The Sacrilege

I did not point out his own sinister dealings with the woman. It was a part of such unspoken truces as lay between me and Crassus that such things remained unspoken until hostilities broke out afresh.

"Then you can understand my difficulty," I said. "I can't very well confront Felicia directly"-I did not mention my agreement with Julia, naturally-"and Marcus the Younger would be gravely insulted if I approached him, but as paterfamilias, you could handle these matters." I expected no help from him. This was for the sake of form.

"I shall be more than glad to," he lied jovially.

"What do you think Clodius was doing?" I asked.

"Just another of his idiotic pranks, no doubt. What genuine mischief could he accomplish at a women's religious ritual? His ideas of fun are as harebrained as his political ideas."

This was new. "I hadn't heard that he had any political thoughts. Thoughts of any nature whatever, for that matter."

"Say you so? That's right, you've been out of Rome this past year, haven't you?"

"Enlighten me," I said. "I know he wants to be tribune if he can switch his status to plebeian, but I had thought that he had no purpose in mind except to make trouble."

"Trouble is the very word. He has become a man of the people, you see. He plans to make the grain dole a permanent right of every citizen, free of charge."

"That is radical," I said, my mind turning over the possibilities. The grain dole had been around from earliest times as an emergency relief measure. It had been instituted in the days when the farmers of the countryside had taken refuge within the walls of Rome in times of siege. It was revived frequently in times of famine or other want, and sometimes as a celebration to mark an important occasion. Every citizen had his name enrolled on the dole. In fact, the old expression "receiver of the dole" meant "citizen" and was used as such even by the wealthiest of us, who would never actually have to apply for relief.

"That's not the worst of it. He's already canvassing among the plebian tribal assembly, promising to pass this outrageous legislation if they will elect him tribune." I was stu

"That is at least consistent," I observed. "If you're going to curry favor with the mob so outrageously, you might as well get the veterans on your side."

"My thought exactly. I find myself wondering if he plans to ask Pompey for a few of those veterans. A man as important as Clodius intends to be needs a proper escort."

"A private army? He already has a great mob of ex-gladiators and street brawlers."

"Pompey's veterans would add a certain tone, not to mention demonstrating solidarity between the two." This sounded reasonable enough, but I suspected it to be pure malice on the part of Crassus. He wanted to cast suspicion on his old rival. As if I needed encouragement to be suspicious of Pompey.

"And," Crassus went on, "I've noted that Pompey has lent him some Etruscan soothsayers. Tame soothsayers are always an advantage to an ambitious man."

"I didn't know that Pompey was cultivating the entrail-examiners." All our haruspices in those days came from Etruria.

"Oh, very much so," Crassus assured me. "You know the common people hold them in awe. And there are certain, shall we say, military-political advantages to a power base in Tuscia." He used the common Latin word for the old Etruscan nation. There were, indeed, advantages to a power base there, considering that you had only to cross the Tiber to be in Tuscia. The very Trans-Tiber district lay on Etruscan land. Tuscia had been a part of the Roman hegemony for a long time, but like many of our allies, its people were an independent lot and considered us upstarts.

And the Claudians had Etruscan blood, although they always claimed to be Sabine in origin. In recent years there had been a veritable mania for things Etruscan. People claim Etruscan descent whose ancestors came to Italy as slaves two generations ago. Others pay absurd prices for authentic Etruscan art, and there is a thriving trade in forgeries. Now that the people are all but extinct, there is something romantic about them that was not apparent when they were around to plague us. Back then we still remembered that they had once lorded it over us as kings and we had little love for them. Their primary reputation lay in the fields of magic and soothsaying, which always struck me as an easy way to make a living without actually having to do anything.

I had a few more questions to ask, but we were interrupted by the arrival of none other than Caius Julius Caesar with his whole retinue.

"I fear I must take my leave, Decius," Crassus said. "The Pontifex Maximus and I have a little business to discuss." He lowered his voice as if letting me in on a deep secret. "I've just about persuaded him to let me have the first plebeian vacancy in the college of pontifexes."

"Then please accept my congratulations in advance," I said. I did not doubt that he was telling the truth, but I also did not doubt they had far more serious business than mere sacerdotal honors. Caesar had debts. Crassus had money. It didn't take Aristotle to figure out the co

As I walked away from the house of Crassus, I pondered the co

Chapter VII

A foreign embassy might seem a strange place to go looking for semi-reliable information on internal Roman politics, but I knew better. Ambassadors live on inside information and rumor. They freely discuss among themselves things avoided by Romans. They hear everything and are always anxious to curry favor with well-co

The Egyptian ambassador at this time was a fat old degenerate named Lisas. He had been in Rome forever and he knew everybody. I have already mentioned the co

The Egyptian embassy was a great sprawl of buildings outside the city walls on the slope of Janiculum. Its architecture and decor displayed the great Hellenistic mishmash of Egypt and Greece that characterized Alexandria. Hermes goggled at the place as we trudged toward the main gate.

"Did you ever come this way when you ran away?" I asked him.

He shook his head. "I've never been outside the city walls before."

"A good thing. When the Egyptians catch a runaway, they feed him to the crocodiles in their pool." Just then one of those torpid beasts bellowed from the other side of the wall surrounding the compound.

"I've heard that," Hermes said, his face pale. "Is it true?"

"Absolutely," I assured him.

A liveried slave stood in the gateway to greet visitors, and when he saw my Senator's insignia, he bowed so low that his nose could have brushed his ankles.

"Senator Decius Caecilius Metellus the Younger to see the Ambassador Lisas," I said grandly. The slave conducted me into a wide atrium and hurried off in search of the master. In the center of the room was a sphinx of white marble with the face of Alexander the Great.

A few minutes later Lisas waddled in amid a cloud of greetings. Besides his great girth, he was distinguished by a huge black wig and grotesquely heavy facial cosmetics. Like all the ruling caste of Egypt, he was of Macedonian descent, but he affected the trappings of the pharaonic past. He was famed for his many perversions, some of them unknown outside Egypt until he brought them to Rome. In spite of all this, I liked the man, who was genuinely kind and thoughtful.