“Nonsense! He only wishes to set the republic back in order. Then he will retire.”
“Retire? Caius Julius Caesar? He’ll retire when Jupiter retires from Olympus. I want to know about this. Pay a call upon your uncle. Pump Servilia for information. She’s been with him more than anyone else lately.”
“I’ll do it, but I think you are wrong. This Archelaus must have done something to provoke him. You’ve said yourself that my uncle was rather sharp with Gallic and German envoys when their rulers had behaved haughtily.”
“So Archelaus did, but a Roman citizen is not the same thing as a barbarian, and the king of Parthia is a monarch worthy of respect, even if he is an enemy. It is unlike Caesar to treat one he considers a peer disrespectfully.”
“It does seem odd,” she said, not protesting that Caesar would never consider a king his peer.
9
Now I had another complication in an investigation that was sufficiently complex as it was. Might Caesar be seriously ill, and, if so, what might this portend? I mulled this over as I crossed the Forum, closely attended by Hermes.
“I don’t see how Caesar’s being sick—” Hermes began.
“if he’s sick,” I said.
“—If he’s sick—should have anything to do with some murdered astronomers.”
“It shouldn’t. But that doesn’t mean there isn’t a connection.”
“That sounds very profound. What do you mean?” We found a vacant bench just outside the enclosure of the Lacus Curtius and sat. Since I wasn’t very popular lately we weren’t disturbed by too many well-wishers.
“I’ve been concentrating on this almost to the exclusion of all else since my conversation with Asklepiodes and Balbus yesterday. Certain facts seem to come together and are probably related. Caesar is determined to outshine Alexander the Great, but Caesar is getting old. He may well be sick, perhaps deathly sick. He has always been the soul of rationality, so much so that even his seeming follies always prove to be shrewdly calculated. Yet now he has begun to behave irrationally. His brutal treatment of Archelaus in the Senate was perhaps the most public example.”
“Clear so far,” Hermes said, “though I fail to see where this is going.”
“Be patient. Asklepiodes noted that severe illness affects a man’s nature. A great and thwarted ambition can do the same. Suppose both factors were present here.”
“All right, I’m supposing it. I’m still not coming up with anything.”
“You aren’t thinking very clearly today. I think you need something to eat, maybe some wine to go with it.”
“It would be ill-mannered to indulge myself alone, in front of my patron. You must join me.”
“I accept your invitation.” So we went to a nearby tavern and loaded up on sausages and onions grilled over charcoal and chunks of ripe cheese, along with plenty of rough, peasant wine. This is the sort of fare that promotes clarity of thought. At length Hermes sat back and belched with satisfaction.
“Has anything come to you?” I asked, downing the last sausage.
“I think so. I’m not well read, but I’ve heard a bit about great and ambitious men, and we’ve encountered a few of them. Most are very concerned with their greatness and reputation and how they will be remembered.”
“I knew some food and wine would do you good,” I commented. “Continue.”
“Some of them, especially as they grow older, turn to oracles and fortune-tellers to reassure themselves that their fame will live forever. Marius and Sertorius were famous for it. Pompey, too.”
“Excellent. Now connect that to our current investigation.”
“Caesar may be consulting astrologers.”
“On the day Polasser was killed, Cassius hinted that he was seeking a horoscope for Caesar. He didn’t speak the name, but he could hardly have meant anyone else, and it was Polasser he wanted to consult with.”
“Caesar also showed up with Servilia at the house of Callista,” Hermes pointed out. “Do you think Callista may be involved somehow?”
“I would hate to think that, but it has crossed my mind, I confess. She knows all the Greek astronomers, all sorts of people attend her salons, not just intellectuals but politicians and wealthy parvenus and foreigners of all sorts. It’s an excellent venue for carrying out a conspiracy.”
“But a conspiracy to do what?” Hermes asked.
“That I haven’t figured out yet.”
Then he surprised me. “So where does all of this come together?”
“Eh?”
“Where do all the paths cross? Where is—what is the word?—where is the nexus?”