“And he is siding with Pompey on the land grants.”
“That is at least consistent,” I observed. “If you’re going to curry favor with the mob so outrageously, you might as well get the veterans on your side.”
“My thought exactly. I find myself wondering if he plans to ask Pompey for a few of those veterans. A man as important as Clodius intends to be needs a proper escort.”
“A private army? He already has a great mob of ex-gladiators and street brawlers.”
“Pompey’s veterans would add a certain tone, not to mention demonstrating solidarity between the two.” This sounded reasonable enough, but I suspected it to be pure malice on the part of Crassus. He wanted to cast suspicion on his old rival. As if I needed encouragement to be suspicious of Pompey.
“And,” Crassus went on, “I’ve noted that Pompey has lent him some Etruscan soothsayers. Tame soothsayers are always an advantage to an ambitious man.”
“I didn’t know that Pompey was cultivating the entrail-examiners.” All our haruspices in those days came from Etruria.
“Oh, very much so,” Crassus assured me. “You know the common people hold them in awe. And there are certain, shall we say, military-political advantages to a power base in Tuscia.” He used the common Latin word for the old Etruscan nation. There were, indeed, advantages to a power base there, considering that you had only to cross the Tiber to be in Tuscia. The very Trans-Tiber district lay on Etruscan land. Tuscia had been a part of the Roman hegemony for a long time, but like many of our allies, its people were an independent lot and considered us upstarts.
And the Claudians had Etruscan blood, although they always claimed to be Sabine in origin. In recent years there had been a veritable mania for things Etruscan. People claim Etruscan descent whose ancestors came to Italy as slaves two generations ago. Others pay absurd prices for authentic Etruscan art, and there is a thriving trade in forgeries. Now that the people are all but extinct, there is something romantic about them that was not apparent when they were around to plague us. Back then we still remembered that they had once lorded it over us as kings and we had little love for them. Their primary reputation lay in the fields of magic and sooth-saying, which always struck me as an easy way to make a living without actually having to do anything.
I had a few more questions to ask, but we were interrupted by the arrival of none other than Caius Julius Caesar with his whole retinue.
“I fear I must take my leave, Decius,” Crassus said. “The Pontifex Maximus and I have a little business to discuss.” He lowered his voice as if letting me in on a deep secret. “I’ve just about persuaded him to let me have the first plebeian vacancy in the college of pontifexes.”
“Then please accept my congratulations in advance,” I said. I did not doubt that he was telling the truth, but I also did not doubt they had far more serious business than mere sacerdotal honors. Caesar had debts. Crassus had money. It didn’t take Aristotle to figure out the connection there.
As I walked away from the house of Crassus, I pondered the connections between Caesar and Crassus. What I needed, I decided, was a good, unbiased source for rumor, gossip and calumny. And I knew just where to go to find it.
7
A foreign embassy might seem a strange place to go looking for semi-reliable information on internal Roman politics, but I knew better. Ambassadors live on inside information and rumor. They freely discuss among themselves things avoided by Romans. They hear everything and are always anxious to curry favor with well-connected Romans.
The Egyptian ambassador at this time was a fat old degenerate named Lisas. He had been in Rome forever and he knew everybody. I have already mentioned the connection between Crassus and Ptolemy, which made Lisas a natural source to sound out. Besides, I was hungry and Lisas was a famous host.
The Egyptian embassy was a great sprawl of buildings outside the city walls on the slope of Janiculum. Its architecture and decor displayed the great Hellenistic mishmash of Egypt and Greece that characterized Alexandria. Hermes goggled at the place as we trudged toward the main gate.
“Did you ever come this way when you ran away?” I asked him.
He shook his head. “I’ve never been outside the city walls before.”
“A good thing. When the Egyptians catch a runaway, they feed him to the crocodiles in their pool.” Just then one of those torpid beasts bellowed from the other side of the wall surrounding the compound.
“I’ve heard that,” Hermes said, his face pale. “Is it true?”
“Absolutely,” I assured him.