Steven Saylor - A Mist of Prophecies

Cassandra saw the expression on my face. She frowned. "You've lost a child," she said.

I raised an eyebrow, surprised.

She shrugged. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. But it's true, isn't it?"

I cleared my throat. "Yes, in a way. I've lost a son. Or misplaced him…"

She saw that I cared to say no more and changed the subject. "Are you hungry?"

I was, in fact, but I had no intention of taking food from anyone who clearly had as little to spare as Cassandra and her companion. I shook my head. "I should go. My family will be wondering what's become of me." I stood up, feeling unsteady.

"Are you sure you're well enough?"

"When a man reaches my years, he learns to accommodate small complaints, rather as a rich man learns to accommodate unwanted relatives. It's only a bit of light-headedness. Nothing, I should think, compared to the spells from which you suffer."

She lowered her eyes. "You're talking about that day I fell into your arms. I wasn't sure you'd remember."

"It's not every day a beautiful young woman falls into my arms. Nor am I likely to forget the previous time I saw you."

"A previous time?"

"You were in front of the Temple of Vesta. You did more than faint on that occasion."

"Did I?" She wrinkled her brow. "I suppose I must have. They told me about it later. I don't really remember."

"Have you always suffered such episodes?"

She looked elsewhere. "I'd rather not talk about it."

"Forgive me. I had no right to ask. It's only because…"

"What?"

I shrugged. "You fell into my arms. Now I've fallen into your arms… more or less. It's enough to make a fellow think the gods must want the two of us to meet."

She raised an eyebrow.

"I'm only joking! You mustn't blame an old fellow for flirting a bit." I glanced at Rupa, who seemed amused. In that moment I suspected he was not her lover. What then? A servant, relative, friend?

She smiled. "You were kind enough to catch me that day. Today in the Forum, when I saw you in distress, I wanted to return the favor."

"Good. That makes us even, then. But I haven't introduced myself, have I? My name is Gordianus."

She nodded. "They call me Cassandra."

"Yes, I know. Don't look surprised. You're not entirely unknown in the Forum. People tend to notice a person… such as you. I don't suppose Cassandra is your real name?"

"As real as any other."

"I'm being presumptuous. Forgive me. I should go."

She turned away from me. Had I offended her? Embarrassed her? I hoped for one more exchange of glances before I left the room, one more look from her troubled blue eyes, but she kept her face averted.

Rupa led me into the hallway, and I passed from the world lit by Cassandra's presence into the world of boiled cabbage and barking dogs. At the front door, where a Molossian mastiff was tethered to a post, Rupa abruptly turned back, giving me no sign at all, not even a nod. I felt a prickle of envy. He was returning to Cassandra.

I walked home alone, feeling a touch of light-headedness, but of a different sort than I had felt before; a similar sensation but curiously pleasant. As I passed down the Street of Copper Pots, the clanking of so much metal seemed to echo the muddle in my own head. An unexpected brush with beauty makes a man feel happy, and carefree, and foolish.

"You will no longer spend your idle hours loitering in the Forum. Too dangerous!"

So declared Bethesda that night in the dining room off the garden. On my safe return, she had met me with an icy stare and spoken hardly a word, but her display of anger was only a show. Hieronymus drew me aside and informed me in a whisper that she had been frantic and close to tears when he and Davus returned to the house without me.

Confronted with Bethesda's decree, I sighed, and unable to think of a rebuttal, picked up my wine cup instead. If I argued that I would always take Davus along to protect me, she would only point out that Davus had failed to do so that very afternoon.

Already outmaneuvered, I soon found myself outnumbered. "Mother's right," said Diana. "Davus does his best to look after you, Papa…" She gave her husband a melting look and patted his hand. He stopped chewing for a moment and actually blushed. Then she turned her stern gaze back to me. — "But even Davus can't be responsible if you're going to start fainting and wandering off in a daze-"

"I didn't wander off! I was carried off by a pair of friendly strangers to a safe place."

"But, Papa, you might as easily have been carried off by strangers who weren't so friendly. Those two might have robbed and murdered you and thrown your body in the Tiber, and we'd never have known what became of you."

"Daughter, you tempt the Fates!" Bethesda tore off a bit of flat bread and threw it over her shoulder to distract any malicious (and presumably hungry) spirits who might be listening.

Hieronymus cleared his throat and came to my rescue by changing the subject. "I was quite shocked by that harangue from Marcus Caelius today. Not only what he said-that was radical enough-but how he said it, baiting Trebonius and the Senate in such an open fashion."

"Yes, now that Marc Antony's left Italy to join Caesar, Caelius has grown considerably bolder." I stole a glance at Bethesda, who seemed more interested in the flat bread in her hand. Politics bored her.

"He very nearly spoke ill of Caesar himself," said Hieronymus.

"He never spoke Caesar's name," I pointed out.

"To be sure," admitted Hieronymus, "but his insinuation was clear. Caesar was once the champion of the common people, but now he's their enemy. Once he stood against Pompey and the so-called Best People, but now he's shown himself to be just another politician in the service of the rich."

"Which means that the people need a new champion," I said.

"And Marcus Caelius is offering himself for that role."

I nodded. "For a newcomer to the city, Hieronymus, you're a shrewd judge of Roman politics."

"Politics here are different from politics in Massilia. All this rabble-rousing and rioting would never have been tolerated there. But politicians are the same everywhere. They have a nose for power. They can smell it the way a hungry man can smell bread. When they see an unclaimed loaf, they rush to seize it for their own. That's what Caelius is doing. He looks around and sees that a great many people are greatly unhappy, and he moves to make himself their champion."

"It's been done before," I pointed out, "by Catilina, by Clodius, by Caesar himself. But I don't see how Caelius can accomplish anything except to get himself killed-as Catilina and Clodius did. His problem is simple: he doesn't have an army."

"Perhaps he means to get himself one."

I had been about to take a sip of wine but stopped short. "What an idea, Hieronymus! A third army vying for control of the world?" I shook my head. "Ridiculous, of course. Caelius has a little military experience, but not nearly enough to challenge either Caesar or Pompey."

"Unless those two finish each other off," said Diana. "Who's to say that one or the other must return alive from Greece? Word could reach Rome tomorrow that Caesar and Pompey are both dead. Who would take control of Rome then?"

I put down my cup. "By Hercules! Sometimes, Daughter, you see what I can't see, even though it's right before me. You're right. A gambler like Caelius doesn't go through life thinking of all the ways he might fail. He narrows his thoughts until he can perceive the one path by which he might succeed, then bends all his will toward that path, heedless of the odds against him. If he loses, he loses everything. But if he wins…"

"He wins the world," said Hieronymus.

On the day after I called on Terentia and Fulvia, I rose early, taking care not to disturb Bethesda, ate a light break fast, then called Mopsus and Androcles to come and help me put on my best toga again. The wool was a bit dusty from my outing the previous day. After it was properly draped about me, I stood very still while Mopsus gave it a good brushing.