Saturnalia (7 page)

From my house Hermes and I walked to a street near the Forum where one of my favorite bathhouses was situated. It was a fairly lavish establishment, although the baths of those
days were nowhere near the size of the ones built recently by Agrippa and Maecenas, with their multiple
thermae
and exercise rooms, libraries, lecture halls, plantings, statuary, and mosaics. This one had a few decent sculptures looted from Corinth, skilled masseurs from Cyprus, and hot baths small enough for a dozen or so men to converse easily. Good conversation with one’s peers is half the pleasure of the baths, and it is difficult to be heard in the vast, echoing
thermae
of today, which will accommodate a hundred or more bathers at a time.

The bathhouse I used was patronized mainly by senators and members of the equestrian order and was therefore a good place to pick up on the latest doings of the government. Leaving my clothes in the atrium under Hermes’s less than watchful eye, I went as quickly as possible through the cold plunge, then into the
caldarium
to soak luxuriously in the hot water. As I entered the dark, steamy room I was disappointed to see that there were only two others in the bath; men I did not know.

I greeted them courteously and stepped into the deliciously hot water, then settled chin deep to soak. I had my back to the door and had been in place no more than a few minutes when my new companions looked up toward the entrance with alarm on their faces. I did not bother to look around as men filed in behind me and climbed into the bath, big, hard-faced men, covered with scars. They were arena bait of the worst sort. My two erstwhile companions hastily vacated their places. Soon six hulking brutes shared the water with me, and they left a space to my right. Another man lowered himself into that space, youngish, good-looking in a dissipated fashion, and decorated with only a few minor scars, some of which I had given him.

“Welcome back to Rome, Decius,” he said.

“Thank you, Clodius.” He had me cold. There was absolutely no way I could fight or escape, and it would be undignified to try. So much for my predicted long, long life.

“Be at ease, Decius. I’m a tribune designate and I have a great many important things on my mind just now. You are the least of my concerns for the moment. Don’t cross me and you have nothing to worry about.”

“I rejoice to hear it,” I said, meaning every word.

“I won’t even hold your friendship for that mad dog Milo against you as long as you don’t ally yourself with him against me.”

“I’m not looking for trouble, Clodius,” I said.

“Excellent. We understand one another then.” He seemed marginally more sane than usual, not that this was saying much. “As a matter of fact”—he was oddly hesitant—“there is a way we might patch things up between us, start off clean, so to speak.”

This was truly mystifying.

“What do you mean?”

“By now you know that my brother-in-law, your kinsman Metellus Celer, was poisoned?”

“I know he is dead,” I said cautiously. “I have only heard rumors that he was poisoned.”

“Oh, yes, I’d forgotten. You’re one of those philosophers of logic.”

I let the insult pass. “I prefer solid evidence to hearsay,” I told him.

“Well, rumor then has it that Celer was poisoned by his wife, my sister, Clodia. My enemies and the common herd are whispering behind my back that she is guilty, just because she flouts convention and champions my cause.”

“The world is full of injustice,” I averred.

“You’re supposed to be good at finding things out, Metellus. I want you to find out who killed Celer and clear Clodia’s name.”

I was so stunned that I almost slid beneath the water. He took my hesitation for reluctance.

“Do this and you can have anything of me you ask, and as tribune I can do a great deal for you: honors, appointments, whatever you want. I can push them through the Popular Assemblies almost without effort.”

“I don’t require a bribe to find out the truth,” I said pompously. The temptation was powerful though, which may be why I was so haughty.

He waved it aside. “Of course, of course. But I’m sure you wouldn’t object to a generous Saturnalia present, would you?” This was a common way to proffer a bribe.

I shrugged. “Who could take offense at that?” I would like to believe that I only said this because I knew that I would never leave the room alive without agreeing to his proposal. Men have drowned in the baths before.

“It is agreed then,” he stated with great finality. “Good. Begin at once. You will need to call upon Clodia. She is having a dinner tonight. You are invited.”

“This is all rather sudden,” I said.

“I am busy and have little time. You won’t be in Rome long, will you, Decius?” The way he said it brooked little disagreement.

