Catilina's Riddle (35 page)

"Cicero is obsessed with the idea that blood will be spilled on election day," shouted Catilina, "only because he fears it will be his own." "And do you deny that
I
have every reason to fear?" said Cicero.

Did I see his eyebrows go up, or was it the posturing of his whole body that expressed such eloquent irony? "I have asked you already about the reports that have come to us that you are conspiring against the person of the consul—"

"And I have roundly denied them, and I ask you again: what reports, and from what sources?"

"You are the one who is here to answer questions, Catilina!"

"I am not on trial!"

"You mean to say that you have not been formally charged with a crime, but only because you have not yet had the opportunity to commit it." This brought on another uproar.

Above the din, Cicero shouted: "And that is only because of the vigilance of your intended victim!" He crossed his arms and drew back his shoulders, wrapping himself in his toga as if to wrap himself in virtue, then seized the folds of cloth about his neck and drew them down to expose the glittering breastplate.

This provoked an even more raucous uproar. A group of the senators surrounding Catilina, presumably his allies, rose to their feet, some laughing, some shaking their fists and jeering. Instead of retreating, Cicero actually stepped toward them, baring more of his breastplate. Such brazenness only provoked an even louder uproar.

"This is worse than the mob in the Forum," I whispered to Rufus. "I've never seen it quite so chaotic," he murmured. "Even in the most passionate debates there's always a modicum of order and mutual respect, some humor to leaven the animosities, but today the whole chamber seems on the verge of a riot."

Above the continued shouting of Catilina's supporters Cicero managed to make his voice heard. The power of his lungs was astounding.

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"Do you deny that you have conspired to assassinate members of this august body?"

"Where is your evidence?" Catilina shouted back, barely audible above the roar of his own supporters.

"Do you deny that you have plotted to murder the duly elected consul of the Republic, and to do it on the next consular election day?"

"Again, where is your evidence?"

"Do you, Lucius Sergius Catilina, deny that your ultimate goal is to dismantle the state as we know it, and to do so by whatever means are necessary, no matter how violent or illegal?"

Catilina responded, but his voice was drowned out by his own supporters, giving Cicero, with his trumpetlike voice, the advantage. At last Catilina managed to quiet his own adherents, who returned to their seats. Catilina remained standing. "With all due respect, the esteemed consul's accusations are deranged! He frets over the safety of the Republic like a mother afraid to let her child leave the house. Is the Republic so delicate that an honest election might kill it? Is he himself so vital to the state, is his insight so unique, that we would become blind men without him? Ah, yes, Cicero sees things that other men do not—but I ask you, is that good or bad?" This provoked some scattered laughter, and with it a marked lessening of tension. "Contrary to what this New Man may think, the history of this Republic did not begin and will not end with his consulship." At this there was more laughter and even some cheering.

Catilina smiled bitterly. "It is not I who seek to thwart the will of the people, Cicero, but you!" At this there were catcalls and booing from the opposite side of the chamber. "Yes, for who else but Cicero is determined to keep postponing the election? And why? Because he fears for his own life? This is absurd! If a man had cause to kill our esteemed consul, why wait until election day?"

"To spread chaos," Cicero answered. "To frighten decent voters from the polls so that your own adherents can steal the election."

"Absurd, I say! The true theft is occurring beneath our noses, and at the consul's behest, for by making the date of the election uncertain you disenfranchise those who must travel here to vote and cannot take up lodgings indefinitely in the city. The election has already been postponed once. Do not postpone it any further!"

"The election was postponed because of the auspices," said Cicero.

"The earth quaked, thunderbolts creased the sky—" At this there were scattered moans and jeers, presumably from skeptics, followed by a second wave of jeering from the pious who hissed at the doubters.

"Typically, Cicero, you change the subject, hoping to divert our attention from the real issue! The first postponement is over and done

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with. The auspices now are favorable. You have no religious reason to deny the election any longer." At this, even some of the senators who had so far been silent murmured agreement and nodded gravely.

