Steven Saylor - Catilina's riddle

Meto was silent. For several moments the only sounds I heard were the crackling ofbranches, the scraping of our feet on the rough, uneven path, and my own laboured breathing. 'I don't have an answer for that,' Meto finally admitted. 'But does it matter about Nemo? We know now where Forfex came from, and that's the key. Gnaeus Claudius is the culprit He should be whipped. He should be tried for murder, if there were any justice. But there's no law against a man killing his own slave, is there? I suppose the best we can do is take legal action against him for polluting our well.'

'Hard to prove, since we have no witnesses.'

'But, Papa, the circumstances are obvious!'

'A court will require more than circumstantial evidence.'

' Then we'll have to find a witness. He could hardly have done it without the collusion of at least one of our own slaves, could he? Whichever of the slaves it was who turned on us, he must be made to talk!'

'How much force would you have me use against the slaves? I've already questioned them, and you saw the result. There are many masters who would use indiscriminate torture to obtain the truth. Aratus himself suggests I do so.'

‘I wouldn't have you do that, Papa.'

'Torture is inevitable where slaves and the law are concerned. Suppose we do find a witness among our slaves. A Roman court will not accept the testimony of any slave unless it's extracted under torture. Would you have me force such a thing on another man, even of a slave who plotted against us? And what if one of the slaves merely saw the act and is otherwise guiltless? Still, he would have to be tortured in order to bear witness. No wonder the slaves are so reluctant to speak. If they admit to being witnesses, it's like volunteering to be tortured.'

'I hadn't thought of that.'

'But they have, I assure you. Given your premise, the best witnesses would be the slaves of Gnaeus Claudius himself, such as our young goatherd friend. But there again the law defeats us. No man's slave can testify in court without his permission, and thus no slave can be made to testify against his master.'

'What if you could get Cicero to represent us? He's so clever and powerful, perhaps he could find a way—'

'Please, I want no more debts to Cicero. Besides, I don't imagine that our esteemed consul has time to trifle with such a matter now or for a long time to come.'

We reached the clearing behind the boulder. We untied our horses and led them through the narrow cleft between the old oak and the rock, onto the grassy, shaded verge. Over on the road a group of slaves trudged wearily past, linked neck to neck by a stout rope and driven along by a team of overseers on horseback. The slaves were either naked or covered with the merest scraps of cloth. For shoes they wore bits of leather tied to their feet. Neither slaves nor drivers took any notice of us. We stood in the shade, waiting for them to pass.

I turned to Meto and said in a whisper, 'Your argument against Gnaeus Claudius is clear enough, even if it does have lapses. Even so, my thoughts keep returning to Catilina.'

'You misjudge him, Papa!' whispered Meto, with surprising vehemence.

'Consider his connection with Forfex. Consider the coincidence of the headless corpses and his riddle of the headless body. Consider also that Nemo appeared just after Caelius first proposed that I play host to Catilina, as if to mtimidate me into agreeing. Now Caelius and Cicero have again insisted that I open my door to Catilina, I have protested, and Forfex appears in our well. Catilina is a desperate man—'

'Why blame Catilina? Or Caelius or Cicero, for that matter? You've been on the wrong scent all along, Papa. You said just now that no court would accept circumstantial evidence as proof) yet you've let coincidence rob you of your better judgment and blind you to the obvious. Gnaeus Claudius is the culprit. He must think he's very clever, laughing at us behind our backs. If we confront him directly, I'll wager that he admits his guilt out of sheer vanity and spite.'

'You may be right,' I admitted. 'We shall give him the chance today.'

The last of the roped slaves, a man with skin like leather and hair like matted straw, passed before us, and as he did he tripped on a stone in the road. He fell briefly to his knees, tugging at the rope around his neck and sending a ripple of distress up the line. An overseer quickly doubled back and struck at the man with a whip until he gained his footing and plodded on.

'When will this world ever change?' a voice whispered. It might have been in my own head, but it came from Meto, who gazed after the slaves with a solemn, sad look in his eyes. Without looking at me he mounted his horse. I did likewise, and we rode quickly back to the farm.

I wanted a suitable retinue surrounding me when I set foot again on Gnaeus Claudius's property. I ordered Aratus to come with us, partly because it seemed fitting that my foreman should accompany me and partly because I wanted to watch his reactions while I dealt with Gnaeus; I still did not trust him. I also chose a few of the burliest men, thinking I might need protection.

We set out after midday. I hoped that Gnaeus had eaten a heavy meal. I've often found it useful to accost a man while he's sleepy and off his guard.

We rode up the Cassian Way and turned onto the road to Gnaeus's house, openly and without stealth. The way grew steep. The foothills became thick with boulders and trees. In the midst of the forest we came to the house of the goatherds, where we had first met Forfex. The road came to the deep stream bed and ran alongside it. At length we came to the little bridge, crossed the ravine, and so arrived before the house of Gnaeus Claudius.

The two-storeyed structure was of rustic design, more Etruscan than Roman. It was a very old house and not well kept up, to judge from the plaster crumbling from the walls and the shutters hanging from broken hinges. It was set against a steep, wooded hillside and surrounded by shadows.. The air was dank and musty. Even on a summer's day a gloomy pall hung over the house and the little ramshackle sheds clustered around it.

Chickens and dogs inhabited the dry, dusty courtyard. At our approach the dogs roused themselves and barked, while the chickens cackled and scattered in a panic. The door to the house opened and a voice cried out sharply for the dogs to be silent. The beasts whimpered and ran about in nervous circles, but stopped their barking.

The slave at the door saw our company and backed away. I suspect his master had few enough visitors, especially from a group as formidable as I hoped ours appeared to be. The slave gave us a hard look and shut the door without saying a word.-

A few moments later the door opened again. Gnaeus Claudius himself stood staring back at us, looking as ill-humoured as when I had last seen him ingratiating himself with Catilina and punishing the hapless Forfex. He was a strikingly ugly young man, with his unkempt mop of red hair and his chinless neck, but his height and brawny frame gave him an imposing presence. At his appearance the dogs began to bark again. Gnaeus growled back at them as if he were a hound himself. In his hand he held a bone on which he had been chewing; bits of flesh clung to his lips. He cast it into their midst, and the beasts fell on it at once and competed for the prize, slavering and sniping and tearing it from one another's mouths in an appalling melee.

'Stupid dogs,' muttered Gnaeus. 'Still, smarter than most slaves, and they can't talk back.' His grating voice was as hard to listen to as his face was to look at. He squinted up at us. Claudia had said that his eyes were weak, but despite the gloomy shadows he seemed to recognize me easily enough. 'Back, are you? And this time without your scheming friend from the city. Come to spy on me again, I suppose. What in Hades do you want, Gordianus?'