Catilina's riddle rsr-3

by Steven Saylor

  That night Bethesda herself took charge of the kitchen and cooked exactly the kind of simple meal that Eco had grown up on. His tastes had grown more sophisticated since then, but he seemed truly to enjoy the dishes of lentils and barley, if only for sentiment's sake. Afterwards the slaves pulled the couches into the atrium, and the family gathered in a circle to watch the stars come out. Bethesda was persuaded to sing one of the Egyptian songs from her childhood, and to the sound of her voice Diana and Meto fell fast asleep. Beneath the moonless sky, at Bethesda's prompting, Eco talked about the small details of his home lite in the city with his new bride. I sat in silence, content to listen.

  Later, Bethesda roused Meto and sent him off to his room and picked up Diana to carry her to bed, leaving Eco and me alone.

  'Papa,' he said, 'when I get back to the city I'll see what I can find out about Catilina, and Caelius, and what they might be up to. Discreetly, of course.'

  'Don't put yourself in danger.'

  He shrugged, and in the gesture I saw myself 'A curious man in Rome is always in danger, Papa. You know that.' 'Even so—'

  'I can't stand by and do nothing while someone weaves a plot around you and tries to draw you in. These people, to have left a dead body as a token — clearly they'll stop at nothing.'

  'Which is exactly why I have no choice but to submit and go forward. A man surrounded by a ring of fire cannot stand idle and fret or he will surely be consumed. The only way out is to ride straight through the fire and emerge on the other side.'

  'And then where will you be?'

  I took a deep breath and studied the stars above us. I made no answer, and Eco did not press the question.

  Thus passed the last day of Junius. Early on the morning of the Kalends of Quinctilis, Eco and Belbo left for Rome. I went with them as far as the Cassian Way and watched after them for a long time, until all I could see were two wavering spots of white and black to mark their horses on the dusty horizon, which already shimmered with heat.

  IX

  The afternoon of Eco's departure I began work on the water mill in earnest. Aratus, who had far more practical knowledge of engineering than I, reviewed my plans and pronounced them feasible; indeed, I secretly congratulated myself that he was more than a little impressed. He called on the slaves who had the most experience with woodworking to begin fashioning the various parts.

  Meanwhile Aratus and I did a rough survey of the spot I had chosen, marking the elevations and the width of the stream. I had thought I might need to dam a small section, but I saw a way to divert the flow instead by digging a channel on my side of the bank. There would be no inconvenience to my neighbour Publius, except a muddying of the waters. Still, his washerwomen would no doubt complain, and I had no desire to provoke any further altercations among the slaves. Then there was the matter of the litigation between us, involving my disputed rights to use the stream in the first place. That might take months or years to settle, and I had no intention of waiting to begin the mill. Perhaps, I thought, if I offered to allow Publius to use the water mill himself he would be more amenable to the project; surely he would see that it was to his benefit as well. I gritted my teeth and made up my mind to do the reasonable and forthright thing, and go calling on Publius Claudius.

  No road communicated between our properties. To reach his house by any road I would have to ride out to the Cassian Way and make a great loop north of Manius Claudius's farm and then ride south again. Given the chill between us, it seemed a bit brazen to simply cross the stream and go riding across his fields to his house, but there was no other practical route. I decided to take Aratus with me, along with one of the larger field slaves, just in case there was trouble. To keep Meto out of harm's way, I dispatched him to take Aratus's place and oversee some slaves working near the north wall. He chafed at being left at home, but I could see that being given some responsibility pleased him.

  We set out in the early afternoon. In summer, most farmers take a long break in the middle of the day to escape the heat, and I hoped to find Publius at his leisure, his stomach full from his midday meal, his head a bit fuzzy with wine. I could approach him with an open hand, neighbour to neighbour. Our slaves had had their altercations at the stream, but, so far as Congrio and his assistants had reported, Publius himself had made no serious threats against me at the family gathering. Perhaps we could reason with each other and avoid any further unpleasantness.

  Thus had the calming effect of Eco's brief visit banished pessimism and lulled me into a state of goodwill towards my fellow men.

