‘I arrived only last night.'
'Utter chaos. Voters arriving after hours or days of hard travelling only to find that the election day has been indefinitely postponed — imagine! Angry farmers from up in Etruria camping out on the Field of Mars, lighting camp fires that could burn down the city — and when the praetors ride out to warn them, the farmers pull out the rusty old swords they used to carry for Sulla! It's enough to make me want to drop out of the praetor's race. And all because of this preposterous notion of Cicero's that Catilina is set to slaughter half the Senate if he doesn't win the consulship. And now, as if to prove he has no sense of shame or decorum left at all, Cicero insists on going about the Forum wearing that absurd breastplate—' 'What's this?'
'Please, I can't even bear to think about it. You'll probably see for yourself down in the Forum. Oh, Cicero! These days, I'm aligned with Gaius Julius Caesar.' I nodded at the name of the young patrician who earlier in the year, against all expectations, had won the election to take the place of the deceased Pontifex Maximus, head of the state religion. In recent years Caesar had emerged as a standard-bearer for the party of discontent and reform. His lavish expenditures on public games and banquets had won the hearts of the masses (and driven him deeply into debt, it was rumoured, despite his family's great wealth). He was said to be witty, charming, devious, scornful of the Optimates, and possessed of that single-minded nature which in men of politics can lead to greatness, or disaster, or both. There were those who feared — or hoped — that Caesar would become another Catilina, if indeed Catilina's credibility and hopes for the consulship were about to reach their end.
'Cicero has disappointed us all,' sighed Rufus, 'whereas Caesar…' His brown eyes sparkled. He smiled — a bit coyly, I thought. 'The more I deal with Gaius Julius, the more impressed I become. As Pontifex Maximus, he has been an inspiration to me; he respects the religion of our ancestors in a way that a New Man like Cicero never could. His grasp of the world infinitely surpasses that of Cicero — in no small part because Caesar is not just an orator but a man of action who has known true battle and desperate danger — you must know that tale of his being kidnapped by pirates when he was young. He treated them with nothing but scorn, arranged for his own ransom, and later saw that they were all captured and crucified. Cicero would have merely bored them to death with his rhetoric. Caesar has taken up the cause of those who are still suffering from the dictatorship of Sulla, the children of those whom Sulla dispossessed and who now want to regain their birthrights. While Cicero, who always makes such a story of how he stood up to Sulla in the case of Sextus Roscius, won't lift a finger to help Sulla's victims — their claims are perfectly justified, he says, but this is not the proper time to disturb the government with their demands. It never is the proper time, of course! Not when the Optimates who control the state have their property and privileges nicely in place and want nothing to be disturbed. Cicero, who so bravely stood up against the dictator when he was young, does the bidding of the dictator's old friends without the least whimper of protest.
'And while Cicero pretends to be a man of vision, it's Caesar who sees the future. The empire must judiciously enfranchise those it conquers, not just exploit them. Stability may be built on blood and battle, but compassion must accompany victory. Caesar and I have pooled our resources to campaign for our praetorships together, but I feel rather presumptuous putting myself forward as if I were the equal of such a fine candidate. He's brilliant. There is no other word. When he speaks…' Rufus's voice trailed off, and he stared into the middle distance.
If Rufus is possessed of a fault, it is that he tends to fall blindly in love with those he respects and admires. So it had been with Cicero, but from the inflection Rufus now gave to the name he had once cherished, it was clear that love, respect, and admiration had all vanished together. Now he was clearly smitten with Caesar, and from what one heard about Caesar, beginning with his long-ago affair with the king of Bithynia, Rufus had a much better chance of finding reciprocation with the new object of his hero worship than he had from the old one — if indeed, to judge from the smitten look on his face, he had not found that reciprocation already.
'Ah, but you were remarking on my candidate's toga,' said Rufus. 'Actually, I was about to change out of it—'
'Please, you needn't stop campaigning just because you've entered our house,' I said, teasing him. 'I'd as soon ask a bird to take off its wings as request a politician to lay aside his candidacy.'
