A Mist of Prophecies

IX

The fourth time I saw Cassandra was on the day Marcus Caelius made his boldest-and last-appearance in the Forum.

Obedient to Bethesda's wishes-and leery myself of the violence that had been erupting-I avoided going to the Forum for almost a month following the riot that broke out after the consul Isauricus broke Caelius's chair of state. I whiled away the month of Aprilis in my garden, worrying over the ever-increasing debts I owed to Volumnius the banker, unable to see a way to continue feeding my family without going even further into debt.

All my life I had avoided becoming a debtor. I had even managed to accumulate a modest amount of savings, which I had deposited for security with Volumnius. He was a banker with an excellent reputation, trusted by everyone from Cicero to Caesar. But with the war had come shortages, and with shortages had come outlandish prices, even for the most basic staples of life. I had seen the savings of a lifetime devoured by butchers and bakers in a matter of months. Volumnius-or rather his agents, for I never dealt with the man directly-saw my deposits dwindle to nothing, then offered to extend credit. What could I do but accept? I fell into the trap and learned what every debtor knows: a debt is like a baby, for it begins small but rapidly grows, and the bigger it gets, the louder it cries out to be fed.

Brooding in my garden, I reluctantly admitted to myself that I missed the jabbering of the chin-waggers down in the Forum. Opinionated old fools they might be, but at least their complaints took my mind off my own problems; and every now and then one of them actually said something intelligent. I missed reading the Daily Acts posted in the Forum, with the latest news of Caesar's movements, even if I knew that nothing in such notices was to be entirely trusted since they were dictated by the consul Isauricus. To be sure, Davus and Hieronymus still made forays down to the Forum and always bought back the latest gossip, but there was something stale and unnourishing about such third-hand information. I was a Roman citizen, and the public life of the Forum was part of the very fabric of my existence.

One afternoon I could no longer stand my idleness and isolation. Bethesda, Diana, and Davus had gone to the markets to spend my latest loan from Volumnius. Hieronymus was in my study perusing a very old volume of The Punic War by Naevius that Cicero had given me as a gift many years ago; it was the most valuable scroll I owned, and so far I had resisted selling it, since I couldn't hope to get anything approaching its true value. Bored and restless, on a whim I did something I had not done in a very long time. I left my house unaccompanied, taking not even Mopsus or Androcles with me.

Later I would question my motive for leaving the house alone that day. Did I not know, in some corner of my mind, exactly where my feet were taking me when I set out? I decided to avoid the Forum, so I crossed the Palatine Hill and descended on the east side, wandering past the Senian Baths, wending my way through increasingly narrower streets as I entered the neighborhood of the Subura.

If someone had asked me where I was headed, I couldn't have said. I was simply out for a walk, enjoying the weather, trying for a while to forget my troubles. Yet every step brought me closer. It was the barking of the Molossian mastiff chained beside the front door that startled me to my senses. I stopped and stared dumbly at the beast, then confronted the red-washed facade of the shabby tenement where Cassandra lived.

I stepped toward the doorway. The dog stopped barking. Did the beast recognize me? Did he remember that I had visited the building a month before, when I was carried in, unconscious, by Rupa, and then a little later was escorted out by him? The dog made no objection when I stepped through the doorway. He looked up at me and wagged his tail.

I was at once surrounded by a familiar mix of odors-boiled cabbage, urine, unwashed humanity. My memory was poorer than the mastiff's; I wasn't sure which doorway opened into Cassandra's room. Each doorway was covered by a ragged curtain to afford a degree of privacy. One of the curtains, a faded blue, looked vaguely familiar. I stood before it for a long moment, listening, but heard nothing from within. I might have called her name, but somehow I knew the room was empty. I lifted the curtain and stepped inside.

It was just as I recalled. The floor was packed earth. A high, narrow window afforded a view of the yellow building next door and a bit of sky; from nearby came the sound of clanging metal from the Street of Copper Pots. The only furnishings were a crudely made folding chair and a threadbare pallet strewn with equally threadbare pillows. A few thin coverlets were neatly folded on the pallet. Next to the coverlets was a curious object: a short baton made of leather. I picked it up. Imbedded in the surface I saw the impression of human teeth. If I were to give it a name, I would have called the thing a biting stick. I put it back where I had found it.

