Catilina's Riddle (30 page)

"I mean to say—do you remember what Gordianus said of you then—that you were the eyes and ears of the household? You slipped about hardly noticed, seeing and hearing all. An arm of Nemesis, he called you afterward, for the part you played in saving all the other—

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the others . . . " Once again, like the general who finds himself lost in a fog and unwittingly circles back into the same ambush from which he had fled, Mummius stumbled over the forbidden word. I groaned.

"The other slaves," Meto said, very quietly.

"What?" stammered Mummius, who could hardly have failed to hear. "The other slaves, you meant to say," said Meto. "You were speaking of my part in saving the other slaves—meaning the others who were slaves, like myself, of Crassus."

Mummius twisted his mouth into various shapes. Was he ever this tongue-tied when addressing his troops? "Well—yes, I suppose that's what I'm trying to say." Or trying not to say, I thought.

Meto lowered his eyes. "It's all right, Marcus Mummius. There's no point in obscuring the truth; so my father has taught me. If we hide what is true, then we see only what is false." He raised his eyes, and his gaze was steady and strong. "We have all been many things on the way to becoming what we are. This toga does not hide what I was; that is not its purpose. It clothes what I am. I am the son of Gordianus. Today I become a man and a full citizen of Rome."

Mummius drew back and raised his eyebrows. Then his face burst into a smile. "Splendid!" he cried out. "What a splendid way you have with words! You shall do us all proud in years to come, I know it!"

The tension was broken. There were smiles all around. Eco gripped Meto's shoulder and squeezed it. My sons have never been very physically demonstrative with each other, and this spontaneous gesture of affection gratified and surprised me.

"You must be very proud," said a voice close to my ear.

I turned to see the handsome face of a young man with a bland smile and a mischievous glint in his dark eyes, framed by a chin-strap beard and a fashionable haircut. The face was out of place and its owner most certainly uninvited; for a brief instant I was disoriented, hardly believing he was there.

"Marcus Caelius! What are you doing here?" I glanced over my shoulder. Meto and Eco were talking together in low voices. Mummius and Apollonius had turned to pay their respects to Bethesda. I seized Caelius's elbow and took him aside.

He raised one eyebrow. "If I were of a sensitive nature I might think you were unhappy to see me."

"Spare your wit for the Forum, Caelius."

"Really, Gordianus, do you think I would waste my wit on politicians? I find that poets and prostitutes appreciate it far more."

"I don't think you were invited here today," I said, trying to keep my voice steady.

"No, but Cicero was. Your elder son Eco made sure that the consul

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received an invitation months in advance. But Cicero cannot come today.

Too busy taking advantage of his last chance to harangue the voters down in the Forum before tomorrow's election. And of course he could hardly be seen attending this party, given the fictitious state of discord between the two of you. I've been doing my best to sow those rumors of grave unhappiness between Cicero and Gordianus—all to convince Catilina that he can trust you, of course."

"That's all over now, Caelius. Or will be with tomorrow's election." "All over, Gordianus? I think not. Just beginning, I imagine. Anyway, Cicero sends his regrets, knowing that you'll understand why he can't come himself. Officially, of course, to anyone who should happen to ask, I'm here on behalf of Catilina, to extend his respects on the occasion of your son's coming of age."

"How many masters do you have, Marcus Caelius?" I used the word

"master" deliberately to insult him, but Caelius was unfazed.

"Catilina knows that I'm loyal only to him. So does Cicero. But with Cicero it happens to be true."

"I wonder."

His face changed. The crooked smile, like that of a schoolboy with a secret, faded from his lips, and the mischievous glint in his eyes vanished. He lowered his voice. "Forgive me, Gordianus. We're all wrought up after the last few days here in Rome, especially those of us closest to Cicero. Imagine what it's like for me shuttling back and forth between him and Catilina, pretending to serve them both. I tend to behave facetiously when the strain becomes too great."

"Marcus Caelius, why are you here?" I asked wearily.

"For the reasons I've just stated. To convey regards from Catilina, who believes I represent him when in fact I do not, and to give to you Cicero's apologies for his absence, since the pretense of your estrangement from Cicero must be maintained."

