Milo and Rufus both dismissed Cicero’s fears as the nervousness of an old man, and the next day resumed campaigning with fresh energy. But Cicero was right: the mood in Rome was too jittery for normal electioneering and Milo walked straight into Pompey’s trap. One morning soon after their meeting Cicero received an urgent summons to see Pompey. He found the great man’s house ringed with soldiers and Pompey himself in an elevated part of the garden with double his normal bodyguard. Seated in the portico with him was a man Pompey introduced as Licinius, the owner of an eating house near the Circus Maximus. Pompey ordered Licinius to repeat his tale to Cicero, and Licinius duly described how he had overheard a group of Milo’s gladiators plotting at his counter to murder Pompey, and how, when they realised he was listening, they had tried to silence him by stabbing him: as proof he showed Cicero a minor flesh wound just beneath his ribs.
Of course, as Cicero said to me afterwards, the whole story was absurd. ‘For a start, whoever heard of such feeble gladiators? If that kind of man wishes to silence you, you are silenced.’ But it didn’t matter. The eating-house plot, as it became known, joined all the other rumours now circulating about Milo – that he had turned his house into an arsenal filled with swords, shields and javelins; that he had stocks of brands hidden throughout the city in order to burn it down; that he had shipped arms along the Tiber to his villa at Ocriculum; that the assassins who had murdered Clodius would be turned loose on his opponents in the election …
The next time the Senate met, no less a figure than Marcus Bibulus, Caesar’s former consular colleague and passionate lifelong enemy, rose to propose that Pompey should hold office by emergency decree as sole consul. This was remarkable enough; what no one had anticipated was the reaction of Cato. A hush fell over the chamber as he got to his feet. ‘I would not have proposed this motion myself,’ he said, ‘but seeing as it has been laid before us, I propose we accept it as a sensible compromise. Some government is better than no government; a sole consulship is better than a dictatorship; and Pompey is more likely to rule wisely than anyone else.’
Coming from Cato, this was almost unbelievable – he had used the word ‘compromise’ for the first time in his life – and no one looked more stunned than Pompey. Afterwards, so the story went, he invited Cato back to his house to thank him personally and to ask him in future to be his private adviser in all matters of state. ‘You have no need to thank me,’ replied Cato, ‘for I only did what I believed to be in the best interests of the republic. If you wish to talk to me alone I shall certainly be at your disposal. But I shall say nothing to you in private that I wouldn’t say anywhere else, and I shall never hold my tongue in public to please you.’
Cicero observed their new closeness with deep foreboding. ‘Why do you think men like Cato and Bibulus have suddenly thrown in their lot with Pompey? Do you imagine they believe all this nonsense about a plot to murder him? Do you think they’ve suddenly changed their minds about him? Not at all! They’ve given him sole authority because they see him as their best hope of checking the ambitions of Caesar. I’m sure Pompey recognises this and believes he can control them. But he’s wrong. Don’t forget I know him. His vanity is his weakness. They will flatter him and load him down with powers and honours, and he won’t even notice what they’re doing, until one day it will be too late – they will have set him on a collision course with Caesar. And then we shall have war.’
Cicero went straight from the Senate meeting to find Milo, and told him in blunt terms that he must now abandon his campaign for the consulship. ‘If you send a message to Pompey before nightfall and announce that you are withdrawing your candidacy in the interests of national unity, you might just head off a prosecution. If you don’t, you’re finished.’
‘And if I
I had expected Cicero to say it was impossible. Instead he sighed and ran his hand through his hair. ‘Listen to me, Milo – listen carefully. When I was at the lowest point of my life, six years ago in Thessalonica, you were the only one who offered me hope. Therefore you can rest assured, whatever happens I shan’t turn my back on you now. But for pity’s sake, don’t let it come to that. Write to Pompey today.’
