Catilina's Riddle (13 page)

I shrugged. "I've told you about my quarrels with Aratus."

Eco shook his head. "You've sat through more trials than I have, Papa. Imagine Cicero making shreds of your suspicions of Aratus. They're groundless. You simply don't like him."

"I don't accuse him," I said. "I accuse none of the slaves. Roman slaves do not turn on their masters, not since Spartacus was put down."

We sat in silence for a while and passed the wineskin between us.

Eco finally hardened his jaw and pulled his eyebrows together, a gesture which I knew presaged a decision.

"I don't like it, Papa. I think you should leave the farm and come to the city. You're in danger here."

"Ha! Leave the countryside and go to Rome for safety's sake? Would you advise a swimmer to leave the backwater for the rapids?"

"There can be dangerous undercurrents in the backwater."

"And sharp rocks hidden in the rapids. And eddies that suck you down into darkness and whirl you around and around."

"I'm serious, Papa."

I looked down at the farm. The sun was sinking rapidly, casting an orange haze across the fields. The slaves were driving the goats into their pen. Diana and Meto emerged from the deep green shadows of the trees along the stream bank, heading toward the house. "But summer is a busy time on the farm. I have plans to build a water mill—"

"Aratus can run the farm, Papa. Isn't that what he's for? Oh, I know you dislike him, but nothing you've told me has given you any true

- 73 -

cause to distrust him. Bring Bethesda and the children to the city. Stay with me."

"In the house on the Esquiline? Hardly big enough for all of us."

"There's plenty of room."

"Not for Bethesda and Menenia to run separate households."

"Papa—"

"No. It's election time, as you just reminded me, and I have no stomach to be in Rome while the candidates and their retinues swarm through the markets, and every ignorant fishmonger spouts his opinion on the state of the Republic. No, thank you. Besides, the month of Quinctilis is far too hot in the city. When you're my age you'll understand—your bones learn to hate the cold and your heart can't tolerate the heat."

"Papa—"

I raised my hand and put on a stern face to silence him, then let my countenance soften and put my hand on his knee. "You're a good son, Eco, to have come all this way out of concern for me. And you are a dutiful son, to offer me lodging in the house I gave you. But I will not go to Rome. Not to worry—it seems inevitable that Rome will come to me."

We made our way down the hillside to rouse Belbo and take the horses to the stable. I felt as if a great weight had been lifted from me.

I told myself it was the wine, which makes a lighter load in the belly than in a skin, but in truth the feeling of lightness and relief came from having unburdened myself to the one person who could understand what I felt. Perhaps I should have taken Eco's advice; who can say what other path the Fates might have woven had I chosen to spend that summer and fall in Rome instead of Etruria? But I am not a man prone to mulling over what might or might not have been, especially in what turned out to have been a small choice amid the far greater choices and the graver puzzles that were yet to come.

Eco's arrival was greeted with great happiness in the household; I had not realized how severe had been the tension that followed in Nemo's wake until Eco came to relieve it. Diana sat happily on his lap, and he obliged her by bouncing her up and down. (With a twinge of mixed feelings I realized that at twenty-seven he was quite old enough to have a daughter Diana's age himself, and now, with Menenia, might announce the advent of my first grandchild at any time.) Meto exhibited the mixture of curiosity, deference, and envy of a youth in the presence of a brother more than ten years his senior, especially when one is still a boy and the other is most definitely a man; despite the difference in their ages and

- 74 -

their origins they had always gotten along very well. Bethesda complimented Eco's stylish haircut and beard and doted on him shamelessly.

Belbo, who had protected the house on the Esquiline and its occupants for many years, was beginning to look a bit heavy and gray, I thought, though his shoulders were as broad as ever and his arms still looked like a metalworker's. Much to his consternation, Diana made a game out of tugging at his red and gray whiskers until Bethesda threatened to deny her Congrio's confection of honey and almonds.

Eco wanted to ride back to Rome the next morning, but I persuaded him to spend the day. I asked him to look over Aratus's accounts, which he did in a cursory manner and pronounced them to be above reproach.

