The Gods Help Those

by Albert A. Bell

  “It’s all right, Gaius. I’m here.” I took his hand in mine but he was so hot I could hardly stand to touch him.

  I completely lost track of time in the dimly lit room. People came and went, offering me food I could not eat and refilling the oil lamps. Julia spent a long time with me, hugging me and letting me cry on her shoulder.

  Julia was sitting with me when Gaius died. I knew he was dead because he shuddered and expelled a heavy breath. The Greeks say that’s the soul leaving the body. His head slumped to one side and he lay perfectly still.

  “By the gods!” Julia cried. “Is he…dead?” She put her hand under his nose. “He’s not breathing, Aurora. He’s not breathing!”

  I was sitting on the edge of his bed. “No! No! He can’t be dead. I won’t let him be dead.” In frustration and disbelief I pounded on his chest with my fists. Suddenly his eyes popped open and he took a gulp of air. He looked around like a madman waking from a bad dream.

  “Gaius, can you hear me?” At first the woman’s voice seemed far away. Then she drew closer, or was I drawing closer to her? Her voice was so lovely. Was she the siren? Was I Odysseus?

  “Gaius, it’s me. Aurora. Can you hear me, darling?”

  Something cool and moist swept over my face. I felt a hand that I knew was Aurora’s. Then I fell into a deep sleep.

  When I opened my eyes I recognized my room, and the ceiling wasn’t swirling around. I didn’t feel as hot as if I were roasting over a fire anymore. Then Aurora’s face came into view as she leaned over me. I sighed deeply. “Is that really you?”

  Aurora smiled. “Of course it’s me, my love. Who else would it be?”

  I rubbed my eyes. “I’ve been seeing such strange, awful things for…for how long?”

  “It’s been two days since you were knifed. There must have been poison on the blade, the doctor says. Enough of it got into you to make you very ill. It could have killed you.”

  “It did kill me, didn’t it?”

  Aurora nodded and gripped my hand more tightly. “I was so frightened.”

  “Julia was here with you when it happened, wasn’t she?”

  “Yes, but how—”

  “I saw it all.”

  She sat up, her hand going to her mouth. “How could you, Gaius?”

  “I think some part of me—and don’t you dare call it my soul—left my body and was hovering over the bed. You and Julia were crying. You hugged one another. I saw a light and I was about to…to float away toward it when you pounded on my chest with your fist. Then I opened my eyes—the ones in my body.”

  “By the gods! That’s exactly what happened. You started breathing again. You closed your eyes and I thought you had died again, but you kept breathing. You were just sleeping. I don’t understand what happened.”

  “I don’t either. If someone else told me that story, I would laugh in their face. I want to laugh in my own face, but I think it actually happened. Or I imagined it. I was seeing such strange things.”

  “What matters is that you’re alive.” She laid her head on my chest. “You’ve been so ill.”

  “And you’ve been taking care of me?”

  “With help from your mother and some other servants. And Tacitus has checked on you frequently. Julia has also been here.”

  “Probably just as an excuse to see Joshua.”

  Aurora slapped me on the shoulder and laughed. “You must be getting better. There’s that cynical wit that I love so much.”

  I squeezed her hand. “I would kiss you, but the inside of my mouth tastes like—”

  “You don’t have to say it. I’ve been cleaning you up more often than the other women have cleaned up Joshua. But today your eyes look clear and you’ve stopped sweating.” She brushed my hair back. “When you feel like standing up, I’ll bathe you and we’ll change your bedding. We’ll probably just burn what’s here now.”

  I dimly realized that she was sounding like the mistress of the house. “I really do want a bath,” I said.

  “All right, see if you can stand up. Take it easy. Lean on me.”

  I sat on the edge of the bed until I felt able to get to my feet. Once I was standing steadily Aurora wrapped an old tunic around my waist and I held it to cover myself as we made our way to the bath. It was late afternoon, as far as I could tell. The sky was overcast, although it wasn’t raining. My steward, Demetrius, crossed our path in the garden.