The walls were bare. There was no box or pouch for keeping coins or trinkets. There was not even a lamp to light the room at night. Cassandra had no need to fear leaving the room unattended. There was nothing here to steal.

I heard a noise and turned to see her standing in the doorway. She stared at me and let the curtain drop behind her.

Her hair was slightly damp. Her cheeks were red from scrubbing. I realized she must have just returned from a visit to the public baths. In Rome, even beggars can enjoy the luxury of a hot bath for the price of a few coins.

There was no surprise on her face. She looked almost as if she had been expecting me. Perhaps, I thought, she does possess some sort of second sight.

"Snooping?" she said. "There's not much to see. If you'd like, I can tie back the curtain to let in a bit more light."

"No, that won't be necessary." I stepped away from the pallet to the center of the room. "Forgive me. I didn't mean to snoop. Force of habit, I suppose."

"Did someone send you here?" She didn't sound angry, merely curious.

"No."

"Then why did you come?"

I don't know, I was about to say, but that would have been a lie. "I came to see you."

She nodded slowly. "In that case, I'll leave the curtain over the doorway. That will give us a little privacy. Most of the tenants are out of the building at this hour anyway, scavenging for something to eat." She crossed her arms. "Are you sure you weren't spying on me? Isn't that what people pay you to do? Isn't that why they call you the Finder?"

"I don't recall telling you that."

"No? Someone else must have told me."

"Who?"

She shrugged. "What was it you said to me last time? 'You're not entirely unknown in the Forum.' Neither are you, Gordianus. People know you by sight. They know your reputation. Perhaps I was a little curious about you after having you here in my room. Perhaps I asked a few questions here and there. I know quite a few things about you, Gordianus the Finder. I think that you and I are very much alike."

I laughed. "Are we?" Staring into her blue eyes, acutely aware of her youth and her beauty, I could hardly imagine anyone with whom I had less in common.

"We are. You seek the truth; the truth seeks me out. In the end we both find it, only in different ways. We each have a special gift. That gift wasn't something we chose; it chose us. The gift is ours whether we want it or not, and we must do with it what we can. A gift can also be a curse."

"I'm not sure I understand. People say that you have the gift of prophecy, but what's my gift?"

She smiled. "Something far more valuable, I should think. I'm told that people feel compelled to confide in you, to tell you secrets, even when they shouldn't. Something in you draws the truth out of them. I should think that must be a very powerful gift indeed. Has it not provided all that you've gained in life? Your fortune, your family, the respect of powerful men?"

"My fortune, such as it was, has been swallowed up by a certain greedy banker. My family has been torn apart. As for the respect of powerful men, I'm not sure what that's worth. If you can show me a way to eat it, I'll prepare it for dinner and invite you to take the first portion."

"You sound bitter, Gordianus."

"No. Just weary."

"Perhaps you need to rest." She drew closer. Her freshly washed body smelled slightly of the jasmine perfume used to scent the cold plunge at the women's baths. Bethesda sometimes returned home from the baths carrying the same scent. Cassandra's hand brushed against mine.

"Where is Rupa?" I lowered my voice, for she had drawn very close.

She answered in a whisper. "Out scavenging, like everyone else. I don't expect him back anytime soon."

Many thoughts crossed my mind at once. I thought of the foolishness of men, especially men of my age, when they confront a beautiful young woman. I considered the implications of taking advantage of a woman subject to fits of insanity. I stared into Cassandra's eyes searching for some sign of madness there, but saw only a flame that drew me like a moth.

I put my hands on her shoulders. I bent my face to hers. I touched my lips to hers and slid my arms around her. I pressed the slender warmth of her body firmly against mine. I felt an exhilaration, a thrilling sensation of being alive that I had not felt in many years.

