The Sacrilege

Chapter XIII

It was a long wait until nightfall. Several times I went out on my roof and crawled on my belly to peer over the parapet. The deserted street before my house made it easy to spot the shadows lurking in nearby doorways. At least two were visible each time: men in long brown Etruscan robes, with pointed beards.

"Still out there," I said after the last scout. "But people are coming back from the festivities now. We'll have crowded, darkening streets soon, and then I can make my move. Hermes, I want you to go to Milo's house."

"Through those streets?" he squealed.

"Of course not. What Roman boy needs streets when there are perfectly good rooftops? Choose your route carefully, and you can get from here to Milo's without your feet touching ground. There aren't three streets in Rome too wide to jump across. I want you to tell Milo that I need a strong bodyguard to escort me across the city and the lady Julia to her home. This is most serious and there are armed murderers after us. Now, be off with you." Pale-faced, he went up the stairs to do my bidding. For a wretched corpse-robber of a slave, the boy had promise.

Julia sat shaking her head, the picture of despondency. It grieved me to see her so, but my duty to the Senate and People outweighed her loyalty to her uncle.

"Oh, don't feel so bad, Julia," I said. "If I know Caius Julius, he'll get out of this as he does everything else. It's Pompey whose hide I want to nail to the Curia door."

"And what of Crassus?" she said dully.

"He'll buy off his jury. Remember, they haven't really done anything yet. The laws concerning conspiracy, even the treasonous sort, are notoriously vague. Only Cicero could bring a strong prosecution against them, and he won't dare, since he faces exile over his handling of the Catilinarians.

"No, for Caesar and Crassus, the best I can hope for is public ridicule. The picture of them meeting in women's dress will catch the public's fancy like nothing else in history. The comic playwrights will put the scene on every stage in Italy for years to come. But Pompey tried to have me poisoned, and I want him."

"Not to mention his plotting against the state," she said dryly.

I shrugged. "He hasn't a chance. For whatever reason, he's already forgone the opportunity to make himself Dictator by force of arms, when he could easily have done so as recently as last year. Now he wants to play politics, and I must agree with Cicero that he's too stupid and inept politically to accomplish anything that way. If he survives at all, it could only be with Caesar's expertise and Crassus's wealth. Without his army, he couldn't even carry out one trifling little assassination."

"And to what do you attribute your extraordinary good fortune?" she asked.

"Conspirators like to keep their own hands clean by entrusting their dirty work to subordinates. Unworthy or inept subordinates can ruin almost any conspiracy. Pompey wanted me out of the way because he knew that I was the one man in Rome most likely to uncover and expose what he and the others were up to. He wanted to make it look natural, so he opted for poison. He gave the job to Clodius, but among infamous crimes, poisoning is second only to arson, so Clodius farmed it out to Nero. That was no task for an amateur, and Nero bungled it.

"When Clodius came to his senses after his sacrilege, he knew that Nero would try to warn me, so he sent his Etruscan assassins to keep an eye on my house. When Nero showed up, they killed him."

"Why didn't they find the message-tube?" she asked.

"It was the inept-subordinate problem again. Clodius, like the others, is a conspirator of long experience. Such men know that the first rule of conspiracy is never to put anything in writing. It never occurred to him that the little twit would bring me a letter instead of delivering his message personally. He told his goons to kill the boy, but not to search him for an incriminating document."

"And the herb-woman?"

"A bit of track-covering. She knew about the poison; she knew that her dress had been borrowed so that someone could take her place at the Mysteries. That was too much for her to know with an investigation going on, so she was eliminated."

Julia shuddered. "Such ruthless people."

"I assure you, this is a small-scale naughtiness by these men's standards. They routinely depopulate countries to further their aims. Not that I mind kicking the barbarians around a bit when the good of Rome calls for it, but it's not right to make war on people just to give one man's career a boost."

