Steven Saylor - Catilina's riddle

'Please, I can't even bear to think about it. You'll probably see for yourself down in the Forum. Oh, Cicero! These days, I'm aligned with Gaius Julius Caesar.' I nodded at the name of the young patrician who earlier in the year, against all expectations, had won the election to take the place of the deceased Pontifex Maximus, head of the state religion. In recent years Caesar had emerged as a standard-bearer for the party of discontent and reform. His lavish expenditures on public games and banquets had won the hearts of the masses (and driven him deeply into debt, it was rumoured, despite his family's great wealth). He was said to be witty, charming, devious, scornful of the Optimates, and possessed of that single-minded nature which in men of politics can lead to greatness, or disaster, or both. There were those who feared — or hoped — that Caesar would become another Catilina, if indeed Catilina's credibility and hopes for the consulship were about to reach their end.

'Cicero has disappointed us all,' sighed Rufus, 'whereas Caesar…' His brown eyes sparkled. He smiled — a bit coyly, I thought. 'The more I deal with Gaius Julius, the more impressed I become. As Pontifex Maximus, he has been an inspiration to me; he respects the religion of our ancestors in a way that a New Man like Cicero never could. His grasp of the world infinitely surpasses that of Cicero — in no small part because Caesar is not just an orator but a man of action who has known true battle and desperate danger — you must know that tale of his being kidnapped by pirates when he was young. He treated them with nothing but scorn, arranged for his own ransom, and later saw that they were all captured and crucified. Cicero would have merely bored them to death with his rhetoric. Caesar has taken up the cause of those who are still suffering from the dictatorship of Sulla, the children of those whom Sulla dispossessed and who now want to regain their birthrights. While Cicero, who always makes such a story of how he stood up to Sulla in the case of Sextus Roscius, won't lift a finger to help Sulla's victims — their claims are perfectly justified, he says, but this is not the proper time to disturb the government with their demands. It never is the proper time, of course! Not when the Optimates who control the state have their property and privileges nicely in place and want nothing to be disturbed. Cicero, who so bravely stood up against the dictator when he was young, does the bidding of the dictator's old friends without the least whimper of protest.

'And while Cicero pretends to be a man of vision, it's Caesar who sees the future. The empire must judiciously enfranchise those it conquers, not just exploit them. Stability may be built on blood and battle, but compassion must accompany victory. Caesar and I have pooled our resources to campaign for our praetorships together, but I feel rather presumptuous putting myself forward as if I were the equal of such a fine candidate. He's brilliant. There is no other word. When he speaks…' Rufus's voice trailed off, and he stared into the middle distance.

If Rufus is possessed of a fault, it is that he tends to fall blindly in love with those he respects and admires. So it had been with Cicero, but from the inflection Rufus now gave to the name he had once cherished, it was clear that love, respect, and admiration had all vanished together. Now he was clearly smitten with Caesar, and from what one heard about Caesar, beginning with his long-ago affair with the king of Bithynia, Rufus had a much better chance of finding reciprocation with the new object of his hero worship than he had from the old one — if indeed, to judge from the smitten look on his face, he had not found that reciprocation already.

'Ah, but you were remarking on my candidate's toga,' said Rufus. 'Actually, I was about to change out of it—'

'Please, you needn't stop campaigning just because you've entered our house,' I said, teasing him. 'I'd as soon ask a bird to take off its wings as request a politician to lay aside his candidacy.'

He looked at me blankly. 'But I shall have to put on my augur's robes before we commence the promenade, of course.'

'But then — do you mean to say that you'll be reading the auspices for Meto?'

'Of course. That's why I'm here, in my capacity as an augur. Not that I wouldn't have come simply as a friend. But didn't Eco tell you?' 'No. I thought he'd simply find a private augur, the type that handles marriage ceremonies. I had no idea — and for you to take time out from your campaign on the day before the election—'

'What better advertisement at the last moment than for me to be seen sombrely performing my duties as augur for the whole Forum to witness? I shall certainly look more respectable than all those candidates bullying and begging the mob for votes.' He smiled shrewdly.

'Rufus!' I laughed. 'You're a new stripe of politician, I think. Idealism as pragmatism; attention to duty and virtue rather than violence and outright bribery as the means to win an election. A quaint idea, but it just might work.'

'Gordianus, you're hopelessly cynical.'

'And you, Rufus, are still admirably full of hope and virtue.'

He smiled. 'But now I really must change into my augur's robes. Oh, and I may have a surprise for you and for Meto later in the day. But well talk about it then.' I summoned one of Eco's slaves to show Rufus to a private room; his own small retinue of slaves, carrying his robes and augur's wand, followed behind.

I looked about, momentarily at sea amid the bobbing heads. Then, nearby and above the murmur of the crowd, I heard a familiar woman's voice speaking.a familiar name: 'Ah, then you must have known my late cousin, Lucius Claudius. Yes, a jolly man with hair as red as that of the handsome young man who just paraded through the room, but with a figure more like mine, I'm sorry to say. Yes, well, I inherited Lucius's house up on the Palatine, a huge, sprawling, wonderful old place, but far too big and fancy for my humble needs, though I'm told I can get a good income from it if I can find a renter who's rich enough to afford it, and if I’ll do a bit of investing to pretty the place up, though my cousins think I should keep the house empty as a place for all of us to stay here in the city, but that means keeping at least a partial staff of full-time slaves in the place even when it's unoccupied, and I don't hear any of my cousins volunteering to feed them… Oh, but look, here he is, our host and my own dear neighbour. Gordianus, all happiness and pride to you on your dear son's birthday!'

'Claudia,' I said, taking her proffered hand and kissing her rouged cheek. I would hardly have recognized her had I not heard her voice, for instead of the common, rather mannish country dress she wore on her farm, she was draped in an exquisite purple stola, the dark draperies of which elegantly accommodated the generous contours of her body. Her wispy hair had been rinsed with henna to give it a darker shade and arranged atop her head in a pillar so high that it must have grazed the door frame when she entered. Nor did she seem her usual relaxed self, but was exuberant to the point of bubbling over. She had been talking to a city neighbour of ours, a mousy little woman who had taken a friendly interest in Meto and Diana over the years and who had met Lucius Claudius a few times when he had come to visit. The little woman seemed completely overawed by Claudia's presence, and looked more relieved than offended when Claudia abruptly turned to me and thus gave her a chance to quietly escape.

'Gordianus, I never expected such splendid trappings. The food is superb — but not Congrio's cooking, I think. Your son Eco's cook, or some slave he's brought in especially for the occasion, am I right? Yes, I can usually tell one cook's touch from another; my palate is quite sensitive that way. And Meto looks so handsome in his toga! Though I notice that he does seem to have a bit of trouble keeping it properly draped over his left arm — there, you see how it's slipped down and he keeps tugging it up with his right hand and shrugging his left shoulder. But he’ll get the hang of it, I'm sure. Oh, thank you for letting me come, though I can hardly claim to be family or even an old friend. Perhaps you can think of me as representing dear old Lucius, who wouldn't have missed this event for anything.'