John Roberts - The Tribune's curse

I waited for him amid the rustlings and cracklings of papyrus, the rattlings of wooden binders containing wax tablets, the thumpings of lead seals as the slaves and freedmen went through the motions of the most notoriously tedious job required by the constitution. It was a good thing we only had to do it every five years.

“Here you are, Senator,” the archivist said, handing me a small roll of papyrus. I unrolled it and read.

There was not much to it. Ateius stated that he possessed the minimum property required for equestrian status, that he had been enrolled in the equestrian order by the Censors Cornelius Lentulus and Gellius Publicola, fifteen years before. He had served with the legions for the required number of campaigns, under Lucullus, Metellus Creticus, Pompey, and Philippus, he of the famous fishponds. Most of his service had been in the East, I noticed-Macedonia and the wars with Mithridates and Tigranes and their heirs, for the most part, plus the bandit-chasing that inevitably takes up so much of an army’s time in that part of the world, even when it is nominally at peace. Perhaps, I thought, it was during these years that Ateius acquired his taste for strange, foreign religions and magic. The Eastern world is rank with sorcery.

Of previous electoral offices he had none, but then none are required to hold the office of tribune. He had, however, served on the staffs of several serving officials, in the purely informal fashion that prevailed in those days. There was no need for him to list them in his declaration to the Censors, but, like so many of our lesser political lights, he seemed to feel compelled to boast of his associations with the mighty. One of these jumped out at me immediately: three years previously, he had served as assistant to the aedile Marcus Aemilius Scaurus, provider of wonderful Games and scourge of all vile cultists who could not pony up his price.

I returned the scroll to the surly freedman and went out onto the portico atop the broad steps of the Tabularium. The view of the Forum was a good one that day, the clear light of winter bringing out the whitened togas of the candidates, who were doing what I should have been doing. The next year’s praetors and consuls, the aediles and tribunes and quaestors, were out there-hardly an honest man among them, to my way of thinking. Always excepting Cato, of course, who was standing for praetor. He was the one incorruptibly honest man in public life. Unfortunately, I couldn’t stand Cato.

I descended the steps. I had lost my most promising lead, but the absence of Ariston made my thoughts drift back to that other suspect foreigner, Elagabal. Elagabal was from Syria. Ateius Capito had served in Syria under more than one proconsul. The connection was tenuous, but it was there. Roman men with ambitions for public office had to serve in a specified number of campaigns, and that meant going wherever there was a war. I had served in Spain and Gaul, but had the timing been different, I might have served in Syria instead. But now I remembered something Elagabal had said just as I left his house that I realized I should have followed up on, only I had failed to understand its implications.

The house was unchanged, and I hoped that I would not find it deserted, as I had the house of Ariston. Over its door brooded the serpent swallowing its own tail, and I now remembered that I had seen a ring in that shape on the finger of Ateius the one time I had spoken with him. At my knock, the hulking guard opened the door.

“Bessas, fetch your master.” The man glared for a moment, then disappeared within.

“Why, Senator Metellus, I was not expecting to see you again so soon. Please, come in.” He smiled, but the smile showed a certain strain. I followed him up the stairs to the roof garden. “May I inquire what brings you back?”

“The other day, after I spoke to you, I visited with Eschmoun and Ariston, and I found them both to be much as you described them: Eschmoun a relatively harmless fraud and Ariston a scholar of high reputation.”

He gave a self-deprecating little bow. “As you see, I am no liar.”

“Today, I went back to the house of Ariston, and he had fled without a trace.”

His eyes went wide. “Can it be that the man has a guilty conscience?”

“That or a wholesome fear of death. Above your door there is a symbol painted-a serpent in the act of swallowing its tail. What does this signify?”

He looked puzzled but did not hesitate. “It is a very common symbol in many parts of the world. It means creation and eternity. I have seen examples in the art of Egypt and Greece, as well as in the East.”

“I see. Ateius Capito wore a ring in that shape. Might he have received this from you?”

“By no means. As a dabbler in mystical things, such a trinket might have caught his eye almost anyplace, even in the jewelers’ stalls here in Rome.”

“That may be it. Now, Elagabal, just before I left here on the occasion of my last visit, you said something: you said that soon I would be an important official-”

“And so you shall be,” he assured me, looking relieved. He thought we were back to negotiating a bribe.

“And you said that you had found that previous acquaintance made such an official more approachable. Had you previous acquaintance of the aedile Marcus Aemilius Scaurus, who was charged with expelling the foreign cults?”

“Why, yes, long before he held that office.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere. When was it?”

“It was about ten years ago, when Aemilius served as proquaestor in Syria under Proconsul Pompey.”

“I see,” I said, hearing one of the names I most feared. “How did you happen to meet him?”

“You must understand, General Pompey was much occupied with affairs in the northern part of his province and with the final stages of the war with Mithridates. The southern part of his dominions he therefore left in the charge of his subordinates. Aemilius Scaurus was charged with settling the dynastic disputes of the princes of Judea. It was said, later, that Aemilius Scaurus-how shall I say-that he allowed certain of these princes to be excessively generous toward him.”

“Took bribes, eh? Well, no surprises there. What was your part in all this?”

“When the proquaestor was in Damascus on his way to Judea, he consulted with me on the very peculiar religion of that part of the world. I had great difficulty in explaining to him the concept of monotheism.”

“I have problems with that one myself. Doesn’t seem natural. Was Ateius Capito with him?”

“That I could not say. He had a number of wellborn young men on his staff. And at that time, if you will forgive me, Roman names sounded much alike to my untrained ear.”

“That’s odd. They sound very distinctive and individual to us. So, was this the extent of your acquaintance with Aemilius Scaurus?”

He nodded vigorously. “Yes, yes, until I moved to Rome. In the year of his aedileship, when I was unjustly accused of practicing forbidden rites, I went to him and reminded him of how I had aided him when we were in Syria.” Elagabal nodded again. “He was most accommodating.”

“I can well imagine.” I rose to leave. “I have other places to go now. Elagabal, if you have told me the truth, you may expect to find me a friend when I am in office. But this investigation is by no means over. Do not take it into your head to imitate Ariston and leave Rome. He dwelled without the gates, and for him, escaping was easy. I have left word with the gate guards to allow no foreign residents to leave until I am finished.” What a laugh. As if those louts could bestir themselves to stop a blind donkey from wandering out. Besides, they could be bribed with the smallest coins. I suspected that Elagabal was aware of this, but he had the good manners not to smile.