The Venus Throw

Chapter Eleven

I remember something you used to tell me, Papa, when I was starting out on my own: 'Never accept a commission without obtaining

some sort of retainer, no matter how small.' " Eco cocked his head and gave me a penetrating look. "What is your point?" I said.

"Well, when you left Clodia's horti this afternoon, was your purse heavier than when you arrived?" This was his way of asking if I had accepted Clodia's commission to investigate the murder of Dio- how typical of Eco to get directly to the heart of the matter!

Despite the summerlike warmth of the day, darkness had fallen early; it was still the month of Martius, after all. By the time I left Clodia's horti, shortly after her brother's arrival, the sun was already sinking, turning the Tiber into a sheet of flaming gold. It was twilight by the time Belbo and I reached home, trudging back across the bridge, through the shut-down cattle markets and back up the Palatine. Night fell, with a slight chill in the air. After a hurried meal with Bethesda and Diana, despite the tiredness of my legs I again set out with Belbo across the city to take counsel with my elder son.

We sat in the study of the house on the Esquiline Hill, which had once been my house and my father's before that. Now it belonged to Eco and his brood. His wife Menenia was elsewhere, probably trying to put to bed the squabbling twins, whose high-pitched screams of laughter occasionally rent the cool evening air.

I had just described to Eco my interview with Clodia, up to the arrival of her brother and my departure shortly thereafter.

"When I left the lady's horti," I said, "my purse was substantially heavier."

"So you did accept her commission?" I nodded.

"Then you do believe that Marcus Caelius murdered Dio?" "I didn't say that."

"But you'll be looking for evidence to convict him." "If such evidence exists."

"Clodia's reasons for suspecting him seem to me tenuous, at best," said Eco. "But then, you've begun investigations with less to go on and still managed to dig up the truth."

"Yes. But to be honest, I'm a little uneasy about the whole affair."

"I should think so!"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, Papa, everyone knows that Caelius and Clodia were lovers. And Caelius and Clodius are political allies and drinking partners, or used to be. For that matter, there may have been something more than friendship between the two of them. Or the three of them, I should say."

"You mean the three of them in one bed?"

Eco shrugged. "Don't look surprised. A woman like Clodia-well, you said yourself that there wasn't a piece of furniture in the tent except for her couch."

"So?"

"Papa! You assumed that you were meant to stand. From what I've heard, the woman is more hospitable than that. If there was no chair, only a single couch, perhaps that meant that you were invited to recline."

"Eco!"

"Well, from the dress you say she was wearing-" "I should have been less descriptive."

"You should have taken me along with you. Then I could have seen for myself."

"You're well into your thirties now, son. You should be able to think of something besides sex."

"Menenia never complains." He grinned.

I tried to make a grunt of disapproval, which came out sounding more like a hum of curiosity. Eco had chosen a black-haired beauty not unlike Bethesda for his wife. In how many other ways was she like Be-thesda? I had wondered about this from time to time, in the perfectly natural way that a man of my years ponders the younger generation and their goings-on. Eco and Menenia… naked Clodius and his sister in her transparent gown…

At just that moment, one of the twins let out a scream from elsewhere in the house. I was jolted from my reverie, rudely reminded that physical pleasure can have consequences.

"We stray from the subject," I said. "I told you I felt uneasy about accepting this commission from Clodia, and you said, 'I should think so.' "

"Well, it all seems rather unsavory, don't you think? Perhaps even suspicious. I mean, there's an odd smell to it. Look, Papa, all you really learned about Caelius from your interview with Clodia is that he borrowed some money from an older, richer woman-under false pretenses, to be sure-and failed to repay her. Oh, and that he happens to carry a knife on his person, which is technically illegal inside the city walls but done by most people with any common sense these days. Until very recently these two were lovers, and now she's after evidence to convict him of murder. What are we to make ofthat? Caelius was her brother's confidant, and now the two Clodii accuse him of being a hired assassin for King Ptolemy, or for Pompey, which is the same thing. Why, Clodius is Caelius's landlord-Caelius lives in that apartment just up the street from you."

I shook my head. "Not anymore. Clodius kicked him out." "When?"

"A few days ago. I didn't know about it until today when Clodius told me himself-standing there naked in the tent, dripping wet, nonchalantly discussing his real estate with me. Funny, the gallus and I walked by the place on our way to Clodia's house and when I saw that all the shutters were closed on such a warm day, I thought Caelius must be inside sleeping off a hangover. Instead it turns out that the apartment is empty. Caelius has gone back to live at his father's house on the Quirinal Hill-where he'll undoubtedly stay, until his trial is finished."