Suddenly she broke from the kiss and slipped out of my arms. I cringed and felt my face turn hot. I had miscalculated the moment, after all. I had made a fool of myself-or had she made a fool of me?

Then, with a start, I realized that Rupa had entered the room.

He hadn't seen the kiss. Cassandra, her ears accustomed to the sound of his footsteps in the hall, had heard him coming and had pulled away from me an instant before he stepped through the curtain. Nevertheless, he was agitated about something and signaling frantically with his hands. Just as I had been able to interpret the signs Eco had used in the years when he was mute, so Cassandra could understand what Rupa was trying to tell her.

"Something's happening in the Forum," she said.

"Isn't there always?" I said.

"No, this is different. Something important. Something big. I think it has to do with that magistrate who's been stirring up trouble."

"Marcus Caelius?" I looked at Rupa, who answered with an exaggerated nod. Then he made the universal sign of a hand drawn like a blade across his throat.

"Caelius is dead?" I said, alarmed.

Rupa waved his hand. "Not yet," Cassandra interpreted, "but perhaps very soon."

Rupa seized her hand and led her out. Even then, confused as I was by the sudden turn of events, I wondered why a humble beggar like Cassandra should be so interested in the fortunes of a politician like Caelius. On both of the two previous occasions when Caelius had caused chaos in the Forum, she had been there. Was that due to simple coincidence?

I had no time to wonder, for I was caught up in the rush to the Forum, following after Rupa and Cassandra.

The closer we drew to the Forum, the more crowded the street became. As Rupa had promised, something very big was taking place, stirring excitement and attracting people from all over the city. News spreads quicker than fire in Rome, from rooftop to rooftop and window to window. People came rushing out of buildings and side streets to join the crush, like rivulets flowing into a river.

Where it emptied into the Forum, the street became completely jammed. People continued to rush up behind us, making it impossible to either advance or retreat. I felt a prickle of fear. If violence were to break out anywhere in the crowd, there could be a panic and perhaps a stampede. I cursed my bad fortune. For a month I had stayed away from the Forum, fearing just such a predicament. On the one day I chose to go out, I found myself quite literally in the thick of it.

But along with fear, I felt another kind of thrill, far more pleasant. Partly it came from the simple excitement of being in a crowd, but mostly it came from my proximity to Cassandra. I found myself pressed very close to her, feeling the heat of her body, smelling the scent of jasmine on her skin. She turned to look at me, and in her eyes I saw a mirror of the same fear and excitement I was feeling.

I looked around and saw a narrow alley leading off to one side. A few people were emerging from the alley, trying to join the crowd, but no one was entering it. The north side of the Forum is a warren of winding little streets that take unpredictable turns or lead to dead ends. I wrinkled my brow and tried to remember where that particular alley led.

"Come!" I said. "Follow me."

Rupa hung back, frowning, but Cassandra took his hand and pulled him along. I plowed a course through the crush of people, jostling elbows and stepping on toes, until at last we came to the alley and stepped free of the crowd.

"Are you feeling unwell, Gordianus?" said Cassandra.

I laughed. "Is that why you think I wanted to escape that crush? I don't faint every time I'm in a crowd." Though it would be worth it, I thought, if every time I could wake to see your face above me.

I led them down the alley, which twisted and turned like a serpent so that it was impossible to see very far ahead, especially when the walls on either side narrowed until I could reach out and touch both at once. The alley branched, and I had to pause to remember which way to take. Rupa grew increasingly dubious, shaking his head and making signs to Cassandra that they should turn back. I could see that she was wavering, no longer sure whether to trust me or not.

The alley came to a dead end. The walls on either side were solid brick. In the wall facing us, a narrow door was recessed in the stonework. Rupa gave a snort and tugged at Cassandra's arm.

"Wait!" I said. I knocked on the door. There was no response. I knocked again, harder. Finally a peephole opened, and a rheumy eye stared out.

