“You have a gift for understatement,” I commended, “but where does that leave us? Men like Postumius always have enemies. People resent being cheated, and sometimes they get carried away in their eagerness for revenge. It went far beyond mere punishment, but a touchy sense of honor causes some people to lose their sense of proportion.”
“That suggests patrician involvement,” Julia said. “Plebeians rarely have so extreme a sense of honor.”
“Back to Fulvia again,” Hermes said. “She may be shameless and scandalous, but you just can’t get more patrician.”
“That is true,” Julia concurred, “and she is just the sort to enjoy such a thing. She probably made use of a pair of hot pliers herself.”
“Let’s not make unwarranted assumptions,” I cautioned. “Just because you dislike Fulvia is no reason to place her in that room, wielding torture instruments with style and panache.”
“You are hopelessly naïve. The woman is evil.”
“What of that? I’ve known a great many evil women in this city.”
“So you have,” she said ominously. It had been the wrong thing to say. She rose. “I am going to the evening ceremony at the Temple of Vesta. After that, I am joining Servilia and some other ladies for dinner and gossip. I’ll see if I can get anything useful from Servilia.”
“Excellent,” I said, happy for the change of subject. “If you see Brutus while you’re there, see if you can pump him about this transmigration of souls stuff. Something about what he’s been saying doesn’t add up.”
“I’ll do that. This has been a long day for you two. Don’t go out carousing. Get to bed early and look into the gymnasiums first thing in the morning.” She went out, followed by two of her serving girls.
“Between Julia and her uncle,” I said, “throwing in this mysterious assassin and the conspiracy that seems to surround him, I’m at a loss to know who terrifies me more.”
The next morning we set out to make the rounds of the gymnasiums. As Julia had said, Rome had only a few at the time. Recently the First Citizen has tried to revive interest in Greek-style athletics, but back then Roman men usually exercised at the baths, or went to the Field of Mars for military exercises like drilling and javelin-throwing or to the ludus for sword practice. The gymnasiums were patronized mainly by Greeks or people from Greek-influenced parts of the world.
The first we tried was located just outside the Lavernalis Gate, at the southwestern extremity of the city. It was always easier to find spacious, inexpensive land outside the walls than within, so if you needed generous grounds, that was where you went. Your place was likely to be destroyed if an enemy invaded, but that hadn’t happened for a generation, not since the Social War in Sulla’s day.
This one was located in a pleasant grove of plane trees and tall pines. In its forecourt was a fine statue of Hercules, the patron of athletes. A large field to one side offered facilities for those sports requiring space: running, the discus, and the javelin. Inside, it consisted simply of a long exercise yard floored with sand, where men and boys went through a number of exercises under the supervision of instructors. Here they vaulted, wrestled, and tossed the heavy ball.
In one corner a pair of burly men practiced pugilism. For sparring they wore leather helmets and their forearms were thickly wrapped with leather. Their hands were wrapped in padding as well. In a real bout their hands would be wrapped in hard leather straps, perhaps featuring the bronze caestus. They were finishing their bout as we came in, the trainer separating them with his staff. They removed their helmets and one of them wore the small topknot that identified a professional boxer.
It was easy enough to separate the Romans from the Greeks and would-be Greeks. The former wore loincloths and sometimes tunics while exercising. The latter worked out naked. The head trainer, carrying a silver-topped wand, saw us and approached.
“How may I help you, Senator?” He was sixty if he was a day, but as lean and hard as a legionary recruit after his first six months in the training camp, and he moved with an athlete’s springy grace. He made me ashamed of myself. I made a mental note to go to the ludus or the Field of Mars every day from now on until I was in good shape and the flab was gone from my waist. Julia was right.
“We are looking for an outstanding runner, a man about twenty-five to thirty years of age, medium height, dark hair, spare build. He is probably a native Roman.”
“Except for the Roman part you’ve described most of the best runners I know. Some are younger, of course.”