A Mist of Prophecies rsr-9

by Steven Saylor

  "It was on the next day-two days after the woman related her vision to me-that Caesar summoned his inner circle and told them that he had just received word from Africa. Marc Antony came at once to give me the bad news. I received him in this room, my heart beating so hard that I could barely hear him. He knew I would demand to know every detail. He carefully recited everything the messenger had told Caesar. The battle in the desert, the stifling heat, Gaius's last stand, even the fact that he had lost his helmet before the enemy swarmed over him-every detail matched what the woman had told me. Strangest of all, the messenger reported a rumor that King Juba had laughed when he received Gaius's head, not out of spite, but because Gaius appeared to be grinning at him. Do you understand, Gordianus? The woman had seen everything-everything-as clearly as if she had been there.

  "I contained my emotions as best I could-after all, I was prepared for the worst even before he arrived-but still I wept. Antony did his best to comfort me. In the end I think it was I who comforted him; he and Gaius had been close ever since they were boys, as close as two men can be, even closer in some ways perhaps than Gaius and myself.

  "Eventually I told Antony about the woman in my house, and the fact that she had already delivered the news to me two days before. Antony said that was impossible-word had only just reached Caesar, and Caesar would tell Antony before anyone else. I tried to tell him how precisely the woman had seen the details of Gaius's death, but Antony wouldn't listen. We had drunk quite a bit of wine by then, and his senses were muddled. He wasn't in a listening mood. I put him to bed in the guest quarters, then went to find the woman.

  "But she was gone. She had vanished somehow, even with Thraso watching her. I realized that I knew nothing about her, not even her name or where she lived, if indeed she had a fixed abode. I thought of sending Thraso to search for her, but at that moment I saw no point. She had told me what I wanted to know, and the knowledge had only served to make me wretched for two sleepless nights before the news arrived from a more trustworthy source. And also… also I was a little frightened of her. She was a witch of some sort. If she could see events in Africa, who knew what other powers she might possess? She herself seemed not to understand her gifts and how to use them. She might be dangerous. I didn't want her in my house."

  I nodded, taking in all that Fulvia had told me. "That was the last you saw of her, then?"

  Something in her eyes changed, as if a door that had been open was abruptly shut. She seemed evasive. "Thraso reported to me later that she had become something of a fixture in the Forum and the markets, and that people had given her a name: Cassandra. I asked him to find out more about her, but there was very little he could discover, except that others in the city besides myself were availing themselves of Cassandra's gifts."

  "Others?"

  "You saw them-the women who appeared at her funeral. If you want to find out what they knew about Cassandra, ask them yourself. If you do discover something of interest about her-if you do find out who killed her-come tell me, Gordianus. I'll pay you well for the information. I'd like to know, simply out of curiosity. I've been entirely open with you, after all." As if to contradict her words, the faint smile that had been absent from her face since she began the tale of how she met Cassandra returned, and I had the feeling that she was holding something back from me.

  "You never saw her again, face-to-face?"

  She shrugged. "Perhaps, briefly. But that meeting was of no particular consequence. There's nothing more of any significance I can tell you." She sighed. "I'm tired now. I think I shall rest a bit before taking dinner. I'm afraid I must say farewell, Gordianus, to you and to your taciturn but very ornamental young son-in-law. Thraso will show the two of you out." She turned her gaze from me to the window. After a moment, her mother did likewise. Together they stared at the framed image of a distant cloud lit by the twilight's last blush of lurid pink against a back drop of lapis lazuli. A scattering of faint, early stars twinkled in the darkening firmament.

  The slave showed us down the stairs and through the long hallways. We had reached the soaring atrium when another slave, running at a trot, caught up with us and told us to wait. Thraso raised an eyebrow, then saw the reason we were being detained. At the far end of the hallway we had just traversed, coming toward us at a surprisingly fast clip for a woman her age, was Sempronia. As she drew closer, her gaze fixed on me as if I were a rabbit and she a descending hawk.

