'Another of the letter writers, Statilius, was brought in. Again, the breaking of the seal, the reading of the letter, the stuttering confession of guilt

'Then came Lentulus. His letter was read. It reiterated what we already knew, but Lentulus declined to break down and confess like the others. I offered this man — currently serving as a praetor and once a consul of the Roman people — an opportunity to speak on his own behalf He refused, and instead demanded that Volturcius and the Allobroges be called into his presence, so that he might confront his accusers. This was done; and thus was Lentulus undone, for as our informers resolutely recited the occasions on which they had met with him, he began to crumble, and when they brought up the business of the Sibylline oracles, those of us present witnessed what the exposure of guilt can do to a man. The magnitude of his crime and the glaring absurdity of his delusions suddenly came crashing down on him and robbed him of his wits, and instead of continuing to deny the allegations, which he might easily have done, Lentulus surprised us all by blurting out his confession. He did so in a whimpering voice that none of us had heard before; when he needed them most, his famous oratorical skills and even his notorious sarcasm deserted him completely.

'Volturcius was then called on to produce the single remaining unopened letter. Seeing it, Lentulus blanched and began to tremble; nevertheless, he acknowledged that the seal and the handwriting were his, though the letter itself was unsigned. I will read it to you now.' Without turning from the crowd, Cicero held out his hand. From behind him, his secretary Tiro appeared and placed the document into his master's palm. Cicero unrolled it and snapped it stiff between his hands.' "You will know who I am from the man who brings this to you. Remember that you are a man; consider your situation; take steps to do whatever is necessary. Recruit the aid of all, even the lowest." '

Cicero thrust out his arm, as if the document had an odour, and Tiro relieved him of it.

'Letters, seals, handwriting, confessions — citizens, these might seem to be the most compelling possible evidence against these men. But even more conclusive was the furtive look in their eyes, the pallor of their faces, their stupefied silence and the way they gazed at the floor, ashamed to look up, or else glanced cringingly at one another. Their own guilty appearance was the most incriminating testimony against them.

'Acting on the evidence we have gathered, the Senate unanimously voted to put under arrest the nine men most intimately involved in this conspiracy — only nine, despite the alarming number of traitors among us, because the Senate in its leniency believes that the punishment of these nine alone may recall the others to their senses.

"Thus have the foul schemes of Catilina met with abject failure. Had I not had the foresight to eject him from the city, it might not have been so. For while there was never any real danger, so long as I was vigilant, from lazy Lentulus or the wild-eyed Cethegus, Catilina is another matter. His skill at swaying the hearts of men, his personal attention to every detail of his vast plans, his cunning, his great strength and physical endurance — all these made him the most formidable of Rome's enemies, so long as he was in our midst. He would never have made such a stupid mistake as sending off incriminating letters with his own seal upon them! Had he remained, even with myself to watch his steps and counter his designs, we would have had a bitter fight on our hands, a struggle to the death.'

Cicero paused. He clasped his hands before him and bowed his head for a moment, then with a deep breath raised his eyes to the statue of Jupiter beside him and stepped closer to it. 'In my conduct of these affairs, fellow citizens, I feel very strongly that I have been guided every step of the way by the will of the immortal gods. Such a conclusion is obvious, for human initiative alone could scarcely be credited with directing these matters to such a fortuitous end. Indeed, throughout these dark days, so persistendy have the gods made known their will that they have virtually been visible before us. Word of their portents has already spread among you, so that I scarcely need mention all the manifestations — the flames seen in the sky by night, me tremblings of the earth, the strange patterns of lightning. By such signs the gods foretold the outcome of this struggle. I will not enumerate them all, but there is one incident so compelling that I must not pass over it

'Cast your minds back two years ago, to the consulship of Cotta and Torquatus. In that year the Capitol was struck repeatedly by freakish lightning, which jarred the images of the gods from their pedestals, struck down the statues of our ancestors, and melted the brazen tablets of the law. Even the image of our founder Romulus was struck, that gold-covered statue that shows him suckling the she-wolf. Soothsayers, who had gathered from all over Etruria, prophesied slaughter and conflagration, the overthrow of the law, civil war, and the end of Rome and her empire — unless the gods could be persuaded to alter the course of destiny. In accordance with these dire warnings, ceremonial games were held for ten consecutive days, and nothing that might appease the gods was left undone.

"The soothsayers commanded that a new statue of Jupiter should be made and that it should be placed in a lofty spot facing the dawn and overlooking the Forum and the Senate House. With the image of the Father of the Gods, turned upon our mortal activities, any grave threat to the safety of Rome would be brought to light and made manifest to the Senate and the people. So slowly did the construction of this massive, magnificent statue proceed that only now has it been completed — and it was not ready to be installed in its lofty place beside the entrance to the Temple of Concord until this very day’

'No man here is so blind that he cannot see how the entire universe, and most specifically this chosen city, is guided and governed by the will and the majesty of the gods. Two years ago we were warned, by those who interpret the signs of the gods, of impending catastrophe and civil chaos. Not all believed the signs, but wisdom prevailed and the gods were placated. Now the time of crisis arrives and — who would dare call it coincidence? — the statue of Jupiter is ready! So timely is the benign intervention of great Jupiter that at the very hour the conspirators were being conducted through the Forum to the Temple of Concord, the engineers were just completing the statue's installation! And now, with Jupiter's terrible gaze upon us, this plot against your safety and the very survival of Rome has been revealed and brought into the bright, harsh light of day.

'Harsher than ever, then, should be your hatred and punishment of these men who have dared to spread the flames of destruction not only to your homes but to the shrines of the gods as well. How proud

I would be to assert that their apprehension and arrest is all due to me, but it is not so; it was Jupiter himself who thwarted them. Jupiter wishes for the Capitol to be saved, and for the temples and this city and all of you to be saved as well. In that divine wish I have been his vessel.

The Senate has decreed a thanksgiving to the gods. Their decree was issued in my name — the first time that such an honour has ever been bestowed upon a civilian. It is framed in these words: "because he saved the city from flames, the citizens from massacre, and Italy from war." Yes, citizens, raise your voices in thanksgiving, but not to me; render your loving praise to the father who has saved you all, to the destroyer of Rome's enemies, to Jupiter Almighty!'

Cicero raised his arms to the gleaming statue beside him and stepped back. Cheering erupted throughout the crowd, so precisely on cue that I wondered at first if Cicero had seeded his partisans among the crowd. But the ovation was too overwhelming to be false, and why not? It was not Cicero, the mere vessel, whom they were cheering, but the Father of the Gods, who gazed out at us from beneath his thunderous brow. Even so, as he backed away into the shadows, Cicero wore a smile of utter triumph, as if the cheering were entirely for him,