"Gordianus!" I heard my name through the thick wood of the door. A moment later it slowly opened on creaking hinges to reveal the stooped figure of an elderly man leaning on a crutch. We had arrived at the back door of the shop owned by my old acquaintance Didius. The shop fronted on the Forum's north side. Didius sold various goods required by the army of clerks who worked in nearby temples and state offices-handles and twine for assembling scrolls, Egyptian parchment and inks, styluses and wax tablets, and other book making and record-keeping paraphernalia. He also specialized in copying documents; the work was performed by a small staff of scribes who labored day and night. Some of the documents that passed through his shop contained sensitive information, and Didius's profession often made him privy to more secrets than many of his customers realized. I had found him a useful man to know over the years.

"Gordianus!" he cried. "I haven't see you in months. Not since you last came in with that copy of Pindar that had some water damage and needed a bit of repair."

"Has it been that long? Didius, these are-" I hesitated. What should I call them? "Two friends," I finally said, "Cassandra and Rupa. We're looking to pass through your shop into the Forum."

"Oh, no," said Didius. "Too crowded out there. Too crazy! I've shut the doors and barred them. But if you want to watch, you're welcome to come up to the roof, along with everyone else."

"Everyone else?"

"All my staff. They can't possibly work with this madness going on. And from the roof there's an excellent view of Caelius and Trebonius and their tribunals, or so I'm told. My eyes are too weak to see that far. Come, I'll show you. Hurry along! Who knows what may happen in the next few moments?"

He led us through a storage room and into his shop. The doors and windows were barred, casting the room into darkness. A ladder in the corner led to an upper story. Didius put aside his crutch and led the way. He hobbled a bit, but was surprisingly spry. We emerged in the room where the scribes worked; after the dimness below, the bright light from the tall windows hurt my eyes. I breathed in the smell of fresh parchment and ink.

Didius ascended another ladder. I followed, with Cassandra and Rupa behind me. Through the opening above I could see a patch of sky.

One of the slaves on the rooftop saw Didius hobbling up the ladder and reached down to help him. As we emerged onto the roof, the scribes crowded along the low parapet made way for their master and his guests. As Didius had promised, we had an excellent view of the rival tribunals in the Forum below.

"I see Caelius," I said, "but where's Trebonius? His tribunal's completely empty-no lictors, no clerks… no Trebonius."

"Must have run off," quipped Didius. "I'm not surprised. Caelius's rhetoric against him was scalding hot. He was practically daring the crowd to pull Trebonius off his tribunal and tear him limb from limb. Probably Trebonius had the good sense to beat a hasty retreat while he still could."

I looked down at the massive, seething crowd that surrounded Caelius, who was orating and gesticulating wildly. Above the noise of the mob, I couldn't make out what he was saying.

"What's he going on about?" I asked Didius.

"He's gone the distance."

"What do you mean?"

"Caelius has made his ultimate gambit, or so I should think. It's hard to imagine how he could go any further to pander to the mob. It's because he's about to be arrested. Why hold back?"

"Arrested? How do you know that?"

"I know because yesterday the consul Isauricus came here and asked me to draw up several copies of the Ultimate Decree. That would normally be done by scribes attached to the Senate House, but I suppose Isauricus wanted so many copies drawn up in so short a time that he brought part of the job to me."

"A sensitive commission."

"So Isauricus warned me. I named a steep price and told him I'd keep my mouth shut."

The Ultimate Decree had been invoked by the Senate on only a handful of occasions in my lifetime. It declared a state of emergency and empowered the consuls to use any means necessary to protect the state from immediate danger. Cicero had convinced the Senate to invoke it against Catilina and his so-called conspirators and had used it to justify the execution of unarmed prisoners (one of them being Marc Antony's stepfather-yet another reason for Antony's long-standing hatred of Cicero). More recently Pompey and his faction had invoked the Ultimate Decree against Caesar, goading him to cross the Rubicon. Why would Isauricus want copies of the Ultimate Decree drawn up unless he planned to invoke it? And against whom might he wish to declare it, except Marcus Caelius?

I looked at Didius. "And did you?"

"Did I what?"

"Did you keep your mouth shut?"