He looked at me blankly. 'But I shall have to put on my augur's robes before we commence the promenade, of course.'
'But then — do you mean to say that you'll be reading the auspices for Meto?'
'Of course. That's why I'm here, in my capacity as an augur. Not that I wouldn't have come simply as a friend. But didn't Eco tell you?' 'No. I thought he'd simply find a private augur, the type that handles marriage ceremonies. I had no idea — and for you to take time out from your campaign on the day before the election—'
'What better advertisement at the last moment than for me to be seen sombrely performing my duties as augur for the whole Forum to witness? I shall certainly look more respectable than all those candidates bullying and begging the mob for votes.' He smiled shrewdly.
'Rufus!' I laughed. 'You're a new stripe of politician, I think. Idealism as pragmatism; attention to duty and virtue rather than violence and outright bribery as the means to win an election. A quaint idea, but it just might work.'
'Gordianus, you're hopelessly cynical.'
'And you, Rufus, are still admirably full of hope and virtue.'
He smiled. 'But now I really must change into my augur's robes. Oh, and I may have a surprise for you and for Meto later in the day. But well talk about it then.' I summoned one of Eco's slaves to show Rufus to a private room; his own small retinue of slaves, carrying his robes and augur's wand, followed behind.
I looked about, momentarily at sea amid the bobbing heads. Then, nearby and above the murmur of the crowd, I heard a familiar woman's voice speaking.a familiar name: 'Ah, then you must have known my late cousin, Lucius Claudius. Yes, a jolly man with hair as red as that of the handsome young man who just paraded through the room, but with a figure more like mine, I'm sorry to say. Yes, well, I inherited Lucius's house up on the Palatine, a huge, sprawling, wonderful old place, but far too big and fancy for my humble needs, though I'm told I can get a good income from it if I can find a renter who's rich enough to afford it, and if I’ll do a bit of investing to pretty the place up, though my cousins think I should keep the house empty as a place for all of us to stay here in the city, but that means keeping at least a partial staff of full-time slaves in the place even when it's unoccupied, and I don't hear any of my cousins volunteering to feed them… Oh, but look, here he is, our host and my own dear neighbour. Gordianus, all happiness and pride to you on your dear son's birthday!'
'Claudia,' I said, taking her proffered hand and kissing her rouged cheek. I would hardly have recognized her had I not heard her voice, for instead of the common, rather mannish country dress she wore on her farm, she was draped in an exquisite purple stola, the dark draperies of which elegantly accommodated the generous contours of her body. Her wispy hair had been rinsed with henna to give it a darker shade and arranged atop her head in a pillar so high that it must have grazed the door frame when she entered. Nor did she seem her usual relaxed self, but was exuberant to the point of bubbling over. She had been talking to a city neighbour of ours, a mousy little woman who had taken a friendly interest in Meto and Diana over the years and who had met Lucius Claudius a few times when he had come to visit. The little woman seemed completely overawed by Claudia's presence, and looked more relieved than offended when Claudia abruptly turned to me and thus gave her a chance to quietly escape.
'Gordianus, I never expected such splendid trappings. The food is superb — but not Congrio's cooking, I think. Your son Eco's cook, or some slave he's brought in especially for the occasion, am
I right? Yes, I can usually tell one cook's touch from another; my palate is quite sensitive that way. And Meto looks so handsome in his toga! Though I notice that he does seem to have a bit of trouble keeping it properly draped over his left arm — there, you see how it's slipped down and he keeps tugging it up with his right hand and shrugging his left shoulder. But he’ll get the hang of it, I'm sure. Oh, thank you for letting me come, though I can hardly claim to be family or even an old friend. Perhaps you can think of me as representing dear old Lucius, who wouldn't have missed this event for anything.'
'Lucius and I sat together and sipped wine many times in this very garden,' I said.
'Charming, charming,' said Claudia absently. 'Of course I shouldn't be here at all. I'm leaving Rome for the farm this afternoon, and given the congestion on the roads—'
'Leaving Rome? I thought you planned to spend the whole month of Quinctilis here in the city, refurbishing Lucius's town house.'
