Catilina's riddle rsr-3

by Steven Saylor

'You needn't know, at least not now,' I said. 'You shouldn't know.

  You've braved enough danger already, simply talking to us and telling us how Forfex met his end. I should reward you, but I have nothing to give you.'

  'There's nothing you could give me,' he said. "The Master lets us keep nothing for ourselves. The man who wanted to see the mine gave Forfex a few coins, but the Master found them and took them all away.'

  'This man who saw the mine — has he been back since?'

  The boy shrugged. 'I don't know. I never saw him. I was tending a flock on the far side of the mountain when he came.' He narrowed his eyes. 'They say there were others with him. Was it you?'

  'I've managed so far not to answer any of your questions,' I said, smiling. 'I don't think I shall start now. The less you know, the better for you. You should forget that we were ever here.'

  'Like lemures in the mist,' he said.

  'If you wish.'

  'There is one other question we should ask,' said Meto. 'When you put Forfex's body in this rocky place, what had become of his head?'

  'Beaten to a pulp. I told you that,' said the slave, turning pale again. 'Yes, but was it still attached to his body?' 'Of course.'

  'Not cut away? Being so badly mangled, perhaps—' 'The body was all in one piece!' protested the goatherd, his voice shaking.

  'No need to press the matter,' I said to Meto, laying my hand on his arm. 'Tell us: was there another death among the goatherds, about a month ago?' I asked, thinking of Nemo.

  The boy shook his head.

  'Among your master's other slaves, then?'

  'No. One of the kitchen slaves died of a fever, but that was well over a year ago. There's been only one death since then, and that was Forfex.'

  We descended the tumbled rocks strewn with bones and crossed the stream. The young goatherd went on his way, while Meto and I rested for a bit before pressing on. The shady glen was a beautiful place, even if despoiled and made fearsome by the presence of so much death and suffering. Not a bad resting place, I thought, for the lemures of dead slaves, who must have been far more miserable in life, toiling beneath the hot sun or burrowing into the dank, stony earth.

  XXVII

  'We should confront him directly,' said Meto as we made our way down the mountain path. 'I agree.'

  'We know now beyond any doubt that the body in the well was Forfex. We know that Gnaeus killed Forfex. And we know that he doesn't like us one bit. He thought he was going to inherit the farm from Lucius Claudius, didn't he? Therefore, motive: to spoil the well and try to drive us away.'

  'There are a few gaps in your logic,' I observed wryly, negotiating a steep step and bending back a whiplike branch.

  'Such as?'

  'Why was the head of Forfex removed?'

  'So that we wouldn't attribute the act to Gnaeus. He knew that we had met Forfex and might recognize him despite his injuries, and thus might surmise where he came from. Gnaeus is the worst kind of coward, skulking about and afraid to own up to his actions. He cut off the head so we wouldn't know where the anonymous body came from. He didn't count on my sharp eyes recognizing the birthmark on the back of Forfex's hand, did he?'

  'No, the culprit did not. But why did Gnaeus order the slaves to dispose of the body at the waterfall if he intended to use it elsewhere?'

  I looked over my shoulder. Meto shrugged. "The idea didn't occur to him until later. Obviously he didn't kill Forfex just so he could drop his body down our well; the murder wasn't premeditated, and neither was the outrage against us. But once he had the body at hand, it struck him that he could make use of it.'

  'The young goatherd said nothing of being ordered to retrieve the body.'

  "The goatherd didn't know anything about Catilina, either. Surely Gnaeus has other slaves more suitable for doing what was done with poor Forfex's corpse.'

  'And what about Nemo?'

  "That must have been Gnaeus's doing as well. He put Nemo in our stable to frighten us, but it didn't frighten us enough. So he tried the same cowardly trick again, only this time he did something truly dangerous, polluting the well. What a despicable man!'

  'But where did Nemo come from? The goatherd told us that there have been no other deaths on the mountain.'

  'Who knows? Perhaps Gnaeus waylaid a wandering freedman, or murdered a visitor from Rome.'

  'A stranger, you mean. A stranger to us.'

  'Yes.'

  'Then why was Nemo's head removed? You postulate that the head of Forfex was removed to conceal his identity. That makes sense. But what of Nemo? Who was he and why was his head cut off?'

  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?'

  'I should think you'd know the answer to that question, Gnaeus Claudius,' I said.

  'Don't try to be clever with me,' said Gnaeus. 'I don't take to cleverness. Ask my slaves if you don't believe me. No one invited you here, Gordianus. You're trespassing on my property. I'd be perfectly in my right to pull you off that horse and beat you like a slave. State your business or get out. Or do you want a beating? I could give one to the boy, as well.'

  'Papa!' said Meto under his breath, bristling. I touched his arm to quiet him.

  'We've come, Gnaeus Claudius, because someone has committed an atrocity on my farm. An act of desecration. An offence against the law and against the gods.'

