'Then perhaps Caelius did take part in the murder. But who's to say that your brother isn't ultimately behind it all, if he and Caelius were still allies then, just as you and Caelius were still lovers? And this money you loaned to Caelius, that you claim he used in his poison plot against Dio-perhaps you knew all along what the money was for; perhaps the plot was your idea to begin with, and Caelius just another of your puppets My eyes are open, Clodia, yet everything becomes more and more obscure to me. In light of my growing confusion, I think I should decline to testify at the trial tomorrow, don't you? Not for the prosecution, anyway. Perhaps I might testify for the defense- yes, let Cicero call the most honest man in Rome to talk about how Clodia set him up to make Marcus Caelius look like a would-be poisoner.' 'You wouldn't dare!'
'Wouldn't I? Then I suggest that you drop everything to do with this fake poisoning. Tear up the deposition that Chrysis gave under torture. Don't whisper a word about the gorgon's hair poisoning when you testify. Do you understand? Because if you do, I'll give testimony myself and refute everything you say. How will your case against Caelius look then, with your own scheme exposed? So much for the shocking revelations that Herennius promised as a climax to the trial!'
Clodia's eyes flashed. Her lips trembled. Fury flared on her face and then dimmed as she struggled to contain it. Once again I was struck by her wan and haggard look-was she really mad enough to have poisoned herself deliberately? Was she so totally, relentlessly consumed with destroying Caelius? What was such a love like, to end in such hatred and degradation? And most puzzling of all, at least to me: at that moment- her body ravaged by self-induced poisoning, her duplicity exposed, her scheme to use me in tatters-how could Clodia still look so breathtakingly beautiful to my eyes? So beautiful that I couldn't stand to look at her, but had to turn my back and look elsewhere, at the rutting nymphs and satyrs who cavorted with mindless, guiltless, sterile passion on the walls.
'Outrageous,' she finally muttered. 'What you say is utterly outrageous. Where do I begin? It's absurd. It's mad. Has Caelius somehow gotten to you? Or Cicero? Why have you turned against me, Gordianus?'
'I told you in the beginning, my only interest was to find Dio's killer. I won't be used as a tool to help satisfy your spite against an ex-lover. I suppose you're accustomed to using men and having them enjoy it, but I have no appetite for that sort of thing, Clodia.'
'Yes, I could tell that from the beginning.' Her voice was low and weary. Though my back was turned, I sensed her approach. I felt her warm breath against the back of my neck. 'That's why I never tried to use that sort of persuasion with you. You'd only have seen through it, resented it. You're an unusual man, Gordianus. I'm not used to such strength, such integrity-yes, just as Cicero said. Lucky Bethesda! So I never considered seducing you, Gordianus. I rejected the thought, know-ing it would only offend you. Even though I was tempted, more than once.
I took a deep breath and turned to face her. The expression on her face was dejected, poignant, utterly convincing. 'Clodia. You are a remarkable woman. You never give up, do you?'
I expected a flash of anger or the hint of a smirk, but her expression only became more perplexed, more pained. 'Remarkable!' I whispered.
I stepped past her, suddenly anxious to leave, thinking that I might yet do something I would later regret. But the doorway was filled by a tall, imposingly muscular young man who stood with his arms crossed, wearing only a tiny loincloth. Catullus's lampoon was uncannily, unerringly accurate. Even as he made a point of blocking my exit, Egnatius the Spaniard had a grin on his face.
'Who is this worm?' he said. 'Should I smash his face in?'
'Shut up, you fool,' growled Clodia. 'Get out of his way.'
Egnatius stepped aside. As I passed I wrinkled my nose. It was stale wine I smelled, but I pretended otherwise. 'Is that urine on your breath?'
The Spaniard's grin finally cracked.
Chapter Twenty Three
Belbo was waiting for me outside the front door. Without a word I started walking down the street, then realized I had no idea where to go. Going home to Bethesda was out of the question.
I might have imposed on Menenia, but what would my daughter-in-law have thought if I came begging for a place to sleep in the middle of the night? If only Eco would come back… Suddenly Belbo grunted and pulled me aside. His alarm was caused by a figure who stood concealed in the shadows of
a doorway. Poor Belbo thought the man might be a thief or killer. I knew better.
I shook my head, partly in disgust, partly in relief. 'Catullus! Don't you have any better place to be at this time of night?'
'No. And neither do you, apparently.' He stepped from the doorway to show a face that looked as haggard and pained as my final glimpse of Clodia's face. We stared at each other in the moonlight. 'I hope I don't look as wretched as you do,' said Catullus.
'I was about to say the same thing to you.'
He managed a crooked smile. 'What shall we do?'
'Wait for the sun to come up, I suppose.'
'And until then? Where shall we go?'
'Where else?'
The Salacious Tavern was doing great business on the eve of the festival. We were lucky to find places to sit.
'I don't like the look of this place, Master,' said Belbo. 'Ah, but some of the girls seem to like the looks of you, big fellow,' said Catullus. Belbo looked around uncertainly.
'I don't suppose we'll run into Marcus Caelius and his friends again.' I surveyed the crowd through the amber haze of lamplight and smoke.
'Here? In the middle of his trial?' Catullus barked a laugh. 'Not likely. Don't you imagine he's home with papa and mama, humming funeral dirges and looking through his wardrobe for something suitably shabby to wear tomorrow? 'Oh, Papa, I know I'm supposed to look down-trodden, but can I help it if I look stunning in everything?' '
Even Belbo cracked a smile. Wine was brought. Catullus drank greedily and wiped his mouth. 'What were you doing in her house tonight, wearing nothing but an old sleeping tunic?'
'Catullus, please! No more of this nonsense about her… and me.
'Then why?'
'There was some unfinished business between us.' 'In the middle of the night?' 'It couldn't wait.'
He snorted, then called to the serving slave for more to drink. I swirled the untouched wine in my cup. 'If Caelius is guilty of all those crimes against the Alexandrian envoys, isn't that enough? Why would she feel compelled to manufacture new charges against him? You know her better than I do. Would she actually poison herself in order to make others think that Caelius had poisoned her?'
'You're distracting me with riddles,' grumbled Catullus. 'It's Clodia who's driven us both to distraction.' 'Lesbia!' he insisted.
I stared at my wine and felt queasy. 'If I'm going to drink any of this, I'll need to cut it with plenty of water.'
'Well, then, we'll have the man fetch you some fresh water from the Appian aqueduct!'
'You mean the one that her ancestor built for us?' I said. 'Exactly!' Catullus smirked. 'Then we can head out on one of the roads her ancestors so thoughtfully laid down for us-'
'And pour a libation to a god in one of the temples they erected for us.'
Catullus laughed. 'I see she's given you the grand speech about the feats of her ancestors and their incomparable largesse. Rome would still be a pigsty beside the Tiber if it hadn't been for all those Appius Claudii at the dawn of history.'
'So Clodia-Lesbia-seems to think.'
'But I'll wager she didn't tell you about the Appius Claudius who tried to rape Verginia.' 'No. A scandal?'
'Well, it's not one of those edifying ancestor legends the Clodii like to repeat to every stranger they meet. But