'Ah, that's just it. I find myself more confused than ever over what I want to do with the property. I'm at such an impasse that I think the only thing to do is go straight back to the farm and collect my wits before trying to come to a decision. Yes, I know, I’ll miss the excitement of the election tomorrow, but thank Jupiter for that! I'm a woman and the family doesn't need me for voting, anyway. Besides, I've had more than enough of the city already. The idea of spending a whole month here — well, you can see how deranged it makes me. I feel like a complete impostor all made up like this; I'd feel much more comfortable in an old sack, and I get so rattled I can't stop talking…'
She suddenly laughed and took a deep breath. 'Well, you're seeing proof of that! And quite frankly, I've had more than enough of my cousin Manius and his shrill wife. They're the ones who have the property north of you but spend most of their time, here in Rome. They insist on dropping by to see me every day and inviting me to their house every night, and I've had enough. Their cook is a disaster, to begin with, and their politics are too conservative even for me. You can imagine all the ranting and raving in such a household, what with the elections going on.'
Claudia lowered her voice and brought her face close to mine. 'But my stay with Manius has borne at least some good fruit, dear Gordianus, and it has to do with you. In fact, that's why I stayed in Rome until now, and today came here first instead of heading straight home to Etruria, Gordianus, promise that you won't be angry, but I took the liberty of bringing cousin Manius with me today. Presumptuous of me, I know, but the opportunity seemed just right and I said to myself) "Do it!" So I did And I think it will all be for the best. There he is — Manius! Yes, cousin, come and meet our host.'
She was calling to someone over my shoulder. When I turned around, whom should I see but the greybeard who had been pilfering stuffed grape leaves and honeyed dates! No wonder my imperfect recollection of him had made me uneasy; he had been present in the court when Cicero had defended my inheritance from Lucius Claudius, though he was so nondescript that his face had made little impression on me. I remembered him now, and I also remembered the comments about me that Congrio's assistant had overheard him make at Claudia's family gathering: 'Stupid nobody with no ancestors, who should be put in a cage and carted back to Rome!' What was such a man doing in our house on Meto's toga day? Claudia was mad to have brought him with her. Had I been a superstitious sort like Rufus, I would have found his presence an ill omen indeed.
Claudia seemed to read my thoughts. As Manius approached, she gripped my elbow and spoke in my ear. 'Now, Gordianus, it serves no one's interests to have bad blood between our families. Manius resented your good fortune and has spoken ill of you in the past, as have all my cousins, but he and I have had many a conversation on the subject during my stay in Rome and I think I've convinced him to make peace. That's why he's here. You will be hospitable, won't you?'
I was given little choice, for the next moment the man was standing before me, with a sour expression on his face and his eyes averted 'So you're Gordianus,' he said, finally looking up. 'My cousin Claudia seems to drink we should be friends.' He made the word drip with sarcasm.
'Now, Manius,' cautioned Claudia, smiling apprehensively.
I took a deep breath. ‘Friend is an exalted word, Manius Claudius, not to be bestowed lightly. I was a friend of your late cousin Lucius, and of that I'm very proud. By his will, you and I are now neighbours, if not friends; yet it seems to me that neighbours can at least strive for harmony and the common good. And since we are neighbours—'
'Only through a legal accident and a lapse in my late cousin Lucius's good judgment, not to say good taste,' said Manius sourly.
I bit my tongue for several heartbeats. 'Claudia, I thought you said—'
'Yes, I did, Gordianus, and I don't understand,' said Claudia through gritted teeth. 'Manius, before we left the house this morning I thought it was agreed—'
'All that I agreed to, Claudia, was that I would come to this house, behave in a civil manner, and see for myself whether or not I found the family of Gordianus to be respectable, charming and, to use your words, "entirely the sort of people one would desire for neighbours". Well, I have come, Claudia. I have behaved with the same decorum as if I were in my own home. And I have failed to be charmed. Indeed, quite the opposite; my very worst suspicions of these people have been confirmed.'
'Oh, dear,' said Claudia quiedy, putting her fingers to her lips.