"Come, Cicero, you have debated long enough," cried one of the older senators. This cry was taken up by many others. Cicero stepped back and surveyed the tiers, as if assessing his strength. He appeared dissatisfied, but as the calls grew louder for the debate to end, he stepped back and gestured to his fellow consul, Gaius Antonius, who commenced the reading of a proposal to postpone again the consular election and to censure Catilina for "disrupting the state." Those in favor were instructed to take seats on the left-hand side of the room; those against were to gather on the opposite side, where Catilina and his supporters already sat.

At this point Rufus left us to join his fellow senators in opposition to the proposal. I noticed that Marcus Mummius was of the same faction, as were Caesar and Crassus and their adherents. When all were settled, even without a strict counting it was clear that Cicero had been thwarted and the election would proceed. Gaius Antonius announced the result and summarily dismissed the assembly.

A murmur of conversation filled the chamber, above which could be heard Cicero's trumpeting voice: "On the morrow we shall see who spoke wisdom. I foresee dangerous times for this Republic!"

"What eyes you have, Cicero, to see so much more than the rest of us!" called Catilina.

Many of the milling senators stopped their conversations to listen.

They might not have had enough of their two colleagues' debate, but I had. I gestured to Meto and Eco that it was time to go, before we were caught loitering in the chamber without Rufus to vouch for us. We slipped through the half-open door by which we had entered. Catilina's voice echoed behind us. "And do you know what I see, Cicero? Do you know what my eyes perceive when I study this Republic? I see two bodies—"

I stopped, suddenly alert, and turned back to listen. Meto was puzzled, but I saw in Eco's eyes that he, too, had heard.

Catilina's voice was echoey and distorted, like a voice from a dream.

"I see two bodies, one thin and wasted, but with a swollen head, the other headless, but big and strong. The invalid with a head leads the big headless one about like an animal on a chain. Ask yourself, what is there so dreadful about it, if I myself become the head of the body which needs one? The story would be quite different then!"

Told in context, the meaning of the riddle was clear. I sucked in my breath at Catilina's audacity. Having had his way on proceeding with the election, now he dared to mock not only Cicero but the Senate itself, and in its very house. For what could the withered body with a

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swollen head represent but the Senate? And what was the strong, headless body but the leaderless masses, of whom Catilina proposed to become the head, and whose discontent he would harness toward his own ends? Eco also understood. "The man must be mad," he said.

"Or very sure of his success," I said.

"Or both," said Meto gravely.

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C H A P T E R T W E N T Y - O N E

fter the Senate dispersed, the space in front of the Senate House became almost impassable as the various senators'

A retinues regrouped around their leaders. I had no desire to press into the throng to make our way through the Forum.

Instead we retreated into the maze of narrow, winding side streets just north of the Forum until we emerged at the place where we had left the women.

No excuses for the length of our absence were needed, for Bethesda herself had just returned from shopping at the various markets all around the Forum. For Diana she had purchased a clay doll with eyes of green glass, for Menenia a blue and yellow scarf, and for herself a small ivory comb. I groaned inwardly at these small extravagances, thinking of all the hay that had been lost to rust and wondering how I would manage the finances of the farm through the winter. But how could I deny Bethesda the pleasure of an afternoon of shopping when she had been away from such opportunities for so long?

The litters carried us back to the house on the Esquiline, where Eco dismissed the bearers. Our dinner that night was eaten in formal courses, on couches gathered in the dining room beside the garden.

Only the family was there. The women wore their stolas, and we men kept on our togas. Meto was given the place of honor. He had never reclined upon a couch and eaten a meal in formal dress, but he managed with hardly any awkwardness and did not spill a drop of wine on his toga. The conversation was chiefly of family matters—Menenia's and Eco's refurbishment of the house, how things were faring on the farm, Eco's relations with his in-laws. There was some discussion of the augury

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that afternoon, which we all agreed was uncommonly auspicious—all except Bethesda, who has always professed to find Roman religion simplistic compared to her own Egyptian sensibilities. Graciously, she did not criticize the ceremony; her only comment on the appearance of the eagle at the Auguraculum was to ask if it had any human features.

