ran Italy in his absence, parading about with his whore, bleeding the countryside, getting stinking drunk, and generally making a spectacle of himself. Once Caesar's disposed of Pompey, he'll come back to run the show himself. If they haven't been disposed of already, he'll deal in short order with this insurrection that Milo and Marcus Caelius are hatching. He won't need a drunken bully to do it for him. Antony shall simply be an embarrassment to him.' She narrowed her eyes. 'I should have divorced him before he left Italy. That would have been the smart thing to do. But perhaps, if I'm lucky, the gods will make me a widow soon enough and spare me the bother. Anything can happen on a battlefield, they say.'
She paused in her tirade to drain her cup, then continued. 'I only married him because my mother wanted me to. 'What a stroke of fortune!' she said. 'Fadia, that awful creature he married, is dead; and now's our chance to rehabilitate your dear cousin, and you're just the one to do it. The whole family is counting on you. You always got along so well as children.' Ha! I remember him pulling my hair. And I remember kicking him in the shins. If only I'd kicked him a bit higher up, hard enough to crack his eggs, I'd have done everyone a favor. What's the matter, big fellow? Don't you care for the pickled figs?'
Davus, caught with his mouth full, finished chewing and swallowed. 'I prefer the dates,' he said.
'As you wish. More dates!' she called to the slave. 'And a bit more wine for me. To the brim! That's better. Where was I?' She looked at me crossly. 'You're all alike, you men. Worthless. I'd divorce my cousin and marry Dolabella, but he's no better. I'd only be spoiling my own amusement. 'Good lovers make bad husbands,' as the saying goes. Poor Tullia! That stupid girl worships him. She has no idea; she must be blind and deaf. Dolabella treats her with utter contempt. I'd say she deserves it, the little fool, but didn't the gods curse her enough already by giving her that lout Cicero for a father? And Dolabella's no more promising than Antony in the long run. He's made a complete mess of the naval command Caesar gave him. He's likely to end up like wretched Curio, with his head on a stick-of no use to me whatsoever if that happens. Ah, well… but you didn't come here to talk about me, did you?'
She gave me a sidelong, heavy-lidded look. I began to suspect she had taken her first cup of wine even before we arrived. I had found her rather good-looking earlier, and her candor refreshing; but with every word she spoke and with each sip of wine she became more and more unattractive, until her vivacity seemed merely vulgar. A weakness for wine was her cousin's vice. Perhaps it ran in the family.
'I came here to talk about Cassandra,' I said quietly.
'Ah, yes, Cassandra. Well, she never fooled me. Not for an instant.'
I felt a prickling across the back of my neck, a premonition of something unpleasant. But I had come to seek the truth, after all, or at least Antonia's version of it. 'What do you mean?'
'All that folderol, swooning and sputtering and rolling her eyes back in her head. Oh, she was very convincing, I'll grant her that.'
'You're talking about her fits of prophecy?'
Antonia made a rude exhalation. 'Prophecy! That's what she wanted everyone to believe. Well, I didn't fall for it. Oh, perhaps a little, at first. I'll admit I was curious. Who wasn't? Everyone was talking about her and how she'd been invited into some of the best homes in Rome because of her 'gift.' My dear husband himself was convinced of it. After Caesar, he was the first man in Rome to know about Curio's death; yet when he went to Fulvia to give her the bad news, Fulvia already knew because Cassandra had told her. Now that was a bit uncanny, I confess.' She suddenly looked thoughtful, as if reconsidering her earlier judgment. Then she shook her head. 'But no, the woman was mostly a fake. Perhaps not entirely. Perhaps there was a tiny bit of truth to this notion that she had a gift for prophecy. I'll say that she was nine parts a fake and one part genuine. What do you say to that?'
'I'm not sure.'
'Didn't you know the truth about her, Finder? You buried her.'
'If I knew everything about Cassandra already, believe me, I wouldn't be sitting here now.'
