survival was more important to them than their own lives, they had built up a store of remedies whose effectiveness had actually been tested. In other words, they weren’t interested in what had caused the illness, what balance or imbalance of humours and elements was at the root of it. They were interested only in stopping the illness from killing their children, and finding reliable strategies to fight it off.
Men were much more adept in the field of surgery: cutting, sawing, cauterizing, amputating, stitching. These were all arts in which men excelled, both because they were more brutal by nature and because they had had ample practice in the rear lines of the field of battle, where — since the beginning of time — thousands upon thousands of men had been sent out to massacre each other, for reasons that had never been adequately studied, much less explained.
This was how Antistius had become the personal physician of Caius Julius Caesar: by demonstrating his imperturbable skill in recomposing the mangled limbs of battlefield survivors. Later, he had also proved that he could take on the elusive symptoms of stealthy diseases by applying remedies known only to him, whose composition he would reveal to no one.
When his assistant announced that Artemidorus had arrived for his check-up, Antistius said that he would see him immediately. He peeked outside and saw no litters. So, Artemidorus had arrived on foot.
‘How’s it going, then?’ asked Antistius as soon as his patient stepped in.
‘What can I say? These Romans try hard, you can’t deny them that, but what a travesty! Their accent is horrible when applied to the masters of our poetry. But if you were referring to my condition, it’s here, look, on the nape of my neck, that I think something is coming out again.’
‘Let’s take a look,’ said Antistius solicitously.
He moved aside the Greek’s hair and found the area he was complaining about. It was just slightly reddened. With a worried clucking, he diligently examined the spot, then went to his locked medicine cabinet. From there he extracted an ointment which he applied with a gentle touch to his patient’s neck, which was soon showing signs of improvement.
‘This remedy is so effective!’ Artemidorus exclaimed gratefully. ‘I don’t know how to thank you. How much do I owe you?’
‘No, nothing at all. Not this time. It’s just a little relapse; it’s only right that I treat it without asking for a further fee.’
‘No, I absolutely won’t accept that,’ replied Artemidorus, insisting that he must pay, but Antistius was adamant.
‘To think,’ said the Greek, ‘on top of everything, that I’m being treated by the personal physician of Julius Caesar!’
‘Our perpetual dictator does honour me with his trust, that’s true,’ replied Antistius, ‘and I’m quite proud of that. In all frankness, I do believe I’m the person best suited to curing his ailments, at least those I have a hand in. The rest. . is in the laps of the gods,’ he concluded with an eloquent sigh.
Artemidorus was puzzled. It was clear that the doctor’s words, in particular their tone and the sigh at the end, concealed some kind of message. He might have ignored this and pretended not to understand, but his curiosity and the sensation that something big was in the offing led him to take the bait.
‘What do you mean by that?’ he asked.
‘There are rumours circulating to the effect that Caesar’s. . health may be at risk,’ replied Antistius. ‘If not much worse.’
‘Much worse. . than his health?’ prompted Artemidorus.
Antistius gave a slow nod, accompanying the movement of his head with a long sigh.
Artemidorus leaned in closer until he was practically whispering into the doctor’s ear. ‘Is it something to do with Brutus?’
Antistius’s answering expression needed no words.
‘I see,’ said Artemidorus.
‘You’ve heard the rumours?’ asked Antistius, adding, ‘You know, I do realize that I’m asking a lot of you, perhaps too much, but I swear to you that whatever you tell me will remain within these walls. I will never reveal the source of any information you give me. I must say that I’m honoured to have one of the most eminent proponents of Hellenic culture in the entire city in my care.’
Artemidorus was struck by the doctor’s praises. He pondered at length before answering.
‘Brutus treats me like a servant,’ he finally confessed. ‘With arrogance. He humiliates my dignity, for the sole reason that my livelihood here depends on the meagre salary he pays me. You have taken care of me, and you continue to treat me for a repugnant disease that would have disfigured me and made me a laughing stock, without worrying about how much I can pay you. You’ve expressed more appreciation for my modest talents than I deserve. If I have to make a choice, I would prefer to be on your side, whatever that may involve.’
‘I’m infinitely grateful to you,’ replied Antistius, trying to hide his excitement. ‘When the moment comes, I promise you won’t be sorry about this.’
‘Tell me what I can do for you.’
‘Brutus’s name has recently appeared on the city walls and even on the courthouse door, accompanied by an instigation to emulate the distant forefather who drove the last king out of Rome. The implication is clear. It means there’s someone out there who wants Brutus to take matters into his own hands and bring down Caesar, the very man who spared his life.’
Artemidorus did not answer and Antistius hurried to reinforce his words.
‘Brutus acts in a way that is difficult to understand. Some time ago, he sided with Pompey, despite the fact he was behind his father’s death, and now it seems he’s plotting against Caesar, to whom he owes his life. Caesar, who pardoned him after the Battle of Pharsalus and allowed him to take up his seat in the Senate and continue his political career. .
‘You Greeks hold liberty and democracy in great regard, and I can imagine that you do not think well of Caesar. But remember that he refused the king’s crown when it was offered to him and has used the powers granted to him only to end civil strife. Don’t forget that Caesar has no legitimate son. Why would he aspire to a monarchy that would die with him?’
‘I’m convinced of what you say. There’s no need for you to justify Caesar to me.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that Brutus treats you unfairly, even as far as your salary is concerned. I want you to know that if you help us, your troubles will be over for ever. Caesar’s generosity knows no limits.’
‘I’m willing to help you without any recompense,’ replied Artemidorus firmly. ‘What do you need to know?’
‘Forgive me! I did not mean to imply that I was offering you money in exchange for your help, although we’re both well aware that in this corrupt city money is often the only solution. The truth is that I’m very worried about Caesar. I’ve heard disturbing rumours and the writing on the walls speaks clearly. I’m afraid that Brutus might be persuaded to act rashly, to make a move that would have dramatic consequences.’
‘Do you mean. . a conspiracy?’
Antistius nodded with an enquiring expression on his face. ‘Do you know anything that could help me?’
‘Nothing certain, mind you. It’s really no more than a fleeting. . sensation. People coming in and going out of the house at odd hours.’
‘What do you mean by odd?’
‘In the middle of the night, before dawn. Why would anyone receive friends so late at night unless he was hiding something?’
‘You’re absolutely right. Do you know who these friends are?’
‘No. It’s always been after dark and the meetings are always held behind closed doors, in Brutus’s study. Once I was awakened by the dog barking and then I heard Brutus’s voice greeting a group of people coming in through the rear gate.’
‘How many people, would you say?’
‘I couldn’t be sure, but quite a few. Six or seven, maybe more.’
‘Can you think of any reason besides a conspiracy for such meetings?’ asked Antistius.
‘Yes, of course there could be other reasons. . a political alliance, for example. There are elections coming up. Maybe they are putting together some electoral strategy that they want to keep secret.’
‘Possibly, but I’m suspicious nonetheless, and worried. I’d ask you to remain watchful. I want to know who is
