They brought the old man into the room at noon and sat him across from Tribune Casca, who had been asking questions about Cicero's death for three days and had not yet received an answer that satisfied anyone.
The old man's name was Tiro. He had been Cicero's secretary for forty years. His hands shook when he sat down, but his eyes were clear.
Casca looked at the document in front of him, then at Tiro. "You were with him when he left Rome."
"Yes."
"On what date?"
"December seventh."
"And he was traveling where?"
"To his villa at Astura. On the coast."
"Why?"
"Because Rome was not safe."
Casca made a note on the tablet. "Not safe for whom?"
"For anyone whose name was on the proscription lists."
"Was Cicero's name on the list?"
"You know it was."
Casca looked up. "I'm asking you."
"Yes. His name was on the list."
"Whose list?"
"Antony's."
"Antony's specifically?"
Tiro paused. "Antony, Lepidus, and Octavian. The three of them signed it together. But everyone knew whose idea it was."
"Everyone knew or everyone assumed?"
"Everyone knew."
Casca set down his stylus. "Tell me what happened after you left Rome."
"We traveled south. Cicero took a litter. I rode beside him with two slaves and a freedman named Philologus. We reached the villa on the evening of the eighth. Cicero rested. He did not sleep well."
"Why not?"
"Because he knew they were coming."
"Who was coming?"
"The soldiers. Antony's men. Herennius and Popilius Laenas."
"Did he know their names specifically, or are you adding that now?"
Tiro looked at Casca without expression. "I am adding that now. At the time, he did not know their names. He only knew that soldiers had been sent. Someone had told him."
"Who told him?"
"I don't know."
"You don't know or you won't say?"
"I don't know. Someone sent word. A messenger arrived the night of the eighth. Cicero read the message and burned it."
"What did the message say?"
"I don't know. He did not show it to me."
"But you were his secretary."
"Yes."
"For forty years."
"Yes."
"And he did not show you this message."
Tiro said nothing.
Casca leaned back in his chair. "What did Cicero do after he burned the message?"
"He told us to prepare to leave."
"When?"
"Immediately. Before dawn."
"Did you leave before dawn?"
"No. He changed his mind. He said we would stay and meet them."
"Meet who?"
"The soldiers."
"Why?"
"I don't know. He did not explain."
"Did you ask?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because when Cicero made a decision, he did not explain it. You learned that or you did not work for him long."
Casca picked up his stylus again. "So you stayed."
"No. He changed his mind again. At dawn, he told us to prepare the litter. We would go to the coast. There was a ship waiting."
"Where?"
"At Caieta. A friend of his had arranged it."
"Which friend?"
"I don't know."
"You don't know or you won't say?"
"I don't know."
Casca made another note. "Did you reach Caieta?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because the soldiers caught us on the road."
"How many soldiers?"
"I don't know. I didn't count them."
"More than five?"
"Yes."
"More than ten?"
"Yes."
"Who was leading them?"
"Herennius."
"You said you didn't know their names at the time."
"I learned them later."
"From whom?"
"From people who were there."
"You were there."
"I was behind the litter. I could not see their faces clearly."
Casca tapped his stylus on the tablet. "What happened when they stopped you?"
"Herennius came forward. He told Cicero to get out of the litter."
"Did Cicero get out?"
"No."
"What did he do?"
"He pulled the curtain closed."
"And then?"
"Herennius opened it again. He said Cicero's name. He said it was done. He said he should come out with dignity."
"What did Cicero say?"
"Nothing at first."
"And then?"
"He asked Herennius if he recognized him."
"What did Herennius say?"
"He said yes."
"And then?"
"Cicero said, 'Then you know I do not deserve this.'"
"What did Herennius say to that?"
"Nothing. He pulled Cicero out of the litter and told him to kneel."
"Did Cicero kneel?"
Tiro did not answer immediately. When he spoke, his voice was quieter. "Yes."
"What happened then?"
"Herennius drew his sword."
"And?"
"And Cicero put out his neck."
Casca stopped writing. He looked at Tiro. "He put out his neck?"
"Yes."
"He did not resist?"
"No."
"He did not run?"
"Where would he have run?"
Casca said nothing for a moment. Then he asked, "What did Herennius do?"
"He struck. He missed the first blow. Cicero did not move. Herennius struck again. The second blow killed him."
"Where were you during this?"
"Behind the litter."
"Did you try to stop it?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because I am sixty-seven years old and I do not carry a weapon."
"You could have shouted."
"Yes."
"Did you?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because it would have accomplished nothing except getting me killed as well."
Casca leaned forward. "You watched your master of forty years be executed on a road and you did nothing."
"Yes."
"Does that sit well with you?"
Tiro looked at Casca directly. "No."
"Then why didn't you do something?"
"Because Cicero told me not to."
Casca stopped. "When?"
