‘What about Fulvia?’ I said. ‘Cassandra gave Fulvia specific details about Curio’s death – the battle in the desert, the fact that he was beheaded. This was before anyone in Rome even knew that Curio was dead.’
‘Anyone but Caesar.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘When the messenger from Africa arrived in Rome, he went directly to Caesar and to no one else. Caesar was distraught, of course. Curio was like a son to him. Caesar had had such great hopes for Curio; that was why he gave him the African command. But as Caesar says, information is like gold: one must spend it wisely. Secretly he met with Cassandra in this room and told her the details. The next morning, from informants in Fulvia’s household, we learned that Fulvia intended to call on friends that day, and we determined the route she would take. Cassandra waited along that route. When Fulvia passed by in her litter, Cassandra pitched her voice to sound like a whisper, just loud enough to reach Fulvia’s ears. She said—’
I remembered the words that Fulvia had quoted to me, and spoke them back to Calpurnia: ‘ “He’s dead now. He died fighting. It was a brave death.” ’
Calpurnia nodded. ‘Exactly. Those were the very words Caesar told her to say. Fulvia stopped, of course. She took Cassandra home with her. And when Cassandra revealed the specific details of Curio’s end, which were later confirmed, it seemed like a true vision from the gods. Thus Cassandra won Fulvia’s unquestioning trust, along with that of her mother, Sempronia.’
‘And meanwhile Caesar kept the news of Curio’s death to himself?’
‘He swore the messenger to secrecy and told no one, not even Marc Antony – not even me – for two days. Information is gold. By spending that particular nugget of information with the utmost discipline, Caesar bought Fulvia’s faith in Cassandra.’
‘But Curio died fighting for Caesar. Why send a spy into his widow’s house?’
‘Why not? We wanted to know the temper of that household and anything those two women might be secretly planning. Don’t let her grieving fool you, Gordianus. Fulvia is still madly ambitious. So is Sempronia. Many a time I’ve told Caesar, “We have to watch those two, especially the daughter. No matter that she’s married to Curio, no matter that Marc Antony’s married to his cousin – mark my words, Fulvia has her eye on our Antony, and if those two should ever join forces . . . beware!” ’
I shook my head. ‘But for now, Antony remains married to Antonia. She saw through Cassandra’s pretence.’
‘Yes. With Antonia, Cassandra made a grave miscalculation. She acted on her own initiative, outside her mission for Caesar.’
‘Not entirely her own initiative. It was Cytheris who put her up to making a distressing prophecy to Antonia.’
‘I know. Cassandra confessed as much to me when I pressed her. She said that Cytheris had known her in Alexandria, and threatened to expose her if she didn’t do a favour for her. Cassandra argued that her prophecy to Antonia was only a small matter. I disagreed, and I chastised her quite severely for destroying any chance to build a bond of trust with Antonia. That was stupid of Cassandra, and certainly not a part of Caesar’s plan. It was also my first indication that Cassandra seemed to be slipping out of my control.’
‘Only the first indication?’
‘Her affair with you was another. That should never have happened. She knew from the beginning that she was not to form any such bond with any man while she was in Caesar’s employ.’
‘Her time with me was not a part of Caesar’s plan?’
Calpurnia looked at me shrewdly. ‘You’re worried that it might have been otherwise? That perhaps Cassandra sought you out and seduced you merely to gain your confidence? No. Not in her role as Caesar’s agent. She was acting on her own initiative when she formed whatever bond grew between you.’
‘How is it that you know about it, then?’
She smiled. ‘Purely by surmise. Why else would you have shown such an interest in Cassandra after her death, unless you were her lover?’
I made no reply.
She shrugged. ‘Who can explain the mysteries of Venus? Cassandra managed to keep your affair a secret even from me; that’s why she could never bring you here, where the two of you would have been much more comfortable than in that hovel in the Subura. You were her little secret, just as she was yours.’ Calpurnia looked at me thoughtfully. ‘To be sure, even before Cassandra met you, she knew who you were from the very thorough briefings Caesar gave her. And of course, she was acquainted with your son – with Meto, I mean. Meto was present at some of those briefings. That young man has a flair for this sort of thing – playacting, secret codes, hatching plots under the rose.’