I showed him my plans for the water mill, which I was determined to start as soon as possible, and he offered a few minor suggestions to improve it. As we strolled around the farm, I pointed out changes I had made since his last visit and talked about improvements I was planning for the future.

That night Bethesda herself took charge of the kitchen and cooked exactly the kind of simple meal that Eco had grown up on. His tastes had grown more sophisticated since then, but he seemed truly to enjoy the dishes of lentils and barley, if only for sentiment's sake. Afterward the slaves pulled the couches into the atrium, and the family gathered in a circle to watch the stars come out. Bethesda was persuaded to sing one of the Egyptian songs from her childhood, and to the sound of her voice Diana and Meto fell fast asleep. Beneath the moonless sky, at Bethesda's prompting, Eco talked about the small details of his home life in the city with his new bride. I sat in silence, content to listen.

Later, Bethesda roused Meto and sent him off to his room and picked up Diana to carry her to bed, leaving Eco and me alone.

"Papa," he said, "when I get back to the city I'll see what I can find out about Catilina, and Caelius, and what they might be up to.

Discreetly, of course."

"Don't put yourself in danger."

He shrugged, and in the gesture I saw myself. "A curious man in Rome is always in danger, Papa. You know that."

"Even so—"

"I can't stand by and do nothing while someone weaves a plot around you and tries to draw you in. These people, to have left a dead body as a token—clearly they'll stop at nothing."

"Which is exactly why I have no choice but to submit and go forward. A man surrounded by a ring of fire cannot stand idle and fret or he will surely be consumed. The only way out is to ride straight through the fire and emerge on the other side."

"And then where will you be?"

- 75 -

I
took a deep breath and studied the stars above us. I made no answer, and Eco did not press the question.

Thus passed the last day of Junius. Early on the morning of the Kalends of Quinctilis, Eco and Belbo left for Rome. I went with them as far as the Cassian Way and watched after them for a long time, until all I could see were two wavering spots of white and black to mark their horses on the dusty horizon, which already shimmered with heat.

- 76 -

C H A P T E R N I N E

he afternoon of Eco's departure I began work on the water mill in earnest. Aratus, who had far more practical knowledge of engineering than I, reviewed my plans and pronounced them feasible; indeed, I secretly congratulated T myself that he was more than a little impressed. He called on the slaves who had the most experience with woodwork-ing to begin fashioning the various parts.

Meanwhile Aratus and I did a rough survey of the spot I had chosen, marking the elevations and the width of the stream. I had thought I might need to dam a small section, but I saw a way to divert the flow instead by digging a channel on my side of the bank. There would be no inconvenience to my neighbor Publius, except a muddying of the waters. Still, his washerwomen would no doubt complain, and I had no desire to provoke any further altercations among the slaves. Then there was the matter of the litigation between us, involving my disputed rights to use the stream in the first place. That might take months or years to settle, and I had no intention of waiting to begin the mill. Perhaps, I thought, if I offered to allow Publius to use the water mill himself he would be more amenable to the project; surely he would see that it was to his benefit as well. I gritted my teeth and made up my mind to do the reasonable and forthright thing, and go calling on Publius Claudius.

No road communicated between our properties. To reach his house by any road I would have to ride out to the Cassian Way and make a great loop north of Manius Claudius's farm and then ride south again.

Given the chill between us, it seemed a bit brazen to simply cross the stream and go riding across his fields to his house, but there was no other

- 77 -

practical route. I decided to take Aratus with me, along with one of the larger field slaves, just in case there was trouble. To keep Meto out of harm's way, I dispatched him to take Aratus's place and oversee some slaves working near the north wall. He chafed at being left at home, but I could see that being given some responsibility pleased him.

We set out in the early afternoon. In summer, most farmers take a long break in the middle of the day to escape the heat, and I hoped to find Publius at his leisure, his stomach full from his midday meal, his head a bit fuzzy with wine. I could approach him with an open hand, neighbor to neighbor. Our slaves had had their altercations at the stream, but, so far as Congrio and his assistants had reported, Publius himself had made no serious threats against me made any threats at the family gathering. Perhaps we could reason with each other and avoid any further unpleasantness.

