A Gladiator Dies Only Once Read Free Page A

understand, Consul.”
    He stepped very close, peered at my face, and seemed satisfied.
    “Well, then . . . where to begin? With that damned charioteer, I suppose.”
    “A charioteer?”
    “Diocles. You’ve heard of him?”
    I nodded. “He races for the Reds.”
    “I wouldn’t know. I don’t follow the sport. But I’m told that Diocles is quite famous. And rich, richer even than Roscius the actor. Scandalous, that racers and actors should be wealthier than senators nowadays. Our ancestors would be appalled!”
    I doubted that my own ancestors would be quite as upset as those of Decimus Brutus, but I nodded and tried to bring him back to the subject. “This Diocles . . .”
    “One of my wife’s circle of friends. Only . . . closer than a friend.”
    “A suspicion, Consul? Or do you have sure knowledge?”
    “I have eyes in my head!” He seemed to realize the irony of claiming his feeble eyesight as reliable witness, and sighed. “I never caught them in the act, if that’s what you mean. I have no proof. But every time she had her circle in this house, lolling about on couches and reciting to each other, the two of them seemed always to end up in a corner by themselves. Whispering . . . laughing . . .” He ground his jaw. “I won’t be made a fool of, allowing my wife to sport with her lover under my own roof! I grew so furious the last time he was here, I . . . I made a scene. I chased them all out, and I told Sempronia that Diocles was never again to enter this house. When she protested, I commanded her never to speak with him again. I’m her husband. It’s my right to say with whom she can and cannot consort! Sempronia knows that. Why could she not simply defer to my will? Instead she had to argue. She badgered me like a harpy—I never heard such language from a woman! All the more evidence, if I needed any, that her relationship with that man was beyond decency. In the end, I banned her entire circle of friends, and I ordered Sempronia not to leave the house, even for official obligations. When her duties call, she simply has to say, The consul’s wife regrets that illness prevents her.’ It’s been like that for almost a month now. The tension in this house . . .”
    “But she does have one official duty left.”
    “Yes, her dictation of society items for the Daily Acts. She needn’t leave the house for that. Senators’ wives come calling— respectable visitors are still welcome—and they give her all the tidbits she needs. If you ask me, the society section is terribly tedious, even more so than the sporting news. I give it no more than a quick glance to see if family are mentioned, and their names spelled correctly. Sempronia knows that. That’s why she thought she could send her little message to Diocles through the Daily Acts, undetected.”
    He glanced at the portrait and worked his jaw back and forth. “It was the word ‘bookworm’ that caught my eye. When we were first married, that was the pet name she gave me: ‘My old bookworm.’ I suppose she calls me that behind my back now, laughing and joking with the likes of that charioteer!”
    “And’Sappho’?”
    “Her friends call her that sometimes.”
    “Why do you assume the blind item is addressed to Diocles?”
    “Despite my lack of interest in racing, I do know a thing or two about that particular charioteer—more than I care to! The name of his lead horse is Sparrow. How does the message start? ‘The bookworm pokes his head outside tomorrow. Easy prey for the sparrow . . .’ Tomorrow I’ll be at the Circus Maximus, to make a public appearance at the races.”
    “And your wife?”
    “Sempronia will remain confined to this house. I have no intention of allowing her to publicly ogle Diocles in his chariot!”
    “Won’t you be surrounded by bodyguards?”
    “In the midst of such a throng, who knows what opportunities might arise for some ‘accident’ to befall me? In the Forum or the Senate House I