Saturnalia(71)

“I see. This way the vinegar would disguise the taste of the medicine?”

He looked puzzled. “No. He told Celer that the medicine was nearly tasteless. But the consul was a man of regular habits, and the pulsum would ensure that he took it regularly every morning.”

I glanced at Asklepiodes and he raised his eyebrows quizzically.

“How many times did Celer call here?” I asked.

“Three times that I am aware of. The last time was about half a month before his death.”

I stood. “You have been most helpful, Narcissus. I am grateful.”

He stood as well. “It is nothing. Consider it a part of my service to the illustrious Metelli.” Reminding me that he, and he alone, would follow in the footsteps of Ariston of Lycia as physician to the Metelli. Asklepiodes and I made our way down the stairs.

“What do you think?” I asked when we were out on the street. Before us lay the cattle market, where even the livestock looked hung over.

“Much is now made plain, but much is obscure. In the first place, Celer may not have had a fatal condition at all. Narcissus is correct in naming the symptoms as those of a preapoplectic condition, but they could as easily reveal ulceration of the stomach or esophagus, not uncommon conditions among men who spend their careers arguing with people.”

“The condition is hardly material. What is important is that it provided an excuse to introduce poison into the daily ingestion of a man who rarely needed medication. I think there is no doubt that we have our poisoner here.”

“The question is one of motive,” Asklepiodes said. “Why would a man like Ariston want to poison Celer? He was unscrupulous, I admit, but this is rather extreme.”

We were walking along the street, our heads down and our hands behind our backs, like two academic philosophers conferring on abstruse points of logic. Or was it the peripatetics who walked around like that?

“Cicero has expounded to me upon a very basic principle of criminal law, a question the investigator must ask himself and a prosecutor expound to the jury in every case of anomalous wrongdoing: Cui bono? Who stands to benefit from this?”

“As you have said, Celer was not a man without enemies.”

“Envious enemies. Noisiest and most colorful among them being the tribune Flavius.”

“Their public rows were the talk of Rome last year,” Asklepiodes said. “But Roman politics are usually boisterous. And yet it seems to me that Flavius accomplished his ends without resorting to poison.”

“Not for certain. The very day he dropped, Celer was going to court to sue for the return of his Gallic command. Flavius still stood to lose.”

“But by that time Flavius was out of office,” Asklepiodes pointed out.

“Out of the office of tribune. But he was standing for the office of praetor for next year, and it wouldn’t have looked good if his coup against Celer failed. Besides, their conflict went far beyond ordinary partisan politics and into the realm of personal insult and violence. Plain revenge could play a part here.”

“That much makes sense,” Asklepiodes admitted. “But how would he have known that Celer would need to be treated by Ariston?” Learned as Asklepiodes was, he did not extrapolate very well, probably the result of receiving wisdom from long-dead Greeks.

“Ariston told him. You heard Narcissus say that the medication was supposed to be tasteless?”

“And was puzzled by the statement. It scarcely agrees with what the woman Ascylta said.”

“That is because the first time Celer visited he was given a legitimate medication, at least one that was not harmful. Once Ariston realized the possibilities, he went shopping for someone needing his services. In the case of Celer, there was probably no shortage of buyers.”

“That was extraordinarily cold-blooded.”

“I suspect that it was not the first time. He knew exactly where to go to find the poison he needed. He may have been a regular patron of Harmodia’s little stall. A list of Ariston’s late patients might make for some interesting reading. Who is in a better position than a physician to surreptitiously hasten one’s transport to the realm of shades?”

“Assuredly,” he murmured, “this is a most exceptional case.”

“I don’t doubt it a bit. Still, from now on I shall be very careful in my choice of physicians. I am, of course, more than fortunate in having a friend such as you to patch me up while I am in Rome.”

“Will your stay be a lengthy one this time?” he asked.

“No, everyone wants me away while Clodius is tribune. My father wants to pack me off to Gaul with Caesar.” An involuntary shudder ran down my spine. “I must find some way out of it.”