Menenia, equally gracious, hid her smile behind a papyrus fan.

There was no talk of Cicero or Catilina, no mention of elections or of bodies without heads. For this I was glad.

After the rest of the household went to bed, I was wakeful and restless and went to the garden instead. The yellow canopy had been removed and the garden was filled with bright moonlight. I listened to the soft splashing of the fountain and studied the broken moon and wavering stars reflected in the black water. The moonlight turned the hard paving stones to shimmering silver and seemed to cover the flowers with a soft coating of gray ash.

How many nights had I found peace and escape from the cares of the city in this garden? In a way I felt as far from the turmoil of the Forum in this place as I did at the farm in Etruria; in some ways I felt even safer and more removed. I sat on a stone bench beside the fountain and leaned against a pillar. I gazed up at the moon and the dome of stars all around it.

I heard the sound of bare feet from the portico, so familiar that I did not have to look. "Meto," I said quietly.

"Papa." He stepped into the garden. His toga had been put away, and he wore only a loincloth about his hips. He stepped nearer and I indicated that he should sit beside me, but instead he sat on a bench a few feet away, facing me.

"Can't you sleep, Meto? Or is it too hot?"

"No, it's not the heat." The angle of the moonlight obscured his face, casting his eyes in shadow, glancing off his nose and making his cheeks and lips look as if they were carved from marble.

"The excitement of the day, then," I suggested.

He was silent for a long moment. "Papa, I'm a man now."

"I know, Meto."

"I'm not a boy any longer."

"Yes, Meto, I know."

"Then why do you still treat me like a boy?"

"Because—what do you mean?"

"You hide things from me. You talk behind my back. You tell Eco everything; you share everything with him."

"Because Eco is . . ."

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"Because Eco is a man, and I am a boy."

"No, Meto, it's not that."

"Because Eco was born free and I wasn't"

"Not that, either," I said, wearily shaking my head.

"But
I
am
a man, Papa. The law says so, and so do the gods. Why don't you believe it?"

I looked at his smooth, unblemished cheeks, the color of white roses in the moonlight, which the barber had shaved for the first time that day. I looked at his slender arms and narrow chest, as smooth and hairless as a girl's. But his arms were not really as slender as I had thought; in a year's time the work of the farm had put some muscle into them.

Nor was his chest any longer the flat, narrow chest of a child; it had begun to broaden and take shape. The moonlight clearly etched the square prominence of his pectorals and the ridges of his belly. His legs were still long for his body, but they were not spindly; his calves and thighs were hard with muscle.

When had this happened? It was as if I gazed at a stranger beneath the moonlight, or as if the moon itself had transformed him in that moment before my eyes.

"You treat me like a child, Papa. You know this is true. This whole matter of not wanting me to go inside the Senate House—"

"That had nothing to do with you, Meto. It was my own aversion." "But what about the body we found in the stables? You treated me the same way you treated Diana."

"I did not. I sent her away, but to you I showed what one could learn from observing the corpse—although, as I remember, you were almost too squeamish to look."

"But I did look! And I'm not talking about letting me study the body with you. I'm talking about afterward, when you began to brood over it. You never confided in me. You sent for Eco to come all the way from Rome so that you could share your thoughts with him."

"I didn't send for Eco."

"That's not what he says."

"Oh, I see, the two of you have been talking behind my back."

"Confiding in each other, Papa, as brothers should. And as I wish you would confide in me. Because I am a man now. Because you need me, to help protect you and Mother and Diana—"

"Protect
me?"
The image of the little boy I met in Baiae protecting me from some hulking assassin was so absurd that I shook my head. It was my duty to protect
him,
as I always had. Of course, he was not really so little anymore. But I was still stronger than he was, at least I thought so, though he might be faster, and his stamina might be greater than mine.