A murder on the Appian way rsr-5

by Steven Saylor

  She realized what I had seen and tried, too late, to push the pot out of sight with her foot. At the same time I was startled by another sound behind me and turned to see Davus. How had he entered the room so quietly?

  "Davus, what are you doing here? No one called you. Go away. This doesn't involve you."

  "Oh, yes," said Diana. "It does."

  "No, Diana-"

  "But it does involve Davus, Papa. It does!" Then I realized the obvious. So did Bethesda, I imagine, who stood in the doorway wearing a look that could turn a man to stone.

  XXXIII

  I needed a drink.

  More than that, I needed to get away from my house. I could take only so much of Diana weeping, Bethesda stamping her feet, the broken Minerva staring at me. I did not want to overhear the whisper of my slaves saying, "What's to be done with her?" or "What's to be done with him?" or "I knew it all along!"

  Where can a man go to forget his cares in the middle of the night?

  I had not set foot in the place the poet Catullus called the Salacious Tavern in almost exactly four years, since the final day of another trial, that of Marcus Caelius. Eco and I found it easily enough, tramping through the warehouse district to the northwest of the Palatine Hill accompanied by his bodyguards (without Davus, of course) until we came to the upright pillar in the shape of a phallus, and the door lit up by a phallus-shaped lamp.

  The place had not changed a bit. It reeked of smoke from cheap lamp oil and the fumes of cheap wine. The general roar was punctuated every now and again by the rattle of dice and the cries of winners and losers. The few women in the place were clearly for sale. Most of the men appeared to be in a good mood. Insofar as the clientele of the Salacious Tavern had any interest in politics, they were likely to be Clodian sympathizers.

  While Eco and I looked for a bench to accommodate ourselves and our bodyguards, I overheard several snatches of conversation.

  "Cicero might as well have had his tongue cut out — maybe that'll be next, if Pompey ever has the guts to make himself dictator and starts handing out some real justice!"

  "The idea of Milo heading off for Massilia, where he'll stuff himself with mussels and wallow with Gaulish whores — what kind of punishment is that?"

  "Did Antony's speech make any sense to you at all?"

  "Only a little more than Cicero's!"

  "I wept, I tell you, wept when his nephew talked about him dying alone and bleeding on the Appian Way. He was a great man — "

  We finally found a place. A serving boy brought us wine at once. The vintage was as foul as the service was quick.

  "Eco, what am I going to do with them?"

  "A good question, Papa."

  "How did it happen?"

  "I think you know how it's done, Papa."

  "You know what I mean!"

  "Is she absolutely certain about… her condition?"

  "She seems to be. So was Bethesda, after she questioned her."

  "When did it happen, Papa? The first time, I mean… assuming there was more than one occasion…"

  "Do you remember the day the contio turned into a riot, and Belbo was killed, and the next day you and I decided to merge our households? You brought your bodyguards along with you, and gave me Davus to replace Belbo. Apparently, that very first night he was under my roof-"

  "Oh, no!"

  "Yes! What in Hades are you smiling at?"

  "Am I? Well, it's just — at least, Davus wasn't my slave any longer when it happened, technically. Thank the gods for that. I'd given him to you, to be your personal bodyguard."

  "So you're saying none of this is your concern?"

  "No, Papa, that's not what I meant. I'm concerned, of course. But deciding what to do with Davus is entirely up to you."

  "Thank you very much!"

  The serving boy made a fortuitous appearance to refill our cups.

  "He saved my life that day, you know," I said. "What's that?"

  "The riot, the massacre in the Forum. When Milo and Caelius escaped dressed up like slaves. I came very close to being killed myself. It was Davus who plucked me out of the crowd. He's no coward, that's for sure."

  "I'll say. It takes a brave man to fiddle with his master's daughter right under his roof, and on his first day in the house. What could he have been thinking?"

  "What was he thinking with, you mean. Not with his head! Diana claims it's not his fault, of course."

  "I think some of it must be his fault, Papa."

