John Roberts - The Tribune's curse

“That is, indeed, a possibility,” I admitted. “However, such cults are, by their very nature, rather secretive, and it might be quite difficult to-”

“Nephew,” my aunt interrupted briskly, “we are not asking if you can find time in your busy schedule to assist us in this matter. We are telling you to drop all lesser things and find this offender. It must be done at once!”

“Exactly,” said Claudius.

“Lesser things to include the upcoming election?” I said.

“Don’t worry, Decius,” said Scipio. “You are one of what the citizens are already referring to as the Twenty. You’ll be a hero for weeks to come, until they find someone else to idolize. You couldn’t lose if you set fire to the Temple of Castor and Pollux.”

No way out. Oh, well. “How much of this may I divulge in the course of my investigation?” I asked. “That is to say: who knows about Ateius using the Secret Name, and whom may I inform of this?”

“The members of the Pontifical College who were not summoned to this meeting may be told,” Claudius said. “Beyond those, we do not wish anyone to know that this catastrophe has befallen us.”

“That could hamper my investigation,” I protested. “Should I need the aid of a praetor, for instance-”

“You are not to spread this about,” said Messala. “As Censor I forbid it. The mere rumor of this would be sufficient to panic the citizens, to encourage Rome’s enemies, to bring about chaos. We are engaged in wars at the fringes of the world, but our hold on the peninsula of Italy is not so secure that we can afford to ignore unrest in nearby territories. Most of us remember the Samnite army camped outside the Colline Gate just twenty-seven years ago. The Umbrians, the Lucanians, even the contemptible Bruttians bide their time, watching for some great disaster to befall Rome and planning to seize upon this to rise in arms once more. None of these peoples are extinct. No, Decius, you must not give these people encouragement.”

I didn’t think much of this line of reasoning, but I was far too lowly to rebuke a Censor, especially in company as exalted as I found myself in that morning.

“You must not waste any time,” Claudius said. “I shudder at the thought of what our foreign enemies might do with the Secret Name.”

“And when I find this excessively knowledgeable person?” I asked.

“He must not be allowed to live, of course,” said Vatia.

“I can’t just kill him!” I protested. “I’m an investigator, not an executioner. The man may be a citizen, and the laws are quite specific concerning who gets to kill citizens. He will have to be tried in a praetor’s court.”

“A trial would be bad,” Claudius said. “Not only would Rome’s honor be besmirched, but the Secret Name might be uttered. No, this will have to be settled in some other fashion.”

They were talking as if sacerdotal courts still had power of life and death, as they had many centuries ago. Yet, with the exception of the virgo maxima and the rex sacrorum , all of them were Roman politicians of many years’ experience in the Senate, the Assemblies, the courts, and the army. They were certainly not naive. They were playing some deeper game of their own, either collectively or individually. Just my luck.

“To whom do I report?” I asked, knowing I would not be able to weasel out here. I would just have to weasel out somewhere else.

“It would be best if you were to report to the Censors,” Claudius said. “The virgo maxima and I are not always approachable. The Censors are men of the highest honor, and one of them is the Flamen Martialis . They will in turn report to the rest of us.”

Now for the big question. “Has Pompey been told? And if not, is he to be told?”

“The consul,” my aunt said, “although we esteem and honor him most highly, is an initiate of no priestly order save that of the augurs. He is neither pontifex nor flamen . He is aware that this extraordinary meeting has been called, but he very wisely did not seek to learn the reason for it.”

There was no love lost between my aunt and Pompey. She was a younger sister of Metellus Pius, who spent years putting down the rebellion of Sertorius in Spain. Pompey, in his usual fashion, mopped up the shattered remnants of the rebel army and then claimed sole credit for winning the war, robbing her brother of his rightful glory.

Claudius stood and bowed toward the virgo maxima . “Honored Lady, most of us have duties to perform. The morning sacrifices will begin soon.” Then he turned to me. “You have been charged with your sacred duty. When you have information, report at once to the Censors. If it should be necessary that we all meet again, you shall be informed. I dismiss this meeting.”

Hermes read my expression as I walked down the temple steps.

“Bad?” he asked.

“Hermes, kiss the easy times good-bye. We have work to do.”

Of course, I told Julia all about it immediately. We hadn’t been married long, but I had already learned the futility of keeping anything secret from her. We sat in the small garden, and I sent the slaves away, out of earshot, for whatever good that might do. Julia looked somewhat aghast when I told her about the compromising of the Secret Name, but she quickly recovered her patrician aplomb.

“I think it’s very wise of you to tell me this, Decius, even though you were expressly forbidden to do so by such high authority.”

“Of course it’s wise to tell you, my dearest, but I don’t think the matter will remain secret for long, in any case.”

“Why not?”

“Except for my aunt and Claudius, every man there this morning was a senator. There is no way such men will keep a juicy bit of political gossip like that quiet, not if they see the slightest chance of using it to their own political advantage.”

“You have a low opinion of the Senate.”

“I am a senator. I rest my case, my little white Falernian heifer.”

“The mantle of Cynicism sits ill on your shoulders,” she said. “Cynicism is Greek, and you are always saying that you detest Greek philosophy.”

“Even a Greek may be correct once in a while, my little jug of vintage garum .”

“And stop devising ridiculous endearments!” she snapped.

“It’s just a sign that I’m deep in thought. This is by far the strangest investigation I have ever been handed. I’m not sure even where to begin. I would like to go and lean on Ateius Capito. His invulnerability is a legal fiction, but the supporters of tribunes can be extremely violent these days.”

“Will the people support him after what he did?”

“Yes, they will. The shock is over, and he will be out of office soon, anyway. The Assemblies have spent the last twenty years fighting tooth and nail to restore the tribunician powers stripped away by Sulla. They’ll rally even to this fool if they see a threat to the institution.”

“Do you think he is in hiding?”

“I don’t know. Supposedly, if he does not keep himself accessible to the plebs, he forfeits his office. But who pays all that much attention to the laws anymore? My guess is, he’s hiding right at home, behind a heavy bodyguard.”

“Leave him alone, then. Milo’s thugs might force you a way in, but a street riot is no way to conduct an investigation.”

“I did not contemplate such a thing. No, I’ll have to be more decorous. I need to find someone not connected with the Senate, who is knowledgeable concerning the old religions, the mystery cults, that sort of thing.”

“A rather large subject,” she said, “but you probably needn’t concern yourself with the Eastern sort, the slave cults, and other such nonsense. I’ll make inquiries among my friends. Some of them are dreadfully superstitious. They trade the names of their magicians the way they do those of their jewelers or their perfumers. What will you do?”