The Sacrilege(43)

“Citizens!” he cried, at the precise moment when his speech would have the greatest dramatic effect. “This street has seen the murder of a noble youth of one of Rome’s most ancient families, a patrician of the Claudii. Was this not enough? Would you anger the gods and bring their curse upon Rome by shedding civil blood before the Pontifex Maximus?” He ignored the minor lake of Nero’s blood that spread over the cobbles. Maybe dried blood didn’t count. People looked abashed, even Clodius’s arena bait.

“Pontifex,” Clodius said, “we would never offer you disrespect, but my kinsman has been foully murdered and I name him”—he jabbed a finger toward me—“as the guilty party.”

“Rome is a republic of law,” Caesar proclaimed. “Courts and magistrates and juries decide these questions, not mob action. I order that all here return to their houses. When your passions have calmed and you can behave as citizens should, then will be the time to try this matter publicly. Until that time, depart!” The last word snapped out like one of Jove’s thunderbolts, and some of the Subura’s most bloodstained ruffians fairly scurried to get out of his sight.

Clodius was so enraged that he was, for once, unable to speak. His face had darkened to crimson, and throbbing veins stood out on his brow. His eyeballs were red as a three-day hangover. If he had just stuck his tongue out, he would have been identical to those gorgons you see painted on old Greek shields. It was a most entertaining spectacle, but it could not last. Beneath Caesar’s glare, Clodius’s extravagant color began to fade. When he was self-possessed once more, he whirled and stalked off, followed by his uneasy entourage.

Within moments the street was empty except for Caesar. It was the most amazing thing I had seen in a good long while. He turned to where I stood in my gateway.

“How did this come about, Decius Caecilius?” he asked.

“Come inside and I’ll tell you, Caius Julius,” I said. Caesar came in. I didn’t tell him everything, naturally, just about how I had met Nero and encountered him again at the herb-woman’s booth and then at the house of Capito. I left out the parts about the attempted poisoning and coming upon the corpse the night before. Since I was as mystified as anyone else, I didn’t need to fake it.

“None of this seems to make any sense,” Caesar said.

“I could not agree with you more.”

“Still, this is a disturbing thing,” he mused. “Two murders, performed identically, and both victims patricians.”

“Don’t forget Capito’s janitor,” I reminded him. “He wasn’t a patrician.”

“He probably got a glimpse of the killer’s face,” Caesar said. “He must have been eliminated as a witness.”

“I agree,” I said. Then I told him what Asklepiodes had said about the wounds. Why was I speaking to Caesar so openly? Partly it was because I suspected him of being involved in some way and I hoped that he would betray complicity. Partly, also, it was because I had been ready for a mortal brawl with Clodius and Caesar had poured water on the fire. In a less frustrated state I might have been more cautious.

“This is strange indeed. Am I to understand that you have taken upon yourself one of your inimitable investigations?”

“It helps to pass the time,” I said.

He grew very serious. “Decius, my friend, I have known many men who courted death for the sake of glory. Others do the same in pursuit of wealth, power or revenge. You are the only man I know who does so as a sort of intellectual exercise.”

“Every man finds his pleasures where he will,” I said, quoting an old saying I had often seen carved on tombstones.

“You are an intriguing man, Decius Caecilius. I wish there were more like you in Rome. Most men are boring drudges. My niece told me of your visit yesterday. She was quite taken with you.”

This surprised me. But I answered without prevarication. “As I was with her.”

He nodded approvingly. “I am glad to hear it. We must discuss this further at a future date. Just now, though, I am called elsewhere. Good day, Decius.”

His words rattled me somewhat. Was he suggesting a match? Or was he trying to distract me? If the latter, he did not shake from my head the question that had been there since his appearance.

“Caius Julius,” I said.

He turned in the doorway. “Yes?”

“How did you happen to get here so quickly?”

He smiled. “Ever the inquirer, eh? As it happened, I was in the Temple of Libitina when Clodius’s servant arrived to summon the undertakers.”

“I see,” I said. “Pontifical duties?”