John Maddox Roberts - [SPQR Roman Mysteries 8.6]-Mightier Than The Sword Read Free Page A

with uncertain times ahead. I thought
he meant we might have a Dictator next year. You never can tell what
that might mean."
    "Very true," I
said, my gaze wandering out over one of Rome's most spectacular views,
the eye-stunning expanse of the Circus Maximus stretching out below us.
To a native son of Rome, that view is immensely satisfying because it
combines three of our passions: races, gambling and enormous, vulgar
buildings. His gaze followed mine.
    "Ah,
Aedile,
I take it you'll be organizing the races next month?"
    "To the great
distress of my purse, yes."
    "Do you know
who's driving in the first race?"
    "Victor for the
Reds, Androcles for the Greens, Philip for the Blues and Paris for the
Whites." I could have reeled off the names of all sixteen horses they
would be driving as well. I was good at that sort of thing.
    "You Caecilians
are Reds, aren't you?"
    "Since Romulus,"
I told him, knowing what was coming.
    "I support the
Blues. Fifty sesterces on Philip in the first race, even money?" He
undoubtedly knew the names of all the horses as well.
    "The Sparrow has
a sore forefoot," I said, naming the Red's near-side trace horse. "Give
me three to two."
    "Done!" he
grinned. We took out the little tablets half the men in Rome carry
around to record bets. With our styli we scratched our names and bets
in each other's tablets. He walked away whistling and I felt better,
too. Victor had assured me personally that the Sparrow's foot would be
fine in plenty of time for the race. I flicked the accumulation of wax
from the tip of my stylus, my mind going back to the condition of
Cosconius's body.
    I had dismissed
Varro as a suspect in the murder. Building contractors as a class are
swindlers rather than murderers and his manner was all wrong. But our
little bet had set me on a promising mental trail. My borrowed lictor
was sitting on the base of the statue of Proserpina that stood in front
of the temple before the restorations commissioned by Maecaenas. He
looked bored senseless. I summoned him.
    "Let's go to the
Forum." At that he brightened. Everything really interesting was
happening in the Forum. In the Forum, lictors were respected as symbols
of
imperium.
With him preceding me, we went down
the hill and across the old Cattle Market and along the Tuscan Street
to the Forum.
    The place was
thronged, as usual. It held an aura of barely-contained menace in that
unruly year, but people still respected the symbol of the
fasces
and made way for the lictor. I made a slow circuit of the area, finding
out who was there and, more importantly, who was not. To my great
relief, neither Clodius nor Milo were around with their crowds of
thugs. Among the candidates for the next year's offices I saw the young
Quintus Cosconius. Unlike the others standing for the tribuneship in
their specially whitened togas he wore a dingy, brown toga and he had
not shaved his face nor combed his hair, all in token of mourning.
    On the steps of
the Basilica Opimia I found Cicero, surrounded as always by clients and
friends. Ordinarily I would have waited upon his notice like everyone
else, but my office and my lictor allowed me to approach him at once.
    "Good morning,
Aedile,"
he saluted, always punctilious in matters of office. He raised an
eyebrow at sight of my lictor. "Does your office now carry
imperium?
I must have dozed off during the last Senate meeting."
    "Good morning,
Marcus Tullius, and no, I'm just carrying out an investigation for
Varus. I would greatly appreciate your advice."
    "Of course." We
made that little half-turn that proclaimed that we were now in private
conference and the others directed their attention elsewhere. "Is it
the murder of Aulus Cosconius? Shocking business."
    "Exactly. What
were the man's political leanings, if any?"
    "He was a
dreadfully old-fashioned man, the sort who oppose almost anything
unsanctioned by our remote ancestors. Like most of the men involved in
City property trade, he supported Crassus. Before he left for