The Tribune's Curse(67)

“It’s simple enough. What happened?”

“Well, the Alexandrians sent a delegation to ask the Senate to renounce Ptolemy and put Berenice in his place.”

“How did they fare? I hope they brought plenty of bribe money.”

“They never even got here. Ptolemy got wind of the mission and hired a pack of outlaws down in the South. They ambushed the delegation right outside Brundisium and massacred the lot.”

This was shocking even to my jaded sensibilities. “That’s brazen behavior even for a Ptolemy!”

“The tribunes were in an uproar over it—denounced the aristocrats as a bunch of corrupt money-grubbers supporting a vile barbarian tyrant and murderer—all very true, by the way. After that, support for Ptolemy faded.”

“He obviously struck a deal with the consul Gabinius,” I said. “Ten thousand talents, so I hear.”

“It took him awhile to get all that silver together, but it was well spent. Clodius got a piece of it, too.”

“Clodius? How?”

“He was tribune that year, remember?”

“How could I forget? It was the main reason my family wanted me out of Rome.”

“Calpurnius got Macedonia for his proconsular province. Gabinius was to have Cilicia, but Clodius rammed through a law giving him Syria instead, putting him in a position to help Ptolemy as soon as he could get the bribe money together.”

“And people wonder how we’ve conquered half the world,” I said. “With politics like ours, who stands a chance against us?”

“It’s what makes us unique,” he agreed.

Something struck me. “Crassus could make use of this. He might pass up his war with Parthia and use this as an excuse to take Egypt instead!”

“Possible,” Milo said, “but not likely. For one thing, to do that without permission from the Senate would be tantamount to declaring war against Rome. For another, he’s not quite sane these days, as I’m sure you noticed. Taking Parthia is not just a fixed goal with him; it’s an obsession. He’s talked about nothing else for years. A saner man might have a go at Egypt, but not Crassus. Pompey would love to do it, but he lacks the courage to defy the Senate. Caesar would do it and make it look as if the Senate had given him permission.”

“I hope you’re right. The last thing we need just now is war over Egypt.”

By this time we had reached the basilica where Milo was holding court. Pompey had cleared his docket for the murder investigation, but that was just a gesture to calm the crowd. Milo had less than two months left in office and much business to tie up. There was already a crowd assembled there waiting for him to sort out their problems.

“Get back to me as soon as you have a credible suspect for Ateius’s murder. Time is getting short.”

“You’re not the first to remind me,” I said. I took my leave of him and wandered around the Forum for a little while, soaking in the feel of the place. By eavesdropping discreetly, I determined that the murder of the tribune was still the prime subject of conversation. The news from Egypt hadn’t spread and probably would not. It was a matter of great interest to the Senate, but foreign affairs occupied little of the attention of the average Roman, unless there was a war in which we were involved.

Three years ago. That, I thought, had certainly been a busy year. Gabinius had been consul. So had Calpurnius Piso, who had ordered the suppression of the foreign cults. Aemilius Scaurus had been aedile, defraying the costs of his office by letting some of those foreigners off for a consideration and putting on his extravagant Games. In fact, far too many of the events of that year seemed to have led to the fateful happenings of this year.

I pondered my next move. Whatever I was going to do, it seemed to me that I had better get it done before nightfall. The streets were getting dangerous for me.

I had always found the Capitol a good place to think, so I climbed the winding road to its summit. Before the Temple of Jupiter, the ashes of the morning sacrifice still smoldered. I went into the temple and studied the serene face of the god for a while, not trying to concentrate, just letting my thoughts wander. The smell of smoke recalled to my mind the destruction of the temple almost thirty years before in a fire caused by lightning. The augurs determined that Jupiter had destroyed the temple because he had been displeased with it, so it was rebuilt with even greater magnificence. Many of its treasures had been destroyed, though, including the Sibylline Books.

Once again I felt that featherlike tickling somewhere in the rear of my mind. I did not force things, but let my memory bring up such facts as I knew concerning the famous books of prophecy.