that had been the death of more than one Roman. Clodius likewise was angling for that office, and the inevitable collision of these two was anticipated with great glee by the idlers of the Forum. Clodius cultivated the rising fortunes of Caesar while Milo had formed an odd alliance with Cicero.
Milo arrived, his face decorated with a tremendous smile, and I took his hand. It had not grown soft despite the passage of years since he had earned his living as a rower. He was a huge man, still young, with so much energy and ambition that it made me tired just to be in his presence.
"Decius! Why have you not come to see me in so long? You look pale. That's what comes of spending your days counting money under the watchful eye of Saturn. How does it feel, being in charge of all the gold in Rome?"
"Whatever pleasure is to be had in watching it flow by is mine," I told him. "I assure you, that is very little pleasure indeed."
"Then let me cheer you up. Come with me."
He led me to a small room equipped with a single table and two small dining-couches. Next to them was a bronze basket filled with glowing-red stones that had been heated in a baker's oven. This provided heat without smoke, for which I was grateful. The afternoon had grown cool. The table was furnished with cups and a pitcher of wine and snacks of the simplest sort: olives, nuts, dates and figs. This represented not a philosopher's love of simplicity but rather a busy man's lack of time for any sort of ostentation.
We drank each other's health and passed a few pleasantries between us. Then Milo spoke in his usual, direct fashion.
"Much as we always enjoy each other's company, I take it that this is by way of being an official visit?"
"Not precisely. That is to say, it doesn't involve my present office. I've come upon evidence of a possible conspiracy against the state, and I am not sure what to do with it. I know of no one totally trustworthy in whom to confide."
"Except me." He smiled.
"You come closest," I admitted.
"Then tell me about it."
Milo was not a man with whom to prevaricate, or speak in circumlocutions or innuendo. I told him exactly what I had found and where I had found it. I told him my reasons for not going to the Consuls or
praetores
. He listened with great concentration. Milo did not have the most brilliant mind I ever encountered; that laurel would have to go to Cicero. But I never knew a man who could think harder than he did.
"I can understand your urge to caution," he said when I had finished. "So you suspect a plot against the state?"
"What else could it be?" I asked.
"I know that you have fears that Pompey will make himself king of Rome, but somehow I don't see him arming a few hundred scruffy supporters to hold the gates for him. If he truly wanted to, I think he could bring his armies to Italy and walk into the city unopposed."
"There are plenty of others, besides Pompey," I pointed out. "Men who once commanded legions and know they will never have the chance to do so again. Men who have been disappointed in their bids for high office. Men who are desperate. Who else?"
"The weapons you describe would not be much use in arming soldiers for the field, but they are just the thing for fighting in a city. No heavy shields or armor, no long pikes, no bows or arrows. They
might
be used as you fear, but there is another possibility."
"I would be glad to hear of it," I said.
"Decius, you have allowed these fears of overambitious generals to dominate your thinking. Those men have learned from what happened in the days of Marius and Sulla. I think that, in the future, they will do most of their fighting outside of Italy. But there are other men who have no ambition to command great armies and lord it over the provincials. These men want to control Rome itself, just the city. Such a cache as you describe would be of great use to one of those."
"And who," I said, "might this person be?"
"Clodius Pulcher comes immediately to mind," he
Milo arrived, his face decorated with a tremendous smile, and I took his hand. It had not grown soft despite the passage of years since he had earned his living as a rower. He was a huge man, still young, with so much energy and ambition that it made me tired just to be in his presence.
"Decius! Why have you not come to see me in so long? You look pale. That's what comes of spending your days counting money under the watchful eye of Saturn. How does it feel, being in charge of all the gold in Rome?"
"Whatever pleasure is to be had in watching it flow by is mine," I told him. "I assure you, that is very little pleasure indeed."
"Then let me cheer you up. Come with me."
He led me to a small room equipped with a single table and two small dining-couches. Next to them was a bronze basket filled with glowing-red stones that had been heated in a baker's oven. This provided heat without smoke, for which I was grateful. The afternoon had grown cool. The table was furnished with cups and a pitcher of wine and snacks of the simplest sort: olives, nuts, dates and figs. This represented not a philosopher's love of simplicity but rather a busy man's lack of time for any sort of ostentation.
We drank each other's health and passed a few pleasantries between us. Then Milo spoke in his usual, direct fashion.
"Much as we always enjoy each other's company, I take it that this is by way of being an official visit?"
"Not precisely. That is to say, it doesn't involve my present office. I've come upon evidence of a possible conspiracy against the state, and I am not sure what to do with it. I know of no one totally trustworthy in whom to confide."
"Except me." He smiled.
"You come closest," I admitted.
"Then tell me about it."
Milo was not a man with whom to prevaricate, or speak in circumlocutions or innuendo. I told him exactly what I had found and where I had found it. I told him my reasons for not going to the Consuls or
praetores
. He listened with great concentration. Milo did not have the most brilliant mind I ever encountered; that laurel would have to go to Cicero. But I never knew a man who could think harder than he did.
"I can understand your urge to caution," he said when I had finished. "So you suspect a plot against the state?"
"What else could it be?" I asked.
"I know that you have fears that Pompey will make himself king of Rome, but somehow I don't see him arming a few hundred scruffy supporters to hold the gates for him. If he truly wanted to, I think he could bring his armies to Italy and walk into the city unopposed."
"There are plenty of others, besides Pompey," I pointed out. "Men who once commanded legions and know they will never have the chance to do so again. Men who have been disappointed in their bids for high office. Men who are desperate. Who else?"
"The weapons you describe would not be much use in arming soldiers for the field, but they are just the thing for fighting in a city. No heavy shields or armor, no long pikes, no bows or arrows. They
might
be used as you fear, but there is another possibility."
"I would be glad to hear of it," I said.
"Decius, you have allowed these fears of overambitious generals to dominate your thinking. Those men have learned from what happened in the days of Marius and Sulla. I think that, in the future, they will do most of their fighting outside of Italy. But there are other men who have no ambition to command great armies and lord it over the provincials. These men want to control Rome itself, just the city. Such a cache as you describe would be of great use to one of those."
"And who," I said, "might this person be?"
"Clodius Pulcher comes immediately to mind," he
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