Steven Saylor - The Triumph Of Caesar

"I know your name. I know who you are. And I remember when we met. That doesn't answer my question. What are you doing here? If the answer isn't, 'Caesar sent me and this is an emergency,' then all three of you can get out! Well, you two fellows, anyway." He looked at Diana again and narrowed his eyes.

"I am here on behalf of Caesar," I said, speaking a sort of truth.

"What can that man possibly want now?" Arcesilaus threw down his hammer and chisel. I flinched in anticipation of the impact, but the statue was surrounded by canvas drop cloths. The instruments landed with a soft thud.

Arcesilaus launched into a rant. "He says to finish the statue by the end of the year. 'Very well,' I say, 'that's possible.' Then he tells me it must be done by September. 'Impossible!' I tell him, 'It can't be done.' 'Ah, but it must be done,' he says. 'Make it possible.' And when I protest, he begins to recite his miracles on the battlefield, how he built a snare made of ships to catch Pompey at Brundisium, and tunneled under the walls at Massilia, and so on and so forth, always making the impossible possible by sheer exercise of will. 'This is art, not war,' I told him. 'This is a statue, not a slaughter. I'm creating a goddess, not sacking Gaul!' "

He jumped from the platform and with a loud grunt bent down to pick up his tools. When he stood straight, he glared at me for a moment, then was distracted again by Diana. The fire in his eyes burned even hotter. His lips curled into a leer. When he was younger, men called Arcesilaus a lover; nowadays they called him a letch. I snapped my fingers to regain his attention.

His face went blank for a moment, then registered glum resignation. "Well? What does Caesar want now? Out with it!" When I hesitated, stumped for an answer, he threw down his tools again. "And don't tell me it has anything to do with that abomination!" He pointed past us, toward one of the corners of the sanctuary nearest the entrance. Partially wrapped in ropes and canvas, lying on its side, was the gilded statue of Cleopatra that had been displayed in the Egyptian Triumph.

"What is that doing here?" I said.

"My question, exactly!" Arcesilaus stormed over and stopped in front of the statue of the Egyptian queen. For a moment, I thought he might kick it. Instead, he glowered at the thing, stamped his feet, and came storming back. "What indeed is that-that atrocity-doing in this temple? Don't ask me. Ask Caesar!"

"Are you telling me Caesar intends to install it here, in the Temple of Venus?"

" 'As close to the statue of the goddess as possible'-his exact words. 'Without, of course, detracting from the integrity of your own work'-also his exact words. 'Without detracting'-as if such a thing were possible! The temple has been built to house the statue; the statue has been designed to fulfill the sacred purpose of the temple. The two things are one and indivisible. To introduce another element, especially a piece of garbage such as that thing-"

"The spectators at the triumph liked it well enough," said Diana. "People appeared to be quite impressed by it."

He scowled at her. "I preferred you with your mouth shut."

"That's uncalled for!" I said.

"Do you agree with your daughter, then? Do you think a drunken mob is capable of exercising artistic judgment? Is that what we've come to? Between chanting obscene ditties, they were momentarily awed by a gaudy statue, so now the thing deserves to be installed in a sacred temple, next to the work of the greatest sculptor in the world? Thank the gods, Lucullus is no longer alive to see this!"

He was close to tears. He grabbed my arm. Rupa darted forward, but Arcesilaus meant me no harm. He pulled me toward the statue of Venus.

"Look at her!" he commanded. "She isn't even finished yet-a few places need polishing, and no color has yet been added. But look at her, and tell me what you see."

I appraised the statue for a long moment. "I see the goddess Venus. She stands with one arm bent back to touch her shoulder, and her other arm slightly extended-"

"The pose is exquisite, is it not?"

I nodded. "Yes. One of her breasts is bare-"

"Her naked breast captures the exact weight and texture of actual flesh, does it not? You can almost feel the supple, warm skin beneath your fingertips. You can almost see her bosom rise and fall, as if she breathes."

"Yes," I whispered.

"And her face?"

"Serene. Wise. Beautiful." I thought of Arsinoe's face, when Rupa kissed her toe.

"And the molding of her gown, the way the folds bend and drape?"

I shook my head in amazement. "They look as if the slightest breeze might stir them."

"Exactly! What you see is made of stone, and yet, the longer you look at her, the more she appears to be alive, breathing, watching-as if she might step down from her pedestal at any moment."

The effect was indeed uncanny. I truly felt as if the statue of Venus gazed back at me. Unnerved, I lowered my eyes. At the base of the statue, I noticed the finishing detail which Arcesilaus had been adding when we entered. It was the artist's famous hallmark, an image of a rampant satyr.

"Now, come over here." He gripped my arm and led me to the statue of Cleopatra. "What do you see?"

I frowned. "It seems a bit unfair to make a comparison. The statue is lying on its side, after all."

"And would it look any less stiff and lifeless if it stood upright?"

"It's a different sort of statue," I argued. "It depicts a living human being, for one thing, not a goddess."

"And yet it seems less alive, less present in the room than does the image of Venus!"

He was right. The workmanship of Cleopatra's statue was decidedly inferior. The gilded bronze, which had been so dazzling under the hot sun, was less impressive in the dim light of the sanctuary; in fact, it looked a bit tawdry. The statue was not without beauty, but compared to the Venus, it was only a lifeless piece of metal.

"It hurts my eyes even to look at it!" declared Arcesilaus. "Yet Caesar insists that it be placed here in the temple, where it will upset the whole balance."

"Perhaps it will only point out the superior nature of your Venus," I said.

"That's not how it works!" he snapped. "Bad art diminishes good art. The closer the proximity, the greater the damage."

"Have you pointed this out to Caesar?"

" 'You've been working on the Venus for a long time,' he told me. 'I realize you're exhausted, and here I am, posing you yet another challenge. But you'll rise to it, Arcesilaus! You'll find the ideal spot for the queen's image. You can do it!' As if this were just another part of my commission, an opportunity to create something harmonious and beautiful, for which I should be grateful-instead of an insult to everything I've achieved in a lifetime of making art!"

I drew a sharp breath. How harmless was Arcesilaus's rant? Had he ever before expressed such rancor against Caesar? And had Hieronymus been there to hear it? I couldn't remember encountering any mention of the sculptor's animosity against Caesar in Hieronymus's reports.

"Why do you think Caesar wants this statue in the temple?" I asked. "Can there be a religious purpose? Cleopatra is linked to the Egyptian goddess Isis-"

"So she is," said Arcesilaus. "But Isis is a manifestation of the Greek goddess Artemis, our goddess Diana-not Venus. No, the image of Cleopatra cannot possibly be construed as another image of Venus. Isn't it obvious why Caesar wants that statue in a temple that honors his ancestress? He means to honor the mother of his own child."

"I think you're wrong there," I said, remembering my recent conversation with Caesar, and the absence of Caesarion in the Egyptian Triumph. And yet, a man like Caesar liked to keep all his options open. He also liked to keep people guessing.