A Mist of Prophecies rsr-9

by Steven Saylor

  "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 gave a cry. Some of the slaves came running; but when they arrived, they kept their distance. They were afraid of her, you see-more afraid of her than of me! I could hardly blame them. Her back was arched, and her head was thrown back. Her eyes were wide open but showed only white. She trembled and shuddered and pitched her head about as if her neck had snapped, but she never loosened her grip on my arm."

  "Did she speak?"

  "Oh, yes. She babbled nonsense for a while…"

  "What sort of nonsense?"

  Antonia raised an eyebrow. "Why are you so keen to know, Finder? And how is it that you don't know already? You buried her. Weren't you in league with her?"

  "In league with her? How do you mean?"

  "Surely you know more about her than I do. Why do you think I've allowed you into my house? Because I thought you could tell me what Cassandra was really up to. Did she put on those performances merely to ingratiate herself, to obtain a bit of food when she was hungry, perhaps a few coins or some cast-off clothing? Did she think she might find a permanent patron, someone who would keep her indefinitely, so long as she kept uttering that mindless drivel? Or was it more sinister than that? Was she deliberately worming her way into this household and that, looking for things to steal? You always have to watch that sort; I knew better than to leave her alone even for a moment! Or perhaps she was looking for information she could use to her advantage. I can imagine her more credulous victims-Cicero's wife comes immediately to mind-opening up to her and spilling all sorts of embarrassing secrets, secrets that could be used against others later. Was that it? Was Cassandra a black mailer?"

  I thought about this. "I don't know. Did she try to black mail you?"

  "No. But I wasn't so foolish as to tell her anything I didn't want her to know."

  "How are you so certain that she was merely putting on a performance?"

  Antonia sighed. "You really don't know? Then I suppose I'll tell you. After she finished her 'prophesying'-after I threw her out-I decided to have her followed. I have a fellow who's very good at that. I didn't expect him to discover anything useful. I thought she'd simply go back to the wharf where I'd found her or to some hovel in the Subura, or wherever such creatures come from. But instead she headed for the neighborhood past the Circus Maximus. You know the sort of riffraff who live around there-actors, mimes, chariot racers, acrobats. When Cassandra arrived at her destination, my man recognized the place at once. How many times had he followed my husband to the very same house?"

  "Cassandra went directly from your house… to the house of Cytheris?"

  "Exactly. I'm told it's quite a nice little place. Her former master Volumnius bought it for her when he made her a freedwoman-a sort of parting gift for many services rendered, I have no doubt. You know why he freed her? It was at Antony's request-a sort of goodwill gesture by which Volumnius hoped to ingratiate himself with Caesar's chief lieutenant. To save face, Volumnius put it about that he'd had his fill of the little whore and didn't mind passing her on to Antony. But I know he was peeved. Well, if he wasn't yet ready to let go of her, he was a fool to show her off at that party where Antony met her. They say Cytheris learned all sorts of ways to please a man-things no respectable woman would consider doing-back in Alexandria where she comes from. That's where her first master, the one before Volumnius, taught her to be an actress. Oh, I call her an actress, but of course women aren't allowed to perform in legitimate plays, only in mime shows, and that's hardly acting, is it? Just a lot of buffoonery and half-naked dancing and declaiming lewd poems. The sort of vulgar nonsense Antony adores!"

  "You were saying that Cassandra went to the house of Cytheris…"

  "Exactly! Now what sort of coincidence could that be? Immediately after seeing Antony's wife, Cassandra pays a visit to Antony's mistress. Or should I say, 'reports' to Antony's mistress."

  "Perhaps she was calling on someone else in Cytheris's household."

  "No. My man managed to climb onto the roof of the neighboring house, where he could see down into Cytheris's garden. He'd done that before as well, keeping an eye on Antony for me. He saw Cytheris greet Cassandra as if they were old friends. Then they sat and shared wine together and talked for a long time."

  "About what?"

  "My man wasn't able to hear. They were too far away and kept their voices low. But he heard them laugh occasionally-at me, I have no doubt! Well, I'd sent the bitch away without paying her a sesterce, and I'd told her nothing she could use to embarrass me, so I'm afraid I spoiled whatever scheme those two were h
atching against me."

  "You think Cassandra was somehow in league with Cytheris?"