Thus had the calming effect of Eco's brief visit banished pessimism and lulled me into a state of goodwill toward my fellowmen.

We rode across the stream and up the hillside. As we crossed the fields, the slaves I saw were taking respite from the heat, resting in the shade of olive trees and fig trees. They looked at me strangely, but none of them challenged us.

The farm was less well kept than I had thought. From the vantage point of the ridge it looked idyllic, but distance obscures a barn made of rotting wood or an orchard where trees have been spotted by blight.

The grass was high, long overdue for mowing. It hissed all around us as our horses stepped through the growth, setting grasshoppers and chirring cicadas to flight. Aratus clucked his tongue in disapproval as he surveyed the conditions of the livestock and their pens. "It's one thing to see such filthiness in the city—there you've got a million people all pressed together, and who can help it? But in the country things should be clean and neat. So long as a man owns enough slaves, there's no excuse for such a mess."

Looking around us at the overgrown hedges, the poorly mended fences, the scattered tools and the piles of debris, I had to agree with him. I had thought Publius Claudius was a rich man. How could he allow his property to fall into such disrepair?

We dismounted and tethered our horses. The house was in better shape than the sheds and barns around it, but the tiles on the roof needed repairing. On the way to the door I tripped on a cracked paving stone and almost fell. Aratus caught my arm and helped to right me.

He rapped on the door, at first gently, then harder. Even if the household was napping in the heat of the day, there should be a slave to answer the door. Aratus looked back at me with his lips pursed. I nodded for him to rap more loudly.

- 78 -

From within came the sound of a dog barking, and then a man shouting for the dog to be quiet. I expected the door to open then, but instead there was silence.

Aratus looked back at me. "Well, go ahead," I said. "Knock again."

Aratus knocked. The dog barked again. The man shouted and cursed, at us now instead of the dog. "Go away or you'll get a beating!"

he yelled.

"This is ridiculous," I said. Aratus stepped out of my way to let me bang on the door myself. "Your master has visitors at the door!" I said.

"Open it now or it's you who'll get the beating!"

The dog barked and barked. The voice beyond the door cursed us and blasphemed half the gods of Olympus. There was a loud whimpering squeal and the barking ceased. At last the door rattled and swung open.

I wrinkled my nose at the smell from within—a mixture of dog, stale sweat, and stewed cabbage.

Beyond the little foyer was an atrium bright with sunlight, so that I saw the man in silhouette and for a moment could only dimly make out his features. I noticed his hair first, long and unkempt like a shaggy mane, streaked with gray. He had the posture of an old man, stooped and slump-shouldered, but he looked neither small nor weak. His tunic was rumpled and worn-looking, all awry, as if he had just pulled it on.

As I saw him more clearly, I noticed his grizzled jaw, covered with several days' worth of stubble, and his big, fleshy nose. His eyes were bloodshot, and he squinted as if the light caused him pain.

"Who are you and what do you want?" he growled, his speech slurred by wine.

Numa's balls, I thought, what a slave to answer the door! Clearly, Publius Claudius paid no more attention to the running of his private household than he did to the running of his farm. "My name is Gordianus," I said. "I own the farm that once belonged to Lucius Claudius, across the stream. I've come to speak with your master."

The man laughed. "My master—fah!"

Behind me, Aratus sucked in a breath. "Sheer insolence!' he whispered.

The man laughed again. Behind him there was a flash of movement in the sunlit atrium. A girl, completely naked except for a crumpled garment she carried in her hands, stepped into the light and looked toward the doorway with wide, startled eyes. She was young—so young that I might have taken her for a boy had it not been for the matted tangle of her long black hair.

I pursed my lips. "Obviously, Publius Claudius must be away from the farm for such behavior to take place in his own house," I said dryly.

The man turned and saw the girl, then lunged at her and clapped his hands. "Out of here, Dragonfly! Put on your clothes and get out of