Catilina's Riddle by Steven Saylor Page A

headless corpse to the earth without some monument, and it would have been unwise to bury any man without properly propitiating his shade, lest we invite his lemur to haunt the farm forever. So I made sure that black beans were buried with the corpse, and as head of the household I threw a handful of the same beans over my shoulder onto the grave when we were done.
    Many days later, I returned to the place and drove a slender stele made of marble into the gravesite, which was almost hidden by thorns.
    On the stele, reading downward, were inscribed these letters: N
    E
    M
    O
    The artisan in the village had complained that it was an odd request, engraving a stele for Nobody, but he had accepted my silver readily .
    enough.
    The feverish spell of lovemaking between Bethesda and myself was definitely over, as I discovered that night. She turned her shoulder to me when I came to bed, and when I tried to talk to her about the body in the stable, she pulled a pillow over her head.
    I complained that the circumstance was not of my devising; that I knew no more about the body and how it came to be there than she did; that I would do all I could to protect her and the children. She made no answer. Eventually I heard her snoring. Insulted and angry, I left the room. I paced for a long time in the formal courtyard, circling the pond over and over. I paced for so long that I was able to watch the moon shadow of the roof slide slowly across the paving stones. Half the world was black shadow and the other half a soft, hazy silver, and I strode back and forth between the two.
    At last I left the courtyard. I looked in on Meto and Diana in their little rooms and found each of them sleeping soundly and apparently without dreams.
    I followed the short hallway to my library. I lit a lamp and hung it above my writing table. I spread a piece of parchment before me and pulled the inkstand nearer. I dipped a reed into the ink and began to write. Aratus did most of my letter writing; my hand was clumsy and I
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    made a number of spots on the parchment before I got the reed to flow properly. I wrote:
    To my beloved son Eco at his house in Rome, greetings from his beloved father at the farm in Etruria.
    Life here in the countryside continues to be full of surprises. It is not nearly as dull as you might imagine. I know you love the excitement of Rome, but I think you would be surprised at how much goes on here.
    Keep in mind that we celebrate Meto's sixteenth birthday next month, when he will put on his manly toga. The house in Rome will need to be at its best to receive a number of distinguished (and some not-so-distinguished) visitors. The distinguished visitors will need to be impressed by the family's best ornaments and plate; the not-so-distinguished ones will need to be kept from stealing them. I trust your new wife will be up to the task of organizing and overseeing such an event.
    Bethesda will probably take over matters anyway.
    By the way, I have a small favor to ask. Do this discreetly, please. There is a young man named Marcus Caelius, a protege of Cicero and of Crassus. Send him a message for me. Say:
    "The body without a head." I realize this makes no sense; it is in the way of a private joke. He will understand.
    I think of you often. You are missed by everyone. I know you are busy in the city. I hope you are exercising all reasonable caution and keeping yourself safe from harm, as is your loving father.
    I sat for a while to let the ink dry, then rolled up the parchment and slipped it into a cylindrical case, tied it and sealed it and pressed my ring into the soft wax. In the morning I would dispatch a slave to take it to Rome. I stepped into the herb garden. No bees hovered there, having all retired to their hives for the night, but a pair of great luminous moths flitted among the vines. The hour was very late, but I did not feel sleepy.
    Instead I felt as I had earlier that day in the stable—preternaturally alert, seeing and