Steven Saylor - Catilina's riddle

'This is your way of convincing me to help you? I tell you I want no danger to this house and you tell me stories of assassination and civil war!'

'All of which can be prevented, if we work together. ’ Why — in spite of all my protests, my clearly reasoned judgment, all the resolutions and promises I had made to myself the great daily satisfaction I took in turning my back on the madness of the city — why in that moment did I experience a shiver of excitement? Intrigue is an intoxicant more powerful than the headiest wine. Secrecy casts a spell over the workaday world and turns common, drab existence into the stuff of plays and epics. A man eats of such stuff and only feels hungry for more. Even so, such a diet makes a man feel alive. That shiver of excitement was something I had not felt since I left the city.

'Tell me more about the meeting you attended with Catilina,' I said slowly.

'It was at Catilina's house on the Palatine; a splendid, rambling mansion that his father built, and the only thing left of his inheritance, besides his name. It began as a dinner party, but after the meal we withdrew to a room deep within the house. The slaves were dismissed and the door was shut. If I told you the names of the senators and patricians who were there—'

'Don't'

Caelius nodded. "Then I'll only tell you that the gathering ranged from the respectable to the notorious—' ' "Taste every flavour." So Catilina says.'

'Exactly. He coins a memorable phrase, as you see. You flatter me by calling me an apt pupil of Cicero's, but I tell you Cicero has nothing on Catilina when it comes to passionate speeches. He dwelt upon the common distress of the men gathered there and pointed to the wealthy oligarchs as the cause of all their misery; he promised them a new state consecrated by the blood of the old; he spoke of cancelled debts and confiscations from the rich. When it was over he produced a bowl of wine and compelled every man to make a cut on his arm and squeeze a trickle of blood into the bowl'

'And you?'

Caelius held forth his arm and showed me the scar. "The bowl was passed around. Every man drank from it. We all took an oath of secrecy—'

'Which you're breaking right now.'

'An oath against Rome is no oath at all to a true Roman.' Even so, he lowered his eyes.

'Then Catilina accepted you as one of his own, despite your connection to Cicero?'

'Yes, because for a time I was truly under his spell. I convinced him of my loyalty because it was real, at the time. Until I suddenly saw through him, until I learned that he planned to murder Cicero. Then I went to Cicero with all I knew. He told me to remain in Catilina's confidence and said that I could be more valuable to him as a spy. I'm not the only one who watches Catilina for him.'

'And now he wants me to spy for him as well.'

'No, Gordianus. He merely wants you to play passive host to Catilina. Catilina's movements are watched, but he has ways of getting out of the city unobserved. His principal ally outside Rome is Gaius Manlius, a military man up in Faesulae; Catilina needs a secret place of refuge between Faesulae and Rome, not one of his known supporter's farms, but a place where his enemies would never think to look.'

'And that place is with me? If he doesn't know already, anyone could tell Catilina that I've done much work for Cicero in the past, and that Cicero helped me hold on to this farm.'

'Yes, but I've told Catilina that you've had a serious falling-out with Cicero — that's easy enough, to believe, isn't it? — and that you're disgusted with things as they are in Rome, and sympathize with him. That you know how to be discreet is accepted without question; you do have a reputation for that, Gordianus. Catilina doesn't believe that you're an ardent supporter, only that you're willing to offer him hospitality and to keep your mouth shut. That's all he'll expect from you — a safe retreat when he needs to get out of the city, and a way station on the road to Faesulae.'

'How do I know there won't be secret meetings in my house, with bowls of human blood passed around?'

Caelius shook his head. "That's not what he wants from you. He wants a refuge, not a meeting place.'

'And what does Cicero want?'

'An accounting of Catilina's movement, through me. Of course, if Catilina should happen to confide something of importance to you, Cicero trusts you to use your judgment in passing on vital information. They say you have a way of drawing out the truth from men, even when they hope to conceal it.'

I turned my back on him and looked out the west-facing windows, beyond the herb garden to the land sloping down towards the stream The treetops were gilded with moonlight. The night was quiet and peaceful, pleasantly warm. The air smelled rich and sweet, a mixture of animal dung and cut grass. Rome seemed very far away, and yet inescapable.

'I would deal only with you, then, and with Catilina? With no one else?'

'Yes. Cicero himself will be only a phantom, never seen. Any message you need to send you will send to me, in the city. Catilina will find nothing suspicious in that.'

'It can't be as simple as you claim. Is it because of your youth and inexperience that you can't see all the terrible things that could go wrong? Or are you intentionally trying to coddle me?'

He smiled. 'My teacher Cicero would say that one should never respond to a question of either or if both answers are damaging. One should change the subject instead.'

I begrudged hima smile in return. 'You're positively wicked, Marcus Caelius; too wicked for a man your age. Yes, I do believe you could fool Catilina himself into trusting you. If I agree to do as you ask, I must have some way of protecting myself; I can't be seen as an ally of Catilina's if he comes to ruin, as he probably will. A letter from Cicero would be useful, acknowledging my help ahead of time.'

Caelius grimaced. 'Cicero foresaw such a request. It's not possible. If suchacommunication were to be intercepted, it would spoil everything, and put you in immediate jeopardy, besides. Put your mind at ease. If a crisis comes, Cicero will not forget you.'

'Still, I'd like some assurance from Cicero himself. If I came to Rome—'

'He couldn't see you, not now. Catilina would know, and all would be ruined. Do you not believe me, Gordianus?'

I considered for a long moment The shiver of excitement I had felt earlier was joined by a prickle of apprehension. I felt like the man who cannot control his drinking and so abstains, but who picks up a cup intended for someone else and accidentally swallows a mouthful of warm wine. 'I believe you,' I finally said.

But later that night, as I lay beside Bethesda, a doubt took shape, grew and hovered over me like a grey mist in the moonlit darkness. Caelius had offered no proof that he came from Cicero. Might he have been sent by Catilina, instead? Even if he had come from Cicero, might not Catilina have seen through their plan? Where did Caelius's true allegiance lie? The same charming young man who claimed to have fooled Catilina might just as easily be able to fool Cicero, not to mention an unreformed intriguer named Gordianus the Finder, who thought he had sworn off politics forever.

Bethesda stirred. 'What's wrong, Master?' she whispered. She had ceased to call me Master on the day of our marriage, but occasionally she slipped in her sleep; to hear her call me that reminded me of days long ago, before the world became so weary and complex. I reached out and touched her. The familiarity of her body — firm, warm, and responsive — dispelled my hovering doubts like ragged mists beneath the sun. She rolled towards me and we folded our bodies together. For a while all apprehensions were forgotten in the animalact of love, and afterwards I slept the sleep of a country farmer, dreaming of endless fields of hay and the musical lowing of oxen.