Chapter Sixteen
Chrysis fretted all the way back to Clodia's house. She insisted that I come along to explain what had happened. I think she was afraid to break the bad news to her mistress alone. The litter bearers turned down the little cul-de-sac, with the bodyguards and Belbo following behind, and deposited us in front of the house. Belbo and I waited on the red and black tiled doorstep, looking up at the towering cypress trees on either side while Chrysis rapped on the door and then clutched my hand to draw me inside. Belbo followed.
'What do you mean, she's not here?' I heard her say to the slave who opened the door.
'She's gone off,' said the old man. 'I don't know where.'
'For what? For how long?'
He shrugged. 'Nobody tells me anything. But-' 'Surely she didn't decide to go down to the Senian baths herself,' mumbled Chrysis, nipping at a fingernail. 'No, she would have seen me. Unless we passed each other on the way. Oh, Attis!' Chrysis made a little yelp of frustration. 'Wait here,' she called to me as she disappeared down a hallway. 'Or in the garden,' she added, waving vaguely toward the center of the house.
While Belbo stayed in the foyer, I walked through the atrium beyond, down a wide hallway, through a colonnaded archway and finally down a short flight of steps into the open air and sunlight. The garden was square, surrounded by a covered portico. There was a low platform at the opposite end, which appeared to be a stage, for behind it was a wall painted with a jumbled cityscape, like a theatrical backdrop. In front of the platform there was a small lawn with room for several rows of chairs. At each of the four corners of the garden were cypress trees taller than the roof. In the center of the garden was a small fountain with a statue of a naked Adonis. Bronze fish beneath his feet emptied water into the pool from their gaping mouths. I walked closer to have a look at the mosaics that lined the bottom. Beneath the splashing water the images of dolphins and octopi quivered against a shimmering field of blue.
The Adonis was captured in the act of kneeling-knees bent, upraised palms extended, his face turned upward with a radiant expression. It was obvious to whom he was showing obeisance, for on the stairway which I had just descended, atop a high pedestal looking out over the whole garden, was an enormous bronze statue of Venus, even more magnificent and more opulently detailed than the one which decorated Clodia's horti on the Tiber. The goddess was naked above the waist; the folds of cloth gathered about her hips seemed frozen in the act of fluttering to the ground. The curves of her body were sumptuous, and the painted bronze gave the illusion of pliant flesh, but the size of the statue was out of scale, disconcertingly large, more intimidating than beautiful. Her hands were captured in gestures of eloquent tenderness, more motherly than erotic, but this was at odds with her face, which was strangely impassive, severe in its beauty. Her unblinking lapis lazuli eyes stared down at me.
As I stood before the fountain, studying the Venus from Adonis's point of view, I began to notice the echoing sounds of chanting and music from somewhere nearby, rising and falling and obscured by the splashing of the fountain, but now growing abruptly louder and faster. I heard the piping of flutes, the rattling of tambourines and the jangling of bells, along with a strange ululation that was nothing like normal singing. I thought I heard words, but the splashing fountain kept me from making them out. The music grew louder, the tempo accelerated. I stared at the face of Venus. The longer I looked into her lapis lazuli eyes the more it seemed as if the statue might actually move or speak. She blinked-or I blinked-and I felt a sudden tremor of apprehension. I was not alone.
But it was not the goddess who had joined me. The voice behind me was decidedly masculine. 'They're at it again!'
I turned around to see a man on the low stage, dressed in a toga. He had been naked the last time I saw him.
'Every year it's the same.' Clodius shrugged and made a face. 'If
I were Clodia, I'd complain, but I suppose my dear sister is too fascinated by the galli to want to stop their fun. And it is only once a year.' 'What's only once a year?'
'The Great Mother festival, of course. The Temple of Cybele is just over there,' Clodius said, pointing behind him. 'The House of the Galli is right beside it. For days before the festival they practice, practice, practice. It all sounds hopelessly wild and discordant to a Roman ear, doesn't it? And the singing-hardly better than screaming. But then, I'd scream too if they'd cut my balls off.' He hopped off the stage onto the lawn and sauntered toward me. 'You know, it's absurd, but I've forgotten your name.'