  "Of course! Don't you see? They're both actresses! That must be how they know each other. They probably met while performing together in some wretched mime show somewhere between here and Alexandria. Ambitious little ferrets! Cytheris managed to get herself nicely set up, thanks to Volumnius and my husband. Meanwhile, Cassandra got herself invited into the best homes in Rome by putting on a mime show of her own, pretending to utter prophecies while falling under some god's spell, all the while working who knows what sort of mischief. Whoever killed her did the decent people of Rome a great favor. That's why I went to her funeral-to see her burn! If only someone would do the same to that accursed Cytheris so that I could have the pleasure of watching the flames devour her carcass!"

  In a burst of fury, she threw her cup across the garden. A hapless peacock shrieked and skittered away.

  "I understand why you despise Cytheris," I said. "But what did Cassandra do to make you hate her so? What was the prophecy she spoke to you?"

  Antonia glared at me. "For the last time, it wasn't a prophecy; it was a performance. But if you must know-very well, I'll tell you. For quite a while she rolled her eyes and jerked and muttered a lot of unintelligible noises. Then, gradually, I could make out words. Oh, Cassandra was very good! She made you listen hard to hear her, all the better to convince you that it must be something very special she was uttering. She said…"

  Antonia stared into space and hesitated so long that I thought she had decided not to tell me. Finally she cleared her throat and went on. "She said she saw a lion and a lioness and their young cub dwelling in a cave. There was a terrible storm raging, but inside the cave all was warm and dry and safe. Eventually, despite the storm, the lion went off to forage. He found a gazelle, such a beautiful, graceful creature that, instead of attacking the gazelle, he mated with it. To get back at him, the lioness invited another lion into her cave and mated with him. But that lion already had a mate, and he soon left her. And her original mate was so happy gamboling about the countryside with his gazelle that he never returned. So in the end, the lioness was left alone… forever. Except for her cub, of course…"

  At that moment the screaming young girl reappeared, dressed in a tunica now, but in the same bad humor. She ran across the garden to her mother, let out an ear-piercing scream, and threw her hands around Antonia's waist. Antonia tensed every muscle. Such a look of mingled fury and despair crossed her face that for a moment I feared she might strike the child. Instead, she took a deep breath and put her arms around the little girl, squeezing so tightly that the child struggled to pull free and finally did so, running back the way she had come, scattering peacocks in her wake and streaking past the overwhelmed nurse in the doorway.

  Antonia stared after the child. Her face hardened. "As long as she was making it all up, why tell me things to confirm my own worst fears? Why not make up lies to please me? For a happy vision of the future, I might have given her a few coins and sent her on her way and forgotten all about her. No, she put on that little performance deliberately to torment me, and afterward she went running to her friend Cytheris, and the two of them had a good laugh at my expense. I'm glad she's dead! If someone else hadn't done it, I might have murdered her myself."

  IX

  The fourth time I saw Cassandra was on the day Marcus Caelius made his boldest-and last-appearance in the Forum.

  Obedient to Bethesda's wishes-and leery myself of the violence that had been erupting-I avoided going to the Forum for almost a month following the riot that broke out after the consul Isauricus broke Caelius's chair of state. I whiled away the month of Aprilis in my garden, worrying over the ever-increasing debts I owed to Volumnius the banker, unable to see a way to continue feeding my family without going even further into debt.

  All my life I had avoided becoming a debtor. I had even managed to accumulate a modest amount of savings, which I had deposited for security with Volumnius. He was a banker with an excellent reputation, trusted by everyone from Cicero to Caesar. But with the war had come shortages, and with shortages had come outlandish prices, even for the most basic staples of life. I had seen the savings of a lifetime devoured by butchers and bakers in a matter of months. Volumnius-or rather his agents, for I never dealt with the man directly-saw my deposits dwindle to nothing, then offered to extend credit. What could I do but accept? I fell into the trap and learned what every debtor knows: a debt is like a baby, for it begins small but rapidly grows, and the bigger it gets, the louder it cries out to be fed.

  Brooding in my garden, I reluctantly admitted to myself that I missed the jabbering of the chin-waggers down in the Forum. Opinionated old fools they might be, but at least their complaints took my mind off my own problems; and every now and then one of them actually said something intelligent. I missed reading the Daily Acts posted in the Forum, with the latest news of Caesar's movements, even if I knew that nothing in such notices was to be entirely trusted since they were dictated by the consul Isauricus. To be sure, Davus and Hieronymus still made forays down to the Forum and always bought back the latest gossip, but there was something stale and unnourishing about such third-hand information. I was a Roman citizen, and the public life of the Forum was part of the very fabric of my existence.

