'Alas, Gnaeus Claudius, night gathers. I've had a long and weary afternoon. The trip up to the mine is strenuous, as you must know. I need a meal and my rest. Perhaps we can discuss this another time.' Catilina mounted his horse, as did Tongilius.
‘You have a place to stay, then? If not —' said Gnaeus.
'Yes, a fine place, not too far away.'
'Perhaps I should ride with you—'
'No need. We know the way. Meantime, I suggest you have someone tend to the goatherd's head. He had a nasty accident — not his fault at all. He was only doing his best to accommodate me. His concern for your interests is commendable. It would be a pity to lose such a slave because a wound he received in his master's service was not properly seen to.'
We rode off, leaving Gnaeus to stare after us, a mingled expression of greed and uncertainty on his face. Just before we rounded a bend in the way, I looked around and saw him raise his arm and strike the cowering goatherd square on the head.
XIII
'Gnaeus Claudius — what an awful man!' said Catilina. 'Are all your neighbours so awful?'
'So I'm finding out. Though not all of them,' I said, thinking of Claudia. 'Is the water hot enough for you?'
'Quite.'
'And you, Tongilius?' 'It's perfect.'
'I can call one of the slaves to put more wood in the furnace…'
, any hotter and I should melt,' sighed Catilina, letting himself sink into the tub until only his head was above the steaming water.
My old friend Lucius Claudius had outfitted his country house with many citified luxuries, among them baths complete with three rooms, one for the warm plunge, another for the hot plunge, and the third for the cool plunge- Generally, in summer, I found it too hot even at night to want to immerse myself in warm water; I preferred to do my bathing with a sponge and strigil down at the stream It was Catilina who had suggested that the slaves might stoke the furnace housed between the kitchen and the baths and fill the marble tubs with heated water. My stiff legs and aching feet had agreed, and so, after a light dinner, we retired not to the atrium but to the baths instead. We stripped off our soiled tunics and began in the warm basin, then moved on to the adjoining room and immersed ourselves in the hot basin. Catilina and Tongilius took turns scraping the sweat from each other's backs with an ivory strigil.
Meto had not joined us, though I think he wanted to stay up and listen to the grown-ups' conversation. All his leaping from stone to
stone and running ahead and back on the trail at last began to take its toll at dinner, and he was yawning and dozing on his couch even before the final course of diced onions arrived. When the meal was over, Bethesda roused him and sent him to his bed.
It was just as well, for I was not quite sure I wanted Meto displaying himself naked in Catilina's presence. In matters of the flesh, Catilina's appetites were said to be voracious and his self-restraint nonexistent, notwithstanding his version of the Vestal story. His standards, at least, were rigorous, to judge from the sight of Tongilius in the nude. The young man's sleek, well-knit athlete's physique was of the sort to make boys jealous and older men sadly nostalgic, or else lustful. As I discovered in the baths, he was one of those handsome, charming youths who become more haughty with their clothes off than on. There was a trace of self-conscious preening in the way he lifted his well-muscled arms from the water, raised his chin, stared into the middle distance and pushed the shimmering hair back from his forehead, like a sculptor smoothing and moulding his own perfection.
Catilina seemed to approve of this gesture, for he watched it intently. Though their eyes did not meet, they smiled at the same moment, in such a way that I suspected that a secret touch had been exchanged beneath the water.
Perhaps it was a signal, for a moment later Tongilius stood up and stepped out of the basin. He wrapped himself in his towel and shook the water from his hair.
‘You won't be taking the cold plunge?' I asked.
'I prefer to cool off on my sleeping couch. The steam rising from the flesh as it dries relaxes the muscles as well as any masseur. It's a delicious way to fall asleep.' He smiled at me and then bent down until his cheek was almost touching Catilina's. They said a few words to each other in whispers, and then Tongilius departed.
'Have you known him long?' I said.
'Tongilius? For five years or so. Since he was Meto's age, I imagine. A charming young man, don't you think?'
