The Sacrilege(80)

“Stay away from the river,” Julia warned. “If you should fall in, you’re sure to drown, carrying all that metal.”

“Thank you for your concern,” I said, distracted by my own thoughts.

“I would like to remind you,” Julia said, red spots appearing on her cheeks most fetchingly, “that I came here for the express purpose of warning you that your life was in danger, at no little peril to myself. I might add that I am doing my reputation no good by coming, unescorted, to the house of an unmarried man, and staying here until who knows what hour, under the eyes of spies. If I should get back to my uncle’s house alive, my grandmother will undoubtedly be waiting like a dragon. She will undoubtedly order me flogged, and believe me, she knows where the family whip is. After that, I shall be exiled to one of those barren little islands in the Aegean to atone for bringing dishonor upon the family name, something that, apparently, no man can do.”

“Oh. I do apologize, and I cannot adequately express how grateful I am, and I shall surely set things straight with your father…” This woman had the unerring capacity to make me babble.

“My father?” she all but shrieked. “You are going to talk to my father? It will amaze me if you are still drawing breath by the time you reach the end of the street out there!”

I just knew she was going to burst into tears.

“Oh, never fear. With a few of Milo’s bullies behind me, I’m not worried about a few contemptible Etruscans with their little sticking-knives and hammers.”

“You idiot!” she yelled, sounding very much like my father. “Clodius knows Milo is your friend. He’ll have his whole mob out looking for you. He’ll get reinforcements from Pompey if he has to! You are doomed and so am I!” Then she did cry.

“Please try not to get too emotional about this,” I pleaded. Then she fell into my arms, bawling. I shall draw the veil of well-bred decency over the events of the next little while, except to say that we lacked the opportunity to get down to anything really serious.

“Master,” said Cato a little while later. “Your friend is here.”

We went out to find my atrium crowded. Milo was there, big as a house and backed by twenty others just as big and far, far uglier. I made introductions, and he looked Julia over with his usual frankness.

“I’ve never admired your taste in women before, Decius,” he said. “I’m glad to see that you improve with age.” Julia stiffened, but he smiled his huge, infectious smile and she joined him. No one could resist Milo when he turned on the charm.

“Come with me, Titus,” I said. “We need to talk.”

I took him into my study and gave him an abbreviated account of what had transpired and what I had learned. He listened with his usual intense concentration and he read Nero’s letter when I got to that part. He had that odd trick of being able to read without speaking the words aloud, something I was never able to master. When he finished he handed the letter back to me, smiling once more.

“You see? I told you she could not be involved.”

“And I rejoice with you that the lady Fausta is innocent of wrongdoing. But there is still the little matter of treason.”

“Oh, that. Decius, the Senate can look out for itself. But this might be a good opportunity to get rid of Clodius.”

“Believe me, I will not stand in your way. I need to accomplish two things: I have to get Julia back to Caesar’s house, and I need to present my findings to the Senate.”

“The Senate exists as a body only when a meeting is summoned,” he pointed out. “The rest of the time, there are about five hundred Senators scattered all over Rome and the empire. There won’t be another session called until well after the triumph.”

“That’s true,” I said. “But tomorrow evening, after the great procession, there will be a banquet of the entire Senate in the Temple of Jupiter Capitolinus. I will get up before them and present my case. I intend to see Pompey stripped of his triumphal regalia and disgraced right in front of the statue of Jupiter!”

He shook his head in wonderment. “Decius, if you can accomplish all that with a lot of talk and an unsigned letter from an obscure boy, you’ll be the greatest Roman who ever lived. But I’ll back you, whatever you want to do.”

“That’s all I ask,” I said.

“Where do we start?” he asked.

“We take Julia home.”

Rarely has a patrician lady been escorted home in quite the way Julia was that night. She and I strolled hand in hand down the middle of some of Rome’s most disreputable thoroughfares. The moonlight was bright and sounds of revelry came from all around as Rome celebrated a triumphal holiday. There were other sounds as well. We were closely surrounded by a tight-packed crowd of Milo’s thugs, and from its periphery came strangled yells, the sound of blows, the clink of metal striking metal and the unmistakable wood-cracking sound of Milo’s bronzelike palms slapping somebody. Sometimes the cobbles we walked over were a little slippery, but we made it to the Forum and the house of the Pontifex Maximus.