"Then they're definitely bringing charges against him?"

"Oh yes, charges have already been filed. But not by Clodius."

"Then by whom?"

"Can you guess?"

Eco shook his head. "Marcus Caelius has too many enemies for me to hazard a guess."

"The charges were filed by the seventeen-year-old son of Lucius Calpurnius Bestia."

Eco laughed and mimed with his outstretched arm. " 'Judges, I do not point the finger of guilt-I point at the guilty finger!' "

"So you know that story?"

"Of course, Papa. Everyone knows about Caelius accusing Bestia of poisoning his wives. I only regret that you and I were gone visiting Meto when that trial took place. I heard about it secondhand from Menenia."

"It was Bethesda who told me about it. Well, it looks as if Bestia may soon exact his revenge on Caelius."

"Has the date for the trial been set?"

"Yes. The charges were actually filed five days ago. Given the customary ten days allowed for the two sides to prepare their arguments, that puts the beginning of the trial only five days from now."

"So soon! You don't have much time."

"Isn't that always the way? They come to us thinking we can pull evidence out of thin air."

Eco cocked his head. "But wait, you're saying the trial will start two days after the Nones of Aprilis. If it goes on for more than a day it would overlap with the opening of the Great Mother festival."

I nodded. "The trial will go on despite the holiday. Lesser courts are suspended during the festival, but not the court for political terrorism.

"Political terrorism? Then it's not a simple murder trial?"

"Hardly. There are four charges against Caelius. The first three accuse him of organizing the attacks on the Alexandrian embassy-the midnight raids in Neapolis, the stoning in Puteoli and the fire at the estate of Palla. I'll take no part in investigating those matters. My only concern is the fourth charge, which relates directly to Dio. It accuses Caelius of attempting to poison Dio at the house of Lucceius."

"What about the actual murder, the stabbing at Coponius's house?"

"Technically, that's also included. But Publius Asicius has already been acquitted, and the prosecution is wary of trying to prove the same case against Caelius. Instead, they want to concentrate on the earlier poisoning attempt. Of course, I'll find out what I can about the stabbing at Coponius's house, as a corroborative detail."

"And to satisfy your own curiosity."

"Of course."

Eco pressed his fingertips together. "A politically charged trial, held during a holiday when Rome will be packed with visitors, with Cicero's estranged protege as the accused and a scandalous woman in the back-ground-this could turn into a spectacle, Papa."

I groaned. "All the more reason for my misgivings. All I need now is for some of Pompey's or King Ptolemy's strong-armers to come banging at my door, warning me to back away from the investigation."

Eco raised an eyebrow. "Do you think that's likely to happen?"

"I hope not. But I have a bad feeling about the whole affair. As you said, there's an odd smell to it. I don't like it."

"Then why not back away? You don't owe Clodia any favors-or do you? Are you telling me everything that happened in her tent today?" He affected an insinuating smile.

"Don't be absurd. I owe the woman nothing but the retainer I left with. But I do feel an obligation."

He nodded.

"To Dio, you mean."

"Yes. I refused him to his face when he asked me for help. Then I talked myself out of going to the trial of Asicius — " "You were sick, Papa."

"Yes, but was I that sick? And then, when Asicius was acquitted, I told myself that was the end of it. But how could it be the end, with no one convicted of the crime? How could Dio be at rest? Still, I managed to shun the obligation I felt, to shove such thoughts to the back of my mind-until yesterday, when the gallus arrived to bring me face to face with my own responsibility. It was Clodia who summoned me, but it wasn't only her."

"Her brother Clodius as well?"

"No, I mean to say that those two are only the agents of something larger. It begins with Dio, but where it ends only time will tell. Some greater power seems determined to pull me into this matter."

"Nemesis?"

"I was thinking of another goddess: Cybele. It was one ofher priests who accompanied Dio to my house, and the same priest who came for me yesterday. Do you think it's only a coincidence that the trial will be held during the Great Mother festival-the celebration consecrated to Cybele? You know, it was one of Clodia's ancestresses who saved the statue of Cybele from being lost in the Tiber when it was brought from the East long ago. Do you sense the link?"

"Papa, you grow more religious as you grow older," said Eco quietly.