I nodded. The only light in the little room came from a single lamp suspended from the ceiling by a chain. Its glow was muted by the rising steam so that the room was filled with a soft orange haze. Hie quiet gurgling of the pipes and the gentle splashing of the water against the edge of the tub were the only sounds. Hot water swirled about my naked flesh so that I felt swallowed up by comfort What had Catilina said, that if the water were any hotter he would melt? I felt as if I had melted already.
For a long time we lay at our opposite ends of the big marble tub. Catilina closed his eyes. I gazed at the ephemeral patterns made by the rising steam, like a series of dissolving veils suspended in the darkness.
'The odd thing is, the silver mine just might be worth buying.' 'Are you serious?' I said.
'I'm always serious, Gordianus. Of course, all those bones would have to be cleared out — too discouraging for the new workers. "It doesn't do to dampen morale, even among mine slaves." '
'You're quoting someone.'
'Yes. My associate in the city, the one who buys abandoned mines and makes a good profit from them.' "Then there really is such a person?' 'Of course. Did you think I was lying to poor old Forfex?' 'Your friend in the city sounds familiar.' 'He is hardly obscure.' 'Marcus Crassus?'
Catilina opened his eyes to slits and arched an eyebrow. 'Why, yes. You've solved a riddle, Gordianus: who is the secret buyer from Rome? But the clues were perhaps too easy. Well-known — otherwise why hide his name? — experienced with mining, always concerned to maximize the productivity of his slaves. Who else but Rome's wealthiest man?'
'The riddle is that you should be associated with such a man closely enough to be scouting out properties for him,' I said.
'Where's the puzzle in that?'
'Your politics are known to be quite radical, Catilina. Why should the richest man in the world ally himself with a firebrand who advocates the forcible redistribution of wealth and the wholesale cancellation of debts?'
'I thought you had no desire to discuss politics, Gordianus.' 'It's the water, making me lightheaded. I'm not myself. Indulge me.'
'As you wish. True, Crassus and I have our differences, but we face a common enemy — the ruling oligarchy in Rome. You know whom I mean — that little circle of incestuous families who clutch the reins of power so jealously, and will stop at nothing to cripple their opposition. You know what they call themselves, don't you? The Best People, the Optimates. They refer to themselves thusly without the least twinge of embarrassment, as if their superiority were so evident that modesty could only be an affectation. Everyone outside their circle they consider to be mere rabble. The state, they argue, must be run by the Optimates alone, without concession to any other party, for what better way to run a state than to place it in the hands of those who are undeniably and in all ways demonstrably the Best People? Oh, their smug self-satisfaction is insufferable! And Cicero has bought into it completely. Cicero, the nobody from Arpinum, without an ancestor to his name. If he only knew what they say about him behind his back…' 'We were talking of Crassus, not Cicero.'
Catilina sighed and settled himself more comfortably in the water. 'Marcus Crassus is too great a force to belong to any party, even the Optimates. Crassus is his own party, and so he finds himself at odds with the Optimates as often as not. You're right, Crassus has no sympathy with my plans to restructure the economy of the state, which must be done if the Republic is to survive. But then, Crassus cares not a whit for the survival of the Republic. He would just as soon see it wither and die, so long as the dictator who inevitably follows is named Marcus Crassus. In the meantime, the two of us quite often have occasion to find ourselves allied against the Optimates. And of course Marcus Crassus and I go back a long way, to the days when we both served under Sulla.'
'You mean to say that like Crassus, you also profited from the proscriptions during Sulla's dictatorship, when the property of his enemies was confiscated and put up for auction?'
'Many others did the same. But I never murdered for gain or used the proscriptions to get away with murder — oh, yes, I know the rumours. One has me putting my own brother-in-law on the lists, because my sister couldn't stand him and wanted his head cut off Others say I killed him myself and then had his name inserted in the lists to legalize the crime. As if I would have wanted to see my own sister dishonoured and disinherited!'