  "I know what she means, and so do you. She says that she was the one who… initiated the matter."

  "You make it sound like a legal contract! She may have 'initiated' it, but he was the one who should have refused. I told you Diana was starting to have an eye for young men. I told you it was time for her to marry."

  "An eye for young men…" I nodded. "You'll have to admit, Davus is just what they like. Big as Hercules. Handsome as Apollo."

  "And as stupid as an ox. An ox in rut, at that! Where in Hades is that serving boy? Do you feel like doing some gambling, Papa?"

  I had to laugh out loud. "Eco, I feel like I've been doing nothing but gambling for months now. I think I'd like to stop gambling for awhile!"

  "And just drink!"

  "Exactly, Just drink!"

  The serving boy arrived. We complained that the tavern's cups were absurdly small. He made a face to show that he had heard this before.

  "So Diana is absolutely certain?" said Eco. His speech was beginning to slur.

  "Yes. I didn't inquire for the precise details, Eco, but it's been over three months since the two of them met, and Bethesda says that Diana's schedule is considerably more reliable than the Roman calendar-"

  "No leap-months!" For some reason Eco found this hilarious. I waited for him to finish cackling. "Anyway, it's all a great mess."

  "So you mean, all the time Davus was with us on the Appian Way-"

  "He was thinking about Diana, no doubt! Just as you were missing Menenia, and I…"

  "And afterwards, when we were abducted, and he was thrown from his horse and then came to his senses and went back to the house — "

  "Yes, Eco. The two of them were under the same roof every day, all day, and can you believe that Bethesda never noticed? Of course,

  Bethesda was distraught over the two of us, and busy managing Pompey's guards and trying to keep the household running. Diana was probably her least worry."

  "Still, how could Bethesda not have smelled something brewing? I think what this means, Papa, is that Diana has proved herself to be more clever and conniving than her mother!"

  "Actually, I think I knew that already. Yes, Diana outwitted Bethesda. She hid her trysts with Davus — "

  "All those days we were gone… and all the days we've been back!"

  "Please, Eco, I don't want to think about it. And she also managed to hide her condition from Bethesda, which was quite a feat. Of course, that couldn't go on forever. All this time, she's been growing more and more miserable — "

  "And Davus has been acting like the treasury slave caught with his hand in the coffer… so to speak."

  "Yes, I could tell he was guilty of something. It's a terrible betrayal, isn't it? He was supposed to be guarding me and my family, and instead…"

  "Papa, Davus is a man. And Diana, like it or not, is a woman."

  "Davus is my slave, and Diana is my daughter!"

  "Meto was a slave, before you adopted him. And Bethesda was a slave, before you set her free and married her."

  "But Eco was only a little boy, and Bethesda was carrying Diana. What was I to do, have my daughter born a slave?"

  "You could set Davus free. Make him a citizen. Then he could — "

  "Out of the question! Reward him for what he's done?"

  "Then the only alternative, short of putting him to death, is to sell him, preferably to a new master somewhere far, far away. Or you could sell him to the galleys or mines if you really wanted to punish him; he's young and strong enou
gh that he'd probably survive a few years of that Most men would have had him beaten senseless and put in chains the moment they found out, and done something almost as bad if not worse to the daughter involved. In the old days, a good father would have had both parties put to death on the spot and never have blinked an eye — "

  "Eco, stop! Oh, all this smoke is giving me a headache. I don't want to think about it any more. Look, isn't that…?" I peered through the orange reek of hazy lamplight "Over there in the corner — it is! Who would have thought it?"

  I got up and walked, not entirely in a straight line, across the room. Sitting alone in the corner was Tiro.

  "Exercising your rights as a freedman to go out drinking and whoring in the middle of the night?" I said. "Surely Cicero wouldn't approve."

  Tiro looked up at me bleakly but didn't speak.

  "The atmosphere in this place can hardly be good for your health," I said. "And this wine would rot anybody's stomach. Is there room on that bench for me?"

  "I can't stop you from sitting wherever you want, citizen."