  One afternoon I could no longer stand my idleness and isolation. Bethesda, Diana, and Davus had gone to the markets to spend my latest loan from Volumnius. Hieronymus was in my study perusing a very old volume of The Punic War by Naevius that Cicero had given me as a gift many years ago; it was the most valuable scroll I owned, and so far I had resisted selling it, since I couldn't hope to get anything approaching its true value. Bored and restless, on a whim I did something I had not done in a very long time. I left my house unaccompanied, taking not even Mopsus or Androcles with me.

  Later I would question my motive for leaving the house alone that day. Did I not know, in some corner of my mind, exactly where my feet were taking me when I set out? I decided to avoid the Forum, so I crossed the Palatine Hill and descended on the east side, wandering past the Senian Baths, wending my way through increasingly narrower streets as I entered the neighborhood of the Subura.

  If someone had asked me where I was headed, I couldn't have said. I was simply out for a walk, enjoying the weather, trying for a while to forget my troubles. Yet every step brought me closer. It was the barking of the Molossian mastiff chained beside the front door that startled me to my senses. I stopped and stared dumbly at the beast, then confronted the red-washed facade of the shabby tenement where Cassandra lived.

  I stepped toward the doorway. The dog stopped barking. Did the beast recognize me? Did he remember that I had visited the building a month before, when I was carried in, unconscious, by Rupa, and then a little later was escorted out by him? The dog made no objection when I stepped through the doorway. He looked up at me and wagged his tail.

  I was at once surrounded by a familiar mix of odors-boiled cabbage, urine, unwashed humanity. My memory was poorer than the mastiff's; I wasn't sure which doorway opened into Cassandra's room. Each doorway was covered by a ragged curtain to afford a degree of privacy. One of the curtains, a faded blue, looked vaguely familiar. I stood before it for a long moment, listening, but heard nothing from within. I might have called her name, but somehow I knew the room was empty. I lifted the curtain and stepped inside.

  It was just as I recalled. The floor was packed earth. A high, narrow window afforded a view of the yellow building next door and a bit of sky; from nearby came the sound of clanging metal from the Street of Copper Pots. The only furnishings were a crudely made folding chair and a threadbare pallet strewn with equally threadbare pillows. A few thin coverlets were neatly folded on the pallet. Next to the coverlets was a curious object: a short baton made of leather. I picked it up. Imbedded in the surface I saw the impression of human teeth. If I were to give it a name, I would have called the thing a biting stick. I put it back
where I had found it.

  The walls were bare. There was no box or pouch for keeping coins or trinkets. There was not even a lamp to light the room at night. Cassandra had no need to fear leaving the room unattended. There was nothing here to steal.

  I heard a noise and turned to see her standing in the doorway. She stared at me and let the curtain drop behind her.

  Her hair was slightly damp. Her cheeks were red from scrubbing. I realized she must have just returned from a visit to the public baths. In Rome, even beggars can enjoy the luxury of a hot bath for the price of a few coins.

  There was no surprise on her face. She looked almost as if she had been expecting me. Perhaps, I thought, she does possess some sort of second sight.

  "Snooping?" she said. "There's not much to see. If you'd like, I can tie back the curtain to let in a bit more light."

  "No, that won't be necessary." I stepped away from the pallet to the center of the room. "Forgive me. I didn't mean to snoop. Force of habit, I suppose."

  "Did someone send you here?" She didn't sound angry, merely curious.

  "No."

  "Then why did you come?"

  I don't know, I was about to say, but that would have been a lie. "I came to see you."

  She nodded slowly. "In that case, I'll leave the curtain over the doorway. That will give us a little privacy. Most of the tenants are out of the building at this hour anyway, scavenging for something to eat." She crossed her arms. "Are you sure you weren't spying on me? Isn't that what people pay you to do? Isn't that why they call you the Finder?"

  "I don't recall telling you that."

  "No? Someone else must have told me."

  "Who?"

  She shrugged. "What was it you said to me last time? 'You're not entirely unknown in the Forum.' Neither are you, Gordianus. People know you by sight. They know your reputation. Perhaps I was a little curious about you after having you here in my room. Perhaps I asked a few questions here and there. I know quite a few things about you, Gordianus the Finder. I think that you and I are very much alike."