Cicero shrugged good-naturedly. "Well, then, perhaps you might cast some light for me, Gordianus."

"Perhaps."

"I believe you went down to the contio in the Forum today." "Yes. How did you know that?"

He waved his hand dismissively. "One sees things, hears things." "How?"

"One has eyes and ears." "Spies, you mean."

He shrugged. "Let us say that very little happens here on the Palatine that escapes my notice. But there are places where my eyes and ears can't go. Not safely, anyway. Not without being noticed."

"Such as a contio held by three radical tribunes to stir up the mob?"

"Three?"

"Pompeius, Plancus, Sallust."

"Sallust as well? I thought he might have come to his senses by now."

Cicero thoughtfully tapped his chin.

"Not a good sign," said Caelius. "Sallust is the cautious one. If he's decided to start stirring up riots with the others -"

"They didn't incite a riot," I said. "It ended with a march on Lepidus's house."

"A march?" said Cicero. "It may have begun that way, but by the time they arrived it was an all-out assault!" He stood and began to pace. He suddenly looked weary. "You didn't witness the attack yourself, Gordianus?"

"Of course not. I went home and bolted my doors."

"Then I'll tell you what happened. The rabble marched up the Palatine and joined their fellows at the barricade, then altogether they rushed the house of Lepidus and broke down the door. They used jiving stones they'd pulled up from the street. They broke the lock and smashed the bolt into splinters. Make note of that, Gordianus, the next time you bolt your door at night and lie down to sleep, thinking you're safe: no man's house is secure if there's a mob determined to get inside. They ransacked the place. Overturned the busts of Lepidus's ancestors, smashed furniture, tore apart the ceremonial looms in the hall – so much for the patrician ladies spinning an orderly pattern for the future of Rome. The poor women ran screaming in fright.

"The mob probably intended to seize Lepidus and force him to conduct some sort of mock election right there on the spot. Not much doubt which candidates that rabble would have chosen, is there? Hypsaeus and Scipio, Clodius's old allies. As if such proceedings could carry any authority at all! The gods help Rome when the day comes that men are chosen to head the state at the whim of a raging mob!

"Fortunately, Milo was ready." Cicero tapped his skull. "Always thinking, ever vigilant! Milo expected that something like this might occur on the last day of Lepidus's interregnum, so he arranged to have his own men assembled in a side street, out of sight. When the attack on the house began, they rallied and mounted a counterattack from the rear. There was quite a battle, and no little amount of bloodshed. But needless to say, the Clodian rabble quickly scattered and fled. Their type is useless in a man-to-man fight. Milo's men found Lepidus locked away in an upstairs room with his wife and daughters, all ready to slash their wrists. Can you imagine? An interrex of Rome was on the verge of killing himself rather than be torn apart by a mob of slaves and freedmen, and the women of his house were preparing to die rather than be raped by such men. I tell you, even in the darkest days of the civil war, there was never such a shame on the republic! And once again it was Milo who came to the rescue. But what chance is there that his foresight and vigilance will be recognized, let alone rewarded as they should be? If ever a man deserved to be consul…"

Cicero seemed to speak from the heart, sincerely outraged by the attack on Lepidus, sincerely in awe of his friend's patriotic zeaL But of course, I reminded myself, it was a part of his profession to be able to speak without apparent artifice, to strike the heartfelt tone, to stir emotions in his listeners against their will.

I cleared my throat "Is it true, what they say about Milo and Pompey?"

Cicero frowned and looked puzzled at the sudden change of subject. Caelius raised a curious eyebrow.

"Has Pompey also become a menace to the state?" I said. "Is that why Milo's plotting to do away with him, as Clodius was done away with – for the good of Rome? Does he intend to strangle the general 'with his own bare hands'? No wonder Pompey won't allow him into his villa."

Cicero's frown deepened. "Is that what was said at the contio today?"

I nodded. "That's what really stirred up the mob. They said that Milo paid a call on Pompey, and Pompey refused to see him. It was implied that Pompey fears for his life, and with good reason."

"What?" Cicero was aghast, or pretended to be.

"I quote the tribune Pompeius: 'It was Milo who provided a body to be cremated in the Senate House, and it's Milo who'll provide another body to be buried on the Capitoline Hill.'"

"Absurd!" There certainly seemed to be nothing theatrical or premeditated in the way Cicero spat out the word. "Those rabble-rousers will say anything, and the idiots will believe it! The audience for the contio, Gordianus – did it seem to you that it was made up of hand-picked supporters, packed with Clodian sympathizers?"

"Not particularly. There were dissenting voices in the crowd. It was a mixed group. A great many people of all sorts were interested to hear what the tribunes had to say. I was there myself."

"And yet the crowd was swayed by such nonsense?"

"More than swayed, Cicero, from what you've told me of the attack on Lepidus's house. It's completely false, then, what they're saying about Milo and Pompey?"

"Of course!"

"Yes, well, perhaps not completely false," said Marcus Caelius, raising an eyebrow at me and then casting an imperturbable, catlike gaze at his agitated mentor. "Well, Cicero, Gordianus has been candid with us. He deserves our candour in return. The fact is that Milo did attempt to pay a call on Pompey, and Pompey rebuffed him. It was a miscalculation on Milo's part, if you ask me. He felt obliged to seek the Great One's blessing. He should have known better. But our Milo is a simple man simple in the virtuous sense, as our ancestors supposedly were. Having done Pompey so many favours in the past, Milo assumed that the Great One would feel obliged to return those favours now that Milo is in dire straits. Think again! So the radical tribunes knew about the rebuff?"

I nodded. "How did Sallust put it?' Pompey sent the scoundrel a roundabout message asking him to refrain from calling again, so as to spare Pompey the embarrassment of refusing to see him again.' "

"You've always had an excellent memory for words," said Cicero quietly.

"Indeed," said Caelius, "you could make Tiro's shorthand obsolete!" He turned to Cicero. "But how did Sallust and the rest find out about Pompey's message? It was sent in secret, and to this house, not directly to Milo."

"Perhaps Pompey wasn't as discreet as he wanted us to think," said Cicero. "Easy enough, to whisper the news from ear to ear until the tribunes knew about it. Pompey is like everyone else at the moment. He's testing the waters."

Caelius turned back to me. "And what did Sallust and the other tribunes say about the subsequent exchange of messages between Milo and Pompey?"

I shook my head. "They only mentioned the visit and Pompey's rebuff."

"Well then, perhaps Pompey is being discreet after all," said Caelius. "You see, Gordianus, Milo was quite shaken when Pompey refused his visit When he received Pompey's message declining any further visits, Milo sent Pompey a message in return, begging him to reconsider and offering -"

"Caelius!" said Cicero.

"But we might as well tell Gordianus everything," insisted Caelius. "Well, then: Milo offered to quit the race for consul if Pompey wanted him to. 'A word from you, Pompey Magnus, and for the good of Rome I will abandon my ambitions to serve her.' Of course he was really fishing for some backhanded encouragement – 'No, no, dear fellow, politics prevents me from receiving your visit, but of course you must run!' But that's not what he got."