The Sacrilege(86)

An elephant passed by me, and its inhabitants showered things all around me. This turned out to be almost as deadly as the javelins Clodius was hurling, for it transpired that Pompey was not scattering mere trinkets this night. In the torchlight I saw gold coins, carved gemstones, vials of perfume amid the flowers, and wherever they landed, fights broke out over possession.

I looked for Clodius and saw him standing in his little castle, looking all over for me. I saw that his beast was about to pass close by the Rostra. I got to the fringes of the mob and ran toward the old monument and dashed up its back steps. There I threw off my toga, consigning the expensive thing to unavoidable oblivion, crossed the base and stepped out onto one of the bronze ship’s rams that decorated the marble front of the platform.

As the elephant jostled by, I jumped into its castle, my sword bare in one hand and a caestus on the other. The men whirled around with looks of shock and I smashed my bronze-spiked left fist into the jaw of one, in the next instant slashing another across the face. Both men tumbled screaming to the pavement fifteen feet below. Now it was just Clodius and me.

Screaming, he leapt on me before I could rebrace myself. I had not anticipated the rocking of the platform beneath my feet and I swung my arms wide to regain balance. That gave him the chance to grasp both my wrists as he closed, trying to knee me in the crotch. I spent several seconds jockeying to protect myself. He tried to bite my nose off again, but I tucked in my chin and butted him in the face instead.

As he staggered back, the platform began to rock violently. I spared a glance down and saw that scores of Clodius’s thugs had rallied to him and were trying to scramble up the sides of the elephant to rescue their master. The poor beast trumpeted with alarm, waving its torch-laden trunk about and scorching several bystanders.

At last, the strain proved to be too much for the unstable castle. The elephant stumbled sideways and the girth parted. The tower lurched and fell, landing on a set of steps amid a great splintering of wood and rending of wicker. We were thrown violently apart, and I somehow managed to retain my grip on my weapons. I lurched to my feet to see Clodius’s whole mob a few steps away, but they had the look of abashed schoolboys and did not climb the stair as they helped Clodius, shaking his head groggily, to regain his feet. I looked to see who had cowed them and saw, standing in the doorway behind me, the lady Aurelia, Caesar’s mother, livid with rage.

“Who dares to bring bloodied weapons to the house of the Pontifex Maximus?” she screeched. Hastily, I resheathed my sword and thrust my smeared caestus beneath my tunic.

“If you will excuse me, my lady,” I said, “these men are trying to kill me. May I come inside?” I could see Julia standing behind her.

“If you enter this house, I will demand your public flogging!” said the old bat.

“Let him in, Grandmother!” Julia pleaded.

“Never!”

Clodius grinned and came for me again, and I was about to draw when a clopping of hooves interrupted us. From a courtyard beside the house came Caius Julius and a sizable retinue, all mounted. This was a rare sight in the city, especially after nightfall. Well, it was a night for strange sights.

“What is this?” Caesar shouted. He wore a military tunic and boots.

“This man,” his mother said, pointing at me, “has violated your house. Have him executed at once, my son!”

Caesar smiled. “Now, Mother, calm yourself. This is Decius Caecilius Metellus the Younger, and the gods keep special watch over such as he. I, the Pontifex Maximus, have said so.” He turned to Clodius. “Publius, call off your dogs.”

But Clodius had gone into his gorgonlike rage. “Not this time, Caesar! He is mine!”

“Decius, come here,” Caesar said. I stepped over to him, keeping a wary eye on Clodius. Caesar leaned from his saddle, an eyebrow sardonically arched. In a low voice, he said: “Decius, just how badly do you want to get out of Rome alive tonight?”

“Rather badly,” I admitted.

“The only way you are going to do it is to ride out with me. I am on my way to Spain, and my men are all veterans of long experience. Clodius won’t dare attack. But I want something from you first.”

“Is that what you do these days, Caius Julius?” I said bitterly. “Make bargains, like some publicanus angling for a government contract?”

“It’s the way of the new Rome,” he said. “Be quick about it.”

“What do you want?”

“Many things, but right now what you must give me is your evidence.” He held forth his hand.

I looked at the enraged Clodius and his murderous men. Nowhere could I see Milo or his thugs. I was alone and I could measure my life expectancy in seconds. I took the message tube from my tunic and placed it in Caesar’s hand.