Steven Saylor - A murder on the Appian way

"And the same for me," said Eco, raising an eyebrow.

Physically, Antony had the potential to be mtimidating. He had a wrestler's build, with a muscular neck and shoulders and a broad barrel chest- rather like a younger, taller version of Milo, I thought. He was only a few years older than Meto, probably thirty or thirty-one. In profile, his jutting brows and chin and his dented boxer's nose gave him a rather brutish appearance, but when he looked at me straight on this impression was melted away by the gentleness of his eyes and mouth and the fullness of his cheeks. Antony was handsome in a homely sort of way, to use one of Bethesda's phrases. He had a sort of look that many women find irresistible and that many men trust instinctively, as Meto certainly seemed to do.

"When did you arrive, Gordianus?" Antony looked at me with an expression that hardly seemed that of a guileful killer, or a kidnapper, for that matter.

"Just yesterday."

"Oh?" He nodded, then frowned. "Don't tell me you came with Cicero?"

"We arrived together, yes. But I only joined him on the last leg of the journey, quite by chance."

"That's good to hear. Then you're not a part of his little mission to Caesar?"

"Most definitely not,"

"Papa and Eco are here on their own business," said Meto. "Really? What's that?" said Antony. "They're here to investigate you." "Meto!" This was really too much.

Antony narrowed his eyes. "Me? This isn't related to that old business about King Ptolemy's daughter back in Egypt, is it? I swear, I never touched the child!" Antony and Meto both laughed at what was apparently an old joke.

"No," said Meto, "it's something to do with — " "With a nasty rumour that someone started down in Rome," I said. "My son seems determined to make light of the situation, but it's deadly serious." Meto had controlled the conversation long enough. Since he insisted on forcing the matter, I decided to make the best of it. "I'll begin by telling you what I told Caesar earlier today: at the request of Gnaeus Pompey, Eco and I did a little snooping into the circumstances of the death of Publius Clodius. Outrageous as it may seem, we encountered a rumour — and I tell you this, Marc Antony, because you're my son's friend and I think you should know that such a thing was said about you — we encountered a rumour that you were somehow involved."

"Ridiculous!" said Antony, who did not look amused.

I shrugged. "An outrageous rumour, as I said. I'm sure that no one of good sense would credit it for an instant."

"But who would say such a thing about me?" Antony was suddenly on his feet, pacing across the small space. "What utter nonsense, that I could have any hand at all in what happened to Clodius! There's no bottom to people's vileness, is there? No lie so vicious that someone won't stoop to utter it, Cicero! You heard this from Cicero, didn't you, on the ride up?"

"No."

"Tell me the truth, Gordianus. Oh, it sounds just like him, telling a He so crazy that people begin to think there must be something to it! I'll tell you, this is the last time, and I mean the very last time, that the old coot is going to take a piss on my head. I'll snatch him in the middle of his snivelling petition to Caesar and throw him down a well. I'll twist his throat until his head snaps off! He'll never spread another He about me again!" At that moment, Antony looked quite capable of carrying out such threats.

"Marc Antony, I swear to you, the rumour didn't come from Cicero."

"Then where did you hear it? Who's saying these thing about me?" Antony's anger was palpable and seemed to heat the whole room like a brazier. But I sensed that none of his fury was directed at me. It was because I was Meto's father, I realized, and therefore to be trusted and respected. Antony was not a simple man, Meto had said, but clear and plain. He had cause to be angry, but was disciplined enough to hold his anger in check while he sought for the party that had truly offended against him.

"It was a fish vendor, wasn't it, Papa?" said Eco suddenly.

"What?"

"It was a fish vendor who told us about the rumour, as I recall." My elder son was not so clear and plain as Antony. "Ah, was it?" I said.

"By Hercules, you mean they're spreading such a lie even in the marketplaces?" Antony looked ready to smash something, but refilled his wine cup instead.

"Yes, I remember now," I said. "But it was only one person who mentioned the idea to me — no, actually it was two people — and it may be that they were simply confused, because at the same time they brought up a story from last year, about an altercation between yourself and Publius Clodius…"

"What, that bit of silliness on the Field of Mars?"

"These people seemed to think you meant Clodius actual harm."

"If I'd caught him, you know what I would have done? I'd have used the flat of my sword to spank him! That would have been humiliation enough."

"What was his offence?" said Meto.

"The usual one, not knowing when to keep his mouth shut. Nothing political. Something personal dredged up from the past." Antony hesitated. "Since you've been so candid with me, Gordianus, I'll tell you. Clodius made a rude suggestion involving my friendship with Gaius Curio. Curio was off in Asia, serving as quaestor, and his father had just died. Well, it's no secret how the elder Curio did everything he could to come between Gaius and me when we were young — following Cicero's advice, I might add! So there were we, out on the field of Mars, and Clodius said something like, 'Now that his old man's dead and out of the way, I suppose you and Gaius Curio can finally get married. Which one of you will be the bride?' Normally I might have laughed it off, but he caught me on a day when I was in no mood for his needling, so I pulled out my sword. I suppose I looked angrier than I was — it's a problem I have — and Clodius simply panicked. He shrieked and ran!" Antony laughed at the memory. "And I chased after him! I couldn't help myself!" Antony clutched himself, laughing. "If I'd caught him, I swear, I'd have pulled off his toga and spanked his bare bottom — sent him back to the Field of Mars stark naked with his red cheeks glowing. That would have shut him up! Can you imagine? The mob would have deserted him. He'd have had to retire from public life. But he'd still be alive today!"

The laughter caught in Antony's throat. He sighed and made a face that was hard to read. He poured himself more wine, drained his cup and looked at me steadily. "Gordianus, I swear to you by the shade of my father, I had nothing to do with Clodius's death. So.I hope that you'll go back and find whoever these rumour mongers were, and set them straight,"

I tried to return his gaze with one as steady. It's not often that I find myself the less honest of two parties in a conversation. "I intend to do that, Marc Antony."

"Good! Such a rumour should be nipped in the bud, before some scoundrel like Cicero puts it to his own use. Oh, Mercury and Minerva!" He slapped his forehead.

"What's wrong?" said Meto.

"What if this awful rumour should reach all the way to Fulvia? Since Clodius died, I've worked so hard to be strong for her, to give her someone to lean on, someone she can trust absolutely. I couldn't stand it, if anything should poison that. But what am I saying? Fulvia would never believe such a rumour, not for a moment. She knows me better than that."

I shrugged and made a sympathetic smile.

That night we learned from Tiro that after waiting in Caesar's courtyard all day, Cicero had once more failed to gain an audience with the general. He would have to seek an audience again the next day, and so would not be heading back to Rome again until at least the day after that, at the earliest. To Eco and me, eager to return to our families, this seemed an eternity.