  “My lord, it’s wonderful to see you feeling better! I was just coming to check on you.”

  “Thank you. I gather a number of people have looked in on me from time to time.”

  “Yes, my lord. Except for Aurora. She hasn’t left your room in three days. She slept on the floor beside your bed.”

  I put an arm around Aurora’s shoulders. “No wonder you look—and smell—almost as bad as I do. Thank you.”

  “Someone had to do it, my lord. You needed someone there at all times. Demetrius, please tell the lady Plinia that her son is feeling much better and is going to take a bath. This would be a good time to change his bedding. And please bring him a clean tunic.”

  “And a clean gown for her,” I said.

  Demetrius nodded and left to carry out his instructions.

  When we entered the bath Aurora took off her own gown and got into the water with me. We’ve bathed together on occasion, but this time there was nothing the least bit erotic about the experience as we scraped several layers of sweat and filth off one another.

  “Have you learned anything about what we were working on?” I asked as we sat and soaked.

  “I’m afraid not. Tacitus has had some of his men watching Berenice’s insula. They say all the windows are barred now and they haven’t seen anyone except her servants go in or out. They’re not even sure whether she’s there or not.”

  “As frightened as she seems to be, I doubt she would leave her fortress. Her solitude is her safety.”

  Aurora cupped water in her hands and rinsed my shoulder. “I think we need to concentrate on why someone would have killed or tried to kill in those two cases. For you there’s a different motive. It’s because you can identify the killer.”

  “Exactly. We need to leave me aside and focus on Berenice and her son. Someone resented her relationship with Titus and someone felt Berenicianus had betrayed the Sicarii. Could it be the same person?”

  Aurora nodded. “I think so, and he must have had help in killing Berenicianus.”

  I put my head in my hands.

  “Are you getting sick again?” Aurora asked.

  “No. This case has me completely befuddled. And I’m exhausted.”

  “You should go back to bed. After a good night’s sleep you’ll be ready to start fresh in the morning. Now that you’re better I’m going to go back to my room with Felix, but I’ll be right next door if you need me.”

  “How’s Joshua doing?”

  “I’m about to find out. I haven’t seen him for three days.”

  After Aurora left I sat for a few moments longer in the bath. I was still uncertain about what I had experienced when I “died.” Various writers have talked about what the soul is, but I’ve never found their opinions convincing. I don’t believe that any part of us continues to exist after our bodies die. The soul is not the last breath that escapes our bodies and lives on some other plane of existence, as Homer and the early Greeks believed. What if a person drowns and can’t expel that last breath? Is the soul trapped in the body?

  Epicurus says that our bodies are made up of atoms. Our souls are likewise atoms, less densely packed. When we die, the atoms making up our bodies break apart and drift off to reconnect with other bits of matter, but they are no longer any part of us. That’s what happens when any living thing dies and decomposes. In the same way, the atoms making up our souls disconnect from one another, so there is nothing of us left after death—physical or otherwise. That’s why he teaches that we shouldn’t fear death. There is no consciousness after death, so there can be no pu
nishment by the gods because there is nothing left to punish. Or to reward, for that matter. There is no Hades or Elysian Fields. As his disciple Lucretius says, “Mind and body are born together, grow up together and together decay.”

  Then what happened to me? Why did I have that sensation of floating above my body on the bed, watching Aurora and Julia? The eyes of my body were closed, so I couldn’t have seen what they were doing. I had no way of knowing that they hugged or that Aurora pounded on my chest three times. Then how did I know that was what happened? She didn’t tell me. I saw it happen.

  I took a breath and stretched out on the water, face down with my eyes open, letting myself float. The water in a bath is never entirely clear, but I could make out the mosaics on the bottom of the pool—the sea creatures surrounding Neptune being drawn in his chariot by the horses. How did a sea god ever become associated with horses?

  Someone grabbed my shoulder and pulled me up.

  “Gaius! Gaius! What’s wrong?” Aurora cried.