‘Cassandra knew Meto? She never told me.’
‘How could she, without giving away the fact that she was Caesar’s agent? To have told you would have exposed you to the same dangers she faced. You might have shared her fate.’
‘Her fate.’ I tasted the word like wormwood on my tongue. ‘Do you know who killed her?’ I asked, half suspecting now that it must have been Calpurnia herself.
She read the look on my face. ‘I had nothing to do with her death. I don’t know who killed her or why. It might have been any of those women who came to see her burn. It might have been someone else. But . . .’
‘Yes?’
She rose from her chair, strode to the painting of Alexander, and peered at it intently, though she must have seen it many times before. ‘When he was briefing Cassandra about various women in Rome, Caesar himself suggested specific prophecies or visions that she might use in order to gain a particular woman’s confidence or frighten her or otherwise get her to speak what was on her mind. He did so in the case of Fulvia, as I’ve told you. But Caesar couldn’t foresee every eventuality. After he left Rome, when a woman sought out Cassandra for her gift, in most cases Cassandra had to improvise, using her own skills and whatever she already knew about that woman.
‘But circumstances change. Cassandra needed to be kept abreast of developments. That job fell to me whenever I met with her in this house. One such development was this business with Marcus Caelius and Milo. Even Caesar didn’t foresee that Caelius would turn against him or that Milo would dare to return to Italy – and no one imagined that the two of them might join forces. Trebonius and Isauricus – what a pair of bunglers! They should have put a stop to Caelius the moment he set up his chair of state in the Forum and began to agitate the mob. Now the situation is out of control.’ She looked at me sharply. ‘Did you know that Caelius and Milo were both in the city as recently as the day Cassandra died?’
I answered carefully. ‘I heard a rumour in the Forum that the two of them were seen riding out together that morning, heading south.’
‘That rumour was true. That day was our last chance to stop Caelius and Milo from trying to raise a revolution in the south. I had hoped to do so using Cassandra.’
‘How could Cassandra have stopped them?’
‘By using her gift, of course.’
‘Why would either of them have listened to Cassandra?’
‘Caelius might not have taken her seriously, but according to my sources, Milo might very well have heeded her. I’m told that he’s grown increasingly superstitious in recent years. He looks for omens and portents everywhere. If Milo could have been convinced by Cassandra to abandon this mad enterprise, Caelius might well have abandoned it as well.’
‘But even if Caelius and Milo were secretly in the city for a while, how could Cassandra possibly have gained access to either of them?’
‘The building in the Subura where she stayed was one of Caelius’ strongholds in the city. That’s why I placed her there, thinking it might eventually lead to some way for her to spy on Caelius. Certainly it made her accessible to him should he ever wish to call on her. And Cassandra might also have reached either Milo or Caelius through the two women closest to them – Fausta and Clodia.’
I shook my head. ‘Fausta may still be Milo’s wife, but she despises
him. She wishes him dead. She told me so. Would Milo even bother to contact Fausta while he was in the city? As for Clodia, surely there’s no one she hates more than Caelius – unless it’s Milo! Clodia and Caelius may once have been lovers, but I can’t imagine that she’s even spoken to him since the prosecution she mounted against him.’
‘You might think these things, Gordianus, but you would be wrong. According to my sources, Milo almost certainly contacted Fausta while he was in Rome. As for Clodia, she’s been receiving Caelius at her house on the Palatine and at her horti on the Tiber for months, ever since he returned from Spain with Caesar.’
‘I don’t believe it!’
‘Do believe it, Gordianus. My sources for that fact are quite reliable.’
‘Are you suggesting that Clodia and Caelius renewed their love affair, after all these years, despite the bitterness between them? Impossible!’
