'Ridiculous!' said Antony, who did not look amused.
I shrugged. 'An outrageous rumour, as I said. I'm sure that no one of good sense would credit it for an instant.'
'But who would say such a thing about me?' Antony was suddenly on his feet, pacing across the small space. 'What utter nonsense, that I could have any hand at all in what happened to Clodius! There's no bottom to people's vileness, is there? No lie so vicious that someone won't stoop to utter it, Cicero! You heard this from Cicero, didn't you, on the ride up?'
'No.'
'Tell me the truth, Gordianus. Oh, it sounds just like him, telling a He so crazy that people begin to think there must be something to it! I'll tell you, this is the last time, and I mean the very last time, that the old coot is going to take a piss on my head. I'll snatch him in the middle of his snivelling petition to Caesar and throw him down a well. I'll twist his throat until his head snaps off! He'll never spread another He about me again!' At that moment, Antony looked quite capable of carrying out such threats.
'Marc Antony, I swear to you, the rumour didn't come from Cicero.'
'Then where did you hear it? Who's saying these thing about me?' Antony's anger was palpable and seemed to heat the whole room like a brazier. But I sensed that none of his fury was directed at me. It was because I was Meto's father, I realized, and therefore to be trusted and respected. Antony was not a simple man, Meto had said, but clear and plain. He had cause to be angry, but was disciplined enough to hold his anger in check while he sought for the party that had truly offended against him.
'It was a fish vendor, wasn't it, Papa?' said Eco suddenly.
'What?'
'It was a fish vendor who told us about the rumour, as I recall.' My elder son was not so clear and plain as Antony. 'Ah, was it?' I said.
'By Hercules, you mean they're spreading such a lie even in the marketplaces?' Antony looked ready to smash something, but refilled his wine cup instead.
'Yes, I remember now,' I said. 'But it was only one person who mentioned the idea to me — no, actually it was two people — and it may be that they were simply confused, because at the same time they brought up a story from last year, about an altercation between yourself and Publius Clodius…'
'What, that bit of silliness on the Field of Mars?'
'These people seemed to think you meant Clodius actual harm.'
'If I'd caught him, you know what I would have done? I'd have used the flat of my sword to spank him! That would have been humiliation enough.'
'What was his offence?' said Meto.
'The usual one, not knowing when to keep his mouth shut. Nothing political. Something personal dredged up from the past.' Antony hesitated. 'Since you've been so candid with me, Gordianus, I'll tell you. Clodius made a rude suggestion involving my friendship with Gaius Curio. Curio was off in Asia, serving as quaestor, and his father had just died. Well, it's no secret how the elder Curio did everything he could to come between Gaius and me when we were young — following Cicero's advice, I might add! So there were we, out on the field of Mars, and Clodius said something like, 'Now that his old man's dead and out of the way, I suppose you and Gaius Curio can finally get married. Which one of you will be the bride?' Normally I might have laughed it off, but he caught me on a day when I was in no mood for his needling, so I pulled out my sword. I suppose I looked angrier than I was — it's a problem I have — and Clodius simply panicked. He shrieked and ran!' Antony laughed at the memory. 'And I chased after him! I couldn't help myself!' Antony clutched himself, laughing. 'If I'd caught him, I swear, I'd have pulled off his toga and spanked his bare bottom — sent him back to the Field of Mars stark naked with his red cheeks glowing. That would have shut him up! Can you imagine? The mob would have deserted him. He'd have had to retire from public life. But he'd still be alive today!'
The laughter caught in Antony's throat. He sighed and made a face that was hard to read. He poured himself more wine, drained his cup and looked at me steadily. 'Gordianus, I swear to you by the shade of my father, I had nothing to do with Clodius's death. So.I hope that you'll go back and find whoever these rumour mongers were, and set them straight,'
I tried to return his gaze with one as steady. It's not often that I find myself the less honest of two parties in a conversation. 'I intend to do that, Marc Antony.'
'Good! Such a rumour should be nipped in the bud, before some scoundrel like Cicero puts it to his own use. Oh, Mercury and Minerva!' He slapped his forehead.
'What's wrong?' said Meto.
'What if this awful rumour should reach all the way to Fulvia? Since Clodius died, I've worked so hard to be strong for her, to give her someone to lean on, someone she can trust absolutely. I couldn't stand it, if anything should poison that. But what am I saying? Fulvia would never believe such a rumour, not for a moment. She knows me better than that.'
I shrugged and made a sympathetic smile.
That night we learned from Tiro that after waiting in Caesar's courtyard all day, Cicero had once more failed to gain an audience with the general. He would have to seek an audience again the next day, and so would not be heading back to Rome again until at least the day after that, at the earliest. To Eco and me, eager to return to our families, this seemed an eternity.
'But Papa, Antony's leaving for Rome early tomorrow morning,' said Meto. 'Why don't you travel with him?'
'We could hardly presume — '
'It would be no imposition, Papa. Come, I'll ask him myself if you want.'
'Stay where you are, Meto! You've already put me on the spot with Antony once today.'
'Papa, you need to go home, and you need a safe escort. You don't want to travel with Cicero, anyway, do you? He'd drive you mad. And he'll travel slower. Go with Antony. He likes you, couldn't you tell? He'll be glad to have your company. And you can get to know him better and make up your mind about him, if you haven't already. It's so perfect, the gods themselves must have arranged it.'
'What do you think, Eco?' I said.
'I think I want to get back to Rome as soon as possible, and that Caesar seems determined to keep Cicero waiting as long as he can.'
'Then, if you really think Antony would be amenable, Meto '
'We'll ask him right now.'
This, I gathered, was how things were done in Caesar's army. Having lived so long in devious Rome, I found it hard to get used to such forthrightness.
We departed for Rome before dawn.
The journey lasted for four days and passed without incident. Antony seemed to be as transparent as Meto had indicated. He drank more than he should, and when he drank he showed his emotions more plainly than most men. I could imagine him killing out of pain or rage, or professionally, as a soldier, but it was difficult to see him as a conspirator in some devious plot. He was equally outspoken about those whom he hated (Cicero, chiefly) and those whom he loved (Curio, Fulvia, Caesar and his wife and cousin Antonia, in that order so far as I could tell). His lack of charm was in itself charming, just as his homeliness made him oddly handsome. I became very relaxed in his company, and began to see why Meto was so fond of him.
On the last day we talked a little about his military service in Egypt. Four years had passed since Antony had helped the Roman governor of Syria to restore King Ptolemy Auletes to the throne that had been usurped by his daughter Berenice. 'I loved Alexandria,' Antony told me, 'and the Alexandrians loved me. Do you know the city?'
'Oh, yes. I met my wife there.' I remembered something he had said back in Ravenna. 'Antony, what did you mean when you referred to 'that old business about King Ptolemy's daughter'?'
'When was that? Jog my memory, Gordianus.'
'You said, 'I swear, I never touched the child!' It was some sort of joke. You and Meto both laughed, anyway.'
'Ah, that wasn't about Berenice. I was referring to Ptolemy's other daughter.'
'And?' Eco raised a suggestive eyebrow.
