Steven Saylor - A Mist of Prophecies

"Why me, Caelius? I have no power. I have no money. I have no family connections. Why do you care whether I join your cause or not?"

"Ah, but you have something far more important to us than any of those things, Gordianus." Caelius tapped his skull. "You're clever! You see the world as it is. You know the ways of men. Great men and small men, you've moved among them all. Most importantly, you care about truth, and you long for justice. 'The last honest man in Rome,' as Cicero once called you. You're exactly the sort of man who will matter after everything has been turned upside down. Your day shall finally come; there's no limit to the heights to which you might aspire. You need us, Gordianus. But we need you, as well."

He spoke so earnestly-looking me in the eye, pitching his voice just so-that I felt compelled to listen. I recognized an orator's trick he had learned from Cicero-first incite fear (of Pompey, of Caesar, of Volumnius), then promise hope (freedom from debt, justice for all, my own virtues finally recognized and rewarded). He stared at me, waiting for an answer.

I took a deep breath. "We can't possibly be safe, meeting like this. At any moment, Isauricus might send men to storm this building. The two of you wouldn't stand a chance."

Milo emitted a harsh, barking noise that passed for a laugh. "Ha! Do you suppose we haven't taken precautions? This building is thoroughly guarded. You didn't notice the armed men outside and on the rooftop? Good. That means they're doing their job and staying out of sight. But I need merely to snap my fingers and in the blink of an eye you'd be twitching on the floor with your throat cut." A gleam lit his eyes.

"What about the tenants? If I overheard you, then others-"

"A friend of Caelius's owns this building. He's gradually cleared out every tenant who can't be trusted and replaced them with die-hard partisans."

"Every occupant of the building is a partisan of Caelius's?" I thought of Cassandra, trying to imagine how she fit into their scheme.

"Including the occupant standing in front of me, I hope." Caelius smiled. "What do you say, Gordianus? Are you with us? The way is hard, but the rewards will be great beyond imagining."

"What do you want from me?"

"Nothing yet. But the time will come when I shall call on your craftiness, your cunning, your honesty and wisdom-and when I do, I want to be able to rely on your loyalty without question."

"You'd trust me to simply give you my word?"

"No." He went to the cupboard against the wall and returned with a piece of parchment. "I want you to sign this."

I held it at arm's length, for the letters were small, and read:

ON THIS DATE, ONE DAY BEFORE THE NONES OF SEXTILIS IN THE YEAR OF ROME DCCVI, I PLEDGE MY LIFE AND MY FORTUNE TO THE CAUSE OF MARCUS CAELIUS RUFUS AND TITUS ANNIUS MILO. I ACCEPT THEIR AUTHORITY AND I WILL OBEY THEIR ORDERS. I REJECT THE LEGITIMACY OF THE SENATE AND THE MAGISTRATES OF ROME ELECTED UNDER ORDERS OF GAIUS JULIUS CAESAR. LIKEWISE I REJECT THE LEGITIMACY OF THOSE SENATORS AND MAGISTRATES WHO FLED FROM ROME AND FIGHT UNDER THE BANNER OF GNAEUS POMPEY MAGNUS. ALL ARE IMPOSTORS WHO BY THEIR ACTIONS HAVE CEDED ANY CLAIM TO CONSTITUTE THE LEGITIMATE GOVERNMENT OF ROME. UNDER GUIDANCE OF MARCUS CAELIUS RUFUS AND TITUS ANNIUS MILO, THE ROMAN STATE SHALL BE RECONSTITUTED IN ACCORDANCE WITH THE WILL OF THE ROMAN PEOPLE. ONLY THE GOVERNMENT ESTABLISHED BY THEM, AND NO OTHER, SHALL HAVE LEGITIMACY TO CONDUCT THE AFFAIRS OF STATE. BY MY NAME BELOW, SIGNED BESIDE THOSE OF MARCUS CAELIUS RUFUS AND TITUS ANNIUS MILO, AND BY THE IMPRESSION OF THE DEVICE ON MY CITIZEN'S RING IN THE WAX SEAL ON THIS DOCUMENT, I FREELY PLEDGE MYSELF TO THIS CAUSE AND FORSAKE ALL OTHERS.

I looked up. "You must be joking. A contract to conspire against the state? I'm not Cicero, but even I know this isn't legally binding."

"Not under the present regime, perhaps," said Caelius.

"The only possible use for such an incriminating document is black mail," I said.

"You call it black mail. We call it insurance," said Milo dryly. "If you want to leave this room, you'll sign."

"And if I refuse?"

Caelius sighed. "I'd hoped you'd sign it readily, even eagerly. Pompey wants you dead. Caesar has corrupted your son. Volumnius will make a beggar of you. Why should you not sign?"

I stared at the parchment. Would they kill me if I refused to sign? Looking at Milo, who was glaring at me balefully, I had no doubt of it. To sign meant escaping with my life. But what would happen when Caelius and Milo were destroyed and Caesar or Pompey returned to Rome? My name on such a pledge could mean the destruction, not only of myself, but of everyone close to me. Of course, in the vagaries of war, the parchment might be destroyed or lost and never seen again. And-what if…?

For a brief moment I allowed myself to think the unthinkable. What if Caelius and Milo ultimately won? In such an unlikely circumstance, by signing such a pledge I might stand to achieve a status I had never dreamed possible. From standing always on the sidelines, watching the great game at a distance, the Gordiani might find themselves at the very center of a new republic. Senator Gordianus? If that meant nothing to me, then what about my family and their future? Why should Diana not be elevated by a stroke of fortune to the rank of a Fausta or a Clodia or a Fulvia? Why should Eco's children not have the opportunity to shape the world to their liking rather than submit to the schemes of others? How else are great fortunes and great families established except by a single act of wild daring, a mad gamble?

Caelius and Milo promised wholesale revolution. Revolution inspired men without hope to think the unthinkable.

But what would it matter that Volumnius were forced to forgive my debts, if all Rome, my house included, were burned down in a wholesale conflagration? What would it matter that the Senate was emptied and its seats promised to new men like myself, if rampaging gladiators were set loose to do what they wanted with our daughters? Caelius promised a world reborn in justice, but in the end he cared only about power. His alliance with Milo and his willingness to attack Rome with gladiators proved that.

I crumpled the parchment in my fist and threw it across the room.

"I told you!" snapped Milo. "I told you he'd never sign."

Caelius sighed. He clapped his hands. I heard a noise behind me and turned to see two burly men step through the doorway. They must have been waiting just outside the room. They had the look of hired assassins.

"A couple of my fellow future senators?" I said.

Caelius stepped to the cupboard. A few moments later he returned with a cup and held it out to me. "Take it," he said.

I looked in the cup. "Wine?"

"Cheap stuff. Sorry it's not a better vintage, but the likes of Volumnius have sucked up all the good stuff. Drink, Gordianus. Swallow every drop."

I stared in the cup. "Wine… and what else?"

"Drink it!" said Milo.

Behind me the two henchmen stepped so close I could hear them breathing, one in each ear. I heard the slither of daggers drawn from scabbards. "Do what he says," one of them whispered. "Drink!"

"Either that," said the other, "or else-" I felt the prick of a dagger against my ribs, then the prick of its twin from the other direction.

Why poison me? Because a man of my years found dead without a mark on him would raise no suspicions, prompt no questions. They could leave my body in the street, and anyone would think I had died of natural causes.

Or would they carry me down the stairs and leave me in Cassandra's bed? Did she play some role in their scheme-or was she, too, a victim? What if they killed her as well, and left our bodies to be discovered together with the poison beside us? I imagined my family's shame and consternation. The cup trembled in my hand.