  With a curt wave she dismissed the slaves. We stood at the base of one of the immense black marble columns that supported the skylight far above our heads. Sempronia drew close to me, speaking in a hoarse whisper. The vast space swallowed up her voice without giving back an echo.

  "My daughter was not entirely forthcoming with you, Gordianus."

  I raised an eyebrow, afraid that any comment might put her off. For some reason, despite her earlier suspicion, she had decided to trust me. What did she want to tell me?

  Sempronia frowned. "My daughter has endured a great deal of suffering in her life. It's because she's so ambitious, of course; even more ambitious than I was at her age." She flashed a thin smile that contained no warmth. "I sometimes think: If only she'd been born a boy. But of course, if that were the case, she'd probably have gotten herself killed already-like Clodius, like Curio-or perhaps not. Fulvia is smarter than either of those fellows were. That's a curse for a woman, to be smarter than her husband. Fulvia's carried that curse twice in a row. Clodius and Curio-at least their ambitions and their dreams matched hers, if not their wits." She shook her head. "Now she's a widow again, with children from both her marriages, children who must be given the best possible chance in the world that's about to be created on some battlefield far from Rome."

  "What if Pompey wins that battle?" I said.

  She drew a sharp breath through her nostrils. "Such a disaster doesn't bear considering. No, Caesar will win. I'm sure of it."

  "Because Cassandra said so?"

  Sempronia gave me another chilly smile. "Perhaps."

  "And if Caesar does triumph, what then?"

  "My daughter will need another husband of course. And this time she must choose the right one, a man as shrewd and ruthless as she is, a man who knows how to seize an opportunity, a survivor! A man who can give my grandchildren their rightful place in the new world about to be born."

  I nodded. "Fulvia saw Cassandra a second time, didn't she?"

  "Yes."

  "Because Cassandra could give her a glimpse of the future."

  "Exactly! The witch could see across time as well as space. But it wasn't Fulvia who brought Cassandra here the second time. I sought her out. Fulvia didn't want her here. She was afraid to know her future, afraid it would match the misery of her past. But I told her that a woman must use whatever tools she can to make her way in the world. If the witch could give us even a faint glimpse of what lay in store, then we must seize that knowledge and use it!"

  "When did you bring her here?"

  "A little less than a month ago."

  "And what did Cassandra foresee for Fulvia?"

  "Glory! Power! Riches! My daughter shall rise to the first place among all the women of Rome."

  "Even ahead of Calpurnia?"

  "Caesar will triumph, but he can't live forever. He must have a successor."

  I frowned. "You mean to say that Caesar will be a king and pass his crown to another? That was what Cassandra foresaw?"

  "Nothing that specific. When her visions came, she didn't always see them clearly or understand what she saw. She couldn't even recall them afterward; she could only describe them as they came to her."

  "And when you brought her here the second time, what did she see?"

  A look close to rapture crossed Sempronia's face. Rather than softening her features, it made them even more severe and intimidating. "She saw Fulvia in a stola of purest purple, striped with gold, with a golden diadem on her head. Beside Fulvia, but in her shadow, stood a man-a great brawny beast of a man dressed
in battle armor spattered with blood and holding a bloody sword. He, too, wore a diadem on his head. The witch was unable to see his face clearly, but she saw the image on his breastplate and on his shield-the head of a lion."

  "Marc Antony," I whispered.

  "Who else? It's their destiny to marry. I could have told Fulvia that myself without the witch's help." The fact that Antony was already married seemed to be of no consequence to her.

  "What else did Cassandra see?"

  The look in Sempronia's eyes made my blood run cold. "Like Antony, Fulvia was holding a bloody sword in one hand."

  "And in the other?"

  Sempronia bared her teeth. "A head, severed at the neck!"

  "As Curio's head was severed?" I whispered.

  "Yes, but this was the head of another, the head of the man my daughter hates most in all the world."