  I stood up, shaking water out of my face and pushing my hair back. “There’s nothing wrong. I was just testing a theory.”

  Aurora sighed deeply. “I thought you were dead. I was afraid you were trying to kill yourself.”

  “Why on earth would I do that? I’ve just narrowly escaped being killed. Why are you back in here? I thought you were going to see the baby.”

  She gestured to the side of the bath, where Joshua was lying in a basket. “I thought you might want to see him, too.”

  “Well, yes, of course.”

  X

  Because I still felt somewhat drained, I let Demetrius handle my clients at the salutatio the next morning. Aurora and I were sitting in the exhedra about the third hour of a cool September morning. The rain had finally stopped and the sky was clear. Aurora was holding Joshua, who had just had a good meal and was making contented baby noises. If I could pick a moment in my life where I might live forever, this might very well be the one.

  “Was I mistaken,” I said, “or did you and Miriam have a few bits of conversation? You haven’t learned Hebrew, have you?”

  “No. Actually, what Jews speak today is a dialect called Aramaic. It’s used all over the eastern end of the Mediterranean. I remember some Punic, my native language. I spoke it with my mother until she died. It’s similar enough to Aramaic that I can communicate on a very basic level with Miriam, if we talk slowly.”

  “I’m confused. If they’re speaking Aramaic, then what is Hebrew?”

  Aurora shifted Joshua to her other shoulder and patted his back. “Phineas says it’s the classical language in which their holy books were written. It’s quite old-fashioned, like Homer’s Greek compared to the Greek we speak and write. Very few Jews today understand the original Hebrew, especially those outside Judaea. They still call what they speak Hebrew, but the word today really means Aramaic. That’s why they’ve translated their books into Greek.”

  “Can you understand what Naomi and Phineas say in this Aramaic?”

  She shook her head. “Not at the speed of normal conversation. I might pick up a word or two. Miriam and I have found some terms we both understand if we speak slowly enough.”

  Demetrius appeared at the entrance to the exhedra. “My lord, excuse me. You have a visitor.”

  “Who is it?”

  “The lady Sempronia, my lord. She’s asking to see you in private.”

  “Regulus’ wife wants to talk to me?” I sat up on the edge of my couch. “Did she say what it was about?”

  “No, my lord, just that she would like to see you.”

  “All right. Bring her back here.” I turned to tell Aurora that she would have to leave, but she was already on her feet. “I wish you could stay.”

  “I wish I could hide somewhere in here, but not with Joshua. And don’t you dare say he’s an encumbrance.”

  “Stay as close to the entrance as you can.”

  Demetrius returned in a few moments escorting Sempronia, a short, wiry woman with dark hair and what seemed to be a permanent scowl. I’ve never seen any other expression on her face. She was followed by four female servants. Everyone in Rome knows of her Sapphic predilections. She and Regulus have separate quarters in his house, where they each indulge their own passions. But they have somehow produced one son. At least Regulus acknowledges the boy as his, and he is enough of a little monster to validate that claim.

  Sempronia’s servants stopped outside the exhedra and I heard them admiring Joshua. Aurora must be within earshot.

  I stood to greet her. “Good morning, my lady.”

  “Good morning, Gaius Pliny. And thank you for seeing me. I understand you’ve been ill for the past few days. I’m glad to see you looking well again.”

  I knew I was being snide, but I asked, “Did you learn about that from one of your spies or one of your husband’s?”

  She laughed without smiling. “No matter, as long as the information was accurate. Accuracy is what I pay for.” She sat on the low couch and I resumed my seat on the high couch, facing her. “I’ve come to ask your help, Gaius Pliny.”

  “How could I possibly help you, my lady?” More to the point, why would I possibly help you?

  “I’d like for you to find the man who killed my cousin, Lucius Lucullus.”

  “I thought one of his slaves killed him and escaped.”

