A BIG CROWD-they are always bigger after a victory-escorted Cicero from the Field of Mars all the way back to his house, where the domestic slaves were assembled to applaud him over the threshold. Even Diodotus the blind Stoic put in a rare appearance. All of us were proud to belong to such an eminent figure; his glory reflected on every member of his household; our worth and self-esteem increased with his. From the atrium, Tullia darted forward with a cry of “Papa!” and wrapped her arms around his legs, and even Terentia stepped up and embraced him, smiling. I still hold that image of the three of them frozen in my mind-the triumphant young orator with his left hand on the head of his daughter and his right clasped about the shoulders of his happy wife. Nature bestows this gift, at least, on those who rarely smile: when they do, their faces are transformed, and I saw at that moment how Terentia, for all her complaints about her husband, nonetheless relished his brilliance and success.
It was Cicero who reluctantly broke the embrace. “I thank you all,” he declared, looking around at his admiring audience. “But this is not the time for celebrations. That time will come only when Verres is defeated. Tomorrow, at long last, I shall open the prosecution in the Forum, and let us pray to the gods that before too many days have passed, fresh and far greater honor will descend upon this household. So what are you waiting for?” He smiled and clapped his hands. “Back to work!”
Cicero retired with Quintus to his study and beckoned to me to follow. He threw himself into his chair with a gasp of relief and kicked off his shoes. For the first time in more than a week the tension in his face seemed to have eased. I assumed he would now want to begin the urgent task of pulling together his speech, but apparently he had other plans for me. I was to go back out into the city with Sositheus and Laurea, and between us we were to visit all the Sicilian witnesses, give them the news of his election, check that they were holding firm, and instruct them all to present themselves in court the following morning.
“All of them?” I repeated in astonishment. “All one hundred?”
“That is right,” he replied. The old decisiveness was back in his voice. “And tell Eros to hire a dozen porters-reliable men-to carry every box of evidence down to court at the same time as I go down tomorrow.”
“All the witnesses…A dozen porters…Every box of evidence…” I was making a list of his orders. “But this is going to take me until midnight,” I said, unable to conceal my bewilderment.
“Poor Tiro. But do not worry-there will be time enough to sleep when we are dead.”
“I am not worried about my sleep, senator,” I said stiffly. “I was wondering when I was going to have time to help you with your speech.”
“I shall not require your help,” he said with a slight smile, and he raised a finger to his lips, to warn me that I must say nothing. But as I had no idea of the significance of his remark, there was hardly any danger of my revealing his plans, and not for the first time I left his presence in a state of some confusion.