'Gordianus.'
'Oh yes. Clodia's new man, the one to get the goods on Marcus Caelius. Been busy?' 'Busy enough.'
'Clodia's not here at the moment. Some errand or other. The door slave should have told you. He's getting old.'
'He did say something, actually. But Chrysis suggested I wait here.'
'I see. Oh, that's right, today was to be the little drama down at the Senian baths. How did it go?'
'That's why I came. To tell Clodia.'
He stared at me with green eyes uncannily like those of his sister. 'And? What happened?' When I hesitated, he scowled, which made his face impossible to read. Was he feigning boyish petulance, or showing genuine anger? The scowl did nothing to spoil his good looks; it merely rearranged them. 'Oh, I see,' he said. 'You're here to report to Clodia, not to me. She said you were the loyal type. Rare enough in Rome these days. But my sister and I have no secrets from each other. No secrets at all. And I should hope you have nothing to hide from me, Gordianus. I've certainly hidden nothing from you.' He gave me a knowing look. When I said nothing, he laughed. 'That's a joke. About what I was wearing the day we met.' He shook his head. 'She also said that you have no sense of humor.'
'You seem to have discussed me at length.'
'My sister likes to get my opinion of the men she's dealing with. She could use some advice! Clodia hasn't always exercised the best judgment, choosing whom to trust. As in the case of Marcus Caelius, which brings us back to the Senian baths. How did it go? Here, we'll sit on the bench in the shade, and if we're lucky Chrysis will come walking by and I'll send her for some wine.'
As we sat I noticed that another man had stepped onto the stage, a giant whose face glinted like a broken shard of ebony in the sunlight. He leaned against the painted wall with his arms crossed, watching us from a distance. He was incredibly ugly, with a bullish neck and enormous arms. Beside him Belbo would have looked like a child. He curled his upper lip in a snarl that made my blood turn cold.
Clodius saw my reaction and glanced over his shoulder. 'That's the Ethiop. Clodia gave him to me last year. Goes everywhere I go. Keeps an eye on me. The loyal type, like you. A couple of months ago, one of Milo's men came up to me in the Forum and waved a knife at me. He never saw the Ethiop coming-don't let his size fool you, he's fast as lightning. The Ethiop grabbed the fellow from behind and broke both of his arms, just like that.' Clodius snapped his fingers twice. 'No one's threatened me in the Forum ever since. But don't worry, he's completely harmless to my friends. Oh, that noise! If those galli aren't mad already, they'll surely drive each other crazy by nightfall. Can you imagine being in the same room with them? What sort of goddess would want to go into a temple with such a racket going on? Now, about the baths…'
I told Clodius about the farce I had witnessed. He listened in silence, making expressions of disgust and amusement. 'So Licinius got clean away?' he finally said.
'Yes.'
'And the pyxis with him?' 'I'm afraid so.'
He sneered. 'I wish I'd been there. I'd have grabbed Licinius by the balls and squeezed until he croaked out everything he knew. Then I'd have stuffed the poison down his throat, pyxis and all. Hung the corpse up by the heels and dragged it into the trial that way-an exhibit for the prosecution! You want evidence, Cicero? Here's our evidence!'
Up on the stage, the Ethiop heard the anger in his master's voice and looked at me as if mulling over which arm to break. I shifted uneasily on the bench.
'I suppose your sister will be quite displeased.'
Clodius's demeanor changed in the blink of an eye. He laughed. 'Don't count on it. She adores a bit of drama, you know. Loves comedy even more. Well, just look at what she's done to this garden. Made it into her private theater so she can bring in mimes from Egypt to amuse her friends, and host recitals for whatever poet has caught her eye lately. No, once Clodia has thrown a priceless vase or two across the room and given a few slaves a good beating, I think she'll see the humor in it. Well, look who's here-and just when my throat was getting dry.'