Didius cast a glance at Cassandra and Rupa. They were both staring raptly at the spectacle below, but he lowered his voice nonetheless. He shrugged and pointed toward Caelius. "What can I say? I've always liked Caelius. He's commissioned a lot of books from me over the years! Likes to give them to friends as gifts. Slim scrolls of erotic poetry, that sort of thing; impeccable taste. I don't always like his politics, but I like him. This latest campaign of his, carrying on against the bankers and landlords-it's all so much wind, if you ask me. Nothing will come of it, but I still admire his spirit. So I decided to do him a favor. Whispered a discreet word in the right ear. Caelius got the message. I thought we'd all wake today to the news that he had fled the city, but there you see him. I suppose he thinks he can somehow use the moment to his advantage. Maybe he's being clever; but if you ask me, he's cutting it awfully close. You can't say he lacks nerve! But we shall see if he's still alive come nightfall."

"A moment ago you said Caelius had gone the distance. What did you mean?"

"He's talking about new legislation again. No more half measures, he says. The time has come for immediate and complete abolition of all debts. Wipe the ledgers clean! Start over fresh! Can you imagine the chaos that would cause? But there's no shortage of people who like the idea. Look at them out there, swirling around Caelius and chanting his name so loudly you can't even hear him speak. The mob loves him-the way they used to love Clodius and, before him, Catilina."

"And Caesar, not so long ago," I said.

Didius shook his head. "People fear Caesar. But does anyone really love him except his soldiers? Mind you, I don't fault Caesar for refusing to pander to the rabble. A demagogue like Caelius can promise everyone the moon, but if he suddenly found himself really in charge of things, with a treasury to fill and a war to wage and a grain dole to hand out, he'd change his tune overnight."

I nodded toward the crowd below. "What are we seeing down there, Didius? Has Isauricus announced the Ultimate Decree against Caelius?"

"Not yet. The Senate's debating it now. There may be an announcement at any moment. I think Isauricus hoped it would be a surprise so they could take Caelius with no trouble. But now the word's out, and it's too late for that."

"Why today? What prompted Isauricus to take action? Did he know that Caelius was about to announce this plan to abolish debts?"

"Who knows which player blinked first and made the other jump? Something like this was bound to happen; the struggle between Caelius and the other magistrates has been building for months. If you ask me, I think Isauricus is acting now because he happens to have some troops available to him. They arrived outside Rome a few days ago on their way to join Caesar. Isauricus persuaded them to stay for a while. With those troops on hand, he has the muscle to use against Caelius if he needs it, so now's the time for Isauricus to bite a stick and pull out the thorn in his side. If the Senate passes the Ultimate Decree-and who can doubt they will? — Caelius has only a few more hours of freedom, maybe only a few more minutes, so he's cast his final throw of the dice. He's counting on this wild promise of debt abolition to be his Venus Throw, the one play that could turn the game in his favor."

Listening to Didius, I felt the little thrill a man gets when he lets himself imagine that the impossible might actually take place. What if Caelius did succeed in sparking a revolution against Isauricus and Trebonius and the other magistrates left in place by Caesar? What if he upset everyone's expectations by making himself-not Pompey, not Caesar-the new master of Rome? What if a single man, channeling the fury of the Roman mob, could abruptly turn the world upside down, sweeping the rich out of their houses and lifting the poor up in their stead? To do that, eventually Caelius would have to win some legions to his side. It could happen. If Caesar were to be killed and his troops left leaderless, they might be drawn to a charismatic leader with bold ideas, a man like Caelius…

It was all a fantasy, of course, frightening and fascinating to imagine, but ultimately unthinkable. Then I reminded myself that hardly more than a year ago, it had been unthinkable that Caesar would dare to cross the Rubicon and march on Rome like an invading barbarian.

"Look there!" said Didius. "My eyes are weak, Gordianus, but don't I see men coming from the direction of the Senate House?"

