The Sacrilege(67)

He stretched and leaned his head back against his folded arms. “Because the times have changed irrevocably, Decius. What you describe is a system that was perfect for a little city-state that had recently thrown off its foreign kings. It even worked well enough for a rather powerful city-state that dominated much of Italy. But the city-state days are over. Rome governs an empire that extends from the Pillars of Hercules to Asia. Spain, large chunks of Gaul, Greece, the islands, most of the southern Mediterranean lands: Africa, Numidia, Carthage, Mauretania. And what governs all this? The Senate!” He loosed his huge laugh again.

“The greatest governing body known to man,” I said with great dignity. I was, after all, a new-minted Senator myself.

“Nonsense,” Milo said without rancor. “They are, for the most part, a pack of time-serving nobodies. They’ve won office because their forefathers won the same offices. Decius, these men have been handed an empire to govern, and what is their qualification? That their great-great-great-grandfathers were wealthy farmers! At least these schemers you detest have worked and fought and, yes, schemed to get what they want.”

“Can Rome be handed over to the likes of Clodius?” I said.

“No, but not for constitutional reasons. I plan to kill him first. But you, what is your protection from him? Besides my friendship, I mean.”

“There are still plenty of people in Rome who have no use for his sort of demagoguery. My neighbors in the Subura will keep his men from my door.”

“Forgive me, Decius, but you hold their esteem as much by your colorful, brawling habits as by your Republican rectitude. How long do you think you will keep their loyalty if Clodius should succeed in transferring to the plebs and gets elected tribune, as surely he will? He promises every Roman citizen a perpetual grain dole. That is a powerful inducement, my friend.”

“It is not worthy of a free people,” I said grudgingly, knowing that I sounded like my father.

“They may be free in the technical sense, but they’re poor, and that’s a sort of slavery. The day of the freeholder is past, Decius, and it won’t come back. They’ve become a mob, and politically they will act like a mob.”

“And you intend to control Rome as a mob leader,” I said. I wasn’t asking a question.

“Better me than Clodius.”

“I won’t argue that.” There seemed to be no more to say on the subject. I studied the austere but tasteful bathhouse. “This is convenient, having a place like this so handy.”

“I own it,” Milo reported. “I own the whole block now, and all the buildings on the facing streets.”

“That’s better than convenient,” I commended, “it’s tactically sound.”

“I try to look ahead. When you’re through soaking here, why don’t you let my masseur work you over?” He pointed to a low doorway. “The table room’s through there.”

I winced at the very thought. “The last thing I want is someone pounding my body.”

“Try him anyway,” Milo said. “Handling wounded men is his specialty.”

Mile could be a hard man to refuse, so I tried his masseur. To my amazement, the man was exactly what I needed. He was a huge Cretan, and in his way his knowledge was as profound as that of Asklepiodes. His powerful hands were brutal where the flesh was merely bruised and contused, gentle where I was cut. By the time he was finished, I actually felt not far from normal. My muscles and joints flexed with their usual ease, and only the areas around my wounds were painfully tight. I was almost ready to take on another fight, as long as it was not too strenuous.

There was still a question left unanswered but answerable, and I went to resolve it. The walk from Milo’s citadel to the Aventine let me loosen my newly massaged muscles, and I was pleasantly winded at the end of the brief climb.

I stood on the steps of the lovely Temple of Ceres. It overlooked the open end of the Circus Maximus and commanded one of Rome’s more breathtaking views, and Rome is a city of numerous splendid views. Aside from its religious function, serving the all-important goddess of grain, the temple was the ancient headquarters of the aediles. It was the special province of the plebeian aediles, since they were the judges of the grain market, but the curule aediles, though higher ranking, also had their offices here.

There was a great, rushing deal of coming and going as I climbed the steps, for the early plowing and planting ceremonies were about to commence. Wellborn Roman women were everywhere in evidence, since this was overwhelmingly a woman’s temple. Children by the hundreds, dressed in spotless white tunics, were practicing their roles in the upcoming ceremonies. Despite my deadly serious mission, I paused to watch the little ones as they solemnly went through the intricacies of their part in the devotions to the goddess.