Steven Saylor - Arms of Nemesis

'Hear, hear!' said Mummius.

Dionysius leaned back and smiled coyly. 'I wonder where the wretch Spartacus is at diis very moment?'

'Holed up near Thurii,' said Mummius.

'Yes, but what is he doing even as we speak? Does he gorge himself on stolen victuals, gloating to his men about stolen victories? Or has he retired to bed already — after all, what kind of conversation can uneducated slaves enjoy to keep them up past dark? I imagine him lying awake in the darkness, restless and far from sleep, vaguely troubled by an intuition of what Fortune and

Marcus Crassus have in store for him. Does he he within a tent that reeks of his own foul smell? Or upon hard stones beneath a starry sky — no, surely not, for then he would be naked to the sight of the gods who despise him. I think such a man must sleep in a cave, burrowed into the dank earth like the wild beast he is.'

Mummius laughed curtly. 'There's nothing so awful about sleeping in caves. Not from the stories I've heard about a certain great man in his younger days.' He cast a shrewd eye at Crassus, who grudgingly smiled.

Dionysius pursed his lips to suppress his own smile of triumph at this turn in the conversation, which he had obviously intended and in which Mummius was his unwitting accomplice. He leaned back and nodded. 'Ah, yes, how could I have forgotten such a charming tale? It was in the bad old days before Sulla, when the tyrants Cinna and Marius, enemies of all die Licinii, spread terror through the Republic. They drove Crassus's father to suicide and killed his brother, and young Marcus — you must have been no more than twenty-five? — was forced to flee to Spain for his life.'

'Really, Dionysius, I think that everyone here has heard the story too many times already.' Crassus tried to sound bored and disapproving, but the smile at the corners of his lips betrayed him. It seemed to me that he was as aware as I that Dionysius had contrived to bring up the subject to make his own as yet unspoken point, but the memory of the story clearly pleased Crassus too much for him to resist having it told again.

Dionysius pressed on. 'Surely not everyone has heard the tale — Gordianus for one, and his son Eco. The tale of the cave,' he explained, looking at me.

'It sounds vaguely familiar,' I admitted. 'Some bit of gossip overheard in the Forum, perhaps.'

'And Iaia and her young protegee — surely the story of Crassus in the sea cave would be new to them.' Dionysius turned toward the women with a look that was strangely like a leer. Their reaction was equally strange. Olympias blushed a deeper red while Iaia blanched and drew herself up stiffly. 'I know the story quite well,' she protested.

'Well, then, for Gordianus's sake it should be told. When the young Crassus arrived in Spain, a fugitive from the depredations of Marius and Cinna, he might have expected to be warmly greeted. His family had old connections; his father had served as praetor in Spain, and Marcus had spent time there as a youth. Instead he found the Roman colonists and their subjects overawed by their fear of Marius; no one would speak to him, much less help him, and indeed there was considerable danger that someone would betray him and deliver his head to the partisans of Marius. So he fled the town, but not alone — you had arrived with some companions, had you not?'

'Three friends and ten slaves,' said Crassus.

'Yes, so he fled the town with his three friends and ten slaves and journeyed down the coast, until he came to the property of an old acquaintance of his father's. The name eludes me…'

'Vibius Paciacus,' said Crassus, with a wistful smile.

'Ah, yes, Vibius. Now there happened to be a large cave on the property, right on the seashore, which Crassus remembered from his boyhood. He decided to hide there with his company for a while, without telling Vibius, seeing no reason to endanger his old friend. But eventually their provisions ran out, so Crassus sent a slave to Vibius to sound him out. The old man was delighted to learn that Crassus had escaped and was safe. He inquired after the size of the company and, though he did not go himself, he ordered his bailiff to have food prepared each day and to deliver it to a secluded spot on the cliffs. Vibius threatened the bailiff with death if he poked his nose any further into the business or started spreading rumours, and promised him freedom if he carried out his orders faithfully. In time the man also brought books, leather balls for playing trigon, and other diversions, never seeing the fugitives or where they were hidden. The cave itself-'

'Oh, that cave!' interrupted Crassus. 'I had played there as a boy, when it seemed as mysterious and haunting as the cave of the Sibyl. It's very near the sea, but safely high above the beach, surrounded by steep cliffs. The path that leads down to its mouth is steep and narrow, hard to find; inside, it opens to an amazing height, with chambers off to each side. A clear spring emerges from the base of the cliffs, so there's plenty of water. Fissures pierce the rock, so there's plenty of daylight but also protection from wind and rain. Not at all a damp or dank place, thanks to the thickness of the stone walls; the air was quite dry and pure. I felt like a child again, free from all the cares of the world, safely hidden. The months before had been a terrifying ordeal, with the death of my father and my brother, and the panic in Rome. There were melancholy days in the cave, but there was also a feeling that time had stopped, that for the moment nothing was wanted of me, neither grief nor revenge nor struggling for a place in the world. I think my friends grew quite bored and restive, and there was hardly enough for the slaves to do, but for me it was a time of rest and seclusion, sorely needed.'

'And eventually, so the tale goes, every need was met,' said Dionysius.

'Alethea and Diona,' said Crassus, smiling at the memory, 'One morning the slave who had been sent to fetch our daily provisions came running back, flustered and tongue-tied, saying that two goddesses, one blonde and one brunette, had emerged from the sea and were strolling towards us down the beach. I crept down the path and had a look at them from behind some rocks. If they had emerged from the sea, they were curiously dry from head to toe, and if they were goddesses, it was a strange thing that they should be dressed in common gowns much less beautiful than they were themselves.

'I let them see me and they came forward without hesitation. The blonde stepped forward and announced that she was Alethea, a slave, and asked if I was her master. I realized then that Vibius had sent them, knowing that I had not been with a woman since leaving Rome and wanting to be the best host he could to a young man of twenty-five. Alethea and Diona made the rest of those eight months far more pleasurable.'

'How did your sojourn end?' I asked.

'Word came that Cinna had been killed and Marius was vulnerable at last. I gathered up all the supporters I could find and went to join Sulla.'

'And the slave girls?' asked Fabius.

Crassus smiled. 'Some years later I bought them from Vibius. Their beauty had not yet faded, nor had my youth. We had a most amusing reunion. I found a place for them at my house in

Rome, and they have served me there ever since. I have made sure they are well provided for.'

'A charming episode in such a turbulent and fascinating life!' said Dionysius, clapping his hands together. 'How that story has always fascinated me, especially in recent days. There is something so lovely and elusive about its incongruous elements — the idea of a cave on the sea used for a hiding place, the image of a beautiful girl bringing sustenance to the fugitive, the beguiling improbability of it all. It's almost too much like a fable to have actually happened. Do you imagine that such a thing could ever take place again? That such a strange circumstance could be twisted a bit askew and occur in another place, another time?'