Steven Saylor - The Triumph Of Caesar

"Now you've seen another side of my work, Daughter." I could see that Diana was shaken by the exchange. "It isn't all sipping wine with Cytheris or trading barbs with Cicero. Strip away their cultivated manners, and you'll find that our betters are a nasty lot."

"What an awful man!" Diana shuddered.

"I've encountered worse," I said, but at the moment I couldn't remember where or when.

After sharing a midday meal with the family, I was inclined to take a nap, but Diana insisted that we sit together in the garden and continue reading Hieronymus's notes. Having worn me down in her pursuit to share my work, she was eager to continue.

It was Diana who came across a passage that neither of us had read before:

Do I miss living in the household of Gordianus? I certainly miss Bethesda's cooking. I miss Gordianus's largesse and his conversation. But the two of them are gone, perhaps never to return. I miss the others, too, of course, but there is much to be said for striking out on one's own and not looking back. I am living my own adventure.

"His own adventure," I whispered, "which came to such a sad end."

Diana nodded. "There's also a bit about that haruspex Porsenna."

Part of the fun is seeing how far I can trick a fellow trickster like Porsenna into trusting me (and inducing Calpurnia to pay me). The fellow is probably a charlatan through and through, but I wonder if he hasn't convinced himself of his powers of precognition. If I validate his prediction of a plot against the dictator, his hold on Calpurnia can only increase. If I were to show him up as a fool or a fraud, even she could not protect me from his fury.

"Do you think he's exaggerating, Papa, about how dangerous Porsenna might be? You've met the man. I haven't."

"Hard to say."

"It's a thought, though, isn't it? Hieronymus might have been killed because he was close to proving that Caesar was not in danger from a plot on his life."

I gazed at her and shook my head. "You have your mother's looks, thank the gods, but I fear you've inherited your father's devious mind."

This made her smile.

"I was also wondering, Papa, if we shouldn't be thinking more about the dedication ceremony at the new Temple of Venus."

"What of it?"

"It's scheduled to take place shortly after the completion of tomorrow's triumph. Might that not be a more likely occasion for someone to gain access to Caesar, if they wanted to do him harm?"

"Perhaps. I presume work on the temple is finished, but I'm not sure about the surrounding area. There's a great deal of new construction taking place. I suppose there might be hiding places suitable for staging an ambush, traps that could be made to look like accidents, that sort of thing."

"Perhaps we should have a look."

"We?"

"It was my idea, Papa."

I sighed. "Very well. Go find Rupa. Let's take a look at Caesar's new temple."

With typical modesty, Caesar intended to call his new complex of buildings the Great Forum, to differentiate it from the ages-old Forum (officially, the Forum Romanum) created by our forefathers. As yet, only the outlines of the Great Forum could be discerned; except for the completed Temple of Venus, prominently situated at one end of the concourse, the area was a vast construction site, with its constituent parts in various stages of completion.

When it was finished, the Great Forum would become the legal center of Rome, with hearing rooms, judicial halls, offices for advocates, and legislative archives clustered around a large square bordered by a colonnaded portico. In its center would stand a monumental equestrian statue of Caesar (as yet, only the huge pedestal was in place), while the area in front of the Temple of Venus would be graced by an elaborate fountain (for which only the pipes had been laid down).

The site was swarming with workmen. For tomorrow's dedication ceremony, the space in front of the temple was being cleared of debris and tidied up so as to accommodate a great many spectators. Most would be expected to stand. For the more important personages, benches were being delivered and arranged in rows before the temple steps. At the foot of the steps, a marble altar for sacrifice was being set up.

The temple was a magnificent sight, made entirely of marble. It was built on a high podium accessed by a long flight of steps, with the columns set close together. Every detail of the facade-the cornices and capitals, the pediment and sculptural decorations-had been exquisitely crafted.

This was the temple Caesar had pledged to erect on the eve of the battle of Pharsalus, should he be victorious, in honor of his divine ancestress. Its full name was the Temple of Venus Genetrix. Pompey's temple atop his theater was officially consecrated to Venus Victrix, but the victory of Venus had been bestowed on Caesar.

I surveyed as much of the construction site as the workmen would allow us to enter, looking for potential places of ambush or traps. It seemed unlikely that anyone could engineer such a threat in secret, with so many men involved in clearing and cleaning the site.

"Let's have look inside," said Diana.

"I'm not sure we can. The temple isn't open yet."

"Nonsense-the doors are standing wide open! Besides, you have Calpurnia's seal, don't you? And she's an in-law of Venus, isn't she?"

Without waiting for me, Diana headed up the long flight of steps. I dutifully followed and gestured for Rupa to come along. She paused on the porch for me to catch up, then together we stepped through the wide doorway.

The interior was even more sumptuous than the facade. The marble floors, walls, ceiling, and columns presented a staggering array of colors and patterns, and everything was newly finished, so that all the surfaces gleamed with a mirrorlike polish. To decorate the facing walls of the vestibule, Caesar had acquired two of the most famous paintings in the world, the Medea and the Ajax by the renowned artist Timomachus. A series of ornate cabinets exhibited an extraordinary collection of jewelry and gemstones acquired by Caesar in his travels. Not the most beautiful, but surely the most exotic, was a savage-looking breastplate strung with tiny pearls; a placard noted that it came from the island of Britannia, at the furthest end of the world.

From the sanctuary, I could hear the tapping noise of a sculptor's hammer and chisel. Diana heard it, too, and we exchanged a curious look.

"You don't think someone is still at work on the statue, on the very day before the dedication?" she said.

"Let's find out," I said. We entered the sanctuary.

The sculptor who had received Caesar's commission, Arcesilaus, was reputed to be the most highly paid artist in the world. He was mentioned in passing in Hieronymus's reports and had sent a note of condolence. Many years ago, I had met him at the house of the late Lucullus, a great patron of the arts. Arcesilaus had been young then, and quite handsome, with a reputation for vanity and hot-tempered genius. His hair had grown grayer, but he still had the big shoulders and biceps of a sculptor, and his temper still ran hot, if his reaction to our appearance in the sanctuary was any indication.

"What in Hades are you doing here?" he shouted. The marble statue of Venus stood on a high pedestal at the rear wall. Arcesilaus was perched on a riser which allowed him access to the base of the statue, where he was tending to a finishing detail with a small hammer and a chisel.

I cleared my throat. "My name is Gordianus-"

"And I'm Diana, his daughter. And this is Rupa, his son."

I frowned at Diana's forwardness. Arcesilaus raised an eyebrow. I didn't care for the way his mouth twisted at one corner as he looked Diana up and down.

"You and I have met before," I said, "though it was a long time ago-"