"Maintained? But why? I've done as you and Cicero demanded; I opened my doors to Catilina, though for what purpose I still don't know.

Tomorrow the voters will decide Catilina's future, and then I'm finished with all of you, for good. Whether Catilina wins or loses, I'll have done as you asked. My debt to Cicero is discharged, and that's the end of it."

"Not quite," said Caelius.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that things are not as simple as that, Gordianus. I mean that tomorrow's election—if indeed Cicero doesn't manage this afternoon to convince the Senate to postpone it again—is only the opening gambit in the contest to come."

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"What contest? Are you saying that Cicero still expects me to carry on this charade of being friendly with Catilina?"

"Your cooperation is more important now than ever before."

"Marcus Caelius, you're beginning to make me angry."

"Forgive me, Gordianus. I'll depart."

"Caelius—"

"Yes?"

"Caelius, what do you know of the body that was left in my barn?"

"A body?" said Caelius, without expression.

"Right after your visit to my farm, right after you posed a riddle about bodies without heads, and heads without bodies. Catilina's riddle, you called it. And then the body appeared on my property. The body without its head."

Caelius wrinkled his brow. Was his consternation real or feigned?

Under my scrutiny the light seemed to fade from his eyes so that they became entirely opaque, and I could no more discern the truth in them than I could by looking into the painted eyes of a statue. "I know nothing about a body," he said.

"Would Cicero say the same if I asked him? Would Catilina?"

"Believe me, Cicero would know no more than I do. As for Catilina . . . "

"Yes?"

He shook his head. "I see no reason why you should suspect Catilina of such an atrocity."

"When I hesitated to respond to your demand that I play host to Catilina, the body appeared, headless, as in the riddle—as if to persuade me." "Gordianus, I know nothing about this, I swear to Hercules. It makes no sense. . . . "

The harder I looked into his eyes, the more impossible he became to fathom. Was he lying? And if so, on whose behalf?

"But if you wish to hear Catilina's riddle complete . . . "

"Yes?"

"Wait until Catilina's rebuttal to Cicero in the Senate this afternoon. What Catilina has to say will be on everyone's lips. Everyone in Rome will know the riddle then."

"Tell it to me now, Marcus Caelius—"

At that moment a hush fell over the garden, and heads turned toward the hallway that led to the private chambers, from which Rufus had emerged in augur's dress. He was resplendent in his trabea, a woolen robe ornamented with a purple border and saffron-colored stripes. In his right hand he carried a long, slender wand made of ivory and decorated

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with carvings of ravens, crows, owls, eagles, vultures, and chickens, as well as foxes, wolves, horses, and dogs—all the various birds and quadrupeds from whose actions the augurs interpret the will of the gods.

Rufus spoke, his voice full of authority. "The time has come for Meto to set foot in the Forum wearing his manly toga, and to ascend with me to the Temple of Jupiter for the reading of the auspices."

I
looked around and saw that Marcus Caelius was gone.

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C H A P T E R N I N E T E E N

ith many wishes of goodwill, the guests dispersed. The kitchen slaves, brooded over by Bethesda and Me-W nenia, began to clear the tables and return the uneaten food to earthen jars. Eco summoned the rest of the household slaves and looked them over to be sure they were clean and presentable. A Roman commands no

respect in the Forum unless he has a retinue—the longer the retinue, the greater the respect—and as Cicero says, a slave takes up as much space as a citizen. Our retinue would be small, but with Rufus at its head it would be distinguished. Mummius, too, declared that he and Apollonius would walk with us. Making up the balance were a few other citizens and freedmen, men who owed favors to Eco or had long been bonded to our family by ties of mutual obligation.

We departed down the narrow pathway to the Subura, where our hired litters waited. Diana was left at home (and hardly protested, thanks to some soothing from Menenia), so I shared my litter with Bethesda.