‘Is it? It seems to me exactly what one might expect from a woman as weak as Clodia, who allows herself to be dominated by whims and emotions. We Romans believe that a man must be the master of his appetites or he’s no man at all, but we forgive such a defect in a woman. It wasn’t so in the days of our ancestors. A woman like Clodia, enslaved by her neediness, would have been despised by everyone. Nowadays people call such a creature fascinating, and men as weak as she is make poems about her.’ She made an expression of disgust. It occurred to me that no one would ever make a poem about Calpurnia.
‘As for Caelius,’ she said, ‘perhaps he never stopped loving Clodia, despite their falling out and her attempt to destroy him. Or perhaps, always the pragmatist, he simply saw some use for her in this scheme of his to win over the rabble and seize power. Who knows what drives such a man? The fellow’s like quicksilver.’
I shook my head, trying to make sense of this. ‘If Cassandra, at your bidding, was supposed to dissuade Caelius and Milo from staging an armed insurrection, then she obviously failed,’ I said.
‘I’m not sure what happened. The last time I spoke to Cassandra, which was several days before her death, she told me that she had made the acquaintance of both Clodia and Fausta. Fausta had told her that Milo was aware of her existence – it wasn’t clear whether he was in Rome at the time or not – and that he wanted to seek her out for a prophecy. As I said, Cassandra was living in a building that I knew to be one of Caelius’ strongholds in the city. I told her to stay there, where Caelius and Milo could find her if they wished. If that should happen, she was to stall the two of them as best she could. “Put them off, keep them in the city, and send Rupa to me at once,” I told her. “If you must give them a prophecy, then tell them that their plans for a revolution are doomed and their only hope is to give themselves up and throw themselves upon the bountiful mercy of Caesar.” That was the last time I saw Cassandra. Several days later, I learned that Caelius and Milo had come and gone, and Cassandra was dead. So far as I can reconstruct the sequence of events, she died only a few hours after they rode out of Rome together.’
‘And Rupa?’
‘He was here with Cassandra when I last spoke to her. After that, I never saw him again. I don’t know whether he’s alive or dead.’
‘But you believe there was some connection between Caelius and Milo, and Cassandra’s death?’
‘It seems very likely. Exactly what that connection may have been, I don’t know. Right now, all my efforts are bent towards containing this insurrection Milo and Caelius are trying to raise in the south, and making sure that the next time they arrive in Rome, it’s with their heads on sticks. Cassandra’s dead. She’s of no further use to me. I don’t have time to be concerned with who killed her or why. I leave that to you. I understand you have a nose for that sort of thing. If you do manage to sniff out the truth, come tell me. If she died in Caesar’s service, then whoever killed her shall answer to Caesar’s justice.’
XVII
That night, Bethesda was delirious with fever. She shivered beneath her woollen coverlet and murmured incoherently. Diana prepared a concoction of brewed willow bark and a mild soporific that seemed to help; the fever lessened, and Bethesda fell into a fitful sleep. I stayed by her side, holding her hand, mopping her brow, and hardly slept at all.
Fever had not been a symptom of her malady before. I feared that it marked a new stage in her illness. I felt stupid and helpless.
Diana fell ill that day as well. I came upon her bent over in the garden, throwing up her breakfast. Afterwards, she insisted that she felt perfectly well, but with a chill I wondered if her sickness was somehow connected to her mother’s. What if both were to fall victim to the same lingering illness? I had no more money for physicians. Physicians had proved to be useless, anyway. What would become of the household if both Bethesda and Diana were bedridden? What would happen when the banker Volumnius began pressing me for repayment of my loans? The first instalment would fall due in a matter of days.
I fell into a black mood and did not stir from the house.
Days passed. After that first miserable night, Bethesda’s fever lessened and receded. Diana seemed well, but there was something furtive in her manner. I sensed she was hiding something from me.
I might have kept pursuing my quest for the truth about Cassandra, but a kind of stasis of the will settled over me. Rome itself seemed gripped by a trancelike paralysis, awaiting news from Greece about Caesar and Pompey, awaiting news from the south about Caelius and Milo’s insurrection. A sense of impending catastrophe loomed over the city, over my house, over my spirit. It clouded every moment, poisoned every breath.
