Catilina's riddle

Claudia had said that he preferred the city, especially in the colder months.

The slaves had done a good job of repairing the wall during the summer, but already the rains and the ice were taking a toll; I noticed several small cracks here and there in the mortar. I looked across the open fields that gradually rose towards my house, from which the smoke of wood fires rose into the still air. From such a distance, with the ridge behind it, it looked the very picture of a rich man's peaceful retreat from the city.

I came to the stream and turned south. Except for the evergreens, all the foliage along its course had been stripped naked by the winter, and the stream had frozen over, locking the waterwheel in place until the thaw. Some day, I thought, the controversy over the stream would be settled for good, and I could visit its banks without thinking of lawyers, law courts, and the sour countenance of Publius Claudius. A hill obscured my view of his property, but I could see a plume of smoke rising from his house. What was my neighbour doing on such a day? Probably keeping warm with his little Butterfly, I thought. The memory of my brief visit to his house caused me to shiver.

Following the stream, I came to the thicket at the southwestern corner of the farm, the secret place where I had buried Nemo. Amid the denuded branches it was not hard to find his stele. Who had he been, after all — a pawn of Cicero's, or Catilina's, or of Marcus Caelius? Not far away we had buried the body of Forfex. Though we knew his name, I had buried him as a slave, with only a stone to mark the place.

I climbed the ridge and looked down over all. The view was pleasing, even to a melancholy eye, with its muted shades of grey and umber. I would have stayed longer on the hill, but the cold in my fingers and toes drove me back to the house.

Aratus met me at the door. 'Master,' he said in a low voice, 'you have a visitor, waiting for you in your library.'

'From the city?' I said, feeling a prickle of dread.

'No, Master. The visitor is your neighbour, Gnaeus Claudius.'

'What in the name of Jupiter can he want?' I muttered.

I shrugged off my cloak and headed towards the library. I found Gnaeus seated in a backless chair, looking bored and fingering the little tag attached to a scroll tucked away in its pigeonhole, as if he had never seen a written document before. He raised an eyebrow when I entered but did not bother to stand.

'What do you want, Gnaeus Claudius?'

'Bitter weather we're having,' he remarked in a conversational drawl.

'Beautiful weather in its way, if a little harsh.'

'Yes, harsh, that's what I meant to say. Like country living in general. It's a hard life, ru

'From where did you gather that idea?'

'So my cousin Claudia says.'

'And what concern is that of yours?'

'Perhaps I could help you.'

'I don't think so, unless you have hay to sell me.'

'Of course I don't! You know there are no decent fields on the mountain for growing hay!'

'Then what are you talking about?'

His sudden vehemence slowly faded into a smile. 'I should like to make an offer to buy this farm'

'It's not for sale. If Claudia told you so—'. 'I merely assumed you might be ready to give it up and go back where you belong.'

"This is where I belong.'

'I think not.'

'I don't care what you think.'

'This is Claudian land, Gordianus. It has been Claudian land since—'

'Tell that to the spirit of your late cousin. It was his will that I should have this land.'

'Lucius was always different from the rest of us. He had more money and took everything for granted. No appreciation of his status; no understanding of the importance of keeping plebeians in their place. He'd have left this land to a dog if a dog had been his best friend.'

'I think you should go, Gnaeus Claudius.'

'I came here prepared to make a serious offer. If you're worried that I'll try to cheat you—'

'Did you come by horse? I'll have Aratus fetch it from the stable.' 'Gordianus, it would be best for all concerned—' 'Go now, Gnaeus Claudius!'

* * *

I was still brooding over Gnaeus's visit the next day when a messenger arrived with a letter from Eco. Whatever the news, it would brighten my outlook to hear his sweet, gruff voice in my mind. Perhaps Meto had attached a note as well, I thought. I retired to the library and hastily broke the seal.

Dearest Papa:

Your slave Orestes has arrived with no real explanation for being here. He claims that he set out from the farm with Meto the other day, but that Meto soon turned back, ordering him to go on to Rome without him and to tell me that you were making a gift of him to the household. It seems that Orestes originally thought that he was accompanying Meto to Rome, but at any rate he says that you did intend for him to stay with me for good. (He's strong as an ox, I grant, but not very bright.) Can you explain?

The mood in the city continues to oscillate wildly. I do not think there can be any return to normalcy until Catilina is soundly defeated. At times this seems inevitable, only a matter of days; then one hears rumours that Catilina's forces now include thousands of runaway slaves and his army has grown larger than that of Spartacus at its peak. It is hard to know what to believe from day to day. There even appears to be a kind of backlash against Cicero, at least among those who are not busy proclaiming him to be the greatest Roman who ever lived….

I continued to read long after the words stopped making sense to me. At length, when I put down the letter, I noticed that my hand was trembling.

If Meto was not in Rome, then where was he?

The moment I let myself ask the question, I knew the answer.

'How far away are they? How long will you be gone?' Bethesda demanded.

'How far? Somewhere between here and the Alps. How long? There's no way of knowing.'

'You're sure he's gone to join Catilina?'

'As certain as if he had told me so aloud. What a fool I've been!'

Bethesda did not contradict me. As I hurriedly gathered the things

I would need, she watched me from the doorway, her arms crossed, her back straight, but with a lurking wildness in her eyes that indicated she was secretly distraught and struggling to hide it, I had seldom seen her so upset; to look into her eyes u

'No! The roads are too dangerous now. I don't trust the slaves to protect you.'

'But you trust them to protect us here in the house?'

'Bethesda, please! Eco will come. I've already written to him. He could be here as soon as the day after tomorrow, or even late tomorrow night'

'You should stay until then, to make sure he.gets here.'

'No! Every moment that passes — the battle could already be taking place, this very minute — you want Meto to come back, don't you?'

'And what if neither of you comes back?' Her voice was suddenly shrill. She pressed the back of her hand against her lips and shuddered.

'Bethesda!' I clutched her and pressed her hard against me.

She began to sob. 'Ever since we left the city, nothing but trouble…'

I felt a sudden tugging at my tunic and looked down to see Diana's immense brown eyes staring up at me. 'Papa,' she said, somehow oblivious of her mother's anguish, 'Papa, come see!'