Стивен Сейлор - The Throne of Caesar

Later, after all the food and drink had been cleared away, and everyone else had gone off to bed—everyone except Bast the cat, whose silhouette prowled the rooftop—I sat alone in the garden under the starlight, huddled close to the last flickering brazier.

“I am a New Man,” I whispered to myself, for thus were called those who were the first of their family to rise to the Senate. But was I truly made anew just because Caesar said so? Surely I was the same now as I had been yesterday, and would be so on the Ides of Martius as well, and the day after. New obligations I would have, new expenses, new demands from my wife and daughter, new pressures to take sides in one dispute after another.

I looked up at the stars and sighed.

“Your father would be very proud of you,” said a hushed voice. For an uncanny moment I imagined it was my long-dead mother speaking. I had not thought about her voice in a long time. I had forgotten how she sounded but now suddenly remembered, so similar in that moment was the voice of my daughter, who stepped from the shadows into the glow from the brazier.

“You never knew my father,” I said.

“No. But you’re thinking about him right now.”

“Mind reader!”

Diana shrugged. “It was in your sigh.”

I nodded. “It was the very first thought that occurred to me when Caesar told me—once my mind settled down enough to have a rational thought. ‘What would my father think?’”

“I often think those words, myself. ‘What would father think?’ Meaning you. Quite often it’s the thing that matters to me most of all.”

“Only quite often? Not all the time? A Roman father’s will should transcend all other concerns, even to matters of life and death.”

“I do have a husband to think of, you know. And an Egyptian mother!” Diana laughed. “But you always come first, Papa. I am a good Roman daughter.”

“And soon, the daughter of a Roman senator.”

She gazed at the crackling flames in the brazier. “Papa, it’s incredible.” She spoke quietly, but her eyes were very wide.

“I know. And you’re right. My father would be very proud of me.” I felt a tear slip down my cheek. It must have glittered in the light, for Diana reached out and touched it with a fingertip.

We sat for a long time in silence

“What a day you’ve had!” she finally said. “Cicero and Caesar in a single day! I know why Caesar wanted to see you, but what did Cicero want?”

“He was eager to hear my thoughts on his new dissertation. ‘On Divination’ is the title.”

She raised a skeptical eyebrow. “You’ll have to come up with something better than that.”

“Very well, the truth: Cicero thinks there might be a plot afoot to harm Caesar. He wanted me to look into the matter.”

“If there were such a plot, I’d think Cicero would be at the heart of it.”

“A plot to depose Caesar, perhaps, but not to murder him. That would not be Cicero’s way. But he thinks there may be those who feel otherwise, who wouldn’t stop at violence. For all I know, he may be right.”

“And if you uncovered such a plot, what would Cicero do about it?”

“Lecture the plotters, I imagine! He feels neglected. Left behind. Irrelevant.”

“But at this point, who would want Caesar dead? The civil war is over at last, and from what I understand, Caesar has been far more merciful than those who fought the last civil war, men like Marius and Sulla.”

“But none of those men made himself Dictator for Life. It’s hard for many Romans to stomach. I find it rather distasteful myself.”

“Even though the Dictator’s now made you a senator?”

“And what does that mean, in a Senate that serves to ratify one man’s will?”

The brazier crackled and hissed.

“What if Caesar were to die suddenly, Papa? It needn’t be murder. He could die from natural causes. What would happen then? What if Caesar died in his sleep this very night?”

“Then there would be no Parthian campaign, no string of conquests from here to India, no fresh sources of plunder to pour riches into Rome.”

“That would be bad for Meto.”

“Or good, if it means he won’t die on some battlefield a thousand miles from home.”

“And here in Rome?”

“A mad scramble for power. Chaos. Revenge. Recriminations. Another civil war, almost certainly. Unthinkable!”

“And even more unthinkable—in all the confusion, and without Caesar as your champion—you might not become a senator after all.”

“That would be a disaster for your mother.”

“Yes, it would. Have you ever seen her so thrilled?”

I shook my head. “What a thought! The death of the world’s most powerful man, probably the most powerful man in history, a veritable god—a death that would alter the destiny of the world—might also frustrate the social aspirations of a certain Roman housewife!” I laughed. “We must keep things in perspective. ”

“But isn’t the perspective of every mortal the same, Papa—with the universe circling around, and oneself at the center?”

I stood and yawned, finally weary enough to sleep. “But what are we worrying about? Cicero’s fears are exaggerated, I’m sure. I am to be a senator. Meto will go off to Parthia and come back a hero, covered in glory. Caesar will rule the whole world from Spain to India, and outlive me. You and your children will grow up in the richest, most peaceful, most wisely ruled empire the world has ever known.”

Diana smiled. “Of course, Papa. It shall be just as you say.” She kissed my cheek, and the two of us went to join our slumbering spouses.

DAY TWO: MARCH 11

XIII

My sleep was surprisingly sound, considering the excitement of the day. I was awakened early the next morning, well before dawn, by the amorous advances of my wife.

It had been awhile since we made love. Pent-up desire might partly explain the enthusiasm she showed, but I suspect that waking up next to a soon-to-be senator was the thing that most excited her. We had not coupled with such passion in months, perhaps even years. As our bodies touched and moved against one another, I returned in memory to the young man I once had been, when I was living in Alexandria and I first laid eyes on Bethesda. The pleasure I experienced transcended time. I was at once in the moment and also in all the moments of the many, many occasions we had made love over the years. I felt enfolded by the passage of time, not my enemy but my friend, for had it not delivered me to this present moment of consummate bliss?

Afterward, wide awake and whistling the tune of an old love song from my Alexandria days, I made my way to the garden. I wrapped my cloak around me as I sought the warmth of the brazier that had been glowing all night and now was being stirred into open flames by one of the slaves .

I had in my hand the brief list of names Caesar had given me the previous day. I remembered his words: Drop in on certain men … find some pretense for your visit … and while you’re there … keep your eyes and ears open for any bit of useful information. Use that power of yours to draw the truth out of men …

Ironically, the first name on the list was Cicero—the one man I was certain posed no threat to Caesar. The frustration he had expressed at being left out of any plots had been too genuine even for Cicero to fake. How flattered he would have been to know that his name headed Caesar’s list!

As I perused the other names, it occurred to me that Caesar himself had provided a suitable pretext for these visits: I was to become a senator. If the fact could not be kept secret, then I might as well use it to my advantage. As the men on the list were all senators themselves, I could say I was seeking advice, as a New Man soon to join their ranks. Indeed, it might be revealing to see how each man reacted to the news that Caesar was to make Gordianus the Finder a senator.