Steven Saylor - Catilina's riddle

'A pretty phrase, Catilina, but enjoying a hearty dinner is one thing, while taking a girl's virginity and mining her chances for a good marriage is quite another, as is convincing young men to ruin their credit on your behalf, destroying their own careers in the process.'

The lamp had almost burned out. From the dim haze I heard a sigh. 'Alas, Gordianus, I can no longer see your face, so I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt and assume that you smile as you speak such outrages, knowing them to be nothing more than slanders concocted by my enemies. Oh, yes, I confess that I have a weakness for the young and innocent. What man with a healthy appetite does not appreciate a blushing fruit plucked fresh from the tree? And in a world so corrupted with machinations and lies, what man would not find a special appeal in those of an unworldly character? Where else can sweetness be found in this bitter world except among the young? But I don't force myself on others. I've been accused of murder and theft, but never of rape — even my enemies credit me with being able to attract my partners without coercion. Nor do I merely take and give nothing in return. They give me their innocence and in return I give them my worldliness, the commodity I possess in greatest abundance; each gives to the other what the other lacks and desires.'

'And what did you give to the Vestal Fabia?'

'Adventure! Pleasure, excitement, danger — all the things her drab existence denied her.'

'And was that worth the chance of snuffing out her existence altogether? What if the affair had ended with Fabia being buried alive? It could very easily have ended that way.'

'Blame Clodius for that, not me.'

'You shrug off your responsibility too easily, Catilina.'

He was silent for a long moment, then I heard him stir in the water. He stood, causing the water to splash against the lip of the tub and the vapours to whorl and part before him. His skin was reddened from the heat. Beads of moisture clung to the black hair flecked with silver that matted his chest and ran down to his sex, which floated heavily half in and half out of the water. His shoulders and chest were broad, his belly flat. He was an uncommonly virile-looking man. No wonder his lovers appreciated him, I thought; no wonder constipated, thin-limbed, plain-faced men like Cato and Cicero so despised his physical and sexual prowess.

He seemed to read my thoughts. 'You're a fit-looking man yourself, Gordianus. The active life of the farm obviously suits you. Men grow soft and fat in the city — it's one thing to grow old and quite another to grow soft, eh? But I think you're a man of strong appetites yourself' He stood gazing down at me with a thin smile, as if he expected something from me. His gaze made me uncomfortable. 'Well,' he finally said,

'I've had enough of this heat! Will you join me in the cool plunge, Gordianus?'

'No, I think I'll stay here a while longer. Perhaps I'll follow Tongilius's example and simply dry myself and gp to bed.'

Catilina stepped from the tub. He took his towel from the niche in the wall, but did not bother to cover himself. He paused at the door to the cooling room 'Shall I call for a slave to bring another lamp?'

'No,' I said. 'The darkness suits my mood.'

Catilina nodded and shut the door behind him A moment later the light dwindled and died. I lay in the darkness, ruminating on Catilina and his crimes.

I must have dozed for just an instant, for suddenly I was awakened by a faint creaking noise, not from the door through which Catilina had just exited but from the door that led back to the warm bath and thence to the rest of the house. It was just such a noise as might be made by someone leaning against the door without meaning to. At the same instant a thin crack of light appeared at the top of the door frame.

Perhaps the door had moved on its own, swollen by the humidity and heat. Still, my heart began to beat more quickly, and the languid drowsiness of the hot bath was instantly dispelled. Perhaps it was Tongilius returning, I told myself — but why should he be skulking? Perhaps it was a slave come to replenish the extinguished lamp — but then why did the slave not enter?

I listened and heard nothing more from beyond the door, but I was convinced that someone stood there, waiting.

I rose from the water as quietly as I could and stepped from the tub. I reached for my towel, but not to cover myself. A simple towel, wound tightly like a rope, has many uses — as a shield against daggers, as a means of binding an enemy, as a weapon good for strangling or breaking necks. I walked on tiptoe to the door. I reached for the wooden handle, hesitated for a heartbeat, then pulled it open.

He tumbled towards me, staggering. I caught him in the twisted cloth, pinned his arms to his sides and spun him around. He tripped and lurched, but didn't struggle. He tilted his face towards mine.

I hissed a curse and released the towel. My captive stepped free and sucked in a quick breath, and then, as if what had just happened had been nothing more than a game, whispered, 'So Catilina did sleep with the Vestal!'

'Meto!'

'Sorry, Papa, but I couldn't sleep. My feet hurt from climbing the mountain! When I came to the door, I heard the two of you talking. It didn't seem right to step in on you, but I had to listen. You wouldn't have said anything different if you'd known I could hear, would you? And Catilina might not have said so much if I'd been in the room. I was awfully quiet, wasn't I? Did you really not know that I was there until just now? That was a mistake, leaning against the door like that…'

'Meto, when will you learn respect?'

Meto put his fingers to his lips and nodded towards the door to the cool plunge. I lowered my voice. "This habit of yours, skulking and spying, where did you possible learn such — ' I sighed. 'No, as a matter of fact, I had no idea you were there until the door creaked. Which means that you are young and agile while I am growing old and dull and possibly a little deaf I wonder, which of us is more in need of a good night's sleep?'

Meto smiled at me, and I couldn't help smiling back. I gripped the back of his neck and gave his head a firm shake, none too gently. It was time for bed, but before we turned to go I looked back at the thin bar of lamplight that shone from beneath the opposite door. A faint splashing came from the pool of cool water in the room beyond. As on the night before, soon everyone in the household would be abed and sleeping except Catilina, who would still be up, defying Morpheus and who knows what other gods to come and take him.

XIV

Morpheus must have come for Catilina at last, and claimed him until well past sunup, for it was not until mid-morning that Catilina and Tongilius appeared in the kitchen seeking food. They both looked a bit bleary-eyed from oversleep, but were quite cheerful — indeed, suspiciously self-satisfied, I thought. They muttered little jokes to one another, laughed out loud, and smiled at nothing. Their appetites were enormous, and they devoured everything Congrio set before them.

Once finished with his breakfast, Catilina announced that they would be leaving before noon. He and Tongilius dressed in blue riding tunics, gathered up their things, said farewell to Bethesda, paid their compliments to Congrio on his cooking, and loaded their horses in the stable.

I asked Catilina which way he was headed. To the north, he told me, saying he had more visits to pay in Etruria, compaigning among Sulla's old veterans, whom the dictator had settled on farmland seized from his enemies. I watched them ride off Despite having dreaded his visit so much, I was not as happy to see himleave as I'd thought I would be.

Curiously, when they reached the Cassian Way, Tongilius and Catilina turned not north but south, towards Rome. I would never have noticed, for I was no longer watching, but Meto was. He came running up to me outside the pigsties and pointed towards the two figures on the distant highway. 'What do you make of that, Papa?' 'Odd,' I said. 'Catilina claimed he was heading north. I wonder 1—' 'I'll go and watch from the ridge,' Meto called back over his shoulder as he broke into a run. He was on the ridgetop long before I came