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Authors: John Maddox Roberts
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she said. “She never went there.”
“Housing in Rome isn’t cheap,” I said, “even slum housing. Did she know who owned the place?”
“I didn’t think to ask her, but if she knows so little about her brother, I would doubt that the name of his landlord would be among her store of facts.”
“
If
she was telling you the truth. Somehow, truthfulness is not the quality that first comes to mind when discussing Fulvia.”
“Well, it may be true that her evil reputation is exaggerated. I felt rather sorry for her. It is a terrible thing for a woman of her birth, accustomed to every privilege and honor, to be forsaken by her own class. While Clodius was alive she could fancy herself the uncrowned queen of Rome. Now she is a friendless widow.”
“Not entirely friendless, if she’s to marry this Curio. I think I should talk to her.”
Julia’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”
“I’m not as sympathetic as you. She might be more forthcoming under more rigorous questioning.”
Julia bit into an orange section. “Why should she talk to you at all? You have no official standing, and she may hold it against you that you killed her brother.”
“I doubt that. I suspect that she knows perfectly well I did not.”
“How are you so sure?”
“I didn’t say I was
sure
. I said I
suspect
.”
Julia rolled her eyes. Sometimes even she had trouble understanding me.
4
I WANT YOU ,” I TOLD HERMES , “ TO FIND out where Fulvius lived. It was somewhere near the Temple of Tellus. Once you’ve located the place, find out who owns it. Then report back to me.”
“I’ll do it,” he said. “Are you really going to Clodius’s house?”
“Clodius is dead. His widow has a bad reputation, but I don’t think she wants to kill me.”
“Take some men with you anyway.” We stood in my atrium with a crowd of my clients. A lot of them were hard-looking specimens: veterans from my various military postings who had attached themselves to me; farmers from Metellan-dominated areas of the countryside, in town for the elections; a few of Milo’s old gang, who needed a patron while he was in exile.
“It wouldn’t look good to have them with me in the daytime,” I told him. “I won’t have the voters thinking I go around in fear of my fellowcitizens. I want these men to attend the Plebeian Assembly meeting and shout my praises.”
He looked disgusted. “You’re getting as bad as Julia. What’s more dangerous than your fellow citizens? Just be careful, and keep your weapons handy.”
“Did I take you on as a nurse?”
Out in the streets, I felt a pleasant sense of freedom, being on my own for a change. Since returning to Rome, I had been going everywhere amid a cloud of my supporters, constantly campaigning for election. It felt good to be alone. Since the gangs had been broken up and the noncitizens driven from the City, it was considered bad form for a politician to go around with a violent-looking following, although a small bodyguard was permissible. The voters would appreciate my show of bravado in appearing in public without so much as a single slave.
Being under suspicion of murder did not hamper my freedom. This is because Romans are civilized people and don’t clap suspects into prison like barbarians. It would take an order of a lawfully convened court even to place me under house arrest.
When I came to the house of the late Publius Clodius Pulcher I thought how strange it was that I could just walk up to the door and knock. There were times when my life would have been forfeit just for showing up in the neighborhood. It was situated in the most fashionable district of the Palatine, just as in Catullus’s famous poem: “… five doors up the Clivus Victoriae.…”
The janitor who opened up at my knock wasn’t the usual aged, used-up slave you usually found performing that task. This one was a stalwart young man with handsome, Cappadocian features, wearing a brief tunic. The housekeeper to whom I
“Housing in Rome isn’t cheap,” I said, “even slum housing. Did she know who owned the place?”
“I didn’t think to ask her, but if she knows so little about her brother, I would doubt that the name of his landlord would be among her store of facts.”
“
If
she was telling you the truth. Somehow, truthfulness is not the quality that first comes to mind when discussing Fulvia.”
“Well, it may be true that her evil reputation is exaggerated. I felt rather sorry for her. It is a terrible thing for a woman of her birth, accustomed to every privilege and honor, to be forsaken by her own class. While Clodius was alive she could fancy herself the uncrowned queen of Rome. Now she is a friendless widow.”
“Not entirely friendless, if she’s to marry this Curio. I think I should talk to her.”
Julia’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”
“I’m not as sympathetic as you. She might be more forthcoming under more rigorous questioning.”
Julia bit into an orange section. “Why should she talk to you at all? You have no official standing, and she may hold it against you that you killed her brother.”
“I doubt that. I suspect that she knows perfectly well I did not.”
“How are you so sure?”
“I didn’t say I was
sure
. I said I
suspect
.”
Julia rolled her eyes. Sometimes even she had trouble understanding me.
4
I WANT YOU ,” I TOLD HERMES , “ TO FIND out where Fulvius lived. It was somewhere near the Temple of Tellus. Once you’ve located the place, find out who owns it. Then report back to me.”
“I’ll do it,” he said. “Are you really going to Clodius’s house?”
“Clodius is dead. His widow has a bad reputation, but I don’t think she wants to kill me.”
“Take some men with you anyway.” We stood in my atrium with a crowd of my clients. A lot of them were hard-looking specimens: veterans from my various military postings who had attached themselves to me; farmers from Metellan-dominated areas of the countryside, in town for the elections; a few of Milo’s old gang, who needed a patron while he was in exile.
“It wouldn’t look good to have them with me in the daytime,” I told him. “I won’t have the voters thinking I go around in fear of my fellowcitizens. I want these men to attend the Plebeian Assembly meeting and shout my praises.”
He looked disgusted. “You’re getting as bad as Julia. What’s more dangerous than your fellow citizens? Just be careful, and keep your weapons handy.”
“Did I take you on as a nurse?”
Out in the streets, I felt a pleasant sense of freedom, being on my own for a change. Since returning to Rome, I had been going everywhere amid a cloud of my supporters, constantly campaigning for election. It felt good to be alone. Since the gangs had been broken up and the noncitizens driven from the City, it was considered bad form for a politician to go around with a violent-looking following, although a small bodyguard was permissible. The voters would appreciate my show of bravado in appearing in public without so much as a single slave.
Being under suspicion of murder did not hamper my freedom. This is because Romans are civilized people and don’t clap suspects into prison like barbarians. It would take an order of a lawfully convened court even to place me under house arrest.
When I came to the house of the late Publius Clodius Pulcher I thought how strange it was that I could just walk up to the door and knock. There were times when my life would have been forfeit just for showing up in the neighborhood. It was situated in the most fashionable district of the Palatine, just as in Catullus’s famous poem: “… five doors up the Clivus Victoriae.…”
The janitor who opened up at my knock wasn’t the usual aged, used-up slave you usually found performing that task. This one was a stalwart young man with handsome, Cappadocian features, wearing a brief tunic. The housekeeper to whom I
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