“Scaurus!” Cato said scornfully. “When I was praetor two years ago, he was tried in my court for gross corruption in his administration of Sardinia. Acquitted, of course, because he bribed the jury, but there was no question as to his guilt. He extorted money far in excess of the required taxes; he accepted bribes for all of his judgments in court; he executed wealthy men just to lay his hands on fine art works they owned! I remember one fellow in particular that Scaurus charged with treason and executed summarily just because he owned a famous statue of Venus tying up her—”
“Actually,” I said, wanting to interrupt this particular train of thought, “since he’s already been acquitted of those deeds, I think we should concentrate on his death trap of a theater.”
“And that’s another thing!” Cato said, just working himself up to the proper pitch of righteous indignation. “That theater is a disgrace to Rome!” He pointed toward the huge structure, which was clearly visible from where we stood. “In the first place, theaters should never have been allowed in Rome! They are impious, degenerate, foreign institutions and they weaken and corrupt the youth of Rome. Even if they must be built for a particular set of Games, they are supposed to be torn down immediately afterward. Yet there sits the theater of Aemilius Scaurus, years after its construction, and all so that the greedy villain can rent it out for filthy profit!” He was in full-powered rant now.
“In the year of my praetorship, I protested that abomination to the censors—”
“One of whom was Valerius Messala,” I pointed out.
“Yes, you are right.” He wiped a hand down his face. “The gods will make a desolation of Rome, and we deserve it.”
“Let’s get back to making our case if you don’t mind,” I said. “It looks like there shouldn’t be much of a problem crossing the river if you use the embankment south of the Sublician, then cross there. A team of men on horseback and foot should be able to find Harmodias. Like everyone else, he may be expecting everything to stop for the duration of the fiood.”
“I’ll see to it.” That was the good thing about Cato. He got things done and didn’t waste time with a lot of frivolous objections. He saved his pigheadedness for public debate.
“Our toughest enemy to beat will be Messala. He’s rich; he’s infiuential; he’s Pompey’s close supporter. The testimony of men as lowly as Justus and Harmodias won’t mean much against such a man, but as censor he was to have assigned publicani to scour the drains and sewers. This he did not do, and I am going to charge him with sacrilege for it.”
“Excellent.”
“Last time I saw Caninus,” I said, “which was right here, he was with a pack of Plautius Hypsaeus’s men. Hypsaeus was praetor the same year you were, wasn’t he?”
“No, the year before. He was praetor of the foreigners, and never in the City. Out taking bribes from barbarians, no doubt. He’s thick as thieves with Scaurus.”
“Even thicker,” I said. “I got these from Lucilius’s widow. Look at them.” I handed him the notes the woman had given me. He frowned and muttered as he plowed his way through the verbiage and crude handwriting.
“Asiatic style. I detest it. Well, the oration itself might have proved competent, but this list of names will be invaluable. I see our friend Hypsaeus right here. I never knew he owned a brickworks, but it shouldn’t surprise me. How many senators these days make their money decently, from their crops and rents?”
I sighed. “Alas, too few. Hypsaeus is protected by his gang, but we can get him. He’s out of office, and his hirelings will desert him when we put the pressure on. The rest of the names are mainly builders, public contractors, and so forth, low-level people who can be dealt with easily.”
“Your friend Milo will be happy,” Cato commented. “Not only is his name not on the list, but Hypsaeus is his rival for next year’s consulship.”
I gazed upward. “I fear they are both to be disappointed.”
“What?” He shot a suspicious glance at me. “What do you mean? Do you know something?”
“Let’s just say I have a premonition about who is going to be consul next year.”
“You Metelli think you are the secret masters of Rome,” he growled.
“Let’s get down to business,” I said. “The sun is already up. If we move fast, we can have a case to cast before the assembled Senate this evening. There will be an uproar, but with this fiood they’ll be terrified of how the populace will react when it’s found that there would be only minor damage if not for senatorial neglect.”