Steven Saylor - A Mist of Prophecies

"I hope you didn't send the boy away on my account," I said.

"Of course not," said Sempronia, finally looking at me and raising an eyebrow at the notion that I could consider myself important enough to merit any action regarding her grandson. Since I had last seen her, one of her eyes had become cloudy white; if anything, it seemed to fix on me more penetratingly than the other. Under her gaze, I quailed a bit. Strange, that a woman who could be so tender to a child could be so intimidating to a grown man. "If we're going to talk about the witch, it isn't fitting for a man-child to be present," she said.

"Is that what Cassandra was? A witch?"

"Of course," said Sempronia. "Did you think she was a mere mortal woman?"

"She was most certainly… mortal," I said quietly.

"She was murdered, wasn't she?" said Fulvia. With both of them now looking at me, I realized that the daughter's gaze was no less piercing than her mother's, yet somehow it gave me no displeasure to be looked at so openly by Fulvia. Sempronia's gaze was caustic; it stripped a man naked. Fulvia's gaze seemed cleansing, as if its purpose was to strip away whatever veils of confusion or misunderstanding might intervene between us. Her eyes were intelligent, lively, inviting. No wonder she had secured two of Rome's best and brightest, if unluckiest, to become her husbands.

"Why do you think Cassandra was murdered?" I asked.

"Because I know the curious circumstances of her death. How she died suddenly… in the marketplace… in your arms. Was it poison, Gordianus? They say she was wracked with convulsions."

"They?"

"My eyes and ears."

"Your spies?"

Fulvia shrugged. "There's very little that happens in Rome that doesn't reach me."

"What else do you know about her murder?"

"If you're asking me who might have done such a thing or how or why, I can't tell you. I don't know. But a woman like Cassandra might have been dangerous to any number of people. She couldn't just see the future, you know; she had visions of faraway events."

"Could she see the future?"

"She was a witch," said Sempronia, interrupting. Her tone implied that I had already received my answer and should pay closer attention.

"A witch, you say? Did she cast spells, place curses, heal the sick?"

"She did none of those things in this household," said Sempronia, "but who can say what powers she possessed? She most certainly was able to see beyond the present moment and the four walls surrounding her."

"How do you know that?"

Sempronia opened her mouth to answer, but Fulvia raised a hand to silence her. "Let me tell him, Mother."

Sempronia huffed. "Why should we tell this fellow anything?"

"Have you forgotten, Mother? When Clodius was murdered, Gordianus was among the first to come to this house to pay his respects. He cared enough to seek out the truth."

"But he's an old lackey of Cicero's!" Sempronia spat the name.

Fulvia's eyes narrowed. She and Cicero were old and very bitter enemies. "It's true that you made your reputation working for Cicero, isn't it, Gordianus?"

"I wouldn't say that. I would say, rather, that Cicero made his reputation while I was working for him. I was never his lackey. Over the course of many years, we've had our ups and downs. Of late, I've lost touch with him completely. I haven't heard from him in months."

"Yet you visited his house only today," noted Fulvia. I raised an eyebrow. "I told you, Gordianus, there's little that happens in Rome that I don't know about."

"Yes-your eyes and ears. Yet you don't know who killed Cassandra?"

Fulvia smiled ruefully. "I'm not omniscient. I do have… blind spots."

I nodded. "Yes, I went to Cicero's house this morning to see Terentia for the same reason I've come to see you. You made an appearance at Cassandra's funeral, which suggests that you must have known her in more than a casual way. Who was she? Where did she come from?"

I addressed Fulvia, but her mother answered. "She was an Egyptian witch! It stands to reason. All the most powerful witches come from Egypt these days. They carry Greek blood in their veins-which explains Cassandra's blond hair and blue eyes-but unlike the modern-day Greeks, they haven't forgotten the old magic. The traditions are still kept alive in Egypt-the making of amulets, the memorizing of curses, the arts of fortune-telling. Cassandra was an Egyptian witch."

"We don't know that for a fact, Mother," objected Fulvia. "It's only a supposition."

"Your eyes and ears never told you where Cassandra came from?" I asked.

"Where she was concerned, I was strangely deaf and blind," admitted Fulvia. "It was as if Cassandra dropped to earth on a comet-and for all I know, she did."

"When did you first encounter her?"

"Many months ago."

"How many?"

"It was in November of last year."

If that were so, Fulvia had encountered Cassandra even before the day in Januarius when I saw the Vestal Fabia take her into the temple. "Are you sure?"

"Of course I am! How could I forget that bitter day?" Her face darkened. "Just how much shall I tell you, Gordianus? Everything? Yes, why not?" She raised a hand to silence her mother, who seemed poised to object. "Caesar was still here in Rome, flush from his triumphs in Spain and Massilia. Word from the Adriatic Sea was not so good; Dolabella was powerless against Pompey's fleet. But from Sicily…" She sighed and closed her eyes for a moment. "From Sicily there had come the excellent news of my husband's conquest of the island, followed by the even more promising news that Gaius had pressed on… to Africa." She lowered her eyes and cleared her throat.

"Every day, here in this house, we waited for word of his progress. A messenger arrived with the news that he had taken Utica. We rejoiced. Then a second report arrived that contradicted the first, saying that Utica was still under siege but would fall into Gaius's hands at any moment. The mood in this house was one of joyful restraint. We lived in anticipation of great and glorious news. My mother made a joke, that soon…" Her voice broke. "Soon Gaius would have a new honorific to append to his name, and we would thereafter be the family of Gaius Scribonius Curio Africanus-conqueror of Africa!" Fulvia shook her head. "It's bitter to be left behind. A woman should be allowed to follow her husband onto the field of battle."

I raised an eyebrow. "Pompey's wife went with him when he fled from Rome. I understand she's with him even now."

"I don't mean that-to follow along like baggage! In a better world I should have been allowed to go along with Gaius, not merely as his wife, but as his co-commander! Yes, I know, the notion is absurd; no centurion would ever take commands from a woman. But I should have been there-to counsel Gaius, to help him weigh the advice of his subordinates, to evaluate intelligence from the field, to plot strategy. If I had been there…"

Sempronia touched her arm to comfort her. Fulvia gripped her mother's hand and went on. "Instead of going with him, I waited here in Rome. Is there any torture worse than waiting and not knowing? Some days I felt as if I were riding a storm-tossed ship, pitched between hope and despair until I thought I'd go mad. Other days were so still and quiet it was like being trapped on a ship in flat water-hours passing without a word, without a sign, only endless waiting and watching and wondering. Until…"

She drew a deep breath. "As I said, it was on a day last November. I had been to the house of one of Gaius's relatives to see if they had had any news of him, but they knew no more than I did. I was on my way home, passing through the Forum in my litter. The curtains were drawn. No one could see in, but because it was a bright day and the curtains are not entirely opaque, I could see out, at least well enough to tell that we were passing by the Temple of Castor and Pollux. I was thinking about Gaius, of course. Then I heard a voice.