Another thing stopped me from taking any further steps to find Cassandra’s killer. By telling me what she knew, by charging me with the task of finding the truth, and by promising Caesar’s justice, Calpurnia had effectively enlisted me to become yet another of her informants in the city. I had deliberately severed every tie to Caesar, even disowning Meto. Yet if I wished to see the search for Cassandra’s killer through to the end, how could I do so without becoming a spy for Caesar?
It was Hieronymus who brought me the news.
One morning while I brooded in the garden, he came striding in, eyes flashing, slightly out of breath. I knew at once that something terrible had happened – terrible for someone, if not for Hieronymus. Mayhem and the suffering of others excited him.
‘It’s all over!’ he announced.
‘What’s over?’
‘They’re dead. Both dead, and all their followers with them.’
For a brief moment I thought he meant Caesar and Pompey, and I tried to imagine the immensity of the debacle that could wipe them both from the face of the earth along with their armies. Had Jupiter himself sent down lightning bolts, had Naptune flooded the mountains, and Hades opened chasms beneath them? I felt a cold spot in my heart in the place where my love of Meto had once resided.
Then I knew what he meant.
‘Where?’ I said. ‘How?’
‘One hears conflicting details, but according to the best sources down in the Forum—’
Davus rushed in. ‘Milo and Caelius are dead!’ he cried. ‘Both of them, dead! A huge crowd is gathering in the Forum. Some are celebrating. Some are weeping and tearing their hair. They say it’s all over. The insurrection is over before it even began.’
Hieronymus gave Davus a sour look. ‘As I was saying . . . it seems to have happened like this: Milo and Caelius headed south from Rome, but they split up to carry out separate actions. Milo started by going from town to town claiming he was acting on orders from Pompey, making wild promises and trying to get the town leaders to join him. But that got him nowhere. So he used his gladiators to set free a great number of field slaves, the type made to work under a whip and kept in pens along with animals or in barracks no better than cages – the most desperate of the desperate. Milo’s ragtag army went on a rampage, plundering temples and shrines and farmhouses all around. Raising a war chest, Milo called it. He must have gathered a great number of slaves – hundreds, maybe th
ousands – because he dared to lay siege to a town called Compsa, garrisoned by a whole legion. But it all went wrong when Milo was struck down by a stone hurled from the ramparts. The rock hit him square in the forehead, shattered his skull, and killed him instantly. With no one to lead them, the slaves panicked and fled.’
‘And Caelius?’
‘Caelius started by trying to raise a revolt among the gladiators in Neapolis. But the city magistrates got wind of the plot and put the ringleaders among the gladiators in chains before they could rally the rest. The magistrates tried to arrest Caelius as well, but he managed to slip through their trap. Word that he was an outlaw travelled ahead of him. No city would open its gates to him. He headed towards Compsa to join up with Milo, and learned of Milo’s death from slaves who were fleeing the battle. Caelius tried to rally the slaves, but they wouldn’t listen and ran off in all directions. How did one-armed Canininus put it? “All those years bending to the lash and buggering sheep rendered them immune to Caelius’ rhetoric.” Caelius headed farther south, practically alone – they say he had only a handful of supporters still with him, no more than five or six men. He pressed on until he came to the coast. Apparently there’s a town called Thurii situated in the instep of Italy. That was where Caelius made his last stand.’
Poor Caelius, I thought, Vain, ambitious, restless, quicksilver Caelius! With Milo dead, every city closed to him, and no army – not even an army of field slaves – he must have known there was no hope, that he was doomed. Thurii was the end of the line, the end of the world, the final terminus in the cometlike career of the young orator who had been Cicero’s scintillating protégé, Milo’s staunch defender, Caesar’s brash lieutenant, Clodia’s faithless lover, and the last desperate hope of the disgruntled, dispossessed masses of Rome.
A Mist of Prophecies Page 24