Steven Saylor - Catilina's riddle

Only a few steps away we saw the goatherd. He was only a boy, younger than Meto, dressed in a ragged tunic and worn shoes barely held on his feet by scraps of leather. He had found the kid he was seeking. The animal was draped over his shoulders, its legs crossed over his chest and held tight in his fists. The sound of the waterfall had covered our quiet footsteps. When he saw us, the young slave gave a start and drew back, so suddenly that he almost lost his balance. For a moment he teetered on the edge of a rock and might have fallen into the pool if Meto had not stepped forward to grab his elbow.

The young goatherd recovered his balance and jerked free of Meto's grip. He drew back. The kid struggled and bleated. The slave tightened his grip on the beast's forelegs until his knuckles were as white as the animal's fleece. He stared from Meto's face to mine with fear in his eyes. 'Who are you?' he finally stammered. 'Are you alive or dead?'

A curious question, I thought, until I remembered that the pool with all its bones and skulls was haunted by the lemures of dead slaves. Forfex himself had told us so. 'We are very much alive,' I said, and meant it; surely lemures do not feel stiffness in their joints and soreness in their legs as living men do.

The slave looked at us from beneath drawn brows and kept his distance. 'I suppose your hand felt warm enough on my arm,' he said, glancing at Meto. 'But what are you doing here? Friends of the Master?'

'What are you doing here?' I countered.

"They made me come, because I'm the youngest. Somebody heard one of the kids bleating down here by the pool, so they made me come after it Sure enough, it had one of its hooves trapped between two rocks down by the water. Nobody likes to come down here, because of them ' He looked about at the scattered bones.

'Who sent you?' I said. 'Was it Forfex?'

'Forfex?' He made the name into a stifled gasp.

'Yes, isn't Forfex chief among the goatherds?'

'Not anymore. Not after—' He looked at us with renewed suspicion. 'Does the Master know you're here?'

'Tell us what happened to Forfex,' I said, putting as much authority into my voice as I could. The slaves of Gnaeus Claudius were of the sort that responded to such a tone of voice — easily intimidated and unable to press their own questions, even against a trespasser. This said much about their master and the way he treated them.

'Forfex — the Master didn't mean to do it, not really. He gets around to beating all of us sooner or later, but he's never before — at least not with his own hands — or not since I've been here, and I've been here since I was a boy…'

'You're saying that Gnaeus Claudius killed Forfex, aren't you?' demanded Meto, glancing at me with a hint of a smile on his lips. He might have cause to feel vindicated, but his interruption was a mistake. He was neither old nor fearsome enough to make the young slave quail. The goatherd again drew back, unsure whether he was more afraid of answering or of not answering. The kid across his shoulders bleated pathetically.

'How did your master kill Forfex?' I asked sternly, stepping forward and pinning the goatherd with my gaze. He was only a boy, and a slave, and regularly abused by his master. He had no defence against a direct interrogation, even from a man who had no right to administer it, so long as I held him with my eyes and hardened my voice.

'His head — Forfex had already hurt his head not long ago…'

I remembered Forfex's striking his forehead against the rock in the mine — the blood streaming down his face, his visions of lemures, his pitiful moaning as we carried him down the mountainside. 'Yes, go on,' I said.

'After that he became a bit addled — slower than usual, not always making sense, with an ache in his head that came and went, sometimes so bad he woke up at night bleating like a kid.'

Poor Forfex, I thought. If only Catilina had not bribed you into going where your deepest fears warned you not to go.

'The Master isn't very patient. He was always beating Forfex for being stupid, anyway, but after the accident he was often really furious with him. He blamed Forfex for hurting himself, saying that he should never have taken it on himself to show the mine to strangers in the first place — but then, you must be…' He peered at us with a dawning awareness in his eyes.

'Never mind, go on!' I snapped.

'A few days ago the Master ordered Forfex to slaughter one of the goats, but Forfex slaughtered the wrong one, or so the Master insisted. The Master flew into such a rage — terrible to see, like lightning when it strikes the mountain. He beat Forfex across the back with his whip so hard he ripped his tunic. There was blood on the whip. Then there was a terrible change in the Master's face. I was standing close enough to see. The sight of it turned me to water. It was as if he had made up his mind that Forfex was ruined and not worth keeping, like a cracked clay bottle that a man might smash just for the thrill of it That's what he did to Forfex. He turned the whip about in his hand and began to strike him with the handle — it's made of leather wrapped around iron, with hard iron studs. He began to strike Forfex all about his head. He laughed and said, "Since it's your head to blame, I'll take it out on your head!" And all the time Forfex bleated and moaned and then started making other noises. Oh, please—'

The memory had turned his face the colour of chalk. His eyes were red and moist. He blinked and staggered uncertainly. The kid across his shoulders bleated at the sudden jostling and began to kick, so violently that the boy lost his grip and the animal went flying through the air, landing with a clatter of hooves on a flat stone. It bounded into the water and then out again and went running through the underbrush towards the path, shaking itself and sending beads of water flying from its snowy fleece.

The young goatherd staggered back against a wall of rock and slid downward until he sat on a stony bench, holding his hands to his stomach. 'It makes me sick to remember,' he said weakly.

'I'm sure it does,' I said earnestly. How much sicker would it make him to see Forfex now? 'When did this happen?'

'Five days ago.’

'Are you sure?'

'Yes. It was just after the Ides. The Master was gone for a few days, down to Rome for the election. He came back as soon as it was over. They say the voting went as he wanted, but he was in a terrible mood anyway. Perhaps something else went wrong for him down in Rome besides the election. I think he would have found fault with Forfex no matter what.'

'Five days ago,'I said, exchanging a glance with Meto. 'And last night Clementus told us he heard the splash from the well three or four nights before — that would fit exactly. What was done with Forfex's body?'

'Brought here,' said the boy dully. 'When it was over, when Forfex lay upon the floor, not moving, the blood and gore from his head all—' He broke off and swallowed hard.

'Go on.'

'The Master's face changed again. I don't think he quite knew what he had done until he had done it, if you know what I mean. His face, the look in his eyes — I've never seen such a look, except in a slave's eyes. As if he were frightened of what he had done. They say there's a goddess who punishes men, even free men, if they go too far. There's a Greek word—' He wrinkled his brow.

'Hubris, ' I said. 'Insolence that borders on madness; arrogance that flouts all sense of decency. Hubris is punished by the goddess Nemesis, who brings retribution against the wicked.'

'Perhaps in some places,' said the boy, 'but I don't think that goddess ever comes to this mountain. Even so, for just a moment I think the Master knew he had gone too far. He dropped the whip and trembled. But then he hardened his jaw. He clenched his fists to stop them from shaking. He looked around the room, bunking as if it were too dark for him to see, though the sun was still up. His eyes fell on me, just because I happened to be closest, I think. "Clean it up!" he said, as if it were a mess left on the floor by the goats. "Clean it up and take what's left of him to the waterfall. Throw him off the cliff and let him join the rest of the bones!" '