  "Tiro, let's have no hard feelings between you and me." I put my arm around him.

  "Gordianus, you're drunk."

  "And you will be, too, soon enough. Do you come here often?"

  He finally smiled a bit. "Every now and then. Sometimes I just have to get away. And sometimes…" I saw that he was looking at one of the women for sale.

  "Tiro, you dog. Are you telling me that you have a secret life that Cicero wouldn't approve of?"

  "Why not? He's done things behind my back that I don't approve of, hasn't he? Gordianus, if I had known at the time, if there had been any way for me to stop it — "

  "No, Tiro, not another word about that. Not tonight! I have too much else on my mind that I'm trying to forget." I summoned the serving boy to refill Tiro's cup. "I couldn't believe your master's performance today."

  "He's not my master any longer. You know that."

  "Sorry; habit. What in Hades was wrong with him? He seemed so sure of himself last night, so confident. He was pure Cicero. I wanted to strangle him!"

  "When you saw him, yes. But he's been up and down for days now. Giddy and sure of himself one moment, blind with despair the next. You have no idea how this crisis weighed on him. How many friends deserted him over Milo. How shabbily Pompey and Caesar have been treating him. You know his Achilles' heel, his digestion; he's hardly been able to eat a thing for days. He wakes up in the middle of the night with cramps. It's been a terrible ordeal, a crushing burden. What he allowed Milo to do to you — I know you said not to speak of it, but I have to — that was out of character for him, and you know it. Just as out of character as what happened today. Thank the gods it's over, at least!"

  "I've seen Cicero under pressure, but I've never seen any orator fell apart as he did today. What a spectacle."

  "You sound as though you enjoyed it, Gordianus."

  "Oddly enough, I actually felt a bit sorry for him. But a great many people appeared to relish it."

  "That mob! Cicero was right to be afraid of them."

  "Pompey's troops were there to keep order."

  "Oh, really? And would they have protected Cicero, if someone had started throwing stones at him?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "Who knows what secret orders Pompey gave to his men?" "I can't believe — "

  "Pompey was ready to be rid of Milo. He'd just as soon be rid of Cicero, too, if there was an easy way. Would his soldiers have defended Cicero, if it had come to that? Or would they have looked the other way, just for a few moments? Can you think of a more convenient way to get rid of Cicero for good, with no blame attached to the Great One himself? You shake your head, Gordianus, but believe me, Cicero had good reason to be frightened for his life today."

  "He simply panicked, then?"

  "Something like that. Oh, it was excruciating to watch." "Yes, I saw you squirming all through the speech." "And Milo was practically frothing at the mouth! Now he talks as if it's Cicero's fault that he was convicted." "That's nonsense."

  "He says they should have explained the full circumstances and argued for his technical innocence, no matter how embarrassing it might have looked, or how unlikely."

  My head was muddled with wine. Tiro seemed to be echoing something Cicero had said the night before. I hadn't understood Cicero either. "What are you talking about, technical innocence — "

  "And I know what you'll ask next: was the speech really that good? That's the truly painful thing. All the hours we put into that speech, and then to have it blown away like dust in the wind. It just might have got Milo off. Who knows? You can judge for yourself when we publish it. There'll have to be revisions, of course. Then the world can see Cicero's case for Milo laid out in all its perfection, without the distraction of that howling mob!"

  "Alas, too late for Milo. Tiro, what was that you said about — "

  "By Hercules, there's someone I don't care to see! It was good talking to you, Gordianus." As he rose from the bench, I squinted through the orange haze to see who had arrived. I didn't recognize him at first, until I heard someone call his name: "Philemon!"

  I felt an impulse to introduce myself. I looked around for Eco, but couldn't find him in the haze. Was I that drunk? At last I spotted him off in a little anteroom, playing at dice. Faintly, above the roar, I heard him cry Menenia's name for luck.

  Philemon was looking for a place to sit. I waved him over.

  "Do I know you, citizen?"

  I couldn't blame him for being wary. "Not yet, but we have something in common."

