John Roberts - The Year of Confusion

“Sallustius, with your love of fine things, why do you have that ugly old man dogging your steps?”

“Decius, there are some things better even than beauty. Loyalty is one of them.”

“Profoundly true. You were about to tell me about those astrologers.”

“No, I was about to ask you a question.”

“I was afraid of that, but for the sake of wine this good, I’ll be patient.”

“Every social circle has a leader at its center. Which Roman lady do you think has been the most enthusiastic about astrology and who first broke the ice and took her friends to Cleopatra despite their initial resentment of that exotic queen?”

“You’re not going to tell me that it was Calpurnia, are you?”

“I am a historian, not a fabulist. Who is the second most unlikely?” It was just his annoying Socratic method.

It struck me. “Not Servilia!”

“Servilia, indeed. Back several years ago, when she was trying to win back Caesar’s affections, she consulted with every crackpot, lunatic, fraudulent witch, fortune-teller, and mystic in Rome. As you know well, Rome abounds with such people. If I were one inclined to gossip,” he assumed a look of comical innocence, “I might tell you that she engaged in some practices with these people that might lay her open to some very severe punishments, were they to come to light.”

I examined the fine gold cup and speculated about the sources of Sallustius’s wealth, but said nothing.

“So she was able to set aside her understandable resentment toward the latest lady to acquire the ever-migrating affections of the great man?”

“So it would seem. It might have been calculation but I prefer to attribute it to greatness of soul.”

“Who could doubt it? Now, I will grant you I doubt that Demades was involved in these convivial explorations of the gods’ plans. He was, after all, of the anti-astrology party, if I may so term it. Were any of the pro-astrology party present? Polasser, for instance, or the Arab or the Indian?”

“Oh, but you are wrong. Demades was there at many of the meetings. As to the others, I confess ignorance.”

“Why would the rationalist Demades take part in these mystic gatherings, when he evinced great hostility toward such things?”

“My friend Decius,” he said, grinning, “I can only present you with the facts available to me. It is your special art to make sense of these things.”

“And so I shall, in time,” I assured him, rising to go.

“But wait. You agreed to an exchange of information,” he protested.

“I agreed on the proviso that your information should prove useful to my investigation. That is yet to be proven. Should I decide in the affirmative, rest assured that you shall have your interview concerning Caesar in Gaul.”

“You are a legalistic hair-splitter, Decius,” he said.

“It’s my heritage,” I told him. “We Metelli are all great lawyers.”

Outside I found Hermes and told him what I had learned. I was unsure about the value of Sallustius’s information. The presence of Servilia had come as a jolt, but I probably would have discovered it eventually as Cleopatra was among the persons I had intended to interrogate. The astronomers were, after all, her own gift to Caesar, for his calendar project. Unfortunately she was out of Rome and one didn’t summon a queen to come back to the City to answer the questions of a lowly senator. And I wasn’t about to demand that Caesar call her back.

“Who next, then?” Hermes asked me.

I thought about this for a while. Then it came to me. “You know, I have a source very close to home. We are talking about great patrician ladies here. I think I’ll wander home and talk to Julia.”

“But she’ll learn that you went to visit Callista without her.”

I sighed. “She’ll find out anyway. She probably knows already.”

Indeed, I detected a certain frostiness in Julia the moment I crossed my threshold.

“You’ve been to see Callista,” she said, coolly. She didn’t fool me.

“Indeed I have, and at the instructions of your uncle the dictator. In fact, I ran into him at Callista’s.”

For once Julia was thrown off-balance. “Just a moment. Caesar ordered you to go there?”

“As good as. Who better to ask concerning a Greek philosopher, eh?”

“And Caesar went with you?”

“Actually, I was already there when he arrived with Servilia.”

“Servilia?” She put a hand to her brow and held the other up for silence. “I know you are trying to confuse me. Come sit down and just tell me what you’ve been up to.”

This was what I was hoping for. As long as I could lay out the facts in an orderly fashion, she would have to acknowledge that I had behaved in a logical and blameless fashion. At least, I hoped so. And, as I had also hoped, the mention of Servilia appearing on Caesar’s arm distracted her from all lesser matters.

“Servilia! This sounds ominous.”

“How so?” I asked. “It’s bad news for Calpurnia, but when has Caesar ever worried about the sentiments of his wives? Except for Cornelia, that is. He does seem to have had a certain affection for her.”

“It could mean that he intends to adopt Brutus as his heir.”

This hadn’t occurred to me. “Well, he must adopt soon, I suppose. He’s never had a son that lived except for Caesarion, and no Roman is going to accept the son of an Egyptian queen as Caesar’s heir.”

“Certainly not. Caesarion is a charming boy, but a bit of a mongrel. Brutus is at least a patrician. Of course, there is Caius Octavius, Caesar’s great-nephew. He shows promise but he is awfully young.”

“I think we make too much of this patrician business,” I said.

“You would, being plebeian,” she said. “But at least your family is one of the noblest of the old plebeian names. I think half of my uncle’s cronies are men who hope to be his adopted heir, or want it for their sons.”

“Like Servilia,” I said.

“Like Servilia.”

“And speaking of those great ladies, Egyptian and Roman, let me tell you what I learned from Sallustius.” So I gave her that story. “You are far more conversant with the great ladies of Rome than I. Have you heard about any of this?”

She sat quietly for a while, marshaling her thoughts and memories. It was a process I knew better than to interrupt. “A good many of the ladies of my circle are interested in astrology. I am myself, but a few are besotted with the subject and constantly consult with supposed experts concerning the most trivial aspects of their lives. I believe most of these practitioners to be frauds, but some are true scholars. And who is more likely to be a true scholar than one who practices at the Museum in Alexandria?”

“But Demades was not a believer, yet he was present at several of the affairs attended by Servilia and her crowd at the house of Cleopatra. Any thoughts about that?”

“Not just yet, but I can see that it’s been far too long since I called on Servilia. Now that things seem to be warming between her and Caesar, what could be more natural than a visit?”

“Excellent idea. What do you know of Brutus? I know him only slightly. I see him in the Senate and I occasionally run into him at dinners, but he has never appealed to me as a companion.”

“Too philosophical?”

“That, partly. I’ve heard he’s a bit of a money grubber. Not a very patrician quality, is it?”

“I only know what I’ve heard. A few years ago he is supposed to have lent a vast sum to the island of Cyprus so they could settle their tax debt, and they couldn’t pay on time.”

“Hardly surprising at, what was it? Two hundred percent interest or something of the sort?”

“I don’t think it was that bad, but pretty steep.”