“Only long enough to settle the matter of Celer’s death.”

“Excellent, excellent. I don’t mean that we must resume our feud when this disagreeable matter is over, but to be frank the fewer friends Milo and Cicero have in the city during my tribuneship, the happier I’ll be.” He clapped me on my wet
shoulder. “We’re men of the world, eh? We all know how politics work. Just because men disagree on certain matters doesn’t mean they can’t cooperate harmoniously on other matters of mutual interest.” Like all professional politicians, Clodius could turn on the charm when necessary.

“It goes without saying,” I murmured.

“Precisely.” He splashed water over his face and hair. “For instance, Cato and I loathe one another. But I have an extremely important post for him next year, one that I would entrust to none of my friends.”

“Permit me to guess that it’s a position that will keep him away from Rome,” I said.

He grinned. “No reason why I can’t accomplish two beneficial acts with one piece of legislation, is there?”

“What’s the post?” I asked, genuinely interested. Everything Clodius did as tribune was likely to affect myself and my family in one way or another.

“Our annexation of Cyprus is coming up. I’m going to give Cato an extraordinary position as
quaestor pro praetore
to oversee the transfer and render a full accounting to the Senate, his authority to last as long as he thinks fit to get the job done.”

“He’s a good choice,” I admitted grudgingly. “The island is strategically important and rich. In the hands of most men that would be a license to loot the place and sow bad will among the natives for a generation to come. Cato is utterly incorruptible; not that it makes him any more likable. He’ll render an honest accounting.”

“My thoughts exactly.”

“I take it you don’t intend any reconciliation with Cicero?

His smile dropped away and the real Clodius flashed through. “Some things are beyond even the demands of political
expediency. I’m going to drive him into exile and I’ve made no secret of the fact.”

“You realize that you’ll be robbing Rome of one of her best political and legal minds, don’t you? Cicero is one of the most capable men of our age.”

Clodius snorted. Maybe he had water up his nose. “Decius, like most of the aristocrats, you’re living in the past. Between the dictatorship of Sulla and the present we’ve had this little revival of the old Republic, but it won’t last. The important figures of our age are the men of action, men like Caesar and Pompey, not lawyers like Cicero.”

“Let’s not forget Crassus,” I said, annoyed at his all-too-accurate assessment of the times. “Men of wealth are of paramount importance, too.”

Clodius shrugged. “When has that not been the case? Even kings are primarily rich men, forget about the blood lineage. But wealthy men who are not also powerful soon lose their wealth to men with many followers and sharp swords. During Sulla’s proscriptions, wealthy men were routinely condemned so their property could be seized.”

“You seem to have all the answers,” I said.

He nodded. “I have.” He stood and his flunkies rushed to bring him towels. “I really must be going, Decius. I have a great deal to accomplish. The transition to the new government is already in process. I will see you this evening at Clodia’s.”

“Is she still living in Celer’s house?” I asked.

“Yes, for the moment. She will be moving back into the Claudian mansion after Saturnalia. It’s more secure.”

I interpreted this to mean that Celer’s will had been read and he had left nothing to Clodia. This meant that the house would probably go to Nepos, who was half-brother to Celer. He was Pompey’s man, and Clodia was aligned with her
brother, who was Caesar’s. This was a not particularly complicated matter of property, family, marriage, and politics, and typical of the times.

When Clodius and his men were gone, Hermes came tiptoeing in.

“Master, I never saw them coming. I’d have warned you, but I looked up and there were those gladiators and Publius Clodius and I …”

“Quite all right, Hermes,” I said, studying the ceiling, rejoicing in the fact that I was breathing. “I rather expected that they had killed you. Clodius does so love his little surprises.”

“I thought I’d find you floating facedown,” he admitted. “I’m glad to see he let you live.”

“Then let us rejoice in our mutual survival.” I almost felt that I could get out of the bath without my knees wobbling too disgracefully. I had never been reluctant to fight Clodius one-to-one, or each of us with his own followers behind him, armed or unarmed. We’d had it out in the streets more than once, and I did not fear him on anything like an even footing. But there is something unmanning about being caught by your deadliest enemy when you are alone, hugely outnumbered, cornered without means of escape, and stark naked to boot. From a proud and pugnacious Roman, I had become something resembling a jellyfish.