Eco rode with Menenia, and Meto, in the foremost litter, with Rufus. I felt some chagrin at having no place to offer Marcus Mummius, but he forestalled my apologies by declaring he would never accept a ride on the back of slaves so long as he still had two good legs to walk on. There followed the predictable boasting about great distances traversed while on campaign; Mummius claimed to have once covered sixty miles in a single day on a rocky mountain road, wearing battle armor.

We settled ourselves in the litters and were lifted above the crowd.

The carriers bore us into the Subura Way with our retinue following behind.

Bethesda was silent for a while, watching the people on the street

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and scrutinizing the vendors and their wares. She missed the bustle of the city, I thought. "It went very well," she finally said.

"Yes."

"The food was excellent."

"Quite. Even by our usual standards, and Congrio spoils us."

"The yellow canopy was a good idea."

"Yes, the sun is strong today."

"And the litters are rather fun."

"A treat," I agreed. For such a light conversation, Bethesda's voice was oddly flat, and her face was pensive as she watched the people of the Subura go by. "I saw that our neighbor Claudia made an appearance."

"Didn't she speak to you?"

"No."

"Well, she left abruptly. She made the mistake of bringing along her cousin Manius. He was rather abusive and made a bit of a scene, but it ended badly for him. Did you see it?"

"No, I must have been busy in the kitchen. But I heard about it later. Eco says the man made a fool of himself. Was he really slipping food into his toga?"

"I'm afraid so."

"How absurd! He must be as rich as Crassus."

"You exaggerate, I'm sure, but I doubt that Manius ever goes hungry.

These country Claudii are an odd lot. They appear to have an exceedingly grasping and stubborn nature." Even Claudia, I thought, was distinguished by her miserly hatred of waste.

"And there was someone else who came to the party . . . "

"Yes?" I said.

"That young man who visited us some while ago. The one who prevailed upon you to play host to Catilina. The handsome one."

"Marcus Caelius."

"Yes. I had no chance to speak to him, either."

I tried not to smile. "Now, Bethesda, I understand your regret at missing a second opportunity to charm such a good-looking young man—

She turned her face from the street. Her expression stopped me cold. "Husband, do you really think I would brood this way over a lost chance to flirt? What was Marcus Caelius doing in our house today?"

Her face was drawn, like a garment worn too tightly, and her eyes had a haunted look that turned my heart to water. She was not angry, but frightened.

"Bethesda!" I reached out to put my arm around her, but she shrugged off my embrace.

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"Don't coddle me like a slave. Tell me why that man came to Meto's party. What did he want from you?"

"Very well. He came, he said, to deliver apologies from Cicero for not coming in person."

"Did he ask more favors of you?" When I hesitated to answer, Bethesda's eyes flashed. "I knew it! What will he have us doing this time?

Does this involve Catilina again?"

"Bethesda, I told Caelius in no uncertain terms that my obligation was already discharged."

"And did that satisfy him?"

Again I hesitated, and the spark in her eyes ignited. "I knew it!

More trouble!"

"Not necessarily, Bethesda."

"How can you say that! Do you know how I've worried since Diana found that horrible body in the stable? I will not have such things going on around us!"

"Then we should probably do whatever Caelius demands."

"No!"

"Yes! Satisfy him—and whomever he really represents, whether it's Cicero or Catilina or—" For the first time it occurred to me that Caelius might actually be representing some other party.

"You must not deal with him," Bethesda insisted.

"He asks very little."

"So far! But it will come to something horrible. When we left the city, you said you would leave such things behind."

"I did leave them, Bethesda. They followed me."

"But this is different. This is not your way, to do things without knowing why. You've always been an open and honest man, even when you worked in secret."

"That doesn't quite make sense, Bethesda."

"You know what I mean!"

I sighed. "Yes, I do. The duplicity that Caelius forces on me doesn't sit well with me, either. In truth, I dread it." Without intention, as naturally as a child, I reached for her hand and twined my fingers with hers. "I'm frightened, too, Bethesda. Frightened and dismayed and a little disgusted—and proud and elated and sentimental, because this is Meto's toga day! If only our lives could be one thing at a time, instead of this mad jumble."

It was my turn to become pensive and watch the street pass by.