Catilina's Riddle (23 page)

Catilina and Tongilius disappeared for as long as it took the slaves to pass, then reappeared again when the way was clear.

Eventually they vanished into the brush and did not reappear for so long that I began to think they had found what they were seeking.

Suddenly Meto clutched my sleeve. In the same instant I heard a rustling in the underbrush behind us, followed by a familiar voice.

"Not your usual spot—oh, please, I didn't mean to startle you! Oh, how rude of me, coming up on you like this. Gordianus, forgive me, I shouldn't laugh, but you gave such a start!"

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"Claudia," I said.

"Yes, only me. And here's young Meto—so long since I've seen the boy. Oh, but I mustn't call you a boy, not for much longer, must I, young man? You turn sixteen this month, don't you?"

"Yes," said Meto, darting a glance over his shoulder, back down toward the road.

"A beautiful view from this side, isn't it? You really get the whole effect of the mountain, how vast it is, towering above the road like that."

"Yes, quite impressive," I said.

"But it's so uncomfortable here amid the brambles. Come, there's a spot close by with the very same view where we can all sit together on a log."

I shrugged, trying not to look down at the road. My eyes fell on the basket in Claudia's hand.

"Oh, but you fear you'll be intruding on my lunch! Not at all, Gordianus. I have quite enough bread and cheese and olives for all of us. Come now, I won't have my hospitality refused."

We followed her to a clearing a few feet away. As she had promised, the view was exactly the same, with the difference that we were in plain sight of the road, should anyone happen to look up.

"Now, isn't this better?" said Claudia, settling her plump bottom on the log and laying her basket before her.

"Much," I said. Meto, I noticed, could not seem to keep from darting furtive but very obvious glances at the spot where we had last glimpsed Catilina and Tongilius. A good watcher he might be, but as an actor he was a disaster. "However, Meto really needs to be getting back to the house."

"Oh, Gordianus, you Roman fathers! Always so strict and demanding. My father was just the same, and I was a girl! Here it is, one of the last fine summer days of Meto's boyhood, and you would have him doing chores at midday. In a very short time he'll be a man, and after that, summer days may be just as hot but they will never be as long and lovely and full of flowers and bees as they are for him at this very moment.

Please, let Meto join us."

At her insistence, Meto sat at Claudia's left and I at her right. She passed us food and waited for us to begin before taking some for herself.

Once he was settled on the log with his mouth full of cheese, I must admit that Meto did a good job at feigning only casual interest in the doings at the foot of the mountain. More traffic passed on the Cassian Way—herds of sheep, slaves bearing bundles of wood on their backs, a long train of wagons ringed by armed men headed south toward Rome.

"Vases from Arretium," declared Claudia.

"How can you tell?" said Meto.

"Because I can see right through the crates packed inside the wagons

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as if they were invisible!" said Claudia, then laughed when she saw that Meto seemed to be taking her seriously. "I know, Meto, because those wagons have been coming down the Cassian Way since I was a girl, taking Arretine vases to Rome. They're awfully valuable—hence the armed guard, and the slow procession. If it were anything else valuable enough to justify the guards, the wagons would be going twice as fast. Gold and silver don't break, but fine clay vases do."

The progress of the wagons did seem to take forever as they crept along the ribbon of road. There was no sign of Catilina.

Then Meto made an odd noise in his throat, and when I glanced at him, he made an almost imperceptible nod. I followed his gaze to a point on the mountain at least two hundred feet above the road, where a patch of blue the shade of Catilina's tunic flashed in a clearing amid the green canopy. The blue patch moved and was joined by another; I squinted, and the blue patches resolved quite clearly into two men moving about on the mountainside.

Claudia, busy leaning over her basket, did not see.

'Actually, Gordianus, I was hoping to run into you here on the ridge, for otherwise I should have had to come pay a formal visit, and that would have been no fun at all. And I'm glad that you happen to be here as well, Meto, for I think this involves you, too." She sat back and pursed her lips. For a moment I thought she was looking directly across the valley at Catilina and Tongilius, but she was only staring absently into the middle distance, thinking about what she had to say.

"What is it, Claudia?"