  "We both like cheap whores and rancid wine?" "A bit more than that. Sit. I'll buy you a cup." "I'd rather you bought me a whore."

  "Maybe I will! I suppose it wasn't easy, doing without for all that time."

  "What, while I was stuck in Milo's villa? At least that swine will never spend another holiday there!"

  "I suppose not. Have you finished that cup-already? You must have another." Philemon was behind me in inebriation, but he quickly caught up. He seemed to revel in repeating the story that had made him one of the prosecution's chief witnesses. He launched into the tale with no prompting from me. The wine seemed to loosen his lips.

  "All right," he said at one point, "the way I told it in court, I made us out to be a bit more heroic than we were; there, I've admitted it."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Well, it's true enough that when we came upon Eudamus and Birria, and realized what they were up to, boasting about trying to kill Clodius, we shouted at them to stop."

  "Yes, and then you said you and your friends rushed at them, but they beat you back and pursued you."

  He laughed sheepishly. "Right! Except that we never rushed at them. I mean, this was Eudamus and Birria, grinning and covered with blood! Rush at them? I think not. We turned tail and ran, and they came after us."

  "It's nothing to be ashamed of," I assured him.

  "No, but try telling it that way in front of a crowd of a few thousand people!"

  "Did you sweeten the truth about anything else?"

  He shook his head, then shuddered. "You can't imagine it, being tied up at the mercy of creatures like that. My blood was like iced water. The first big fight they had, when they marched us through Bovillae, I thought I'd empty my bowels." "A fight? What do you mean?"

  "An argument, among themselves. Pretty fierce. I thought maybe they'd kill each other and leave us alone. Something about where to go next and what to do about Clodius. I suppose they were arguing over what to do with his body."

  "But his body was already gone. Senator Tedius had arrived on the scene, loaded it into his litter and sent it on to Rome."

  "Ah, yes, that's right. Maybe that's what they were arguing about, then — wondering where the body had gone. I suppose that gave them a start! Yes, I suppose that's what Milo was so furious about when they brought him the news. What, do you think he wanted them to bring back Clodius's head for a trophy?"

>   "He appears to have ended up with Clodius's ring. That should have been enough, I'd think." I imagined Eudamus or Birria slipping it off the corpse's finger. I swallowed hard. "I wonder if Milo intends to take the ring to Massilla with him — a comfort for his exile?"

  Philemon wasn't listening. "Yes, Senator Tedius. I saw him testify at the trial today. We passed him in the road, you know, between Bovillae and the place where Milo was waiting. Just sitting by the side of the road with his bodyguards, looking pleased with the world. You'd think he might have helped us!"

  "He thought you were the bandits who'd killed Clodius, and that Milo's men had simply rounded you up!"

  "Ha! It's a joke of the gods, isn't it!"

  "Did you ask him for help?"

  "A lot of good that would have done. He practically saluted those two monster gladiators as we passed by. I felt like a trussed-up Gaul in some general's triumphal parade."

  "Maybe you should have appealed to his daughter for help."

  "His daughter?" Philemon looked at me blearily and shook his head. I took it I had offended him by suggesting he might have appealed to a woman for help.

  Even fathers of errant daughters and husbands of imperious wives must go home some time; and so, before the first hour of the day, Eco and I departed from the shelter of the Salacious Tavern and made our way up the Palatine Hill. I remember very little of that walk, except that far too much of it was far too steep, like old Sextus Tedius labouring up the Appian Way, I kept having to sit and catch my breath. Growing older is a torment, and being drunk is a comfort only to a point, after which it becomes a torment, too.

  With sunrise would come a new day. Everything would be put back as it was. Eco and Menenia and the twins would return to the house on the Esquiline. I would send home Pompey's guards with heartfelt thanks and a sigh of relief. Of course, some things could not be so easily undone…

  At least the crisis of the last few months was over. I washed my hands of everyone concerned! Milo, Clodia, Fulvia, Cicero and their respective satellites could all join Clodius in Hades. An end had been put to that story for good.