  'If the gods are offended, perhaps it's because a plebeian nobody from Rome has got his hands on a piece of property that's been in my family for generations! Perhaps you should have thought of that before you set your backside down where it doesn't belong.'

  'Papa, we shouldn't stand for this,' said Meto.

  'Quiet! Are you admiring your responsibility, Gnaeus Claudius?'

  'For what?'

  'For the desecration I speak of

  'I don't know what you're talking about. But if some catastrophe has fallen on your head, then it's good news to me. Keep talking. You amuse me, plebeian.'

  'You don't amuse me, Gnaeus. Neither did the little prank you pulled a few days ago.'

  'Enough of the riddles! Make your meaning clear or get out!'

  'I'm talking about the body you threw into my well.'

  'What? You've been out in the sun too much without a hat, Gordianus. That's the first rule you should have learned if you want to be a farmer: wear a hat.'

  'You deny it?'

  'What body? What well? Give your father a good hard slap, boy. He's babbling.'

  Meto seemed barely able to restrain himself. I saw his knuckles whiten as he gripped his rein.

  'I'm talking about the body of your slave, Forfex. Do you deny that you killed him five days ago?'

  'Why should I deny it? He was my slave for years, and before that he was my father's slave. I had every right to kill him, and may Jupiter strike me down if he didn't deserve it!'

  'You're an impious man, Gnaeus Claudius.'

  'And you're a fool and an upstart, Gordianus, so-called Finder. You managed to find a body in your well, then? Good for you, and good for whoever put it there. But don't lay the blame at my door. I had nothing to do with it.'

  'The body was that of Forfex.'

  'Impossible. My slaves disposed of the corpse. I gave the orders myself, and my slaves are not in the habit of disobeying me, you can believe that!'

  'Even so, the body ended up in my well' 'Not Forfex’.

  'Yes, most certainly Forfex.'

  'Would you even have known Forfex if you'd seen him alive? Oh, but that's right, you were along when Forfex showed your friend the way to the mine, weren't you?'

  'Was I?'

  'So Forfex said later; he claimed that one of the trespassers was called Gordianus, though I didn't recognize you in the gloom that evening. If I'd known it was you, I'd have had you dragged from your horse and whipped.'

  'You're very generous with your threats and insults, Gnaeus Claudius. You seem quite proud to confess that you killed a helpless slave. Why are you so timid when it comes to admitting that you had Forfex dropped down my well?'

  'Because I did no such thing!' he shouted. The dogs began to bay and howl.

  'I say that you did. If it had been anyone else but Forfex—' ‘You keep insisting that this body was my slave. Prove it, then. Show him to me.'

  'And if I do, will you admit to this act?'

  'No, but at least I might believe you when you say that it was Forfex you found in your well.'

  'But how can I do that, when you yourself took steps to see that I couldn't prove the slave's identity by showing his face?'


  'What do you mean? I may have crushed his skull, but he could still be recognized. You must have recognized him yourself since you say you knew him by sight.'

  'I never said that.'

  "Then how do you know it was Forfex?' he shouted, infuriated. 'I have my ways.'

  'What do you mean? Have you been trespassing on my land again, talking to my slaves, putting lies in their ears?' He squinted, so fiercely that I could not see his eyes. 'How did you know that I killed Forfex? Who told you? Who dared?'

  'I also know about the other body,' I said, partly to change the subject, partly to see his reaction. At the same time I glanced at Aratus, whose face remained impassive. I had not caught a single look exchanged between him and Gnaeus; if they shared some secret, or even knew each other by sight, their eyes and faces did not betray it.

  ‘ What other body?' cried Gnaeus.

  'You proclaim your ignorance too quickly, Gnaeus Claudius — the sure sign of a guilty man. You know what I'm talking about. Furthermore, I have strong proof against you for that offence as well, and you shall regret your impudence.'

  Gnaeus cocked his head and made a face. He spat on the ground and waved both hands at me. 'You're mad, utterly mad. You make no sense at all, and now you've begun to threaten me in front of my own home. Get out, now! Get out or I'll call the dogs on you. They can seize a man by the leg and pull him off his horse in an instant, and tear the throat out of his neck in the blink of an eye. If you don't believe me, just give me an excuse to prove it! And there's no law to keep me from doing it as long as you're on my land, as you well know. Now get out!'

  I looked at him steadily for a moment, then reined my horse and turned around. 'But Papa—' Meto protested.

  'Our business is done, Meto,' I said under my breath. 'And I think he means his threat about the dogs. Come!'

  Reluctantly, and not before he cast a glowering look back at Gnaeus, Meto turned his horse around. Aratus and the other slaves had already done so at my signal. I set the pace, riding at a gallop across the little bridge, down the trail past the goatherds' house and through the rockstrewn woods. The dappled sunlight felt good on my face, but my spirits did not truly lift until we emerged into the full sunlight again, not far from the Cassian Way.