"Oh, this is so difficult. . . . "

"Yes?"

"I had a visit this morning from my cousin Gnaeus. He says there were strangers on his mountain yesterday, men from Rome hiking up to visit the old mine."

"Is that a fact?" I looked across the way and saw that Catilina and Tongilius had disappeared amid the foliage again.

"Yes. Some business about one of them wanting to purchase the old mine, or representing someone who might. Nonsense, if you ask me—the mine is worthless now. There's no more silver to be got from it. Anyway, Gnaeus was asking if I happened to have seen anyone traipsing about on the mountain yesterday—you can see quite a bit of the old trail from my house, you know, though it's a long way off. Well, as a matter of fact, no, I hadn't seen a thing, and none of my slaves had noticed anyone on the mountainside either."

Claudia paused to chew an olive. "Gnaeus says he didn't know any of these men, and only one of them bothered to introduce himself—

one of the Sergii, up from Rome, as I said. But afterward Gnaeus ques-

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tioned the goatherd who had shown the men around, an old fool named Forfex, and do you know what the man told him?"

"I can't imagine."

"He said that along with this Sergius there was a younger man who seemed to be his companion, and then there was another middle-aged man and a youth. He didn't know them, but he seemed to recall hearing the man addressed as Gordianus." She looked at me and raised an eyebrow.

I thought for a moment. "Did Gnaeus see these four visitors for himself?"

"Yes. But the light was growing dim. And despite his youth, Gnaeus doesn't have the best eyesight. That's why he seldom catches a boar!"

"Ah. Then you're asking me—"

"No, I'm asking you nothing. I can tell everything from your face.

Well, not everything, but enough. If you wish to go snooping about my cousin's property, that is a matter between you and him. And if Gnaeus wishes to confront you about the matter, he can do so himself; I'm not his messenger. However, Gordianus, I would be derelict in my duties as a blood relation of Gnaeus, and as a good neighbor to you, if I merely kept silent. Gnaeus was not happy when Forfex repeated your name, nor was he happy when he came to see me this morning. I doubt that he'll come to see you or even send you a message; he prefers to keep to himself and brood, disappearing into the woods to hunt his boars. But if there is some untoward business going on, I advise you to consider your position very carefully, Gordianus. Be cautious! My kinfolk are not to be trifled with. There is only so much I can do to mollify them. I tell you this as a friend."

She paused for a moment to allow this to sink in, then bent over and reached into her basket. "And now I have a surprise—honey cakes!

My new cook baked them fresh this morning. Alas, he's no Congrio, but he does have a way with sweets."

Meto managed to tear his eyes from the mountainside; he has always had a taste for honey. He ate the little cake quickly and then licked his fingertips. Claudia offered me a cake, but I declined.

"You don't care for sweets, Gordianus? The new cook will take it very badly if I return with them uneaten."

"A touch of Cicero's complaint," I explained, touching my stomach and frowning.

"Oh, but here I've gone and upset your digestion with all this talk of Gnaeus. How thoughtless of me, to give you bread and cheese and unpleasant news at the same time. Perhaps a honey cake will settle your stomach."

"I think not." It was not only Claudia's news that upset my stomach,

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but the tension of knowing that she might spot Catilina on the mountainside or emerging onto the road at any moment. The real cure would have been for her to simply go away. But she had more to say.

"So the toga party is this month. What day?"

"Two days before the Ides."

"Ah, just after the elections."

I nodded but said nothing, hoping my silence would keep the conversation away from politics. It was bad enough that I was planning to be in the city immediately after the voting. Whether Catilina won or lost, his supporters or enemies were likely to be out in the streets rioting in protest. And if, as Caelius had hinted, there was actual revolution in the air, then Rome was the last place I wanted to be.

Claudia nodded and smiled. "Ten days from now, and you will be a man, Meto! But I shall save my congratulations until then. I assume you'll be having some little celebration in the city before he takes his walk in the Forum. Would it be too forward of me to beg an invitation?"

"Will you be in the city, Claudia?"

