coincidence?"
"Furius was the original owner of this house. Titus and Cornelia acquired it when he was executed for his crimes against Sulla and the state."
"I begin to see…"
"Perhaps you do. Furius and his family were on the wrong side of the civil war, political enemies of Sulla. When Sulla achieved absolute power and compelled the Senate to appoint him dictator, he purged the Republic of his foes. The proscriptions-"
"Names posted on lists in the Forum; yes, I remember only too well."
"Once a man was proscribed, anyone could hunt him down and bring his head to Sulla for a bounty. I don't have to remind you of the bloodbath, you were here; you saw the heads mounted on spikes outside the Senate."
"And Furius's head was among them.?"
"Yes. He was proscribed, arrested, and beheaded. You ask if Cornelia is certain that Furius is dead? Yes, because she saw his head on a spike, with blood oozing from the neck. Meanwhile, his property was confiscated and put up for public auction-"
"But the auctions were not always public," I said. "Sulla's friends usually had first pick of the finest farms and villas."
"As did Sulla's relations," added Lucius, wincing. "When Furius was caught and beheaded, Titus and Cornelia didn't hesitate to contact Sulla at once and put their mark on this house. Cornelia had always coveted it; why pass up the opportunity to possess it, and for a song?" He lowered his voice. "The rumor is that they placed the only bid, for the unbelievable sum of a thousand sesterces!"
"The price of a mediocre Egyptian rug," I said. "Quite a bargain."
"If Cornelia has a flaw, it's her avarice. Greed is the great vice of our age."
"But not the only vice."
"What do you mean?"
"Tell me, Lucius, was this Furius really such a great enemy of our late, lamented dictator? Was he such a terrible threat to the security of the state and to Sulla's personal safety that he truly belonged on the proscription lists?"
"I don't understand."
"There were those who ended up on the lists because they were too rich for their own good; because they possessed things that others coveted."
Lucius frowned. "Gordianus, what I've already told you is scandalous enough, and I'll ask you not to repeat it. I don't know what further inference you may have drawn, and I don't care to know. I think we should drop the matter."
Friend he may be, but Lucius is also of patrician blood; the cords that bind the rich together are made of gold, and are stronger than iron.
I made my way homeward, pondering the strange and fatal haunting of Titus and his wife. I had forgotten completely about the soldier until, as I neared my own house, I heard him hissing at me over his garden wall.
"Finder! You said you'd come back to help me, and here you are. Come inside!" He disappeared, and a moment later a little wooden door in the wall opened inward. I stopped and stepped inside to find myself in a garden open to the sky, surrounded by a colonnade. A burning smell filled my nostrils; an elderly slave was gathering leaves with a rake and arranging them in piles about a small brazier in the center of the garden.
The soldier smiled at me crookedly. I judged him to be not too much older than myself, despite his bald head and the gray hairs that bristled from his eyebrows. The dark circles beneath his eyes marked him as a man in desperate need of sleep. He hobbled past me and pulled up a chair for me to sit on.
"Tell me, neighbor, did you grow up in the countryside?"His voice cracked slightly, as if pleasant discourse was a strain to him.
"No, I was born in Rome."
"Ah. I grew up near Arpinum, myself. I only mention it because I saw you staring at the leaves and the fire. I know how city folk dread fires and shun them except for heat and cooking. It's a country habit, burning leaves. Dangerous, but I'm careful. The smell of burning leaves reminds me of my boyhood. As does this garden."
I looked up at the trees that loomed in stark silhouette against the
"Furius was the original owner of this house. Titus and Cornelia acquired it when he was executed for his crimes against Sulla and the state."
"I begin to see…"
"Perhaps you do. Furius and his family were on the wrong side of the civil war, political enemies of Sulla. When Sulla achieved absolute power and compelled the Senate to appoint him dictator, he purged the Republic of his foes. The proscriptions-"
"Names posted on lists in the Forum; yes, I remember only too well."
"Once a man was proscribed, anyone could hunt him down and bring his head to Sulla for a bounty. I don't have to remind you of the bloodbath, you were here; you saw the heads mounted on spikes outside the Senate."
"And Furius's head was among them.?"
"Yes. He was proscribed, arrested, and beheaded. You ask if Cornelia is certain that Furius is dead? Yes, because she saw his head on a spike, with blood oozing from the neck. Meanwhile, his property was confiscated and put up for public auction-"
"But the auctions were not always public," I said. "Sulla's friends usually had first pick of the finest farms and villas."
"As did Sulla's relations," added Lucius, wincing. "When Furius was caught and beheaded, Titus and Cornelia didn't hesitate to contact Sulla at once and put their mark on this house. Cornelia had always coveted it; why pass up the opportunity to possess it, and for a song?" He lowered his voice. "The rumor is that they placed the only bid, for the unbelievable sum of a thousand sesterces!"
"The price of a mediocre Egyptian rug," I said. "Quite a bargain."
"If Cornelia has a flaw, it's her avarice. Greed is the great vice of our age."
"But not the only vice."
"What do you mean?"
"Tell me, Lucius, was this Furius really such a great enemy of our late, lamented dictator? Was he such a terrible threat to the security of the state and to Sulla's personal safety that he truly belonged on the proscription lists?"
"I don't understand."
"There were those who ended up on the lists because they were too rich for their own good; because they possessed things that others coveted."
Lucius frowned. "Gordianus, what I've already told you is scandalous enough, and I'll ask you not to repeat it. I don't know what further inference you may have drawn, and I don't care to know. I think we should drop the matter."
Friend he may be, but Lucius is also of patrician blood; the cords that bind the rich together are made of gold, and are stronger than iron.
I made my way homeward, pondering the strange and fatal haunting of Titus and his wife. I had forgotten completely about the soldier until, as I neared my own house, I heard him hissing at me over his garden wall.
"Finder! You said you'd come back to help me, and here you are. Come inside!" He disappeared, and a moment later a little wooden door in the wall opened inward. I stopped and stepped inside to find myself in a garden open to the sky, surrounded by a colonnade. A burning smell filled my nostrils; an elderly slave was gathering leaves with a rake and arranging them in piles about a small brazier in the center of the garden.
The soldier smiled at me crookedly. I judged him to be not too much older than myself, despite his bald head and the gray hairs that bristled from his eyebrows. The dark circles beneath his eyes marked him as a man in desperate need of sleep. He hobbled past me and pulled up a chair for me to sit on.
"Tell me, neighbor, did you grow up in the countryside?"His voice cracked slightly, as if pleasant discourse was a strain to him.
"No, I was born in Rome."
"Ah. I grew up near Arpinum, myself. I only mention it because I saw you staring at the leaves and the fire. I know how city folk dread fires and shun them except for heat and cooking. It's a country habit, burning leaves. Dangerous, but I'm careful. The smell of burning leaves reminds me of my boyhood. As does this garden."
I looked up at the trees that loomed in stark silhouette against the
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