Steven Saylor - Catilina's riddle

The dog barked and barked. The voice beyond the door cursed us and blasphemed half the gods of Olympus. There was a loud whimpering squeal and the barking ceased. At last the door rattled and swung open. I wrinkled my nose at the smell from within — a mixture of dog, stale sweat, and stewed cabbage.

Beyond the little foyer was an atrium bright with sunlight, so that I saw the man in silhouette and for a moment could only dimly make out his features. I noticed his hair first, long and unkempt like a shaggy mane, streaked with grey. He had the posture of an old man, stooped and slump-shouldered, but he looked neither small nor weak. His tunic was rumpled and worn-looking, all awry, as if he had just pulled it on. As I saw him more clearly, I noticed his grizzled jaw, covered with several days' worth of stubble, and his big, fleshy nose. His eyes were bloodshot, and he squinted as if the light caused him pain.

'Who are you and what do you want?' he growled, his speech slurred by wine.

‘Numa's balls, I thought, what a slave to answer the door! Clearly, Publius Claudius paid no more attention to the running of his private household than he did to the runningof his farm. 'My name is Gordianus,' I said. 'I own the farm that once belonged to Lucius Claudius, across the stream. I've come to speak- with your master.'

The man laughed. 'My master — fah!'

Behind me, Aratus sucked in a breath. 'Sheer insolence!' he whispered.

The man laughed again. Behind him there was a flash of movement in the sunlit atrium. A girl, completely naked except for a crumpled garment she carried in her hands, stepped into the light and looked towards the doorway with wide startled eyes. She was young — so young that I might have taken her for a boy had it not been for the matted tangle of her long black hair.

I pursed my lips. 'Obviously, Publius Claudius must be away from the farm for such behaviour to take place in his own house,' I said dryly.

The man turned and saw the girl, then lunged at her and clapped his hands. 'Out of here, Dragonfly! Put on your clothes and get out of my sight or I'll give you a beating. Ha! What manners — showing your naked backside to visitors! Come back here and I'll add some stripes to go with my handprints, you little harpy!'

He turned back to us, wearing a self-satisfied smirk. With a sinking feeling I glanced down at his right hand and saw that he wore a ring on his finger — and not just a common citizen's iron ring, but a patrician's band that gleamed golden in the soft light.

'You must be Publius Claudius,' I said dully. My eyes having adjusted to the light, I studied his face and saw that it was true. I had seen him in court at the Forum in Rome, but only at a distance and with his hair neatly clipped and his beard shaved, and he had worn a fine toga. He had looked as staid and sober as a man running for office. In his own home he showed a very different face.

He looked me up and down. 'Ah, yes, I remember you. The man who got away with Cousin Lucius's property. You looked all stuffed full of yourself in the court, silly and dull like most city boys. You still look like a city boy.'

I drew myself up. It does not do to be insulted in front of one's slaves. 'Publius Claudius, I've come as your neighbour, to discuss a small matter involving the stream that marks our common boundary.'

'Fah!' He curled his lip. 'We'll settle the matter in court. And this time you won't have that windbag Cicero to come to your rescue by wriggling his silver tongue between the judges' buttocks. I understand he's already got his mouth full just to keep them smiling in the Senate.'

'You have a foul tongue, Publius Claudius.'

'At least I don't put it where Cicero does.'

I took a breath. 'As you say, Publius, the matter of water rights will be settled in court. Until then I have no intention of stopping using the stream—'

'So I've seen. Oh, come, if it's the feuding between the washerwomen that's brought you here, let the matter go! Yes, yes, one of your slaves was struck by a stone. My foreman told me all about it. Well, can she still do her work or not? If she's ruined, I’ll give you one of mine in exchange. But I won't go paying damages just because a washerwoman spilled a little blood — it's not as if she were a pleasure slave and the scar would make a difference. What more do you want from me? I gave every one of the slaves involved a sound beating, and gave special punishment to the little witch who threw the stone — she won't soon try that again. I hope you did the same to your slaves — that's my advice, and if you haven't done so, then do it now. It's never too late. They'll have forgotten what they did wrong, but they'll remember the beating if you do it properly. Sometimes a beating is a good idea, even if they've done nothing wrong. Just to remind them who's in charge.'

'Publius Claudius, the matter I've come to discuss—'

'Oh, Romulus and Remus, it's far too hot to stand here in the doorway talking. Come on inside. Who's this behind you, your foreman? Yes, bring him in, too — but leave the big one outside. You don't need a bodyguard to enter my house. What sort of man do you think I am? You, slave, close the door behind you. Ah, good, my couch is still in the shade.'

There was a fountain in the courtyard, but no water; the basin was littered with twigs and straw. Publius fell back onto his couch. There was only a stool for me to sit on. Aratus, having closed the door, took a place behind me and stood.

'You'll forgive the lack of soft furnishings and the like,' said Publius. A hound appeared and slunk whimpering beneath his master's couch. 'I've never had a taste for luxury. Besides, it takes a woman to make a house all soft and comfortable for visitors, and the only wife I ever took died a year after I married her. She took with her the only heir I ever made as well, or the baby took her, whichever way that works. They went down into Hades together, hand in hand, I suppose.' He reached under his couch and produced a wineskin. He put it to his mouth and squeezed, but the skin only sputtered. 'Dragonfly,' he crooned. 'Oh, Dragonfly, bring Papa some more wine.'

'I came here, Publius, because I propose to build a water mill on the stream. There will be no need to disrupt the flow, as I plan to divert the channel into a ditch upstream from the site—'

'A mill? You mean a sort of machine with wheels run by the water? But what would you do with such a thing?'

'I could have many uses. It could be used to grind meal, or even stones.'

'But you already have slaves to do that, don't you?' 'Yes, but—’

'Dragonfly! Bring me more wine right now or I shall spank you again, here in front of these strangers!'

After a moment the girl appeared, dressed now in a stained tunic that left her arms and legs bare, carrying a bloated wineskin. Publius took it from her and slapped her backside. The girl began to withdraw, but Publius grabbed her buttock with one hand and pulled her back while he held the wineskin in his other hand and uncorked it with his teeth. While he swilled the wine, he slid his hand up underneath her tunic and fondled her backside. The girl stood passively, her eyes averted, her face red.

I cleared my throat. 'It might interest you to know that I got the idea for building the water mill from Claudia. She told me it had always been an ambition of your cousin Lucius to build such a mill. So in a way, you see, I am fulfilling his wishes.'

Publius shrugged. 'Lucius had a lot of stupid ideas, like leaving his farm to you. Like yourself, he was a city boy. That's where stupid ideas come from, the city. Put enough fools in one place and you have what they call a city, eh? And then the stupid ideas spread from head to head like a pox.' He did something with his hand that made the girl give a start and open her mouth. Publius laughed