'I have been conversing with some of the other guests,' Manius went on. "There are far too many people here of the radical, populist, rabble-rousing sort. But then, there are too many people of that sort everywhere in Rome, for my taste. I won't deny that there are a handful of respectable people here, even some fellow patricians, though what they should be doing in such a house and at such a gathering escapes me. The standards of those with whom one does and does not mix have fallen considerably since I was young. Collapsed altogether, I should say.'
'Manius, stop!' gasped Claudia.
But Manius did not stop. 'As I was saying, I have conversed with others here, and discovered just what sort of family inhabits this house and now resides on Lucius's farm. Last year I took no particular interest in investigating the nature of our opposition when Lucius's estate was being settled. I didn't care what sort of person this Gordianus was, only that he be stopped from absconding with a share of the family's inheritance. I did know that he was a plebeian with no ancestors to speak of and engaged in some sort of shady enterprise or other, but I had no idea what sort of family he had spawned. A most irregular family indeed! Of his own parentage, no one seems to know a thing, which says a great deal in itself. His wife is not Roman at all, but half Egyptian and half Jew, and was once upon a time his slave and concubine! Their elder son, the one who now lives in this house, was born Roman, apparently, but not to Gordianus and his slave woman; this Eco — such a preposterous and uncouth name! — was an abandoned beggar boy adopted off the streets. As for the lad whose birthday and corning of age is being celebrated today, it appears he was born a slave down in Baiae, probably of Greek origin. A slave! And now look at him, standing over there in his toga. In the days of our grandparents, the great days of the Republic, such a desecration would have been utterly unthinkable. No wonder the boy can't seem to make the toga sit correctly on his shoulders!'
I listened to this tirade at first speechless, then with burning ears, then with my fists tightly clenched to keep them from flying through the air. At some point Claudia, her gaze nervously flitting from Manius to me, timidly laid her hand on my elbow. Her gentle restraint was unnecessary, for I had no intention of resorting to violence in my own home and spoiling the harmony of Meto's celebration. Instead I kept my hands at my sides and let the fury boil inside me while Manius continued.
'Last and least there is a daughter, I understand, born free and apparently of both parents. A Roman girl, legally, and no doubt she will someday marry into a Roman house — bringing the Egyptian and Jewish blood of her slave-born mother with her. Is it
any wonder the Republic is collapsing into chaos at such a swift rate? Who stands up for me Roman family and the values it once aspired to? Even a fine Claudian like our cousin Lucius was apparently taken in — to use your word, Claudia, "charmed" — by all this barnyard decadence, but then, Lucius was always eccentric. I suppose that's your excuse as well, Claudia — eccentricity. If you find such an association congenial, then you're welcome to it, but please keep it to yourself. I came here today as an act of goodwill, and as a favour to you, Claudia, but I see now that I was gravely mistaken. I allowed soft words from a woman to weaken my resolve and taint my judgment. My time here has been completely wasted.'
An instant later he would have turned on his heel and departed in smug triumph, leaving me gasping with anger and facing no choice but to swallow my fury or run after him and make a spectacle of myself before our guests. But sometimes, in such moments, Nemesis takes a hand and makes fools of those who deserve it.
'Oh, your visit hasn't been a complete waste, surely,' I said, not even knowing yet what I meant. The menace in my voice must have alerted Manius, for he stepped back, but not quickly enough. From the comer of his eye he must have glimpsed the upward flicking movement of my hand; he raised his arms to deflect a blow that never landed, for I made no attempt to strike his face or his vulnerable middle. Instead, without conscious intention, I aimed for that place where earlier I had seen his hand disappear into his toga while he pilfered delicacies from the tables. I slapped at a hard, bulging spot hidden within the hanging folds. Manius grunted in alarm Claudia's hands went to her mouth and she uttered a little shriek, just loud enough to turn the heads of a small circle around us. An instant later, the little cloth bag that had been hidden beneath Manius's toga, tied to his waist, fell at his feet and burst open at the seams. Honeyed dates, stuffed grape leaves, roasted nuts, and sesame cakes spilled onto the ground as if from a cornucopia.
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