  Was she speaking of Milo, who had been exiled for the murder of Clodius, and who at that moment was said to be raising a revolt in the south with Marcus Caelius? Or King Juba, who had laughed when he received Curio's head? I whispered their names, but Sempronia shook her head and looked at me scornfully.

  "The witch described him clearly enough. Not as a portrait painter or a sculptor might, but in symbols. Lips dripping with honey, she said; a tongue like a snake's, eyes like a ferret's, a nose with a cleft like a chick pea-"

  "Cicero," I whispered. His name was taken from the word for chick pea.

  "Yes! It was Cicero's head that Fulvia held aloft!"

  Caesar triumphant but dead, Marc Antony a king and Fulvia his queen, and Cicero beheaded-was that to be the future of Rome? My heart sank. I suddenly realized why Sempronia had confided in me. It was not that I had somehow won her trust. She still suspected me of being Cicero's lackey, perhaps his spy. In the next moment she made her desire explicit.

  "Go, then, Gordianus! Go back to that bitch Terentia's house and tell her what I've just told you. Soon enough, my daughter will put away her mourning garb to put on a bridal stola. Then it shall be Terentia who'll be dressed in mourning! Long ago, Cicero made himself the enemy of this household. He never missed a chance to slander Clodius while Clodius lived, and he slandered him even more viciously after he was dead. He defamed Curio as well, even as he pretended to be his friend-casting aspersions on Curio's love for Marc Antony, telling Pompey that Curio had sided with Caesar because he was a craven opportunist-when the truth is that Curio died a hero's death, loyal to his cause until the very end. But soon enough Cicero shall regret the suffering his words have caused in this house. My daughter shall see to that!"

  Her object achieved, Sempronia called for Thraso and ordered him to show us out.

  As we were walked down the steps, the great bronze door clanged shut behind us. Davus turned to me wide-eyed and asked, "Father-in-Law, was Cassandra really a witch?"

  "I don't know, Davus. But if witches truly exist, I think you may have just met one."

  VII

  The third time I saw Cassandra was again in the Forum. It was the day the consul Isauricus broke Marcus Caelius's chair of state.

  Only a few days before, word had reached Rome that Marc Antony, departing almost three months after Caesar, had successfully made the same sea crossing and was on his way to join his forces with those of Caesar. It could only be a matter of time until Caesar and Pompey met in a grand confrontation. All Rome was abuzz with speculation.

  Meanwhile, Marcus Caelius had been setting up his rival tribunal close to that of Trebonius for over a month. The riot that had ensued on the first such occasion had not been repeated, since Caelius, instead of orating and inciting the crowd, was quietly going about the business of taking down the names and recording the situations of the citizens who lined up to see him each day. These citizens were mostly debtors who hoped to take advantage of the legislation Caelius had promised to put before the Senate, imposing a six-year moratorium on debt collection. The fact that such a proposal had no chance of being made into law as long as Caesar controlled the Senate-and the fact that Caelius had no legal authority to set up a tribunal, much less record a registry of debtors-did nothing to deter the long line of desperate men who came to see him each day. Times were hard. Those who came to Caelius were clutching at any hope for relief.

  Meanwhile, not far away, Trebonius went about his legitimate business of litigating between the debtors and creditors who lined up to see him each day. Some of the debtors, once they finished their business with Trebonius, went directly to join the queue to see Caelius. In such uncertain times, who could say whether the agreements struck by Trebonius would hold? And what debtor would dare to miss out on the relief that Caelius was promising, however slim the possibility that it might come to pass?

  Since that initial riot, things had been mostly quiet in the Forum, and the other magistrates, including Trebonius, had seen fit to let Caelius go about his fictitious business. I imagine that the official attitude, worked out in private among themselves by Caesar's minions, went something like this: Caelius was essentially putting on a mime show, a bit of political street theater; and so long as there was no further violence, the best thing to do was simply to ignore him.

