A Point of Law(31)
“I hope this decision of the comitia tributa goes well for you, Senator,” Brutus said gravely. He gave the word for the plebeian assembly the slightly contemptuous turn common to patricians. They always preferred the comitia centuriata, which was dominated by a handful of great families.
“I daresay their decision will be enlightening,” I told him. “This whole business has me utterly mystified. It’s true I was a bit rough on certain Romans living in Cyprus, but they were all thieves and plunderers and I can prove it. How this fool Fulvius got killed I have no idea.”
“All honest Romans agree that your actions on Cyprus were perfectly just,” Brutus said ponderously. “Cato concurs with me on this. The death of this man Fulvius, while unfortunate, is a trifling matter compared with the great dangers before us. Did you know that an invading army is about to descend upon Rome?”
“Really?” I said, doubting his sanity. “Not the Parthians, I hope.”
“I almost wish it were. Caesar has given half his legions leave of absence so that they can come to Rome and take part in the election. A rider came in not three hours ago to inform the aediles that the first cohorts would be pitching their tents on the Campus Martius in the morning. The rest will be here within two days.”
“That’s high-handed behavior even for Caesar,” I said. “But as far as I know, it’s constitutional. And he can spare them. It’s the depth of winter up in Gaul. He can keep his conquests in order with his auxilia.” The auxilia were foreigners, allies, and mercenaries. Legionaries, on the other hand, were all citizens, which meant they could all vote. And they would vote for Caesar’s favored candidates.
“It’s good news for you, I suppose,” Brutus grumbled. I was one of those favored candidates.
“I won’t be a total hypocrite and claim I don’t want their votes,” I admitted. “But any army descending on Rome, even a Roman one, is an unsettling concept.”
“I rejoice to hear it. But the time must come when men who love the Republic must take action to curb the arrogance of Caesar.”
I won’t pretend to be an oracle and claim that in these words I perceived a portent of dire deeds to come. Nor did I foresee a bloody Ides of March when I heard Cassius, Casca, Basileus, and all the rest voice similar thoughts in that and future years, all those men who are now so notorious. Half of Rome, it seemed, spoke darkly of the other half, and many important figures jumped nimbly from one side to the other, repeatedly, not least among them the men who later plotted Caesar’s death.
Finally only Asklepiodes and I remained of the evening’s guests.
“Callista,” Asklepiodes said, “my friend the Senator Metellus has a singular problem, its solution requires a combination of skills and talents that I have informed him are possessed in abundance by you alone of all the scholars now resident in Rome.” He spoke in Greek, which I could follow well enough.
“How intriguing. I shall seek to vindicate your trust in me.” She turned to me and switched to Latin. “And how may I possibly be of help?”
I took out the papers. “These documents were written in cipher by a person whose activities I am investigating. The alphabet used is Greek, although I can’t say whether the language thus encoded is Greek or Latin.” I handed them to her, and she studied them by the light of a multiwicked lamp.
“Are you certain that it is one of those two languages? I ask because of the extraordinary repetition of the letter delta. The arrangement, even taking into account the common letter substitution of ciphers, doesn’t look like either language.”
This could mean trouble. “The man in question lived almost all his life in Baiae, which is in Campania. It’s conceivable that it’s the Oscan dialect that is used. But Oscan has almost the same grammar as Latin, though the vocabulary and pronunciation are different.”
She shook her head. “Then that can’t be it. Do you know to whom this is written?”
“I have no idea.”
“If he turns out to be Syrian or Egyptian, I will be of little use to you, I fear.”
“I strongly doubt that the author knew any such language. He was of an old Latin family. His sister has lived in Rome for many years. The family is distinguished but not for scholarship. I would venture to say that he would be lost in any language save Greek or Latin.”
“That will simplify things. Would it be possible to leave these letters with me?”
“They are of no use in my possession, and any excuse to call upon you again is welcome.”
“You need no excuse, Senator. Please feel free to call upon me anytime. I have no lectures scheduled for tomorrow. I find that election time in Rome is not a good time for much of anything. I’ll devote the morning to this. If you can come by tomorrow afternoon, perhaps I’ll have made some headway.”