By Benita Kane Jaro
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Marcus Tullius Cicero,” he said, giving his name in his loud, clear, beautiful growl. “Son of Marcus, grandson of Marcus, from the village of Arpinum. ” “The whole city remembers that,” Hortensius said with composure. He might never have noticed Clodius and his men. “You were awarded the title of “Father of Your Country” by the Senate at that time, were you not? ” 34 - The Lock Hortensius nodded. ” “Yes,” said Cicero, looking over at Clodius’ men. ” Hortensius cried, contriving to convey the impression that he knew what his new witness was going to say.
I recognize him now. ” There was a little silence while the others on the bench worked this out. The boy Caelius shuffled his feet uneasily and turned away. ” Cicero had raised his hand to catch the attention of the prosecutor. Immediately there was a chorus of alarm from his supporters. “Think who he is,” Caelius cried in anguish. “I know who he is. But think who I am too. I have a duty to testify—I know that lies have been told to this court. I have been an advocate in this city for more than twenty years; I have served as a magistrate; I have been consul.
He was as safe among them as bear in his woods. He took another few steps forward, the soles of his shoes scraping on the pavement. The Forum had grown so quiet he could hear the little sounds above the whispering of the leaves and the splash of the fountain. “Hortensius,” he said clearly, in his best and most melodious voice. “A word with you, if I may? ” Across the way Clodius sat up. His dark eyes glittered. Around him the air seemed to crackle with tension. The young patricians crowded nearer to him, the workmen behind them stood very close together, their lips drawn back over their teeth.