His voice took on an angry edge. 'And then there's the wretched He put about by Cicero's brother Quintus last year during the consular campaign, which had me taking part in the murder of the praetor Gratidianus during those years. Poor Gratidianus, chased down by the mob. They broke both his legs, cut off his hands, gouged out his eyes, and then beheaded him. Hideous savagery! I witnessed that atrocity, yes, but I didn't instigate it, as Quintus Cicero claimed, nor did I swagger about Rome carrying Gratidianus's head like a trophy. Even so, only last year some of the Optimates managed to call me to trial for the murder — and I was soundly acquitted, just as I've been acquitted of every single charge they've brought against me over the years.'
'Speaking of heads, your own is turning red as a beet, Catilina. I think the water must be too hot'
Catilina, who in his passion had drawn himself up until his chest was above the water, took a deep breath and sank back into the tub. 'But we were talking about Crassus.. 'He smiled, and I marvelled at how easily he could let go of his bitter tone and restore his good humour. 'Do you know what really cemented our relationship? The scandal of the Vestal Virgins! Fabia and I weren't the only ones brought to trial that spring — Crassus was accused of polluting the Virgo Maxima herself. Do you remember the details? He had been seen in her company so often that that scheming Clodius had no trouble convincing half of Rome to believe the worst. But Crassus's defence was unbeatable: the millionaire was merely pestering the Virgo Maxima over a piece of property that he wanted to buy from her at a bargain — a story so typical of Crassus that no one could disbelieve it! He escaped with his life, and so did I, but both of us took a blow to our reputations — Crassus, because everyone believed he was innocent but greedy, and I, because everyone thought I was guilty but got away with it. After the trial we celebrated together over a few bottles of Falernian wine. Political alliances are not always founded on hard logic, Gordianus. Sometimes they grow out of shared distress.' He looked at me steadily, as if to emphasize his words. 'But I understand you've had your own dealings with Crassus.'
'He called on me to deal with the murder of his cousin down in Baiae,' I said. 'That was nine years ago. The circumstances were quite remarkable, but I'm not at liberty to discuss the details. Suffice to say that Crassus and I parted on less than friendly terms.'‘
Catilina smiled. 'Actually, Crassus has told me most of the story, or his version of it. He wanted certain slaves found guilty of the crime, while you would settle for nothing less than the truth, no matter how disappointing to Crassus's schemes or how personally embarrassing. Believe it or not, he secretly admires your integrity, I think, even if he did resent your, shall we say, inflexible nature. I suppose Crassus himself is rather inflexible, which accounts for your mutual antipathy. But your work for him in Baiae had at least one good outcome. I understand that's how you met your son Meto. Oh, please, don't lower your eyes, Gordianus. I think it's a remarkable thing, to free a young slave boy and then adopt him as your son. I realize it's not a fact you care to advertise, for the boy's sake. But I know the story, and with me you can be frank.'
'I would rather forget that Marcus Crassus was ever Meto's master. Had Crassus had his way, Meto would be long dead. As it was, Crassus sold him to a farmer in Sicily, just to thwart my having him. That he was eventually found, that I freed him and made him my son, is proof that even the richest man in the world can be cheated of his petty revenge.'
Catilina pursed his lips. 'Evidently Crassus didn't tell me the whole story.'
'Because Crassus doesn't know the whole story. But you won't hear it from me.'
'Now it's you who've turned beet-red, Gordianus! Are you ready for the cool plunge?'
like Catilina in his agitation, I had raised myself halfway out of the water. I sighed and settled back into the soothing warmth.
‘You're very protective of the boy, as well you should be,' said Catilina. "These are dangerous times, full of peril. I'm a father, too. I worry constantly about the future of my wife and her daughter. Sometimes I think it would be better to follow your example and withdraw from the world entirely, or as much as a man can. To live in simple obscurity, like Cincinnatus. You know the old story — when the Republic was imperilled, the people called on the farmer Cincinnatus, who laid down his plough, assumed the dictatorship, and saved them all.'