"Perhaps. More fearful of the gods, anyway, if not more respectful. Leave them out of it, then. Say that this is merely between myself and the shade of Dio. My sense of obligation runs deeper than my misgivings."

Eco nodded gravely. As usual, he understood me completely. "What do you want from me, Papa?"

"I'm not sure yet. Perhaps nothing. Perhaps only to listen to my doubts, and nod if I say something that remotely makes sense."

He took my hand in his. "Tell me if you need more than that, Papa. Promise me."

"I promise, Eco."

He released me and sat back. From elsewhere in the house I heard one of the twins shrieking. Surely it was time for them to be in bed, I thought. Through the gaps in the shutters I could see that the world outside was dark.

"What does Bethesda think?" said Eco. I smiled. "What makes you think I told her anything?" "You must have told her something when you ate dinner with her tonight."

"Yes — a somewhat expurgated version of my visit to Clodia's horti."

"Ha! Bethesda would have appreciated the detail of the naked bath-ers, I think." Eco laughed.

"Perhaps, but I left them out of it. Just as I left out the description of the dress which seems to have intrigued you so much."

"I think it intrigued you first, Papa. And Clodius's emergence from the river, as naked as a fish from the sea?"

"Omitted-though I did leave in the siblings' embrace."

"And their kiss?"

"And the kiss. Well, I had to give Bethesda some grist for gossip." "And what does she think of the accusation against Marcus Cae-

lius?"

"Bethesda stated quite flatly that it was absurd." "Really?"

'Impossible!' she said. 'Marcus Caelius could never have committed the crime. The woman is defaming him!' I asked her upon what she based her opinion, but the Medusa look was the only answer I got. Bethesda has always had a weakness for our dashing young neighbor. Or ex-neighbor, I should now say."

"She'll miss having him living just up the street."

"We shall all miss the occasional spectacle of watching Caelius stumble out his front door in the middle of the day with tousled hair and bloodshot eyes, or seeing him carouse through the street with a prostitute from the Subura, or hearing his drunk friends recite obscene poetry from his window at night-"

"Papa, stop!" Eco choked with laughter.

"It's no joking matter, I suppose," I said, suddenly grim. "The young man's whole future is at stake. If he's convicted, the best that Marcus Caelius can hope for will be a chance to flee into exile. His family will be shamed, his career ended, all his prospects ruined."

"It hardly seems punishment enough, if he's guilty."

"If he's guilty," I said. "Which it's up to me to find out."

"And if you find that he's not guilty?"

"I'll report that to Clodia."

"And will that make any difference to her?" said Eco shrewdly. "You know as well as I do, Eco, that Roman trials are only incidentally about guilt and innocence."

"You mean that Clodia may be more interested in destroying Caelius than in punishing Dio's killer?"

"That thought has crossed my mind. A woman scorned-"

"Unless it was she who scorned him, Papa."

"I suppose that's one of the things I'll need to find out."

"If you believe the rumors, Caelius wouldn't be the first man she's destroyed," said Eco. "Though I suppose exile and humiliation are more merciful than poison."

"You refer to the gossip that she murdered her husband three years

ago."

He nodded. "They say that Quintus Metellus Celer was healthy one day and dead the next. They say that his marriage to Clodia was always stormy-and moreover that Celer and her brother Clodius had become fierce enemies. The rift was ostensibly over politics-but what man could abide having a brother-in-law for a rival in his bed?"

"But which brother-in-law was the usurper-Clodius… or Celer?"

He shrugged. "I suppose that was up to Clodia to decide. Celer was the loser; he lost his life. And now Caelius? Perhaps any man who comes between this brother and sister is risking more than he realizes."

I shook my head. "You repeat these scandalous charges as if you knew them to be true, Eco."

"Only because I think you should consider very carefully what sort of people you're dealing with. You've made up your mind to go through with this, then?"

"To try to find the truth about Dio's murder, yes."

"Under Clodia's auspices?"

"It was she who hired me. Circumstance led her to me-circum-stance, or Cybele."

"But the political danger of associating yourself in any way with Clodius-"

"I've made up my mind."

He stroked his chin thoughtfully. "Then I think at the very least we should review what we know about these Clodii, before you go off pursuing their interests or pocketing any more of their silver."

"Very well, what do we know about them? And let us be careful to separate fact from slander."

