Steven Saylor - A murder on the Appian way

"Apparendy not, though someone did send my wife an anonymous note saying that we would not be harmed and would eventually be released."

"How curious. Do you think this episode was connected with your investigations for Pompey?" "Perhaps."

Caesar laughed. "You're a reticent fellow, Gordianus. I respect a man who's able to say no more than he should — that's rare. It's obvious you were never trained as an orator! I should like to think I might call on you myself some day, if I ever need a man of your talents and discretion."

"That would be an honour, Caesar."

He smiled for a moment, then gazed at the map again with an abstracted look. The recounting of my misadventures had distracted him for a moment, but now his attention had returned to the corcerning problems of Gaul.

"Shall we leave you now, Caesar?" said Meto.

"I do need to return to my work now, yes. I'm glad to learn that you shall remain beside me, Meto, especially in the days to come. It was good to see you again, Gordianus, and you, too, Eco. I wish you both a safe and uneventful journey back to Rome. And Gordianus…"

"Yes, Caesar?"

"When you report to Gnaeus Pompey, say that you spoke to me and tell him, if you would, that I send him my warmest regards. He was my son-in-law, you know, and still would be if ill fortune had not intervened. He should have had a son from Julia, and I a grandson. But the Fates deemed otherwise and robbed us both."

"I'll do as you ask, Caesar."

The secretary called for the guard, who came to escort us out. The man paused. "Shall I show the others in now, Caesar?" "What others?"

"Cicero and his man. They're waiting in the courtyard. He insists that he has business of the greatest importance."

Caesar pressed his fingers together and studied the map of Gaul. "No, not yet. I shall finish dictating this chapter first. Perhaps, after I take my midday meal, I shall have time to receive Marcus Tullius Cicero."

The guard escorted us down a hallway and back to the courtyard. At our approach, Cicero rose to his feet. Before he could say a word, the guard cut him off with a shake of his head. Cicero crossed his arms and sat down again. He did not look at us as we passed by, but instead pretended to find some grim fascination in the fountain in the centre of the courtyard. I tried very hard not to smile.

We ate with Meto in a large tent filled with soldiers. Under normal circumstances, I would have judged the food barely passable and the company just tolerable. After long days of captivity, however, and the deprivation of any variety in my tablemates, the simple meal and the loud, vulgar conversation made me feel that I was at a feast fit for King Numa.

In the midst of the talk someone mentioned Marc Antony.

Meto saw my reaction, noticed the same reaction from Eco, and raised an eyebrow. "Do you know him, Papa? Ah, but that's right, I introduced you to Marc Antony last year. Here in Ravenna, wasn't it?"

"Yes."

"He's looking very sleek,'' said one of the men. "All that lolling about down in Rome agrees with him."

"I should think that Rome is considered a hazardous posting these days!" said another.

"He keeps himself fit doing daily drills — "

"At the widow Fulvia's house!"

There was a round of suggestive grunts and laughter.

I turned to Meto. "Do I take it that Antony is here in Ravenna?"

"Yes. He's been in the camp for several days, conferring with Caesar about the situation in Rome. He's heading back tomorrow, I think. What's that look on your face, Papa?"

"Oh, nothing." When this did not satisfy him, I indicated that we should move outside where we could talk more discreetly.

"Well, Papa?" he said, as the three of us strolled between the tents.

"It's probably nothing at all, but when I told you yesterday about our investigations on the Appian Way, I forgot to mention Marc Antony."

"Antony? What possible connection — "

"He threatened Clodius's life last year on the Field of Mars — chased him to a warehouse on the river, where Clodius hid in a cupboard under a stairway."

Meto laughed. "Oh, that story!"

"You know it?"

"Of course. Antony loves to tell it, especially when he's a little drunk. He claims he had no intention of killing Clodius. He just wanted to turn him into a eunuch."

"What did they fight about?"

"Who knows? Papa, their relationship went back a very long way. They'd been in love with the same woman, Fulvia. They may have been in love with each other at some time or other, for all I know. They probably met on the Field of Mars, exchanged a few friendly insults, Clodius said something that tugged a bit too hard on Antony's balls, and Antony whipped out his sword. But no one was hurt in the end."

Eco groaned. "Meto, the puns!"

Meto smiled and shrugged. "I can keep it up all day. But what has this to do with — "

I had told Meto the day before aboutmy commission from Pompey, but had not mentioned Fulvia. My meeting with her had come to seem incidental. "Fulvia asked me to find out if Antony was involved in her husband's death."

"But he's one of the people working to bring Milo to trial."

"That proves nothing."

"Did you find any evidence to implicate him?" I considered this carefully. "No one who witnessed the event or the aftermath had anything at all to say about Antony." "Well, there you have it." "Perhaps."

"Really, Papa, Antony is a good soldier and a friend of mine. I can't stand by and hear him called a murderer." "No one has called him a murderer, Meto." "But you seem to think he might be."

What had Cicero said about me? Always the one to bide his time, sift every shred of evidence, seek for further revelations, postpone the final judgment. "If Fulvia were here with us now, I couldn't in good conscience say that I had proved otherwise."

"Then let's go and ask him."

"What?"

"We'll ask him."

"As simple as that?"

"Why not? Antony isn't exactly simple, but he's as clear and plain to read as Caesar's Latin. Come with me." "Come with you where?"

"To Antony's quarters. They're on the far side of the villa. This way."

Eco and I followed after him. "But Meto, this is mad! What do you expect me to do? Say, 'Hello, do you remember me, Meto's father, and by the way, did you help murder Publius Clodius?'"

"I imagine you can be more subtle than that, Papa."

"And if he should decided to whip out his sword and give chase, like he did with Clodius on the Field of Mars?"

"You heard the fellows in the tent — Antony's got a bit plump, attending all those dinner parties in Rome. Maybe you can outrun him. Here, we enter through this door."

As with Caesar, we had to apply to a guard before reaching the man himself. My hope was that Antony would be too busy to see us, but at the sound of Meto's voice a head poked through the curtains to his office, wearing a broad grin. "Meto! Have you eaten yet?"

"I've swallowed my ration of swill for the day, if that's what you mean."

"Join me anyway. I managed to salvage a few edible things out of the pot. Who are your friends? Ah — it's your brother, isn't it, and your father, the famous Finder."

"Famous?" I said, as we stepped through the curtains.

"Or infamous. Whatever. Come in. Sit. Manius, find something else to do." Antony gestured to a secretary, who promptly scooped up his tablet and stylus and left the room. "Wine? Well, that goes without saying. I know how you take yours, Meto: neat. Meto's like me, has a terrible allergy to water. Do you take yours watered, Gordianus? And you, Eco?"

"More water than wine for me," I said. "I've been away from wine for a while. I'm having to get used to it again. Besides," I added under my breath, "I may have to do some running soon."