riding a cold breeze to jump from roof to roof If the mob set fire to Milo's house, the blaze could easily spread all over the Palatine…
The safest course might be to take the family to Eco's house over on the Esquiline. But what would happen then if my house did catch fire? Who would fight the flames? And what reason was there to think that we could cross the Subura and reach Eco's house in safety on such a night, with such a mob on the loose?
'Papa, are you coming down? Do you see something?'
A few stragglers came running up the Ramp. Their torches crackled in the air like flapping pennants as they took the sharp turn towards Cicero's house and beyond.
'I'm coming,' I said. I took a last look in the direction of Milo's house. I seemed to hear sounds of conflict — clattering, shouting — but the echoes were confused and distant.
'Papa?'
I turned and stepped onto the top rung of the ladder.
It was a sombre meal. I tasted nothing. Afterwards, when Diana and Bethesda had retired for the night, I stole up to the roof again. I looked in the direction of Milo's house but saw no sign of flames. Still, when I was ready to come down, I called for Belbo to take my place. We took turns through the night, one fitfully dozing beneath a mound of blankets on a couch in the garden, one up on the roof watching the skyline for any telltale orange glow. But when it finally came, the glow was in the opposite direction. The sun came up, and my house still stood.
I went up to the roof to have a final look. In the cold, hazy morning air, the Forum was like a smeared painting. I could hardly make out any details at all. But when I took a deep breath I caught the scent of burned wood and baked stone, the smell of what had once been the Senate House, which had become the crematorium of the rabble's fallen champion.
V
'Driven off with arrows,' said Eco, stretching his arms over his head and yawning; he had slept as poorly as I had. The haze had lifted. The sun was shining in the garden. We sat on folding chairs across from the statue of Minerva, soaking up the tenuous midday warmth.
'That's the word in the street, anyway,' he continued. 'The Clodians didn't anticipate so much resistance. They expected to find Milo's house more or less deserted, I suppose. They figured they could break in, kill a few slaves, loot the place, then burn it to the ground. Instead, they were met by a troop of archers posted on the roof. Expert marksmen, apparently. The battle didn't last long. A few casualties, and the Clodians turned and ran.'
'I should think they'd have had enough by that point, anyway — burning the Senate House, stuffing themselves sick, listening to all those speeches. You'd think they'd have been ready to call it a day.'
'You'd think so. But then, so the rumour goes, after they were repulsed from Milo's house, the mob left the Palatine, ran through the Subura and outside the city walls to the necropolis.'
'The city of the dead? At night? I should think they'd have been as frightened of lemures as of arrows.'
'They stayed clear of the sepulchres and burial pits. They headed for the sacred grove of Libitina.'
'Goddess of the dead.' — Eco nodded. 'They broke into her temple.'
'In the middle of the night? But why? Surely the duty of registering Clodius among the dead fells to his family, not to the mob. And they can't have been looking to rent requisites for the funeral — they'd
already done the job of cremating Clodius, without paying much heed to religious niceties.'
'It had nothing to do with that, Papa. For some reason, it's in the Temple of Libitina that the fasces are kept when there are no consuls. You know, those bundles of sticks with an axe projecting, carried by the consuls at ceremonies and processions.'
'Their badges of office.'
'Exactly. With no consuls in office, the fasces have to be stored somewhere, and apparently the official place is the Temple of Libitina. So the mob breaks into the temple, seizes the fasces, and then runs back into the city to seek out the men running for consul against Milo.'
'Publius Hypsaeus and Quintus Scipio,'
'Yes. Both supported by Clodius, of course. The mob goes straight to Scipio's house and shouts for him to come out and claim the fasces.'
'Forgo the election entirely? Become consul by appointment of the mob?'
'That must have been the idea. But Scipio wouldn't show his face.'
'Probably scared out of his wits, like everybody else in Rome last night.'
'Then the same thing at the house of Hypsaeus. Shouts of acclamation, but the candidate kept his door shut. Then somebody in the mob got the idea to offer the fasces to Pompey.'
'Pompey! But he's not even eligible. He's still a proconsul, in charge of running Spain. He commands an army; legally he can't even enter the city walls. That's why he's living in his garden villa out on the Pincian Hill.'
'The mob couldn't be bothered by such technicalities. They ran out the Fontinalis Gate and up the Flaminian Way to Pompey's villa. They waved their torches and lifted up the fasces. Some shouted for Pompey to become consul. Others shouted for him to become dictator.'
I shook my head. 'What in Hades are they thinking of? Probably most of them weren't even born the last time Rome had a dictator.'
'There are plenty of people in the street who think it's time we had one again, to put an end to all this chaos.'
'They're mad. A dictatorship could only make things worse. Anyway, I can't believe the leaders of the Clodian mob came up with such an idea. Clodius and Pompey detested each other, and Pompey's never been a friend of populist causes.'
'He's popular with the masses, even so. The mighty general, conqueror of the East. The Great One, Pompey Magnus.' — I shook my head. 'It still doesn't sound right. The same people who provoked the mob to burn down the Senate House are hardly likely to want a reactionary like Pompey to be their dictator. Maybe it wasn't the same mob at all. Or maybe the mob was taken over at some point by infiltrators from Pompey's camp.'
Eco raised an eyebrow. 'So you think the incident might have been staged by Pompey himself? Do you think he wants to be dictator, then?'
'More likely he wanted a chance to publicly turn down the call There are plenty of senators, especially friends of Caesar, who think Pbmpey might be plotting to take over the state. How better to reassure them than to turn down a mob of citizens offering him the fasces?'
'He didn't exactly turn them down. Like Scipio and Hypsaeus, he didn't show his face.'
I moved my chair a bit to keep up with the sun. Where the shade fell the air had a bite. 'What word of Milo, then?'
'Some think he sneaked back into the city last night, and is holed up in his house. They say that's why the archers were in place to fight off the Clodians last night, because they're part of Milo's personal bodyguard. But it seems just as likely that he left them to guard the place in his absence, especially if he had planned to murder Clodius. He knew the mob would react with violence, so he left his house fortified. Others say he's gone into voluntary exile, off to Massilia or somewhere.'
'That's possible,' I said. 'It's hard to see how he could possibly be elected consul now, if and when the state finally does manage to hold elections. And if Milo can't be elected consul, he's finished. He's spent a fortune putting on shows and games, trying to impress the voters. He doesn't have the resources of Caesar or Pompey, or even of Clodius. He wagered everything on his run for consul, and now he's surely lost all chance of winning. Exile might seem the only honourable solution to him.'
Another voice joined us, from the direction of the statue ofMinerva. 'But then why did Milo kill Clodius, if it meant ruining his own future?'
I looked towards the statue. The virgin goddess towered above us, painted in such lifelike colours that she seemed almost to breathe. In one hand she clutched an upright spear, in the other a shield. An owl perched on her shoulder. A snake coiled at her feet. Under the midday sun her eyes were shaded by the visor of her crested helmet. For just an instant it seemed that Minerva herself had spoken. Then Diana stepped from beneath the shade of the portico and leaned against the pedestal. She put her hand on the sculpted snake.
