Catilina's riddle

The Minotaur snorted, spraying steam from its dripping black nostrils. It stopped a few steps away and cocked its head. When it spoke, it was in a voice that seemed somehow disguised, for it sounded hoarse and u

'My name is Gordianus.'

'You don't belong here.'

'I came here to find something.'

"That was foolish. This is a maze, and the purpose of a maze is to mislead.'

'But I've found my way to you.' 'Or did I find my way to you?'

I felt a quiver not of fear but of uncertainty, so profound that it made my head ache. I closed my eyes for a moment. When I opened them again, I felt that something had changed, and realized that the stone walls around me had faded away. Even so, it was still quite dark. I was atop a high hill beneath starlight, looking down on a country scene — a stream with a water mill, a stone wall in the distance, a road, a farmhouse. It was my farm, I realized, though I was seeing it from an unfamiliar angle. I seemed to be on a ridge, though not the ridge I was used to. The view was oddly tilted and askew.

We were no longer alone. I turned and saw three naked, headless bodies seated on tree stumps in a row with their hands in their laps, like, spectators at a play, or judges at a trial

'Who are they? What are they doing here?' I asked the Minotaur in a hushed, confidential tone, though the others were clearly deaf, blind, and dumb. 'You know, don't you?'

The Minotaur nodded.

'Then tell me.'

The Minotaur shook its head. 'Speak!'

The beast snorted through its great, black, steaming nostrils and said nothing. It raised a human arm and pointed at something on the ground beside me. I looked down and saw a sword. I picked it up and weighed it in my grip, pleased by the way it gleamed beneath the starlight. 'Speak, or I shall make you join them,' I said, pointing with the sword to the three headless witnesses.

The Minotaur remained mute. I stood and brandished the blade. 'Speak!' I said, and when the beast refused, I swung the sword with all my strength and cut clear through its great bullish neck. As its head tumbled away, I saw that the Minotaur was hollow inside; its body was only a costume, and its head a mask. The true head began to emerge from within. I stepped back, my temples aching from the suspense.

Then I knew the truth…

* * *

And then I awoke, with a hammering, blinding pain in my head. Someone touched my shoulder and spoke in a low voice. 'It's all right, don't move. You're safe. Can you hear me?'

I opened my eyes and shut them against the brutal light. If I kept still, the pain receded. I caught my breath and heard myself groan. I put my hand over my face and cautiously opened my eyes again, not to harsh sunlight as I had thought, but to the soft, filtered light of a tent. For a moment I thought I was back in Catilina's tent, and wondered how I had got there. If his tent still stood, if his camp was intact, then — I lowered my hand and saw a face so unexpected that I was cast into utter confusion. A shock of red hair, a spangling of freckles across a handsome nose, and a pair of bright brown eyes looking into my own: my friend the augur, Marcus Valerius Messalla Rufus.

'Rufus?'

'Yes, Gordianus, it's me.' 'Are we in Rome?'

'No.’

'Then where?'

'Far to the north, near a town called Pistoria. There was a battle—'

'Are we in Catilina's camp?'

He sighed in such a way that I knew no such place existed any longer. 'No. This is the camp of Antonius.' 'Then—'

'You're very lucky to be alive, my friend.' 'And Meto?' My chest constricted. 'It was Meto who saved you.' 'Yes, but—'

'He lives, Gordianus,' said Rufus, seeing my fear. "Thank the gods! Where is he?'

'He'll be here soon. When I saw you were stirring, I sent a man to fetch him.'

I sat up, clenching my teeth at the pain in my head. My limbs and torso appeared to be intact. I looked around and saw that there was no one in the tent but Rufus, unless one counted the clucking chickens who inhabited the cages stacked near the tent flap. Looking at them suddenly made me feel hungry.

'How long since the battle?'

"That was yesterday.'

'How did, I get here?'

'Your son is a very brave young man. When he saw you had fallen, he rushed to you and carried you out of danger, behind the lines, beyond the camp, up among the boulders in the foothills. He must have been utterly exhausted. Can you imagine how much you both weighed, wearing that armour? And you a dead weight? And of course he was bleeding from his own wounds—'

'His wounds?'

'Never fear, Gordianus, they were minor. He made sure you were far from the danger; then he must have collapsed from exhaustion. He was found unconscious beside you.'

'By whom?'

'After the battle Antonius's reserves were sent to scour the hills. They were ordered to take any man prisoner who was willing to give himself up, and to offer battle only to those who offered it first. Do you know how many prisoners they came back with? Exactly two: yourself and Meto, both unconscious. Of all Catilina's army, only you two survived — such a curious omen that it was thought an augur should come to see it. I was summoned, and once I saw who it was, I put you under my protection and had you brought to my tent. When he awoke, Meto explained to me how you both came to be in Catilina's camp. He went out just a short while ago to look for something to eat.'

"Then I hope he brings something back with him,' I said, clutching my stomach. 'I don't know which feels emptier, my stomach or my head! Only we two, you say; then Catilina — '

'Gone, with all the rest. To a man, they died bravely, and took many lives with them. All morning the soldiers here in camp have been talking about it, saying they never before encountered so much resistance from such an outnumbered foe. Catilina's commanders all died in the front ranks. Each position was held fast until every man defending it was dead, and all their wounds were in front. They exacted a terrible toll: before it was over, all of Antonius's best fighters were dead or severely wounded.'

'And Catilina? How did he die?'

'He was found far from his own men, deep within enemy ranks among the bodies of his adversaries. His garments and armour and flesh were all the same colour, soaked red with blood. He was pierced by more wounds than could be counted, yet he was still breathing when they found him. They called me to hear his testament if he should speak; he never opened his eyes or uttered a word. But by his face you could see that he was himself to the end. Until his final breath he wore that expression of haughty defiance that caused so many men to hate him.'

'And made others love him,' I said quietly.

'Yes.'

'I know that expression. I should like to have seen his face.'

'You still may,' said Rufus. Before I could ask him what he meant, from outside we heard a sudden wail of grief so wrenching that it froze my blood. 'That's been going on all morning,' sighed Rufus. 'No cries of jubilation and victory, only lamentations. Men have been wandering about the battlefield, some to strip armour from the dead, others to see the scene by the next day's light, as men like to do in places where they've fought. They turn over the mangled corpses of the enemy and what do they find? The faces of friends and relatives and boys they grew up with. This has been a terrible and bitter victory.'

'Why did you come, Rufus?'

'To serve as augur, of course. To take the auspices before the battle.'

'But why you?'

'The Pontifex Maximus appointed me to do so,' he said, then looked at me shrewdly. 'Which is another way of saying that I came at Caesar's behest.'

'To be his eyes and ears.'

'If you like. As augur I can be privy to all that happens without staining my own hands with Roman blood. I sit in on the councils of war, but I do not make war. I only interpret the mood of the heavens.'