  We rode across the stream and up the hillside. As we crossed the fields, the slaves I saw were taking respite from the heat, resting in the shade of olive trees and fig trees. They looked at me strangely, but none of them challenged us.

  The farm was less well kept than I had thought. From the vantage point of the ridge it looked idyllic, but distance obscures a barn made of rotting wood or an orchard where trees have been spotted by blight. The grass was high, long overdue for mowing. It hissed all around us as our horses stepped through the growth, setting grasshoppers and chirring cicadas to flight. Aratus clucked his tongue in disapproval as he surveyed the conditions of the livestock and their pens. 'It's one thing to see such filthiness in the city — there you've got a million people all pressed together, and who can help it? But in the country things should be clean and neat. So long as a man owns enough slaves, there's no excuse for such a mess.'

  Looking around us at the overgrown hedges, the poody mended fences, the scattered tools and the piles of debris, I had to agree with him. I had thought Publius Claudius was a rich man. How could he allow his property to fall into such disrepair?

  We dismounted and tethered our horses. The house was in better shape than the sheds and barns around it, but the tiles on the roof needed repairing. On the way to the door I tripped on a cracked paving stone and almost fell. Aratus caught my arm and helped to right me.

  He rapped on the door, at first gently, then harder. Even if the household was napping in the heat of the day, there should be a slave to answer the door. Aratus looked back at me with his lips pursed. I nodded for him to rap more loudly.

  From within came the sound of a dog barking, and then a man shouting for the dog to be quiet. I expected the door to open then, but instead there was silence.

  Aratus looked back at me. 'Well, go ahead,' I said. 'Knock again.'

  Aratus knocked. The dog barked again. The man shouted and cursed, at us now instead of the dog. 'Go away or you'll get a beating!' he yelled.

  "This is ridiculous,' I said. Aratus stepped out of my way to let me bang on the door myself 'Your master has visitors at the door!' I said. 'Open it now or it's you who'll get the beating!'

  The dog barked and barked. The voice beyond the door cursed us and blasphemed half the gods of Olympus. There was a loud whimpering squeal and the barking ceased. At last the door rattled and swung open. I wrinkled my nose at the smell from within — a mixture of dog, stale sweat, and stewed cabbage.

  Beyond the little foyer was an atrium bright with sunlight, so that I saw the man in silhouette and for a moment could only dimly make out his features. I noticed his hair first, long and unkempt like a shaggy mane, streaked with grey. He had the posture of an old man, stooped and slump-shouldered, but he looked neither small nor weak. His tunic was rumpled and worn-looking, all awry, as if he had just pulled it on. As I saw him more clearly, I noticed his grizzled jaw, covered with several days' worth of stubble, and his big, fleshy nose. His eyes were bloodshot, and he squinted as if the light caused him pain.

  'Who are you and what do you want?' he growled, his speech slurred by wine.

  ‘Numa's balls, I thought, what a slave to answer the door! Clearly, Publius Claudius paid no more attention to the running of his private household than he did to the running of his farm. 'My name is Gordianus,' I said. 'I own the farm that once belonged to Lucius Claudius, across the stream. I've come to speak- with your master.'

/>   The man laughed. 'My master — fah!'

  Behind me, Aratus sucked in a breath. 'Sheer insolence!' he whispered.

  The man laughed again. Behind him there was a flash of movement in the sunlit atrium. A girl, completely naked except for a crumpled garment she carried in her hands, stepped into the light and looked towards the doorway with wide startled eyes. She was young — so young that I might have taken her for a boy had it not been for the matted tangle of her long black hair.

  I pursed my lips. 'Obviously, Publius Claudius must be away from the farm for such behaviour to take place in his own house,' I said dryly.

  The man turned and saw the girl, then lunged at her and clapped his hands. 'Out of here, Dragonfly! Put on your clothes and get out of my sight or I'll give you a beating. Ha! What manners — showing your naked backside to visitors! Come back here and I'll add some stripes to go with my handprints, you little harpy!'