“What’s happened?” Hermes asked.

“Well, how shall I explain?” I studied the ceiling some more. “The good part is, we are safe in the streets for a while. Clodius has called off his dogs. The bad part is, he, too, wants me to investigate Celer’s death, but only because he wants me to clear Clodia of guilt. I fear a certain conflict here.”

Hermes didn’t take long to figure out the problem. A
slave always knows exactly where the danger is coming from.

“Prove her innocent and you alienate your family,” he said. “Prove her guilty and Clodius will kill you.”

“That is how I read it,” I affirmed. “Of course, Clodius plans to kill me anyway, no matter what I do. It’s not as if a threat from him was anything new. And my family at least won’t have me killed. I can, however, look forward to spending the rest of my life draining the swamps on the worst of the family estates.”

“You could throw your support to Pompey,” said Hermes. He was learning fast.

“No, I can’t. I won’t back Pompey or Caesar or Crassus. I am a Republican.”

“Don’t they all claim that?” His grasp of reality was improving.

“Of course they do. But they are lying and I am not. Sulla claimed that he was restoring the Republic, and he proved it by murdering half the Senate and then making his supporters senators whether they’d served in office or not. Pompey was made consul without having ever served in elective office, against all constitutional law and precedent! And Caesar is the worst of the lot because nobody knows what he is up to, except that he intends to be dictator!”

“You know,” Hermes said, “your voice sounds really good in here, the way it echoes off the walls, I mean.”

“Bring my towel,” I told him. Wearily, I climbed from the hot bath and made my way to the massage tables.

An hour later, dressed, massaged, rubbed down with fresh oil, and over my second fright of the day, I felt ready to resume my activities. Life in Rome was nothing if not stimulating. I was already wondering what Clodia would have for dinner.

I
STILL HAD A FEW HOURS BE
fore going to Celer’s house. Clodia, I recalled, liked to start dinner late. This was regarded as scandalous, which was probably why she did it. That gave me time to make another essential call.

Milo’s house, or rather fort, was located in a tenement warren that made it difficult to attack directly. He had planned it that way. He had once told me that a house fronting on a public square is imposing, but it gives your enemies plenty of space to run and build up momentum with a battering ram. It was because of such foresight that Milo had risen to the prestige and dignity of Rome’s most prominent gangster. Always with the possible exception of Clodius.

At that time Milo was allied with Cicero. As Cicero’s star was descending, Milo’s preeminence was likewise fading. It was one of the many ironies of the political and social scene that the aristocrats were championed by Cicero, a
novus homo
from Arpinum, whose favored gang leader was Milo, a nobody from nowhere, while the representatives of the common people were Caesar and Clodius, both of them patricians from incredibly ancient and prestigious families.

The guard at the gate was, as usual, Berbix. He was an ex-gladiator of Gallic origin, who was well known in Roman courts. He had uncommonly good eyesight, making him especially apt for spotting Clodius supporters at a distance and concealed weapons closer up.

“Welcome back, Senator,” he said, favoring me with a gap-toothed grin. I was beginning to wish people could find something more original to say.

“Is Milo in?” I asked.

“He always is, except when he’s in the Forum,” Berbix answered. “His door’s always open to any who want to see him. Go on in.” He ignored the dagger beneath my tunic. I was one of the few men who were allowed into Milo’s presence armed. Not that anyone, with or without weapons, presented much threat to Titus Annius Milo Papianus.

This accessibility of his was part calculated political wisdom and partly the fact that he wanted people to think of him as a tribune. By ancient custom, the doors of the Tribunes of the People were to be open at all times. Milo felt that political power grew from close contact with the citizens, not hobnobbing with senators. He was always ready to do people favors. Then, of course, they were expected to do favors for him.

I found him sitting at a small table with another man, a hard-faced character in a senator’s tunic who looked somewhat familiar. The two of them were going over scrolls that seemed to contain lists of names. Milo looked up at my approach and a huge grin spread over his face.