deal at all.
    Cicero nodded slowly. “Now that is a good question.” There was a mist rising from the Tiber, and the lamps in the shops along the Argiletum shone yellow and gauzy. He sniffed the damp air. “I suppose it can only be because he is embarrassed. Which in his case, of course, takes quite a lot. Yet it seems that even he would prefer not to be associated too publicly with such a flagrant criminal as Verres. So he is trying to settle the matter quietly. I wonder how much his retainer is from Verres: it must be an enormous sum.”
    “Hortensius was not the only one who came to Verres’s defense,” I reminded him.
    “No.” Cicero glanced back at the Senate House, and I could see that something had just occurred to him. “They are all in it together, aren’t they? The Metellus brothers are true aristocrats—they would never lift a finger to help anyone apart from themselves, unless it was for money. As for Catulus, the man is frantic for gold. He has undertaken so much building on the Capitol over the past ten years, it is almost more of a shrine to him than it is to Jupiter. I estimate we must have been looking at half a million in bribes this afternoon, Tiro. A few Delian bronzes—however fine, Sthenius, forgive me—would not be sufficient to buy that kind of protection. What is Verres up to down there in Sicily?” He suddenly began working his signet ring over his knuckle. “Take this to the National Archive, Tiro, and show it to one of the clerks. Demand in my name to see all the official accounts submitted to the Senate by Gaius Verres.”
    My face no doubt registered my dismay. “But the National Archive is run by Catulus’s people. He is sure to hear word of what you are doing.”
    “That cannot be helped.”
    “But what am I looking for?”
    “Anything interesting. You will know it when you see it. Go quickly, while there is still some light.” He put his arm around the shoulders of the Sicilian. “As for you, Sthenius—you will come to dinner with me tonight, I hope? It is only family, but I am sure my wife will be delighted to meet you.”
    I rather doubted that, but naturally it was not my place to say so.

    THE NATIONAL ARCHIVE, which was then barely six years old, loomed over the Forum even more massively than it does today, for back then it had less competition. I climbed that great flight of steps up to the first gallery and by the time I found an attendant my heart was racing. I showed him the seal and demanded, on behalf of Senator Cicero, to see Verres’s accounts. At first he claimed never to have heard of Cicero and, besides, that the building was closing. But then I pointed in the direction of the Carcer and told him firmly that if he did not desire to spend a month in chains in the state prison for impeding official business, he had better fetch those records now. (One lesson I had learned from Cicero was how to hide my nerves.) He scowled a bit and thought about it, then told me to follow him.
    The Archive was Catulus’s domain, a temple to him and his clan. Above the vaults was his inscription— Q. Lutatius Catulus, son of Quintus, grandson of Quintus, consul, by a decree of the Senate,