Oracle of the Dead(22)
“Needless to say, the writings are very fragmentary, but I can hardly believe that something so remarkable would escape more frequent mention. As for local traditions, I would grant them no credence whatever. Anywhere peasants live, they create mythologies around their district and their ancestors, often mutually contradictory. Few people are trained in the art of rigorous thinking.”
“So it would seem,” I agreed. “What of the Campanian temple erected atop the foundation?”
“The Campanians pushed their territory southward and reached this area about the same time as the Greeks. Before, there had been only the primitive settlements of the Aborigines.”
“You believe the Aborigines really existed?”
“They must have. There are many burials that predate the people we have been discussing. Whether they were the people of legend I cannot say, but the burials I have examined indicate a very low level of culture. They built nothing in stone that has survived.”
“So, things got lively here between Greeks and Campanians around the time Romulus and Remus founded Rome.” The official date of that event was some 704 years before this time.
“Very lively, I would say. They were two aggressive, warlike people who wanted the same land. Plus, the Greek cities, being Greek, fought endlessly among themselves. That temple may have been erected and demolished a number of times. It was dedicated to the god Mamers, who can be identified with Mars. But a far grander Temple of Mamers was erected at Cumae, and eventually this one was abandoned. In time, the Greeks turned it into the Temple of Apollo. That was about two hundred years ago.”
“Did the rivalry between the followers of Apollo and those of Hecate date from the time that the Campanians and Greeks were fighting over this territory?”
“Something like that. I think that it came to serve as a substitute for open hostilities, especially after Rome imposed peace on the region.”
“Well, sometimes you can keep people from fighting, but you can’t stop them from hating one another. The Greeks and the Trojans would probably still hate each other, if there were any Trojans left.”
“Such seems to be the nature of men,” Cordus said.
“So it’s always good to be the strongest. That is what Rome determined to do. Always be the strongest. That way it doesn’t matter if people hate you, because you can always whip them and they know it and don’t dare say anything aloud.”
“Ah, that is very true, Praetor. We are the terror of the world.” This to remind me that he was a citizen, too. “A terror in a good way, of course. Where Rome has conquered, Rome establishes peace.”
“Yes, well, we seem to be straying from the subject. In all your studies, have you seen any mention of this tunnel beneath the temple, where we found the dead priests?”
“In fact, I have.”
“What? The thing seems to have been a mystery to everybody else!”
He smiled. “How many people bother to read records of construction work from two hundred years ago? In the city archive of Baiae I ran across a contract between the founders of the temple and one Skopas of Alexandria for ‘the construction of a crypt beneath the Temple of Apollo by the Bay of Baiae.’ It does not specify a tunnel, but as far as I know, there is no rule limiting how far down a crypt can be.”
“Wonderful!” I said. “This is the virtue of paying attention to paperwork. One document is worth any number of legends.”
“And this knowledge will be of use in your investigation?”
“I have no idea. But it is wonderful to actually know something in this maze of myths. Earlier today the master stoneworker said that the workmanship on the trapdoor looked Alexandrian. He also said that the easiest way to do it without the locals noticing would have been when it was remodeled to Greek taste.”
“Very sagacious,” he said, nodding. “The question remains: Why did they do it?”
“I don’t know, and I certainly hope that it has no bearing on the investigation.”
We spoke a while longer but he had nothing further to offer, though he promised to pitch into his studies with great zeal to find me more information. I thanked him profusely, for he had proven to be of real assistance. I gave him a small sack of gold and silver “in case he had to travel,” and he went away beaming, happy to have the money, a full stomach, and, above all, to have his wisdom praised and appreciated by one in authority. The path of scholarship can be thankless and unrewarding.
That evening, my kinsman Marcus Caecilius Metellus came down from Rome for a visit. He was a young man just setting out on his political career, and he had been in my traveling entourage since I entered the praetorship. A month before, I had sent him to Rome to gather the latest gossip for me. For true Romans, being separated from the City is an almost physical affliction. One can stand being separated from the center of the world for only so long. This is why we consider exile such a terrible punishment. Many exiles go insane or commit suicide in despair. At dinner, we were all ears to hear the latest.