  He turned back to us, wearing a self-satisfied smirk. With a sinking feeling I glanced down at his right hand and saw that he wore a ring on his finger — and not just a common citizen's iron ring, but a patrician's band that gleamed golden in the soft light.

  'You must be Publius Claudius,' I said dully. My eyes having adjusted to the light, I studied his face and saw that it was true. I had seen him in court at the Forum in Rome, but only at a distance and with his hair neatly clipped and his beard shaved, and he had worn a fine toga. He had looked as staid and sober as a man running for office. In his own home he showed a very different face.

  He looked me up and down. 'Ah, yes, I remember you. The man who got away with Cousin Lucius's property. You looked all stuffed full of yourself in the court, silly and dull like most city boys. You still look like a city boy.'

  I drew myself up. It does not do to be insulted in front of one's slaves. 'Publius Claudius, I've come as your neighbour, to discuss a small matter involving the stream that marks our common boundary.'

  'Fah!' He curled his lip. 'We'll settle the matter in court. And this time you won't have that windbag Cicero to come to your rescue by wriggling his silver tongue between the judges' buttocks. I understand he's already got his mouth full just to keep them smiling in the Senate.'

  'You have a foul tongue, Publius Claudius.'

  'At least I don't put it where Cicero does.'

  I took a breath. 'As you say, Publius, the matter of water rights will be settled in court. Until then I have no intention of stopping using the stream—'

  'So I've seen. Oh, come, if it's the feuding between the washerwomen that's brought you here, let the matter go! Yes, yes, one of your slaves was struck by a stone. My foreman told me all about it. Well, can she still do her work or not? If she's ruined, I’ll give you one of mine in exchange. But I won't go paying damages just because a washerwoman spilled a little blood — it's not as if she were a pleasure slave and the scar would make a difference. What more do you want from me? I gave every one of the slaves involved a sound beating, and gave special punishment to the little witch who threw the stone — she won't soon try that again. I hope you did the same to your slaves — that's my advice, and if you haven't done so, then do it now. It's never too late. They'll have forgotten what they did wrong, but they'll remember the beating if you do it properly. Sometimes a beating is a good idea, even if they've done nothing wrong. Just to remind them who's in charge.'

  'Publius Claudius, the matter I've come to discuss—'

  'Oh, Romulus and Remus, it's far too hot to stand here in the doorway talking. Come on inside. Who's this behind you, your foreman? Yes, bring him in, too — but leave the big one outside. You don't need a bodyguard to enter my house. What sort of man do you think I am? You, slave, close the door behind you. Ah, good, my couch is still in the shade.'

  There was a fountain in the courtyard, but no water; the basin was littered with twigs and straw. Publius fell back onto his couch. There was only a stool for me to sit on. Aratus, having closed the door, took a place behind me and stood.

  'You'll forgive the lack of soft furnishings and the like,' said Publius. A hound appeared and slunk whimpering beneath his master's couch. 'I've never had a taste for luxury. Besides, it takes a woman to make a house all soft and comfortable for visitors, and the only wife I ever took died a year after I married her. She took with her the only heir I ever made as well, or the baby took her, whichever way that works. They went down into Hades together, hand in hand, I suppose.' He reached under his couch and produced a wineskin. He put it to his mouth and squeezed, but the skin only sputtered. 'Dragonfly,' he crooned. 'Oh, Dragonfly, bring Papa some more wine.'

  'I came here, Publius, because I propose to build a water mill on the stream. There will be no need to disrupt the flow, as I plan to divert the channel into a ditch upstream from the site—'

  'A mill? You mean a sort of machine with wheels run by the water? But what would you do with such a thing?'

  'I could have many uses. It could be used to grind meal, or even stones.'

  'But you already have slaves to do that, don't you?' 'Yes, but—’

  'Dragonfly! Bring me more wine right now or I shall spank you again, here in front of these strangers!'

