Steven Saylor - Catilina's riddle

'He grew up away from the city, down in Baiae, on the coast.' Claudia looked at me oddly. 'Adopted, like his older brother,' I explained. I did not add that Meto had been born a slave; others might discover that fact, but not from me. 'So country ways come naturally to him. He was happy enough in the city, but he likes it here as well'

'And your wife, Bethesda?'

'There are women who have the power to remake whatever corner of the world they occupy to suit themselves; she is one. Besides, all places pale when compared to her native Alexandria. Rome could not match it, so why should the Etruscan countryside? But in truth I think she misses the big markets and the gossip, the smell of fish at the waterfront, the crush of the Forum on festival days, all the rush and madness of the city.'

'And you?'

tWhat about me?'

'Do you miss those things?'

'Not for a moment!'

She looked at me shrewdly, but not without sympathy. 'Gordianus, I have not been the sole mistress and overseer of two generations of conniving slaves, not to mention the' customer of every cunning auctioneer and merchant between here and Rome for the last forty years, without learning to discern when a man is being less than honest with me. You are not happy here, and the reason has nothing to do with quarrelling neighbours or missing your son in the city. You are homesick.'

'Nonsense!'

‘You are bored.'

'With a farm to run?'

'And lonely.'

'With my family around me?'

'Not bored because you have nothing to do; bored because you miss the unexpected adventures of the city. Not lonely for lack of loved ones, but lonely for new strangers to come into your life. Oh, the loneliness for strangers is nothing new to country dwellers; I have known it all my life. Don't you think I grow weary of my little circle of Cousin Publius and Cousin Manius and Cousin Gnaeus and their slaves, and long for a new face to appear in my world? Which is why I like talking to you, Gordianus. But I was raised in the country and you in the city, so it must be much worse for you, this boredom and loneliness.'

‘Well, there may be some truth in what you say, Claudia, but you can't say that I miss the city. I couldn't wait to leave it! It's all right for younger men, or those who are driven by their vices — there is no place like Rome for a man to satisfy his ambition for power or his lust or greed, or to die in the pursuit. No, I've turned, my back on all that. The fact that Lucius died and left me this farm was the will of the gods, smiling on me, showing me a way out Rome has become unlivable — filthy, overcrowded, noisy, and violent. Only a madman could go on living there!' 'But your work—'

'I miss that least of all! Do you know what I did for a living? I called myself a Finder. Advocates hired me to find proof of their enemy's crimes. Politicians — may I never see another! — hired me to uncover scandal about their adversaries. I once thought that I served truth, and through truth, justice, but truth and justice are meaningless words in Rome. They might as well be obliterated from the Latin tongue. I discover a man is guilty of some heinous crime, only to see him acquitted by a bribed panel of judges! I learn that a man is innocent, then see him convicted on spurious evidence and hounded out of the city! I discover that the scandal attached to a powerful man is true enough, but for all that he is a sound and honest man who has only the same failings as other mem even so, the scandal is all that anyone cares about, and he is expelled from the Senate, and the true reason is some political manoeuvring by his enemies, whose true agenda I can only guess at. Meanwhile a total scoundrel charms the mob and bribes their leaders and gets himself elected consul! I used to think that Rome was growing worse and worse, but it was I who changed. I've grown too old and weary to stomach such beastliness any longer.'

To this tirade Claudia made no answer. She raised her eyebrows and shifted a bit uncomfortably at such an outburst of passion, then joined me in gazing silently at the view. A plume of smoke ascended from the kitchen. The muffled pounding of mallets, swung by the slaves repairing the goat pen, echoed up from the valley, along with the bleating of a kid which had wandered through the breach and was lost in the high grass of the hayfield. A young slave had gone looking for it, but was headed in the wrong direction. Over on the Cassian Way, coming down from the north, was a train of wagons, their contents battened down and covered by heavy sheets of canvas. To judge by the retinue of armed guards, the contents were quite valuable — probably a shipment of vases from the famous workshops at Arretium on its way down to Rome. Heading north on the road, about to meet and pass the wagons, was a long file of slaves with heavy loads on their backs, driven by men on horseback. Their chains were new and glinted in the noonday sun. Beyond the road, up on the slope of Mount Argentum and just across from our high vantage point on the ridge, a herd of unattended goats negotiated the winding path that led to Gnaeus's abandoned silver mine. A faint bleating, barely audible, echoed across the hot, still air.

'And yet…'I sighed.

'Yes, Gordianus?'

'And yet… do you know what this makes me think of, sitting here and gazing down on the scene?' 'Of Rome?'

'Yes, Claudia, of Rome! The city has seven hills, and every hill affords a different view. I was thinking of one in particular, on the Quirinal Hill, just up from the Fontinal Gate. You can see all of the northern quadrant of Rome. On a clear summer day like this, the Tiber sparkles beneath the sun as if it were on fire. The great Flaminian Way is thronged with carts and men on horseback. The Circus Flaminius looms up in the middle distance, looking enormous and yet like a toy; the crowded little tenements and shops cluster around it like sucklings to their mother. Beyond the city wall lies the Field of Mars, hazy with dust from the racers in their chariots. The sounds and odours of the city rise up on the warm air like the breath of the city itself'

'You miss the city, Gordianus.'

'Yes,' I sighed. 'For all its danger and corruption, for all'its meanness and squalor — still, I miss the city.'

We looked down again in silence. The slave had found the kid, which bleated and kicked at being dragged through the high grass. A kitchen girl brought a draught of water to the slaves at the goat pen, and their mallets fell silent. In the stillness I could hear Aratus shouting in a shrill voice at one of the slaves in the vineyard: 'Wrong, the whole row is wrong! Redo them, every one!' Then all was quiet again, except for the buzzing of bees in the woods behind us.

'Actually, Gordianus, I was hoping to find you here on the ridge today.'

‘Yes, Claudia?'

'As you know, election time is close at hand.'

'Don't remind me. After last summer's farce I never care to witness another such disgusting spectacle.'.

'Nevertheless, some of us have kept our civic spirit. Next month the election for the two consuls will be held in Rome. It's a tradition for our branch of the Claudii — the Etruscan country cousins, we call ourselves — to gather beforehand, decide which candidate to support, and choose a representative to send to Rome to vote. This year it falls my turn to play hostess to this little gathering. Never mind that my house is modest and I haven't the household slaves to properly provide for such a conclave; duty is duty. The garnering will be at the end of the month. It would help tremendously if I could borrow your cook and some of your kitchen slaves for the occasion. I'd need them for only a couple of days beforehand, to help prepare the feast, and then on the day of the gathering itself to help serve. Three days in all. Would it be too great an imposition, Gordianus?' 'Of course not.'