During this time, I had been going over my weapons. My gladius was legionary size, a bit large for concealed carry, but I was no longer concerned with niceties. I assured myself that its edge would still slice a straw without effort and belted it on. I tucked my dagger into its usual place, and this time, just in case, I concealed both caesti instead of my usual one.

"Stay away from the river," Julia warned. "If you should fall in, you're sure to drown, carrying all that metal."

"Thank you for your concern," I said, distracted by my own thoughts.

"I would like to remind you," Julia said, red spots appearing on her cheeks most fetchingly, "that I came here for the express purpose of warning you that your life was in danger, at no little peril to myself. I might add that I am doing my reputation no good by coming, unescorted, to the house of an unmarried man, and staying here until who knows what hour, under the eyes of spies. If I should get back to my uncle's house alive, my grandmother will undoubtedly be waiting like a dragon. She will undoubtedly order me flogged, and believe me, she knows where the family whip is. After that, I shall be exiled to one of those barren little islands in the Aegean to atone for bringing dishonor upon the family name, something that, apparently, no man can do."

"Oh. I do apologize, and I cannot adequately express how grateful I am, and I shall surely set things straight with your father:" This woman had the unerring capacity to make me babble.

"My father?" she all but shrieked. "You are going to talk to my father? It will amaze me if you are still drawing breath by the time you reach the end of the street out there!"

I just knew she was going to burst into tears.

"Oh, never fear. With a few of Milo's bullies behind me, I'm not worried about a few contemptible Etruscans with their little sticking-knives and hammers."

"You idiot!" she yelled, sounding very much like my father. "Clodius knows Milo is your friend. He'll have his whole mob out looking for you. He'll get reinforcements from Pompey if he has to! You are doomed and so am I!" Then she did cry.

"Please try not to get too emotional about this," I pleaded. Then she fell into my arms, bawling. I shall draw the veil of well-bred decency over the events of the next little while, except to say that we lacked the opportunity to get down to anything really serious.

"Master," said Cato a little while later. "Your friend is here."

We went out to find my atrium crowded. Milo was there, big as a house and backed by twenty others just as big and far, far uglier. I made introductions, and he looked Julia over with his usual frankness.

"I've never admired your taste in women before, Decius," he said. "I'm glad to see that you improve with age." Julia stiffened, but he smiled his huge, infectious smile and she joined him. No one could resist Milo when he turned on the charm.

"Come with me, Titus," I said. "We need to talk."

I took him into my study and gave him an abbreviated account of what had transpired and what I had learned. He listened with his usual intense concentration and he read Nero's letter when I got to that part. He had that odd trick of being able to read without speaking the words aloud, something I was never able to master. When he finished he handed the letter back to me, smiling once more.

"You see? I told you she could not be involved."

"And I rejoice with you that the lady Fausta is innocent of wrongdoing. But there is still the little matter of treason."

"Oh, that. Decius, the Senate can look out for itself. But this might be a good opportunity to get rid of Clodius."

"Believe me, I will not stand in your way. I need to accomplish two things: I have to get Julia back to Caesar's house, and I need to present my findings to the Senate."

"The Senate exists as a body only when a meeting is summoned," he pointed out. "The rest of the time, there are about five hundred Senators scattered all over Rome and the empire. There won't be another session called until well after the triumph."

"That's true," I said. "But tomorrow evening, after the great procession, there will be a banquet of the entire Senate in the Temple of Jupiter Capitolinus. I will get up before them and present my case. I intend to see Pompey stripped of his triumphal regalia and disgraced right in front of the statue of Jupiter!"

He shook his head in wonderment. "Decius, if you can accomplish all that with a lot of talk and an unsigned letter from an obscure boy, you'll be the greatest Roman who ever lived. But I'll back you, whatever you want to do."

"That's all I ask," I said.

"Where do we start?" he asked.

"We take Julia home."

