The Tribune's Curse(14)

“An excellent young nobleman,” Lisas said. “One could wish that he had a worthier commander.”

“Don’t tell me you’re against the Parthian war, too,” I said, snagging a full cup from a passing tray.

He shrugged his fat shoulders, and his slaves stood by, alert lest he should topple. “Elimination of Parthia would mean one less threat to Egypt. Were the Roman forces to be commanded by General Pompey, or Gabinius, or even Caesar, busy as that gentleman is, I would have no objection.”

“Surely you don’t object because Crassus is in his dotage?” I said. Ptolemy Auletes remained in power through Roman support, but I suspected that a slightly weaker Rome would be to his liking.

“You are unaware, perhaps, of the consul’s activities when my sovereign master, the most glorious King Ptolemy, was here in Rome almost from the time you departed until last year?”

I had some vague memory of letters mentioning something at the time, but I had been so diverted by terror for my own life that scandals in the capital interested me very little. “I’m afraid not. Will you tell me?”

“Gladly. When King Ptolemy came almost three years ago to petition the Senate for the restoration of his throne, that august body was at first more than sympathetic in hearing his suit.”

“Support for the House of Ptolemy has been a cornerstone of Roman policy for generations,” I said, pouring on the oil.

“And our esteem for Rome acknowledges few boundaries. Alas, Marcus Licinius Crassus proved to be less than wholehearted in his enthusiasm. Before the Senate, he questioned whether, with so many other military projects already undertaken, Rome should shoulder the burden of a campaign to replace Ptolemy upon the throne.”

“The question was reasonable,” I said. “We are stretched rather thin, militarily speaking.”

“With this I am in full concurrence,” he said smoothly. “However, I fear that Crassus resorted to unscrupulous means to reinforce his argument.”

“Unscrupulous?” Roman politicians of the day were accustomed to employ means to gain their ends that would have shocked Greeks. And that was when they were dealing with their fellow Romans. When foreigners were concerned, few limits were observed.

“In his capacity as augur and pontifex, he demanded that the Sibylline Books be consulted.”

This was a droll development even to my jaded sensibilities. “He consulted the old books? That’s only done in national emergencies, or when the gods seem to be dangerously displeased with us—lightning striking a great temple or something like that. I never heard of them being consulted on a foreign-policy decision.”

“Just so. Yet he did exactly that. He claimed to have discovered a passage warning against giving aid to the king of Egypt.”

“A moment,” I said, holding up a forestalling hand. “You say he claimed to have discovered it? I am not an expert on sacerdotal matters, but it is my impression that the keeping and interpretation of the books are entrusted to a college of fifteen priests, the quinquidecemviri.”

“And so they are.” He looked morosely down into the depths of his cup. “It seems that Crassus has means to get what he wants.” A polite way of saying that he bribed the priests.

“Oh, well,” I said, “Ptolemy is firmly back on the throne again, thanks to Gabinius.”

“An excellent man. But now Rome is going to have an army in the East commanded by a man who is no friend of the royal house of Egypt.” Meaning that, should Crassus have to call upon Ptolemy for aid, it would be very slow in coming. It was a diplomatic nugget of potential value, and it meant that Lisas was cultivating me in what I hoped was a friendly fashion. I thanked him and went to look for Milo.

I was not as shocked as I should have been. I never regarded the Sibylline Books with any great awe except for their antiquity. They were a foreign import dating from the days of the kings, in extremely antiquated language and couched in the customary obscure double-talk employed by sibyls and seers everywhere. On top of that, the original books had burned in a temple fire many years before, and they had been pieced together by consulting sibyls all over the world, and I had some doubts as to their similarity to the originals. The priesthood was not among the most prestigious.

I was skeptical of the value of sibyls and oracles generally, although most people believed in them implicitly. If you have something to say, why speak in riddles? Still, it was uncommonly brazen effrontery to falsify a sibylline consultation. But who was more brazen than Crassus? Even as I thought these things, the man himself appeared before me.