  On this particular day Caelius arrived later than usual, so that by the time he appeared, escorted by a larger than usual retinue and proudly carrying his own chair of state, there was already a large crowd awaiting him, as well as a long queue at the nearby tribunal of Trebonius. I was there in the Forum as well, idly passing the time with Davus and Hieronymus and the usual gang of chin-waggers. Caelius happened to pass very close to me and caught my eye as he did so. He recognized me and nodded. Then he raised an eyebrow and smiled faintly, and I knew that he was about to hatch a new bit of mischief.

  The portable tribunal was erected. The milling crowd began to form a queue. Caelius mounted the tribunal and, with a flourish, unfolded his chair of state. But instead of sitting, he remained standing and turned to face the crowd. A thrill shot through the assembly, felt by everyone there in the same instant, just as a flash of lightning is perceived by all eyes at once. Farther away, in the queue of men awaiting conference with Trebonius, heads turned to look toward Caelius. Trebonius himself, hearing the sudden murmur of anticipation, looked up from the ledger before him and peered toward Caelius. An expression of mingled exasperation and dread crossed his face. He summoned one of his clerks and whispered in the man's ear. The clerk nodded and disappeared.

  Caelius proceeded to pace this way and that across the small space of the tribunal, his hands on his hips, his eyes scanning the crowd. But he remained silent. The effect was to unsettle the crowd even more. Those at the back pushed forward. Above the general murmur, a few men scattered through the crowd-planted hirelings, most likely-began to shout. "Speak, Marcus Caelius!" they cried, and, "What have you come to tell us, Marcus Caelius?" and, "Silence! Silence! Everyone shut up! Marcus Caelius is about to speak!"

  Caelius continued to pace the tribunal in silence. He lifted a fist to his mouth and furrowed his brow, as if debating whether to speak or not. The crowd pressed in closer. More and more men began to shout, until their cries joined in unison and became a chant: "Speak, Caelius, speak! Speak, Caelius, speak! Speak, Caelius, speak!"

  At last Caelius stopped pacing, looked out over the crowd, and raised his hands for silence. Some of the rowdier members of the crowd continued to chant for the sheer pleasure of making noise, but they were quickly silenced by elbows in their ribs and swats to their ears.

  "Citizens!" said Caelius. "Not long ago, you heard me speak from this platform about the legislation I have introduced before the Senate demanding a six-year moratorium on the repayment of loans. I regret to tell you that, as of today, the Senate has yet to act upon my proposal."

  This was greeted by a chorus of catcalls and boos. Caelius raised his hands to quiet the crowd. "In the meantime, my esteemed colleague, the magistrate in charge of the city"-he indicated Trebonius with a sweep of his hand-"has continued to make settlements on beh
alf of the moneylenders and landlords whose interests he so doggedly represents."

  This prompted a considerable uproar. Previously, Caelius had avoided making such a direct attack against Trebonius. Now his rhetorical claws were bared, and the crowd was ready to see blood drawn. He recommenced pacing back and forth, not as before, as if brooding and indecisive, but with his chin up and a swagger in his step. He looked sidelong in the direction of Trebonius, a smirk on his face and a glimmer in his eyes.

  "Indeed, the magistrate in charge of the city has taken every possible action to ensure that my proposed legislation is never even considered by the Senate, much less ratified by that obsequious body of sycophants. Not a man among them appears to have a will of his own. They are all, to a man, the tools of a single intelligence-including the magistrate in charge of the city. He is, after all, a soldier first and a public servant second. I presume he was given his orders before the giver of orders left Rome, and now he mindlessly carries them out with no regard to the suffering and distress that surrounds him. Is he blind? Is he deaf?"

  Caelius looked toward Trebonius, shaded his brow, and peered across the way, as if Trebonius were miles distant rather than a mere stone's throw away. "Well, I'm fairly certain he isn't blind, because he's looking this way. To be sure, he squints a bit. Scribbling those enormous sums on behalf of the moneylenders has strained his eyes, I suspect." This garnered a huge laugh from a crowd that was eager for any excuse to laugh at Trebonius. Across the way, Trebonius narrowed his eyes even more. The crowd before Caelius's tribunal roared with laughter.