Two days before the inauguration of Marcus Tullius Cicero as consul of Rome, the body of a child was pulled from the River Tiber, close to the boat sheds of the republican war fleet.
Such a discovery, though tragic, would not normally have warranted the attention of a consul-elect. But there was something so grotesque about this particular corpse, and so threatening to civic peace, that the magistrate responsible for keeping order in the city, Gaius Octavius, sent word to Cicero asking him to come at once.
Cicero at first was reluctant to go, pleading pressure of work. As the consular candidate who had topped the poll, it fell to him, rather than his colleague, to preside over the opening session of the Senate, and he was writing his inaugural address. But I knew there was more to it than that. He had an unusual squeamishness about death. Even the killing of animals in the games disturbed him, and this weakness -- for, alas, in politics a soft heart is always perceived as a weakness -- had started to be noticed. His immediate instinct was to send me in his place.
“Of course I shall go,” I replied carefully. “But -- “ I let my sentence trail away.
“But?” he said sharply. “But what? You think it will look bad?”
I held my tongue and continued transcribing his speech. The silence lengthened.
“Oh, very well,” he groaned at last. He heaved himself to his feet. “Octavius is a dull dog, but steady enough. He wouldn’t summon me unless it was important. In any case I need to clear my head.”
It was late December, and from a dark gray sky blew a wind that was quick enough and sharp enough to steal your breath. Outside in the street a dozen petitioners were huddled, hoping for a word, and as soon as they saw the consul-elect stepping through his front door they ran across the road toward him. “Not now,” I said, pushing them back. “Not today.” Cicero threw the edge of his cloak over his shoulder and tucked his chin down onto his chest, and we set off briskly down the hill.
We must have walked about a mile, I suppose, crossing the Forum at an angle and leaving the city by the river gate. The waters of the Tiber were fast and high, flexed by yellowish-brown whirlpools and writhing currents. Up ahead, opposite Tiber Island, amid the wharfs and cranes of the Navalia, we could see a large crowd milling around. (You will get a sense of how long ago all this happened, by the way -- more than half a century -- when I tell you that the island was not yet linked by its bridges to either bank.) As we drew closer many of the onlookers recognized Cicero and there was a stir of curiosity as they parted to let us through. A cordon of legionnaires from the marine barracks was protecting the scene. Octavius was waiting.
Copyright © 2010 by Robert Harris
Few eras of ancient history continue to attract as much interest as the last days of the Roman Republic, that tumultuous period when the old system broke down and civil war led to Empire. If you think events that have been covered this often have been exhausted of dramatic potential, Robert Harris is back once again to prove you wrong. Conspirata, the second novel in his acclaimed Roman trilogy, continues Harris’ brilliant take on the life and career of Marcus Tullius Cicero.
Cicero was a masterful politician and perhaps the greatest orator of his day, but he did not tower above all others. During this extraordinary period in Roman history, he had to contend with a number of equally charismatic characters. The novel is full of names that will be familiar to any fan of Shakespeare, I, Claudius or the cable television series Rome, including Cato, Crassus, Catulus, Servilia, Pompey the Great and Mark Antony.
Where Harris’ previous book, Imperium, concerned itself with the unlikely rise of provincial outsider Cicero to consul, the supreme office of the Republic, Conspirata centers on what happens once he has assumed power. Narrated once again by Cicero’s right-hand man, his slave and secretary Tiro, the novel convincingly recreates the secret machinations, double-dealing and political manipulation of the time. Cicero wishes to maintain the integrity of the Republic, but is hampered by members of the Senate and the ruling class, some of whom resent his common background, all of whom want more power. When his old nemesis, the arrogant patrician Catilina, hatches a conspiracy to kill Cicero, burn Rome and overthrow the Senate, Cicero is forced to make a deal with the devil—one that he will ultimately rue.
As the betrayals start to pile up and various plots are uncovered, we realize that we are witnessing a duel of epic proportions between Cicero and the other great political maneuverer of the day: Julius Caesar. But whereas Cicero wants to preserve the rule of law, Caesar is a man of limitless ambition. Soon, Caesar has formed the First Triumvirate with Crassus and Pompey, been elected consul and grabbed hold of the reins of power in Rome. The novel ends with Caesar ascendant, a state of affairs we know from history will eventually lead to civil war—a perfect setup for Harris’ next book.
With dramatic debates in the Senate, private confrontations in night-darkened villas and violent clashes in the streets, Conspirata is a feast for lovers of page-turning historical fiction. As with Imperium, Harris has used primary source material—including Cicero’s own words taken from his surviving letters—to create a world that feels both authentic to its time and intimately contemporary.
Hardcover: 352 pages
Publisher: Simon & Schuster ( February 02, 2010 )
Item #: 33-2555
ISBN: 9780743266109
Product Dimensions: 5.5 x 8.25 x 0.79 inches
Product Weight: 16.0 ounces