  “That’s what the vigiles and the Praetorians say, but they can’t find him. Domitian has tortured several slaves to get information. He wants to execute all the slaves in the household, according to the ancient law, but Regulus has talked him out of that in order to show his clemency. We know which of his slaves are missing. We just can’t find them.”

  “But I don’t see what I can do, if the vigiles and Praetorians haven’t had any luck.”

  Sempronia cocked her head, giving me the impression of a large bird about to peck at something. I hoped I didn’t look like a worm. “I think you’re already looking for him.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I believe his death may be linked to the death of Julius Berenicianus.”

  Now I was interested. “What makes you think that?”

  “Lucullus and Berenicianus both recently came from Syria to Rome. Both were stabbed to death—in the back. Berenicianus was involved in the war against the Jews until he surrendered. Lucullus served under Titus in that war. He used to brag about being the first to put a torch to the temple after the city fell.”

  “That must have endeared him to the Jews.”

  “In that part of the world emotions do run high. People remember injuries for a long time. They will wait and wait for an opportunity to exact vengeance, into the next generation and even beyond.”

  “That’s what I’ve heard. What can you tell me about the slave who killed Lucullus?”

  “Nothing myself, but I can introduce you to his widow, Porcia. I’m sure she can give you more helpful information. I know you and my husband are not friends, in any sense of the word, but if you’ll help me, Regulus will buy the site where your warehouse was destroyed. He’ll pay you for whatever you have in it—the purchase price, renovations, damaged goods, anything. You won’t even have to clear the site. Regulus will use the ruins of your building to reinforce the riverbank in front of his warehouse.”

  I’ve never expected compensation for helping people. It’s what a man of my class does. And I hate being obligated to Regulus in any form, but 150,000 sesterces is a considerable sum to lose, and this way I would be able to pay back my mother-in-law without any difficulty. “All right, I’ll see what I can do. When do you think I can talk to Lucullus’ widow? Porcia, you say?”

  “Yes. Would this afternoon suit you? About the ninth hour?”

  “That will be fine.” It would give me time to notify Tacitus. We stood and Sempronia took a step toward the garden. “While you’re here,” I said, “may I ask one more question?”

  She did not nod or say no, but I forged ahead anyway. “Why is your husba
nd so interested in the baby we found in the warehouse?”

  “He was merely acting out of kindness.”

  I managed to keep from laughing out loud. “But the nurse he sent tried to steal the baby.”

  “And she admitted to us that she had her own motives for doing so. She was not acting on our orders or on our behalf.”

  “Can you tell me what those motives were?”

  “No, since they had nothing to do with us, or with you. You needed a wet nurse and Merione was the one in our house who had given birth most recently. She was the obvious choice. Now, I will send word to Porcia to expect you at the ninth hour. I assume you’ll have Tacitus with you, and that girl with the baby who’s trying so hard to eavesdrop on our conversation.”

  I had noticed Aurora walking slowly back and forth in front of the entrance to the exhedra, as though comforting Joshua, but I had hoped Sempronia had not paid attention to her. I chuckled. “She’s usually more subtle when she’s trying to blend into the background.”

  “Well, the baby is an encumbrance.”

  “Children generally are,” I said.

  “The gods know my son is. Good day, Gaius Pliny, and thank you again.”

  “What you’re going to see,” I told Aurora, “is going to horrify you, I’m sure. Just keep telling yourself that it’s all an act. It will be hard for me to do, but I don’t think we’re going to get the truth out of her any other way.”

  “But why can’t I be there with you?”

  “I’ve told my mother to keep everyone else in the atrium and not to be frightened by what she might hear. You need to be with them and not receive special treatment. Now, go.”

  Looking back over her shoulder, Aurora finally did what I told her. With Archidamos following us, Tacitus and I crossed the garden to the room where Clymene was recovering. I wanted to question her again before we went to Lucullus’ house. I was sure—and Tacitus agreed with me—that her story about coming from Spain was a pure fabrication. She must be one of the slaves who escaped when Lucullus was killed. She should know who killed her master, and probably Berenicianus as well.