Eco nodded. He spoke deliberately, carefully framing his thoughts. "They are patricians. They come from a very old, very distinguished family. They have many renowned ancestors, many of whom served as consuls, whose public works are scattered all over Italy-roads, aque-ducts, temples, basilicas, gates, porticoes, arches. Their relatives are intermarried with families of equal stature in such a tangle that even a silkmaker could never unravel all the threads. The Clodii are at the heart of Rome's ruling class."

"As fractured and at odds with itself as that class may be. Yes, the respectability of their ancestry and their connections is beyond question," I agreed. "Though one always has to wonder how the rich and powerful became so in the first place."

Eco shook his finger at me. "Now, Papa, you've already bent your own rule-mixing facts with innuendo."

"Facts only," I conceded. "Or at least, anything not a fact must be clearly identified as hearsay," I amended, realizing that it might otherwise be impossible to talk about Clodia and Clodius at all.

"Well then," Eco continued, "to begin with, there's the spelling of their name. The patrician form is Claudius, and their father was Appius Claudius. But Clodius and all three of his sisters changed their spelling of the family name to the more common form some years ago, with an o, not the posh-sounding au. That must have been when Clodius decided to cast his lot as a populist politician and a rabble-rouser. I suppose it helps to give him the common touch when he's consorting with his hired strong-armers and brick throwers, or canvassing for votes among those who live off the grain dole he established."

"Yes, but what advantage does it give to Clodia?" I wondered.

"From your description of the goings-on at her horti this afternoon, I'd imagine she craves the common touch as well. Gossip, I confess!" Eco hurriedly added, as I raised a finger.

"Another fact, then," I said. "They're not full-blooded siblings."

"I thought they were."

"No, Clodia is the eldest of the lot, and she had a different mother from the rest. Her mother died giving birth to her, I believe. Soon after, Appius Claudius married his second wife and sired three boys and two more girls, the youngest of the boys being Publius Claudius, now Clodius. Clodius must be about your age, Eco, thirty-five or so, and Clodia is about five years older than him."

"They're only half siblings, then," Eco said. "So any copulation- conjectural or otherwise-would be only half incest, I suppose."

"Not that such a distinction would matter to anyone this side of Egypt," I said. "Actually-more gossip-one hears that Clodius has been the lover of all three of his sisters, the two full-blooded, younger ones as well as his big sister Clodia. Just as one hears that Clodius was groomed as a catamite by his older brothers when he was a boy, to sell his sexual favors to wealthy rakes."

"But I thought Clodius and his family were wealthy to begin with."

"Fabulously wealthy by our standards, Eco, but not by those of their peers. During the civil wars, when Clodia and Clodius were children, their father Appius was on the side of Sulla. When Sulla's fortunes ebbed, Appius had to flee Rome for several years. His children had to fend for themselves in a city full of enemies. Clodia, the oldest, was barely into her teens. It can't have been easy for those children. Those were hard years for everyone." This was something I hardly needed to tell Eco; it was in those years of chaotic civil strife that his own father had died and his mother had been reduced to such poverty that she eventually abandoned him to fend for himself in the streets, until I took him into my home and adopted him.

"When Sulla eventually triumphed and became dictator, Appius Claudius returned and for a short while thrived. He was elected consul in the year that Sulla retired. Then he took his reward, a provincial governorship-of Macedonia, I think-where he could bleed the locals for taxes, collect tribute from their chieftains and thus provide his sons back home with silver to start their political careers and his daughters with dowries. So it goes for a Roman with a successful political career. But not in the case of Appius Claudius. He died in Macedonia. The taxes and tributes were collected by his successor, and the only thing the children of Appius Claudius got back from Macedonia were the ashes of their father. They must have gone through a bad patch after that. They were never so poor that they dropped from sight, but one can imagine them scrimping and cutting corners to keep up appearances- the kind of petty humiliations that privileged patricians find so galling.

"And without a father in the house, the children must have made their own rules. Did young Clodius and his sisters carry on like rutting sheep without a shepherd to separate them? I don't know, but growing up in a turbulent, often hostile city with their father absent for years at a time, and then losing him while they were still quite young, must have brought the siblings close together-perhaps uncommonly or even un-naturally close. And while I seriously doubt that young Clodius was ever a prostitute in the strictly commercial sense-that kind of talk reeks of slander-given the circumstances, it's not hard to imagine him using whatever attributes he possessed to curry favor with those who could help him and his brothers get ahead. It's also not hard to imagine that there were those who found him desirable. Even now Clodius still has the look of a boy-sleek-limbed, slender-hipped, broad-chested. Smooth skin. A face like his sister's… "

"Yes, I was forgetting that you've just seen him naked," said Eco, raising his eyebrows.