"I'm afraid so," she sighed. "Along with my dear cousins. They're all planning to be in the city to vote this time around. Afraid Catilina might somehow slip through, you know. The actual voting is all up to the men, of course, and usually I don't go to Rome at all at this time of year, but there's no way out of it. It's that house on the Palatine that Lucius left me—I'm planning to rent it out, and the slave who runs the place tells me it's due for some renovations. Well, I'm not about to let one of Lucius's old slaves make the arrangements and spend my money.

I shall oversee everything myself. I'm leaving tomorrow, and I suspect I'll be there most of the month." She raised her eyebrows and looked at me expectantly.

"Then of course you must come to Meto's birthday party," I said.

"Oh, thank you! I should love to see it. Never having had a son, myself, you know . . . " Her voice trailed off. "And I shall bring honey cakes!" she added, brightening. "Meto will like that." She reached out and touched his shoulder. Meto smiled a bit shyly, then a strange expression crossed his face.

He was watching something down below. I followed his gaze and saw Catilina and Tongilius emerging from the woods onto the road.

Claudia seemed to sense that something was amiss, for I saw her glance oddly at Meto and then felt her eyes on me. "Perhaps—" I began.

"Perhaps I would enjoy one of those honey cakes, after all."

"Ah, good, let me see, here's a nice one right on top," she said, bending over her basket.

I took the cake from her and looked her in the eye as I bit into it.

She smiled and nodded, then abruptly looked down toward the road.

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"Look there," she said. "Who are those men and where did they come from?"

I started to speak and coughed instead, as the cake seemed to turn to dust in my throat. Meto, seeing that I was helpless, took the cue.

"What men?" he asked innocently.

"Those two men right down there, on horseback. Wherever did they come from?" Claudia furrowed her plump brow, cocked her head, and pulled at a strand of red hair that had escaped from the bun on her head. Meto shrugged. "Just two men on horseback."

"But they're heading toward the north. I didn't see them ride up.

Look, you can see the whole length of the Cassian Way coming up from the south, halfway to Rome—oh, I exaggerate, but still, we would have seen anyone approaching for miles. And suddenly two horsemen appear from nowhere."

"Not really. I saw them riding up," said Meto matter-of-factly.

"You did?"

"For quite some time. I think it was when you pointed out the wagons with Arretine vases coming over the pass. Yes, I noticed the two horsemen riding up from the south, quite far away. And now look, the wagons have gone about half that distance. That means the horsemen are going twice as fast as the wagons. Is that right, Papa?"

I nodded dumbly, still clearing my throat, and took back my poor opinion of Meto's acting skills.

Claudia remained dubious. "You saw them riding up all this time—

passing the wagons and getting closer?"

Meto nodded.

"And you, too, Gordianus?"

I shrugged and nodded. "Two horsemen on the Cassian Way," I said. "Probably coming up from Rome."

Claudia was perturbed. "Why didn't I notice them? Cyclops and Oedipus, my eyes must be getting as weak as Gnaeus's."

"It's not so odd," I reassured her. "You were distracted by our company and simply didn't notice. It's nothing to make a fuss over."

"I don't like horsemen appearing from nowhere," she muttered. "I don't like feeling . . . " Her voice trailed off, then she managed a smile.

"But you're right, I'm being silly. Just a silly old woman, set in my ways and upset when I'm taken by surprise, and more upset when I realize I'm not as sharp as I like to think I am. Ah, well, have you had enough of the cakes? Here, I'll wrap them up again; mustn't waste them. The gods despise a wasteful man, my father always used to say. I really must be going. There, thank you, Meto, for helping me gather things up."

She picked up her basket, stood and straightened her back. "I leave

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for Rome tomorrow and won't be back for such a long time—you can imagine all the instructions to be left with the slaves, and the confusion in the household with the new cook, not to mention the packing! Oh, I hate the fuss—why Lucius left me a house in the city I can't imagine!

But I'm glad I managed to see you here on the ridge, both of you. And I shall see you again on Meto's toga day! The party will be at your house?"

"Yes, Eco's house now. On the Esquiline. It's a little hard to find—"

"Ah, but you and Lucius were such good friends, I'm sure his old slaves in the city will know how to find the place. I shall be there."