"Before they arrived. When we heard the horses. He looked back at me through the litter curtain and he said, 'Stay behind. Do not move. Do not speak. Write it down later.'"
"He said 'write it down later'?"
"Yes."
"Those were his exact words?"
"Yes."
Casca set down the stylus. He rubbed his temple. "What happened after Herennius struck the second blow?"
"Popilius Laenas came forward."
"What did he do?"
"He cut off Cicero's head."
"Why?"
"To bring it back to Antony."
"Did he take anything else?"
Tiro hesitated.
"Did he take anything else?" Casca repeated.
"Yes."
"What?"
"Cicero's hands."
"Both of them?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because Cicero had written against Antony. The Philippics. Popilius said Antony wanted the hands that had written those words."
Casca looked down at the tablet. He said nothing for a long time. When he spoke again, his voice was different. Flatter. "Where were you when Popilius cut off the hands?"
"Still behind the litter."
"Did you watch?"
"Yes."
"Did Popilius see you?"
"I don't know."
"Did any of the soldiers see you?"
"I don't know."
"But they left you alive."
"Yes."
"Why?"
"I don't know. Maybe they did not think I mattered."
Casca picked up the tablet and read through his notes. Then he set it down again and looked at Tiro. "You said Cicero told you to write it down later."
"Yes."
"Have you written it down?"
"Not yet."
"Why not?"
"Because you have been asking me questions for three days and I have not had time to sit with a pen."
"Will you write it down?"
"Yes."
"When?"
"When I leave this room."
"What will you write?"
"What I have told you."
"All of it?"
"Yes."
"Including the part where Cicero told you to stay behind and do nothing?"
"Yes."
"Why would you include that?"
"Because it is true."
"But it makes you look like a coward."
"Yes."
"Does that not concern you?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because Cicero did not think I was a coward. He thought I was a witness. That is why he told me to stay alive."
Casca sat back. He looked at Tiro for a long time. Then he said, "Do you know why Antony wanted Cicero dead?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because Cicero spoke against him. Because Cicero called him a tyrant and a thief and a danger to the Republic. Because Cicero would not be silent."
"Did Cicero regret that? At the end, did he wish he had been silent?"
Tiro did not answer immediately. When he did, his voice was steady. "No."
"How do you know?"
"Because when Herennius opened the litter curtain and told him it was done, Cicero looked at him and said, 'Then you know I do not deserve this.' He did not say he was wrong. He did not say he should have been silent. He said he did not deserve to die for speaking the truth."
"Do you believe he was speaking the truth?"
"Yes."
"Do you believe he deserved to die for it?"
"No."
"Then why did he?"
Tiro looked at Casca. "Because the men with the swords disagreed."
Casca said nothing. He picked up the stylus one more time and made a final note. Then he pushed the tablet aside. "You are free to go."
Tiro did not move. "That's all?"
"That's all."
"You have no more questions?"
"No."
"What will happen to this testimony?"
"It will be filed."
"Where?"
"In the archives."
"Will anyone read it?"
"I don't know. That is not my concern."
Tiro stood slowly. His hands were still shaking. He looked at Casca, then at the tablet on the desk. "May I ask you a question?"
"You may."
"Do you think Antony was right to kill him?"
Casca did not answer immediately. When he did, his voice was very quiet. "I think Antony is now consul and Cicero is dead. Whether he was right is a question for men who do not serve under Antony."
"And you serve under Antony."
"Yes."
"Then why did you ask me all these questions? If the answer does not matter, why ask?"
Casca looked down at the tablet. "Because someone should know what happened. Even if it is only filed in an archive and never read again."
Tiro nodded slowly. Then he turned and walked toward the door. When he reached it, he stopped and looked back. "Cicero told me to write it down later. I will. But you wrote it down first."
Casca did not look up. "I wrote down what you told me."
"Yes. And what I told you is true."
"I know."
Tiro opened the door and left. Casca sat alone in the room. He looked at the tablet in front of him, at the testimony written in his own hand. Then he picked it up and walked to the archive room at the end of the hall. He filed it in the section marked DECEMBER 43 BCE - ADMINISTRATIVE RECORDS.
He did not write his name on it.
He did not mark it as important.
He simply placed it between two other tablets and walked away.
Two hundred years later, a clerk cleaning the archives found the tablet. He read it. He copied it. He gave the copy to a historian named Plutarch, who was writing a book about famous men.
Plutarch included the testimony in his account of Cicero's death. He did not name Casca. He did not name Tiro by title. He simply wrote: "His freedmen and slaves say that he put out his neck from the litter and met the blow without flinching."
The rest of the testimony—the part about Cicero telling Tiro to stay alive and write it down, the part about Herennius missing the first blow, the part about Popilius cutting off the hands—did not survive.
Someone, at some point, decided those details were not important.
They were wrong.