I ignored his teasing. "The third name attached to their branch of the Claudian line is Pulcher, you know-'beautiful.' Clodius's full name is Publius Clodius Pulcher, and his sister is Clodia Pulcher. I don't know how far back the name goes, or which of their ancestors was vain enough to add it, but it certainly fits the current generation. Pulcher, indeed! And yes, I speak advisedly, having just seen both of them naked, or near enough-fact, not gossip! You know, I can well imagine that there are those, having seen the two of them together, who rather like to picture Clodia and Clodius making love, whether it's true or not." "Papa, your eyes are glazing over!"

"They most certainly are not. But never mind all that. Everyone knows that the Clodii are good-looking, and everyone suspects that they both have far too much sex for anyone's good. What else do we know about them? I think the first time that I ever heard of Clodius was when he acted as a prosecutor in the trials of the Vestal Virgins."

"Ah, yes, when he accused Catilina of seducing the Vestal Fabia."

"But when both Catilina and the Vestal were acquitted, things got so hot for Clodius in Rome that he had to flee down to Baiae until the furor cooled down. He burned his fingers on that one. I don't suppose he was even twenty at the time. I could never make out what his object was, except to stir up trouble. Perhaps he wasn't quite sure himself, just testing his powers."

"The next thing I remember about him happened a few years later," said Eco. "Something about stirring up that mutiny among the troops."

"Ah, yes, when he went off to serve in the East as a lieutenant under his brother-in-law Lucullus. Clodius styled himself as the soldiers' champion. They were already dissatisfied with the way Lucullus was driving them from campaign to campaign with no end in sight and no sure prospect of a reward, while Pompey's troops were already receiving farms and settlements for fewer years of service. Clodius made a famous speech to the troops, saying they deserved more from their general than the chance to lay down their lives protecting his personal caravan of camels laden with gold. 'If we must never have an end to fighting, shouldn't we reserve what's left of our bodies and souls for a commander who will reckon his chief glory to be the wealth of his soldiers?' "

"Papa, what a head you've always had for remembering speeches, even those you've heard only secondhand!"

"Such a memory is as much a curse as a blessing, Eco. Anyway, you can see that Clodius was a rabble-rouser even then, making himself the advocate of the masses against their rulers, setting himself up in opposition to the status quo. No wonder he switched to the plebeian form of his name."

"And then more scandal," said Eco. "The affair of the Good God-

dess."

"Yes. Was it only six years ago? Ironic that the man who started out by prosecuting a Vestal Virgin and her alleged lover should have gotten himself into such a sacrilegious scandal. The hearsay-gossip, not fact-was that Clodius was carrying on with Caesar's wife, Pompeia, but Caesar had caught on and set his mother to watch Pompeia like a hawk, so that it became impossible for the lovers to meet. Never one to let his appetites be denied, Clodius concocted a scheme to reach Pompeia. He decided to sneak into the women's festival of the Good Goddess, Fauna, which was being held that year in Caesar's house. No men allowed, of course. How could Clodius get in? By dressing up as a woman! Imagine him all fancied up as a singing girl in a saffron robe with purple hose and slippers-I wonder if his sisters helped dress him up."

"Perhaps it wasn't his first time in a stola," said Eco.

"I suppose he couldn't resist the idea of taking Pompeia in Caesar's own bed, with Caesar's own mother and scores of other women chanting and lighting incense in the next room. I wonder if Clodius planned to keep his stola on while he did it?"

"Papa, I object! You're letting your lurid imagination seduce you into accepting hearsay, and then compounding the slander."

"Granted, Eco. I shall try to get back to the facts. The story goes that Clodius almost pulled it off. In the haze of the incense and the confusion of the chanting and dancing-who knows what sort of rituals these women engage in behind closed doors? — Clodius managed to make his way into the house and to find one of Pompeia's slave girls, who was expecting him. She went to fetch her mistress, but when she failed to return, Clodius became impatient and started wandering through the house on his own, staying out of the light as much as he could, observing the proceedings."

"Wouldn't you love to know what he saw?"

"Wouldn't every man, Eco? But it was Clodius's bad fortune to be spotted by another serving girl, who saw his hesitant manner and innocently asked him who he was looking for. He told her he was looking for Pompeia's serving girl, but he was unable to disguise his deep voice. The girl let out a shriek. Clodius managed to hide in a storage room, but the women lit torches and searched the house until they rooted him out and drove him into the street."