Antonia perceived an insult and bristled, then smiled. 'It's all coming back to me now, the things my husband told me about you and your dictation-loving son. You're awfully impertinent, aren't you? My husband admires that in common people.' She sighed. 'It's a holdover from his younger days when he was married to that daughter of a freedman, Fadia. He comes from one of the best families in Rome, yet he's always had a taste for mucking in the dirt. I suppose it gives him a certain advantage when it comes to endearing himself to the soldiers under his command. They appreciate the common touch. And no one is more common than my husband when he's in his cups, belching and farting and fondling that actress. Cytheris! Do you know where he first saw her? Performing some lewd mime after dinner one night at the house of Volumnius the banker. From that moment on, the two of them commenced to make fools of themselves from one end of Italy to the other. He even wanted to take her along with him when he left Italy to join Caesar. Can you imagine? I told him not to be an idiot. 'Caesar's locked in a life- or-death struggle to make himself master of the world, and you're going to show up at his headquarters with your plaything in tow, both of you reeking of wine and perfume? Do you know what Caesar's going to tell you? 'For Jupiter's sake, Antony, put away your sword for once in your life, and get rid of that whore!' ' '
She had strayed a long way from the subject of Cassandra. I cleared my throat.
'Ah! But you came here to talk about that other actress, didn't you?'
'Actress?'
'Cassandra, I mean. I'd sooner call her that than a seeress. Come to think of it, perhaps she was an actress. Like Cytheris, I mean. A trained professional. That would explain…'
'Explain what?'
She looked at me glumly. 'All right, I'll tell you. I'll tell you everything. Hades, where is that slave? Ah, there you are! I see you skulking behind that pillar. Get over here and pour me more wine. Mind the peacocks don't bite you. And bring more stuffed dates for the big fellow. It amuses me to watch him eat.' She poured another cupful of wine down her throat. 'There now, that's better. Back to Cassandra. Cassandra the fake! Cassandra the actress? Maybe. I kept hearing so much about her that finally I went looking for her one day-'
'When was this?'
She shrugged. 'Late in the month of Martius, not long after Antony left Italy. I still hadn't received word about the crossing, whether he'd made it safely or not. That was my excuse to seek her out, with that particular question in mind. Anyway, I found her near the marketplace by the river, sitting on a wharf with her feet dangling over the edge, mumbling to herself. Pretty, I suppose, in a common sort of way, but awfully scruffy.' Antonia wrinkled her nose. 'Ordinarily I can't stand being near such people, but I forced myself to make an exception in her case. I sent a slave to ask her to join me in my litter, but the slave came back and said that Cassandra wouldn't respond. 'She's in some sort of trance,' the stupid slave told me. So I actually climbed out of the litter and went to her myself. 'On your feet,' I said. 'You're coming with me. I'll have you washed and fed, and then we'll see what you're good for.' Cassandra looked up at me and didn't say a word. I was about to speak more sternly to her, but then she slowly got to her feet and followed me back to the litter. She didn't say a word all the way back to my house; she just sat there and stared at me and let me chatter on and on like a fool.'
'Imagine that,' I muttered under my breath.
'As I said, I sought her out especially to ask about Antony and whether he'd made the sea crossing successfully. I thought I'd test her, you see. When a messenger did arrive with the news, I'd see whether she'd been right or wrong. But she was more slippery than I expected.'
'How so?'
Antonia's face darkened. 'When we arrived here at the house, I offered her food. She took nothing. That surprised me; I'd heard she was a beggar. Aren't beggars always hungry? Was my food not good enough for her? I offered her clean clothes. She ignored me. I offered her money. She wouldn't take it. I began to think she truly was mad. I asked her what she wanted. She looked at me and said, 'Nothing. You're the one who brought me here. You're the one who wants something.'
'I very nearly struck her, the impertinent bitch! But I decided to test her. 'They say you have second sight,' I said, 'so why should I need to speak to you at all? Can't you tell what I want from you simply by using your gift?' She said, 'It doesn't work like that.' 'Then how does it work?' I asked.
'She explained that over time she'd discovered a way to induce her fits by staring into a flame. So I had a lamp brought. She sat on one side; I sat on the other. And that was when she put on her little performance.'
'A performance?'
'What else shall I call it? She suddenly pitched forward, knocking the lamp aside, and gripped my forearm with both hands. 'How dare you touch me?' I said. But she wouldn't let go. She only squeezed me harder, until I