  After a moment the girl appeared, dressed now in a stained tunic that left her arms and legs bare, carrying a bloated wineskin. Publius took it from her and slapped her backside. The girl began to withdraw, but Publius grabbed her buttock with one hand and pulled her back while he held the wineskin in his other hand and uncorked it with his teeth. While he swilled the wine, he slid his hand up underneath her tunic and fondled her backside. The girl stood passively, her eyes averted, her face red.

  I cleared my throat. 'It might interest you to know that I got the idea for building the water mill from Claudia. She told me it had always been an ambition of your cousin Lucius to build such a mill. So in a way, you see, I am fulfilling his wishes.'

  Publius shrugged. 'Lucius had a lot of stupid ideas, like leaving his farm to you. Like yourself, he was a city boy. That's where stupid ideas come from, the city. Put enough fools in one place and you have what they call a city, eh? And then the stupid ideas spread from head to head like a pox.' He did something with his hand that made the girl give a start and open her mouth. Publius laughed

  I stood up. 'I was thinking, if it would be of any interest to you, that I could allow you some access to the mill once it's finished. You might find it useful.'

  'What would I want it for? I have slaves to grind my meal.'

  "The water could do the work of the slaves.'

  'Then what would the slaves do? Idle slaves only end up getting into trouble.'

  'I'm sure the slaves could find plenty of other work to do around here,' I said dryly. I meant to be insulting, but Publius seemed not to notice.

  'A mill is a machine,' he said. 'Machines break and must be repaired There is only so much water to run such a thing, especially in the dry months. And when a machine is idle, it's of no use to anyone — while a slave can be useful even when she's at rest.' Publius did something that made the girl let out a gasp. She began to draw away, then twitched and stood stiffly upright. A vein stood out in Publius's forehead, and he narrowed his eyes. His shoulder and elbow moved in a strange gyration. The girl pouted and bit her hps. Publius put the wineskin to his mouth. He sucked at the spout, spilling wine on his chin.

  'Ill go now,' I said. Aratus hurried ahead of me to open the door.

  'Oh, but I'm a miserable host!' cried Publius, slurring the words. 'Here I am making myself at home and I've offered nothing to my guest. Which would you like, Gordianus, the wineskin… or the girl?'

  'I’ll begin construction on the water mill tomorrow,' I said, not looking back. 'I hope I may expect no interference from you. I’ll thank you for your cooperation.'

  On the path outside, Publius came hurrying after me. He laid his hand on my arm. I jerked it from his grasp. His breath smelled of wine. His hand smelled of the girl.

  'Another thing, Gordianus — you
have to build a mill from scratch. But a slave — you can make your own slaves! Why, half the slaves on this farm were planted in their mothers' wombs by me. You don't have to buy them, you see, you can make your own — more fun that way, eh? And doesn't cost a copper. You see the big one over there beneath the olive trees, rousing the others from their nap and putting them back to work — one of my bastards. Oh, I've made some big ones, strong boys who can keep the rest in line. I feed them well and let them play with the Dragonfly now and again, to keep them happy. It doesn't matter if the others are miserable or not, so long as you've got the strong ones to keep them in line. Feed the weaker ones just enough to keep them going, but not so much as to make them stronger than they should be—'

  I mounted my horse. Aratus and the field slave I had brought did likewise.

  'But what's this, Gordianus, you don't care to discuss agrarian philosophy? I thought all you city boys, all you friends of windbags like Cicero, delighted in a good discussion — ' He staggered after me, tripping on the paving stones.

  'You shouldn't drink so much on such a hot day, Publius Claudius. You'll fall and hurt yourself' I said, gritting my teeth.

  'It's the trouble down at the stream that's still bothering you, isn't it? Fah! That was nothing. Women squabbling. If I'd really wanted to make a point, I'd have sent one of my big bastards over to do it. Oh, yes, you're just what my cousins say you are. Another nobody from the city who's risen too far above his station in life. Rome is in a sad state when a nobody like you can get his hands on a patrician's farm and take on airs like a country noble — and a nobody like your friend Cicero can worm his way into the consulship. Your head is all swollen, Gordianus — maybe someone should pop it open for you!' He slapped his fist into his palm with a crack.