"Well," said Eco wryly, "if nothing else, Clodius disproved the old superstition we all learned as boys, that any man who witnesses the secret ceremonies of the Good Goddess will be instantly struck blind."

"Clodius could still see, granted, but he might have wished to be struck deaf, so as not to hear the clamor he set off. The women went home and told their husbands, and you know how men are with gossip. By the next morning, the scandal was the talk of every tavern and street comer in Rome. The pious were outraged, the impious were amused, and I have no doubt that some from both camps were more than a little envious. The matter was much talked about for a season and then put aside for months, until some of Clodius's enemies decided to bring him to trial for sacrilege.

"At the trial, Clodius claimed that he was innocent and that the women were mistaken, because during the festival of the Good Goddess he had been fifty miles from Rome. Clodius and Cicero were still on friendly terms back then, and when the prosecution called Cicero to testify, Clodius expected him to back up his alibi. Instead, Cicero dutifully affirmed that he had seen Clodius in Rome on the day in question. Clodius was infuriated. That was the beginning of the bad blood between them."

"But Clodius was acquitted nonetheless," said Eco.

"Yes, by a slim majority of the fifty-odd jurors. Some say there was outright bribery by both sides; others say that the jurors simply voted along political lines. At any rate, Clodius was vindicated and emerged stronger than ever. He became bolder about using the street gangs he had been organizing to swell his retinue and intimidate his enemies. As for Caesar, the cuckolded husband, his only response was to divorce Pompeia, even though he publicly insisted that nothing untoward had occurred between her and Clodius. When the paradox was pointed out to him-why divorce Pompeia if she had been faithful? — he said, 'I have no doubt whatsoever about her fidelity, but Caesar's wife cannot be tainted even by suspicion!' Well, Caesar can't have been too offended by Clodius. The two of them have turned out to be close allies."

"As demonstrated by the way Caesar helped Clodius get his tribunate."

"Exactly. Clodius wanted to be elected tribune, but was barred from doing so, since it's a strictly plebeian office, off-limits to patricians. What was Clodius's solution? With Caesar pushing the paperwork, he managed to get himself adopted by a plebeian almost young enough to be his son, and so got himself officially enrolled as a plebeian-which outraged his fellow patricians and delighted the mob, who elected him tribune. At last Clodius was a commoner in fact as well as in name."

"I see a pattern," said Eco. "If a man can't witness the rites of the Good Goddess, Clodius will make himself a woman. If a patrician can't run for tribune, then Clodius, who has the most patrician pedigree in Rome, will make himself a plebeian."

"Not a man to let himself be stymied by technicalities," I agreed. "During his year as tribune he managed to get a lot done-introducing a grain dole to please the mob, arranging for the Roman takeover of Egyptian Cyprus to pay for the dole, and passing a law to send Cicero into exile."

Eco nodded. "But now Cicero is back in Rome, and Clodius's ally Caesar is off conquering Gaul. The big political issue of the moment is the Egyptian crisis, which brings us up to Dio's ill-fated mission. If we believe Clodia, Clodius made himself a friend of poor Dio before he was killed-and now they want you to find evidence against Clodia's lover Marcus Caelius to convict him of the murder."

"An admirable summing up," I said. "I think we've managed to sort out a few truths from the slanders and come up with a few conclusions about Clodius's character, though I'm not sure where it all leaves us. I haven't changed my mind. In the past I've worked for men whose means and morals were at least as questionable as his. I see no point in refusing a commission from Clodius if it leads me to the truth of Dio's murder."

"What about Clodia, then?"

"What about her? All right, let's take a look at Clodia. The same rules: truth only, except for gossip identified as gossip-though I think the rule will be even harder to observe with Clodia than with Clodius. I think we've probably heard more about her and know less. But I'll begin. She was the first child of Appius Claudius, raised by a stepmother among younger half siblings-did this circumstance make her stronger, more responsible, more independent? Mere speculation. We do know that she married young, before her father died and left the family in financial straits, so she managed to bring a good dowry to her marriage with a cousin, Quintus Metellus Celer-which may help to explain her independence when it came to butting heads with her husband over family squabbles and political differences. In any dispute, even with Celer, she appears always to have sided with her siblings."

"The Clodii against the world?" said Eco.