"You do indeed, Didius. Armed men, a whole troop of them, scattering the mob before them. And farther back I believe I see a cordon of lictors with Isauricus in their midst." I couldn't tell whether there had been any bloodshed, but the men scattering before the armed troops were screaming and yelling, making such a noise that it carried above the raucous chanting and cheering of the mob around Marcus Caelius. Caelius himself appeared to hear the noise, for I saw him raise his hands for silence. A moment later, all heads turned in the direction of the Senate House. The cries of the fleeing mob echoed about the Forum, along with another noise, for not all those who fled did so passively; some were casting stones at the soldiers, who responded by drawing into tortoise formation with shields locked around them and above their heads. The flying stones pelting the shields made a racket like heavy hail against a roof. The noise heartened the mob around Caelius. They began to chant: "Abolish all debts! Bankrupt the bankers! Abolish all debts! Bankrupt the bankers!"

I looked on, aghast. In Massilia, during the worst of the siege, I had witnessed something similar-citizens casting stones at their own soldiers. For any city to reach such a level of disorder was a terrifying thing. To see it happen in Rome was appalling.

Suddenly I heard a roar of laughter from the crowd around Caelius. He was strutting across the raised platform holding up his chair of state. I squinted, trying to see what they were laughing at. It was the same deliberately plain, modestly ornamented chair Caelius had used before, the one that Isauricus had broken in a rage. The seat had been mended, not with wood, but with leather straps. In a flash I caught Caelius's little joke, which was typically convoluted, cruel, and vulgar. The one anecdote everybody knew about Isauricus had to do with his father's temper, and the fact that Isauricus had received regular beatings with a leather strap when he was a boy. When others needled him about it, Isauricus tried to make a virtue of his father's abuse, saying such discipline had toughened him up. Gave him a tough bottom, people would say behind Isauricus's back. For breaking his chair, Caelius had taken revenge on Isauricus by mending the chair with leather straps-a reminder to everyone of the legendary abuse of Isauricus's father and of the consul's own uncontrolled fit of temper. With Isauricus and a company of armed troops quickly approaching, Caelius, defiant to the last possible moment, was holding up the chair for the crowd's amusement-his way of tweaking his nose at the Ultimate Decree.

Above the roaring laughter and the hail of stones on shields-still distant, but drawing closer by the moment-I heard Caelius's stentorian parting words: "Shame on Caesar's lackeys who dare to call themselves elected magistrates! I give up my office! I give up my chair of state! But I shall return!" With that he hurled his chair of state high in the air. It landed in the midst of the crowd. Men swarmed to claim pieces as a souvenir. They tore the chair apart and snapped leather straps over their heads.

When I looked back at the tribunal, Caelius had vanished.

"But where…?" I whispered.

"Into thin air," said Didius, "like a sorcerer!"

A few moments later the armed troops pushed their way into the crowd around the tribunal. Isauricus arrived, surrounded by his lictors, looking furious.

"Abolish all debts! Bankrupt the bankers!" cried the mob.

Caelius was nowhere to be seen.

I glanced at Cassandra, who was watching the spectacle below as raptly as the rest of us. It seemed to me that I saw a faint, elusive smile on her lips.

A few more stones were thrown, but with Caelius gone, the adoring mob had no reason to stay, and neither did the soldiers who had come to arrest him. The crowd dispersed.

When I looked again for Cassandra, she and Rupa had vanished, leaving as little trace as Marcus Caelius.

I talked for a while longer with Didius, then took my leave. I felt an urge to return to Cassandra's apartment, but for what purpose? By now my family must have noticed my absence and would know about the disruption in the Forum. Bethesda would be worried.

I hurried home, bracing myself for her reception. But when I arrived, a little out of breath from hurrying up the Palatine Hill, it was Diana who greeted me. Her brow was furrowed with worry as I had so often seen her mother's.

"I suppose I'm in a bit of trouble," I said sheepishly. "Your mother-"

"Mother's gone to bed," said Diana, quietly.

"In the middle of the day?"

"She became dizzy while we were in the market. She felt so poorly, she had to come home at once." Diana frowned. "I hope it's nothing serious."

That was the first appearance of Bethesda's lingering illness, which was to cast such a deep shadow over my household in the months to come.