Rarely has a patrician lady been escorted home in quite the way Julia was that night. She and I strolled hand in hand down the middle of some of Rome's most disreputable thoroughfares. The moonlight was bright and sounds of revelry came from all around as Rome celebrated a triumphal holiday. There were other sounds as well. We were closely surrounded by a tight-packed crowd of Milo's thugs, and from its periphery came strangled yells, the sound of blows, the clink of metal striking metal and the unmistakable wood-cracking sound of Milo's bronzelike palms slapping somebody. Sometimes the cobbles we walked over were a little slippery, but we made it to the Forum and the house of the Pontifex Maximus.

I told the janitor to fetch the master and he went off.

The person who appeared was not Caius Julius, though. It was his mother. She glared with astonishment, first at Julia, then at the men with her. Milo and I were among Rome's more presentable young men, but the same could not be said of his feral-looking followers.

"My son, the distinguished Pontifex Maximus, is at the Temple of Jupiter Capitolinus, preparing the triumphal rites. I am his mother."

I bowed. "All Rome knows the august patrician matron Aurelia."

"I do not know you, but you have the look of gens Caecilia. Since you are wellborn and a Senator, I will allow you the opportunity to explain how you happen to be with my granddaughter, who has been missing from this house most of the day."

"The lady has assisted me with certain services on behalf of the Republic which have unavoidably detained her. As you can see, I have been careful to provide the lady with a proper escort." The thugs grinned and nodded, a sight to frighten demons. "Please inform Caius Julius that these matters involve not only his august self but the glorious Pompey and the wealthy Crassus. I am sure he will inform you that he fully approves of his niece's actions today."

She nodded fractionally. "Very well. I shall take no action against Julia until I have spoken with my sons, both of them. If her honor has been compromised in any fashion, I shall take measures to have the Censors expel you from the Senate for moral turpitude." She nodded toward Julia and, with a sideways glance at me, Julia disappeared into the house.

"I think we have no further business, Senator," she said, and stalked back into the house.

"Come on, Decius," Milo said. "Getting back won't be so easy. There'll be reinforcements now. Come to my house. It's closer and far stronger."

As we walked back across the Forum, somebody behind us said: "Does Caesar's niece have to be above suspicion, too?" and everybody laughed uproariously until we were attacked by a crowd armed with every manner of weapon, some of them carrying torches. An Etruscan, all eyes and teeth and pointed beard, came for me with a knife in one hand and a hammer in the other. I had me great satisfaction of cutting him down with my sword. The knife-and-hammer business was only good for killing unprepared men. I picked up the fallen hammer and dropped it inside my tunic.

"That one's for Capito," I said to Milo. "I want two more for Nero and Purpurea."

"They were no friends of yours," he said through his grin.

"They were Romans, and foreigners shouldn't be allowed to kill Romans. I take it very ill of Pompey that he should use his barbarians thus."

We made it to Milo's house with only minor casualties. With the massive door bolted behind us, Milo called for food and bandages and sent sentries up to the roof. With the excitement over, I began to ache in a hundred places. Apprehensively, I opened my tunic and examined my cut. So excellent was Asklepiodes's sewing that I had not sprung a single stitch, and only a bit of blood oozed from the wound's edges.

"Decius," Milo said, "eat something, have a little wine and get some sleep. I'm not sure how you propose to survive until tomorrow night even with my help. I can ask a great deal of my men, but even I can't demand that free men miss a triumph just to preserve the hide of Rome's maddest Senator."

This was odd phrasing, but in later conversation with Milo's men I learned that I was, indeed, gaining this reputation for eccentricity. They regarded me as a sort of mascot, rather as soldiers in foreign parts will adopt some exotic beast and invest it with spurious, luck-bestowing qualities. I thought it rather presumptuous that such lowborn scum should regard a noble Senator thus, but it is always a good idea to stay on fine terms with men like those.

I did as Milo suggested. I ate well, had just a little wine, then went to one of his guest rooms and slept gloriously. I would wager that I slept better that night than Pompey, Caesar, Crassus or Clodius.