"What did Pompey say?"

"The Great One is apparently too far above the fray to be bothered with Milo's petty ambitions. He sent back a curt reply: 'It is not for me to say who can or cannot stand for office. I would never dream of imposing my opinion on the Roman people, who are quite capable of making their own judgment without my advice.' Cold, cold! As chilly as the rain that's coming down."

Cicero shook his head. "They weren't small favours, the sacrifices Milo made for Pompey over the years. But now that Milo's in trouble and Clodius is no longer a threat, Pompey can't cut his ties to Milo fast enough!"

"Pompey may yet come around, if he can be made to see that it's in his interest," said Caelius.

"We can't count on that," said Cicero. "Milo will have to make his move without Pompey's support."

Caelius nodded. "I agree. Word will spread tonight about the rescue of Lepidus. That will count in Milo's favour; Milo stands for order and tradition against the lawless mob. And we shouldn't underestimate the resentment that decent people feel against the Clodians for burning the Senate House. I think we can count on a favourable crowd tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" I said.

Caelius smiled. "Another contio, this time called by me. Be sure to come, Gordianus. We shall fight fire with fire." "You don't mean that literally, I hope." Caelius laughed.

Eco called on me early the next morning, brimming with news.

"Papa, have you heard what happened at Lepidus's house yesterday, after the contio?"

"Yes."

"Quite a battle, apparently. Blood all over Lepidus's house, they say. His ancestral busts ruined beyond repair. The yarn for the ceremonial looms all a tangled mess. But now he'll always be known as the interrex who held firm against the mob – he got his five days of fame!"

"We were damned lucky the violence didn't start down in the Forum, while we were still in that crowd. What if Milo's little army had shown up there, instead of waiting in ambush at Lepidus's house? I'm an old man, Eco. I can't outrun a mob."

"No one forced you to go to the contio, Papa."

I grunted.

"Don't you trust my new bodyguards?"

I grunted again. "I suppose the senatorial committee will choose a new interrex today."

"That's the word. No one knows where they're meeting-probably outside the city. They've kept the location secret, afraid of another blockade or a battle. The new interrex will have the authority to call elections, but with things so unsettled it seems unlikely that well actually see new consuls in the next five days. Oh, and speaking of unsettled, there's to be another contio today, this one -"

"Called by the not-so-radical tribune Marcus Caelius."

"Yes, and they say that -"

"Milo himself may speak."

Eco looked at me archly. "Papa, you're remarkably well informed for a man who never sets foot in the Forum unless I drag you there. Something tells me you've been in touch with Cicero again. Tell me everything."

I gave him the details of my visit to Cicero's house on the previous day.

Eco drew his own conclusions. "Pompey's behaving like a bastard, isn't he?"

"Oh, I don't know."

"What a back-stabber! Milo was his ally for years, and now -"

"Ah, but little things like murder can sour even the sincerest relationships. If Milo killed Clodius, just how far do Pompey's obligations of friendship extend?"

Eco looked at me quizzically. "Why do you say 'if?"

"What do you mean?"

"You said, 'If Milo killed Clodius.' "

"Oh. I suppose I did…"

"Well, I don't see why you defend Pompey. This 'little thing' -this murder – seems only to have strengthened Cicero's support ofMilo."

"Yes, one can't fault Cicero's loyalty."

"I suppose it's because they're so much alike."

"Cicero and Milo?" I thought of Cicero – frail in youth, dyspeptic in middle age, shrewd, calculating, a model of taste and refinement – and then of Milo, who seemed quite the opposite, with his robust, bullish physique, his bluff manner, and a rough edge to his character that no amount of money or education had ever managed to smooth away. "Alike in what ways, Eco?"

"Well, they're the two brightest of the New Men, aren't they, the two shiniest new stars in the firmament? Or they would be, if Milo could ever get himself elected consul."

Eco had a point. Cicero had been the first of his family to attain a magistracy. He had been born with money and means, to be sure, but none of his ancestors had ever held high office. With his election as a quaestor at the age of thirty, he had become, as the parlance goes, a New Man in the halls of power. This in itself was a great achievement. But Cicero's ascent had not ended with the lower magistracies; he had worked his way all the way up to consul. This was truly remarkable. As a rule the consulship is attained only by candidates already of consular family, men whose ancestors held the consulship before them. Thus do the high nobility, by various traps and schemes, perpetuate their status and exclude newcomers. But against all odds Cicero had attained the consulship, and he was the first New Man of his generation to do so.

Milo was also a New Man. If he became consul he would be only the second New Man in living memory, after Cicero, to do so.

"I see what you mean, Eco. I suppose they see themselves as the only two members of a very exclusive club. They've risen above their birth -"

"So that they can now look down on people like you and me from a comfortable height."

"But they're still outsiders and interlopers to the old aristocratic families who were born to privilege and great expectations."

"Like their mutual enemy Clodius."

"Or Pompey," I noted. "Or Caesar."

"So it's all the better that they're so different on the outside," said Eco. "They get to play each other's alter ego."

"Cicero and Milo, alter egos?.Well, Cicero certainly seems determined to stand by Milo, no matter what he's done, whether the mob likes it or not. And whether Pompey likes it or not, for that matter."

"But to what end?" said Eco.

For my decision to attend Caelius's contio that day, I have no one to blame but myself

The event attracted a considerable crowd – even larger than the crowd that had attended the radical tribunes' contio the previous day. The news of the battle at Lepidus's house had made people even more restless and anxious. As I have said, in times of duress Romans gather by instinct in large groups to listen to speeches.

With Eco's bodyguards helping to clear the way, we managed to find a good spot in front of the speakers' platform, despite the crush. I peered at the sea of faces around us, trying to judge the temper of the crowd. I noticed a number of stuffy, conservative types, men of means attended by large retinues of bodyguards and retainers, dressed in immaculate togas spun from superior wool. Eco pointed to such a specimen nearby.

"Businessman," he said.

"Banker," I countered, merely for the sake of argument. "Pro-Milo?"

"Anti-Clodius, more likely. And probably more outraged by the burning of the Porcian Basilica than the loss of the Senate House."

Eco nodded. "Probably impressed that Milo's men saved Marcus Lepidus."

"Probably hopes there'll be someone to do the same for him if the mob ever attacks his house."

"But is Milo the man for him?"

"Maybe that's what he's here to decide."

More numerous than the wealthy traders and bankers in the crowd were citizens of more modest appearance, who might have been small shopkeepers or craftsmen or free labourers. Eco nodded in the direction of such a man nearby, a glum-looking fellow attended by a single slave and dressed in a toga with a worn hem. "That one looks to have less to lose than our banker friend."