'And what of that slave to whom the poison was to be handed over, who is also to appear as a witness?' I searched the faces of those on the prosecutors' benches-a glum lot of faces, at the moment-and spotted Clodia's man Barnabas, looking as ifhe had swallowed something unpleasant. 'I am told that he has just been freed by his mistress, made a citizen by her hand-or by her brother's hand, since a woman cannot legally manumit a slave on her own. What was behind this act of liberation? Was it a reward for loyalty and services beyond the normal call of duty? Or was there a more practical consideration? For, now that he's a citizen, the fellow cannot be subjected to the normal means of obtaining evidence from a testifying slave. Torture tends to bring out the truth; no amount of rehearsal can prepare even the best comic actor to recite falsehoods to a hot poker.
'Incidentally, we should hardly be surprised that all this bother about a pyxis has given rise to an extremely indecent story concerning another pyxis and its contents. You know the story I mean, judges. Everyone's talking about it. Everyone seems to think it's true. Why not, since it fits so well with the lady's indecent reputation? And everyone finds the story hilarious, despite the obscenity of it. The gift could hardly be called inappropriate, when one considers the receptive nature of the butt of the joke. There, you see, you're all laughing even now! Well, true or not, obscene or not, funny or not, don't blame Marcus Caelius. The joke must have been pulled by some young wanker with a clever hand and a wayward bent.'
Again, from the corner of my eye I thought I saw Catullus's lips moving. When I turned to stare at him he looked at me darkly and moved away, losing himself in the crowd.
Clodia's face was a study in misery. Cicero accepted another sip of water from Tiro and waited for the laughter to die down. 'I have now stated my case, judges. My task is done. The task is now yours, to decide the fate of an innocent young man.'
He proceeded to his summation: a brief recapitulation of Caelius's career, a recitation of his virtues, an appeal to be merciful to his distraught father, a final, scornful dismissal of the spurious charges against him. I heard these words only vaguely. I couldn't take my eyes off Clodia. I saw a woman utterly unnerved, pale, defeated, confused, resentful. She looked as if she had been poisoned again, and polluted as well: Medea had become Medusa, to judge by the shifty-eyed friends who squirmed on the benches around her. They looked nervously here and there but turned their faces from Clodia, as if the merest glance from those haunted eyes might turn a man to stone.
Chapter Twenty Six
Cicero's speech was followed by a recess, after which, the magistrate declared, the testimony of witnesses would commence. The common sentiment in the crowd was that the trial would probably carry over for at least another day, given the number of witnesses expected to testify. But when the court reassembled, the prosecutors were embarrassed to reveal that most, indeed virtually all, of their scheduled witnesses had declined to appear. The coterie of young men who had filled the benches around Clodia had vanished. So had Clodia herself.
The supporters of Caelius could hardly contain their triumph. Even Caelius's father, dressed in his ragged funeral garments, looked smug.
A handful of witnesses dared to appear-some of the outraged husbands whose wives had been insulted by Caelius, Senator Fufius, and even a couple of the 'bathhouse skulkers.' The prosecutors, who had clearly lost heart, perfunctorily interviewed them. Cicero cross-examined them with effortless panache, restraining his wit lest it appear wasted on such minor opponents. The spectators began to disperse. The drama had reached its climax with Cicero's oration, and only the most inveterate believers in surprise endings held out to see what the verdict would be.
The judges tallied their votes and announced their decision. Marcus Caelius was not guilty.
I felt relieved of a great burden. What if they had declared him guilty of all the charges against him, including Dio's murder? How could I have remained silent? But they had not declared him guilty; the crisis was averted. Still, what of the poison plot against Clodia? Cicero had argued that it was all a fiction concocted by Clodia herself, just another part of her scheme to take vengeance on Caelius, and the judges had agreed. But what if Caelius had tried to poison her? Had I no obligation to speak up?
The moment had passed, and there was no undoing it. I told myself that my sole intention from the outset was to discover the truth about Dio's death. As for Caelius and Clodia, whatever the truth of their intrigues against each other, surely I owed nothing to either of them.
After the verdict was announced, Caelius's supporters broke into cheering and gathered in a ring around him. The prosecutors and their assistants glumly dispersed. Some of the judges went to congratulate Caelius and pay compliments to Cicero and Crassus for their orations. Spectators headed off to see what activities connected with the Great Mother festival were still going on elsewhere in the city. Slaves gathered up folding chairs and carried them off.
'Where shall we go now?' said Eco.
'I think I want to be alone for a while,' I said. 'Take Belbo with you. I don't need a bodyguard anymore. The trial's over and I'm no danger to anybody.'
'Still, Papa, it's a holiday. People get rowdy-'
'Please, Eco, take Belbo with you. Or better yet, send him home to Bethesda. I'll feel better knowing he's there while I'm not.' 'Where are you going?' 'I'm not sure.'
'Why don't you go home yourself?' I shook my head. 'Not yet.'
'Papa, what's going on?' He lowered his voice. 'If Dio was poisoned in your house, who did it? And why? You know, don't you?' I shook my head. 'We'll talk about it later.' 'But Papa-'
'I'll spend the night at your house, if that's all right. Have the slaves fix up a couch for me to sleep on.'
'Of course, Papa. Are you sure you don't want me to come with you? We could talk.'
'Talk is not what I need. I need to think, and I can think more clearly if I'm by myself.'
This last turned out to be untrue. I wandered the city in a daze, paying no attention to where I was going, my thoughts turning in sluggish circles.
Why had Bethesda deceived me? Had it been left to her, would she ever have told me the truth? Of course, I knew why she had remained silent. How does a woman tell her husband that she's poisoned his respected old mentor under his roof, right under his very nose? Still, she had reason. Did she think I wouldn't understand? Why had she never told me of her mother's death and about the terrible thing that had happened to her before I found her? Did she trust me so little, even after all our years together?
My own feelings confused me no less. Was I angry, or hurt? Did I want to punish Bethesda, or beg for her forgiveness? I felt as if I had done something wrong, but 1 couldn't say what it was. I knew I had been made a fool of; Bethesda had known the truth all along and yet had let me plod down the wrong path in darkness. Was she amused at my folly? Did she fear my reaction if I should discover the truth? Or did she simply think that she could get away with never telling me, and considered that easiest for everybody? She knew the truth was precious to me, and she had withheld it from me. I resented her for that. Under my roof, before my eyes, she had murdered a man she hated. I understood her reason, but still I was appalled and shaken by the enormity of it. Perhaps she was right not to trust me with the truth after all.
I passed revelers and vendors in the street, heard the roar of a large crowd from the Circus Maximus, went by a square where a stage was being put up for a performance the next day, heard tambourines and looked up to see a group of galli dancing on a rooftop. Now and again I heard snatches of conversation which must have been about the trial:
So the young man got off completely… clever Cicero… had no idea the woman was such a wanton. the Clodii will think twice before trying a stunt like that again… everybody laughed-you should have seen the bitch's face… who gives a damn about those Egyptians anyway?… they stone women like that in other countries… 'Did I say husband? I mean brother, of course-I'm always making that mistake!'… 'Not just a whore, but a particularly lewd and depraved old whore'… from what's said about her, someone probably should go ahead and poison the monster…
I kept walking. Hours passed. The sky grew dark. The streets became empty. Still I walked. I never knew where I was headed until I got there.
The phallic lamp above the entrance burned bright, promising warmth and light within. I rapped on the door