"It sounds admirably Roman when you put it like that. Could all those rumors of incest merely reflect the jealousy of less beautiful, less beloved outsiders? Why not give Clodia the benefit of the doubt, and put down the rumors of her adulteries and incest to malicious tongues?"

"You're the one who spent the afternoon at her horti, Papa, watching her ogle naked men."

"Yes, well, it's true that she doesn't do much to stamp out the lies about her, if they are lies. And there's no doubt that her marriage to

Celer was stormy. There are plenty of witnesses to that, including Cicero, who used to be their frequent houseguest back when he was on friendly terms with the Clodii. But it should count for something that despite their troubles, Clodia and Celer did stay married for twenty years-"

"Until Celer mysteriously died three years ago."

"Yes, well, we've already talked about the rumor that she poisoned him. It's worth noting that no one ever brought charges against her, as someone in Celer's family might well have done, had there been any evidence. Any time anybody notable in Rome dies of anything but an accident, there's someone who'll say it was poison. Just as there are those who will always whisper that any exceptionally beautiful woman-or man, for that matter-is a whore. While we've both heard plenty of rumors, when it comes down to it, we don't really know very much at all about Clodia, do we?"

Eco leaned back and pressed his fingers together. "I think, Papa, that you are letting the transparent yellow gown cloud your better judgment.

"Nonsense!"

"It covers your eyes like a veil." "Eco!"

"I'm serious, Papa. You told me to be honest with you, so I will be. I think that Clodia is probably a very dangerous woman, and I don't like it that you're working for her. If you must do so, for Dio's sake, then I hope you'll see as little of her as possible."

"I've already seen quite a bit of her."

"I mean what I say, Papa." There was no levity in his voice. "I don't like it."

"Nor do I. But some paths a man must walk, taking whatever ways are opened to him by the gods."

"Well," said Eco with an edge in his voice, "I suppose a religious argument can put an end to any discussion."

And if it didn't, then what happened next did, for at that moment two tiny human missiles came hurtling through the room like fireballs hurled from a catapult. One chased the other at such a speed that I couldn't tell which was the pursuer and which the pursued; I often found it hard to tell the twins apart even when they were standing still. At the age of four there was not much to distinguish them. Gordiana (whom Meto had called Titania from birth, because she was so big) was perhaps slightly larger than her brother Titus, but the two of them were dressed for bed in identical, long-sleeved tunics that went down to their ankles, and they had the same long, golden locks-a legacy from their mother's side of the family, which was perhaps why Menenia had so far refused to clip a single curl.

Never slowing down, the two of them tore across the study and disappeared into the next room. A moment later their mother followed after them. She seemed quite calm and was even smiling.

"Are you men finally finished with your serious discussion?" she asked. Menenia comes from a very old plebeian family, as respectable as it is obscure. Some of her ancestors managed to obtain the consulship hundreds of years ago; that will always count for something, but it hardly puts food on the table. Still, Eco was lucky to make the match, considering his adopted father's far less distinguished ancestry, and Menenia herself is above reproach in every way, the model of a Roman matron. She even knows how to handle her mother-in-law with effortless tact; I only wish that I could do as well at staying on Bethesda's good side.

"Yes, wife," said Eco, "I believe we're done with discussing life and death and justice and the gods, and other such trivial matters."

"Good. Then perhaps you both have a moment to spare for your offspring. The only reason the twins have been flying about in such a frenzy is because they refuse to go to bed without a last chance to say goodnight to their grandfather."

"Well, then, make them wait no longer," I said, laughing, and before I had a chance to brace myself, out of nowhere two fair-haired fireballs came hurtling straight toward my lap.

The hour had grown late; Bethesda would be expecting me home. I said a quick farewell to Eco and Menenia and finally extricated myself from the surprisingly strong grips of Titus and Titania-no easy task, for each took hold of one of my hands and refused to let go. When I yelled for Belbo to come help me, I was hardly joking.

Belbo and I made our way down the Esquiline Hill beneath the light of the waxing moon, back through the Subura, where the streets were busy even at this hour, and across the Forum, where the temples were quiet and the broad, moonlit squares almost deserted. Above our heads the cold sky was full of stars. As we passed the House of the Vestals I shivered and pulled my cloak more tightly about my throat, thinking it was the night air seeping into my bones.

