Read Online Catilina's Riddle by Steven Saylor - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Steven Saylor
Tags: Fiction, Historical, Mystery & Detective, ISBN 0-312-09763-8, Steven Saylor - Roma Sub Rosa Series 03 - Catilina's Riddle
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retreat when he needs to get out of the city, and a way station on the road to Faesulae."
"How do I know there won't be secret meetings in my house, with bowls of human blood passed around?"
Caelius shook his head. "That's not what he wants from you. He wants a refuge, not a meeting place."
"And what does Cicero want?"
"An accounting of Catilina's movement, through me. Of course, if Catilina should happen to confide something of importance to you, Cicero trusts you to use your judgment in passing on vital information.
They say you have a way of drawing out the truth from men, even when they hope to conceal it."
I turned my back on him and looked out the west-facing windows, beyond the herb garden to the land sloping down toward the stream.
The treetops were gilded with moonlight. The night was quiet and peaceful, pleasantly warm. The air smelled rich and sweet, a mixture of animal dung and cut grass. Rome seemed very far away, and yet inescapable.
"I would deal only with you, then, and with Catilina? With no one else?"
"Yes. Cicero himself will be only a phantom, never seen. Any
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message you need to send you will send to me, in the city. Catilina will find nothing suspicious in that."
"It can't be as simple as you claim. Is it because of your youth and inexperience that you can't see all the terrible things that could go wrong?
Or are you intentionally trying to coddle me?"
He smiled. "My teacher Cicero would say that one should never respond to a question of either/or if both answers are damaging. One should change the subject instead."
I begrudged him a smile in return. "You're positively wicked, Marcus Caelius; too wicked for a man your age. Yes, I do believe you could fool Catilina himself into trusting you. If I agree to do as you ask, I must have some way of protecting myself; I can't be seen as an ally of Catilina's if he comes to ruin, as he probably will. A letter from Cicero would be useful, acknowledging my help ahead of time."
Caelius grimaced. "Cicero foresaw such a request. It's not possible.
If such a communication were to be intercepted, it would spoil everything, and put you in immediate jeopardy, besides. Put your mind at ease. If a crisis comes, Cicero will not forget you."
"Still, I'd like some assurance from Cicero himself. If I came to Rome—"
"He couldn't see you, not now. Catilina would know, and all would be ruined. Do you not believe me, Gordianus?"
I considered for a long moment. The shiver of excitement I had felt earlier was joined by a prickle of apprehension. I felt like the man who cannot control his drinking and so abstains, but who picks up a cup intended for someone else and accidentally swallows a mouthful of warm wine. "I believe you," I finally said.
But later that night, as I lay beside Bethesda, a doubt took shape, grew and hovered over me like a gray mist in the moonlit darkness. Caelius had offered no proof that he came from Cicero. Might he have been sent by Catilina, instead? Even if he had come from Cicero, might not Catilina have seen through their plan? Where did Caelius's true allegiance lie? The same charming young man who claimed to have fooled Catilina might just as easily be able to fool Cicero, not to mention an unreformed intriguer named Gordianus the Finder, who thought he had sworn off politics forever.
Bethesda stirred. "What's wrong, Master?" she whispered. She had ceased to call me Master on the day of our marriage, but occasionally she slipped in her sleep; to hear her call me that reminded me of days long ago, before the world became so weary and complex. I reached out
- 40 -
and touched her. The familiarity of her body—firm, warm, and responsive—dispelled my hovering doubts like ragged mists beneath the sun.
She rolled toward me and we folded our bodies together. For a while all apprehensions were forgotten in the animal act of love, and afterward I slept the sleep of a country farmer, dreaming of endless fields of hay and the
"How do I know there won't be secret meetings in my house, with bowls of human blood passed around?"
Caelius shook his head. "That's not what he wants from you. He wants a refuge, not a meeting place."
"And what does Cicero want?"
"An accounting of Catilina's movement, through me. Of course, if Catilina should happen to confide something of importance to you, Cicero trusts you to use your judgment in passing on vital information.
They say you have a way of drawing out the truth from men, even when they hope to conceal it."
I turned my back on him and looked out the west-facing windows, beyond the herb garden to the land sloping down toward the stream.
The treetops were gilded with moonlight. The night was quiet and peaceful, pleasantly warm. The air smelled rich and sweet, a mixture of animal dung and cut grass. Rome seemed very far away, and yet inescapable.
"I would deal only with you, then, and with Catilina? With no one else?"
"Yes. Cicero himself will be only a phantom, never seen. Any
- 39 -
message you need to send you will send to me, in the city. Catilina will find nothing suspicious in that."
"It can't be as simple as you claim. Is it because of your youth and inexperience that you can't see all the terrible things that could go wrong?
Or are you intentionally trying to coddle me?"
He smiled. "My teacher Cicero would say that one should never respond to a question of either/or if both answers are damaging. One should change the subject instead."
I begrudged him a smile in return. "You're positively wicked, Marcus Caelius; too wicked for a man your age. Yes, I do believe you could fool Catilina himself into trusting you. If I agree to do as you ask, I must have some way of protecting myself; I can't be seen as an ally of Catilina's if he comes to ruin, as he probably will. A letter from Cicero would be useful, acknowledging my help ahead of time."
Caelius grimaced. "Cicero foresaw such a request. It's not possible.
If such a communication were to be intercepted, it would spoil everything, and put you in immediate jeopardy, besides. Put your mind at ease. If a crisis comes, Cicero will not forget you."
"Still, I'd like some assurance from Cicero himself. If I came to Rome—"
"He couldn't see you, not now. Catilina would know, and all would be ruined. Do you not believe me, Gordianus?"
I considered for a long moment. The shiver of excitement I had felt earlier was joined by a prickle of apprehension. I felt like the man who cannot control his drinking and so abstains, but who picks up a cup intended for someone else and accidentally swallows a mouthful of warm wine. "I believe you," I finally said.
But later that night, as I lay beside Bethesda, a doubt took shape, grew and hovered over me like a gray mist in the moonlit darkness. Caelius had offered no proof that he came from Cicero. Might he have been sent by Catilina, instead? Even if he had come from Cicero, might not Catilina have seen through their plan? Where did Caelius's true allegiance lie? The same charming young man who claimed to have fooled Catilina might just as easily be able to fool Cicero, not to mention an unreformed intriguer named Gordianus the Finder, who thought he had sworn off politics forever.
Bethesda stirred. "What's wrong, Master?" she whispered. She had ceased to call me Master on the day of our marriage, but occasionally she slipped in her sleep; to hear her call me that reminded me of days long ago, before the world became so weary and complex. I reached out
- 40 -
and touched her. The familiarity of her body—firm, warm, and responsive—dispelled my hovering doubts like ragged mists beneath the sun.
She rolled toward me and we folded our bodies together. For a while all apprehensions were forgotten in the animal act of love, and afterward I slept the sleep of a country farmer, dreaming of endless fields of hay and the
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