here, were you?"
"Frankly, I thought he must be halfway to Massilia by now."
"Ha! Turn tail and run like a rabbit? You truly don't know my friend Milo if you could think him such a coward."
"I'm not sure it's a question of cowardice; more of expedience. Anyway, the rumour of his flight to Massilia is widespread."
Milo scowled but said nothing.
"You see, I told you," said Caelius, finally speaking. "Gordianus and his son hear everything. Between them their four ears catch every whisper in Rome."
Cicero nodded. "Yes, go on, Gordianus. What else are people saying?"
"Some say Milo slipped back into the city last night and barricaded himself in his house, and that he was there when the mob came to burn it."
"So they think he's not a coward, just a madman! No, Milo spent the night here, under my roof, safe and sound. What else do they say?"
"That he plans to incite a revolution. He started by assassinating Clodius, and now he's gathering an army to march on Rome. His confederates inside the walls have stockpiled weapons and incendiary materials all over the city —"
"Well, you can see for yourself how absurd that rumour is! Milo is here, in my house, not out rabble-rousing. And does my house stink of sulphur and pitch? Of course not. A revolution, indeed! There's not a man in Rome more dedicated to the preservation of the Republic than Titus Annius Milo, not even myself! When I think of the abuse he's suffered, and the terrible risks he's taken ..."
The weight of such sacrifices seemed to bear heavily on Milo, who finished his second cup of wine and looked at me glumly.
I looked around the room, at the many scrolls in their pigeonhole cases, at Iaia's painting of a scene from the Odyssey, at the priceless scrap of Plato under glass. "You take an awful risk yourself) Cicero. If the mob had known that Milo was here ..."
"Yes, I know what you're thinking. This house has already been torched once. But that was because Clodius managed to drive me out of the city first. It would never have happened if I had been here to stop it. And it will never happen again so long as I'm present to defend to my last breath what belongs to me. It may come to that for you as well, Gordianus, before this crisis passes. You have a fine house yourself now. You have a family to protect. Think of those things, and then think of that howling mob we saw yesterday, running wild like a pack of dogs down in the Forum. Do you know how Sextus Cloelius built the fire in the Senate House? He smashed the consuls' chairs and the sacred tribunal and used the wood to build a funeral pyre for the monster. He ripped up scrolls for kindling. Unspeakable desecration! Like their dead leader, these useless freedmen and beggars have no respect at all for the majesty of the state, and no respect for simple decency. They're a menace to any man who stands in their way."
Cicero sat back and took a deep breath. "The important thing is, the Clodians were foolish enough to burn down the Senate House. They had the advantage up to that point - people were clucking their tongues about poor, pitiful Clodius. That was a masterstroke, parading his corpse in public like that, stripped naked with all the wounds showing. As an advocate, I have to admire their panache.
If I could drag a stinking corpse into court and shove it under the jurymen's noses, believe me, I wouldn't think twice! Shock and sympathy are two-thirds of the battle. But they overplayed their advantage."
Caelius swirled his wine cup. "They took the heat off Milo and lit a fire under their own feet."
Cicero raised his cup to Caelius. "Precisely! Oh, Caelius, the turn of phrase is exquisite! A metaphor that's also literally true. 'They took the heat off Milo and lit a fire under their own feet.' Bravo!"
Even Milo smiled, begrudgingly, and raised his cup. He too was an orator, after all, with an appreciation for rhetoric.
"You say that Milo spent the night here?" I said.
Cicero nodded. "Yes. While the
"Frankly, I thought he must be halfway to Massilia by now."
"Ha! Turn tail and run like a rabbit? You truly don't know my friend Milo if you could think him such a coward."
"I'm not sure it's a question of cowardice; more of expedience. Anyway, the rumour of his flight to Massilia is widespread."
Milo scowled but said nothing.
"You see, I told you," said Caelius, finally speaking. "Gordianus and his son hear everything. Between them their four ears catch every whisper in Rome."
Cicero nodded. "Yes, go on, Gordianus. What else are people saying?"
"Some say Milo slipped back into the city last night and barricaded himself in his house, and that he was there when the mob came to burn it."
"So they think he's not a coward, just a madman! No, Milo spent the night here, under my roof, safe and sound. What else do they say?"
"That he plans to incite a revolution. He started by assassinating Clodius, and now he's gathering an army to march on Rome. His confederates inside the walls have stockpiled weapons and incendiary materials all over the city —"
"Well, you can see for yourself how absurd that rumour is! Milo is here, in my house, not out rabble-rousing. And does my house stink of sulphur and pitch? Of course not. A revolution, indeed! There's not a man in Rome more dedicated to the preservation of the Republic than Titus Annius Milo, not even myself! When I think of the abuse he's suffered, and the terrible risks he's taken ..."
The weight of such sacrifices seemed to bear heavily on Milo, who finished his second cup of wine and looked at me glumly.
I looked around the room, at the many scrolls in their pigeonhole cases, at Iaia's painting of a scene from the Odyssey, at the priceless scrap of Plato under glass. "You take an awful risk yourself) Cicero. If the mob had known that Milo was here ..."
"Yes, I know what you're thinking. This house has already been torched once. But that was because Clodius managed to drive me out of the city first. It would never have happened if I had been here to stop it. And it will never happen again so long as I'm present to defend to my last breath what belongs to me. It may come to that for you as well, Gordianus, before this crisis passes. You have a fine house yourself now. You have a family to protect. Think of those things, and then think of that howling mob we saw yesterday, running wild like a pack of dogs down in the Forum. Do you know how Sextus Cloelius built the fire in the Senate House? He smashed the consuls' chairs and the sacred tribunal and used the wood to build a funeral pyre for the monster. He ripped up scrolls for kindling. Unspeakable desecration! Like their dead leader, these useless freedmen and beggars have no respect at all for the majesty of the state, and no respect for simple decency. They're a menace to any man who stands in their way."
Cicero sat back and took a deep breath. "The important thing is, the Clodians were foolish enough to burn down the Senate House. They had the advantage up to that point - people were clucking their tongues about poor, pitiful Clodius. That was a masterstroke, parading his corpse in public like that, stripped naked with all the wounds showing. As an advocate, I have to admire their panache.
If I could drag a stinking corpse into court and shove it under the jurymen's noses, believe me, I wouldn't think twice! Shock and sympathy are two-thirds of the battle. But they overplayed their advantage."
Caelius swirled his wine cup. "They took the heat off Milo and lit a fire under their own feet."
Cicero raised his cup to Caelius. "Precisely! Oh, Caelius, the turn of phrase is exquisite! A metaphor that's also literally true. 'They took the heat off Milo and lit a fire under their own feet.' Bravo!"
Even Milo smiled, begrudgingly, and raised his cup. He too was an orator, after all, with an appreciation for rhetoric.
"You say that Milo spent the night here?" I said.
Cicero nodded. "Yes. While the
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