Just beyond the House of the Vestals, near the steps of the Temple of Castor, we turned sharply to the north, onto the broad footpath called the Ramp, the best shortcut from the Forum up the steep face of the Palatine Hill to the residential district. The Ramp is well traveled, but even in daylight it can seem secluded and secretive, hemmed in at its lower portion by the stony base of the Palatine and the high rear walls of the House of the Vestals, and shielded along both sides of its upper course by close-set rows of cypress trees. At night the Ramp is a place of deep shadows, even when the moon is full. "The perfect place for a murder," Bethesda had once exclaimed before turning around in mid-course and refusing ever to take the path again.

I felt another sudden chill and knew that it had nothing to do with the night air. We were being followed on the path, and not by chance but stealthily, for when I signaled Belbo to stop, I heard behind us the faint sound of footsteps that stopped a moment later. I turned and peered down the mostly straight path but could make out no movement among the dense shadows.

"One man or two?" I whispered to Belbo.

He wrinkled his brow. "One, I think, Master."

"I agree. The footsteps stop all at once, without any shuffling or whispering. Do you suppose the two of us have anything to fear from one man, Belbo?"

Belbo peered at me thoughtfully. A bit of moonlight illuminated his furrowed brow. "Not unless he has a friend waiting at the top of the path, Master. That would make it even odds."

"And what if he has more than one friend up there?"

"Do you want to turn around, Master?"

I peered into the darkness below, then into the shadows ahead. "No. We're almost home."

Belbo shrugged. "Some men have to go all the way to Gaul to die. Others can do it on their own doorstep."

"Just keep your hand on the dagger inside your tunic, and I'll do the same. Keep to a steady pace."

As we neared the top of the path I realized what a perfect place of ambush it would provide. Once upon a time I could take the steep path without missing a breath, but not any longer; a winded man makes an easy target. Even Belbo was breathing harder. I listened for the steps behind us, or for any sound from ahead, but I heard only the beating of my heart and the rush of air in my nostrils.

As we neared the top of the Ramp the cypress trees thinned on either side and the way opened up, dispersing the shadows with moonlight and allowing glimpses of the houses up ahead. I could even see a bit of the roof of my own house, which made me feel at once reassured and uneasy. Reassured to be so close to safety, uneasy because the gods sometimes resort to the most appalling ironies in discharging the fates of mortals. We were almost clear of the path but there were still plenty of shadows where any number of assassins could be concealed. I steeled myself and peered into the pockets of darkness.

At last we stepped from the Ramp onto the paved street, only a few doors from my house. The way was clear on either side. The street was deserted and quiet. From an upper story nearby I heard the quiet singing of a woman crooning a lullaby. All was tranquil.

"Perhaps we should play ambushers," I whispered to Belbo after I caught my breath, for now I could hear the sound of our follower's footsteps approaching. "If someone is after us, I should like to have a look at him."

We drew back into the shadows and waited.

The footsteps grew nearer, until at any moment the man would catch up with us and emerge into the moonlight.

Beside me Belbo gasped. I stiffened, wondering what was the matter.

Then Belbo sneezed.

It was only a partial sneeze, for he did his best to stifle it, but in the stillness it might as well have been a thunderclap. The footsteps stopped. I peered into the darkness and was able to discern the man's vague outline, a silhouette among mottled shadows. From his posture he seemed to be peering back at me, trying to make out where the sneeze had come from. An instant later he vanished, and I heard footsteps running down the Ramp.

Belbo gave a jerk. "Shall we go after him, Master?"

"No. He's younger than us-probably a lot faster."

"How do you know?"

"Did you hear him breathing hard?"

"No."

"Exactly. Neither did I, and he was close enough that we would have heard, had he been winded. He has strong lungs."

Belbo hung his head, chagrined. "Master, I'm sorry I sneezed." "Some things even the gods can't stop. Perhaps it was for the

best."

"Do you really think he was following us?"

"I don't know. But he gave us a scare, didn't he?"

"And we gave him a scare!"

"So perhaps we're even, and that's the end of it," I said, but I felt uneasy.

We walked hurriedly up the street to my house. Belbo rapped on the door. While we waited for the slave to open it I pulled him aside. "Belbo, whether we were followed or not-don't mention this to your mistress. No need asking for trouble. Do you understand?"

"Of course, Master," he said gravely.

I thought for a moment. "And don't tell Diana, either."

"That goes without saying, Master." Belbo smiled. Then his jaw suddenly began to quiver and his face contorted. I gripped his shoulder, alarmed.

Belbo threw back his head and sneezed again.