seemed odd, since they should have known better than anybody else that I couldn't do it. It was not that I was especially honest, or that I did not want to act as demanded. It was just that some mischievous genius in me made me ferret out the truth and make it public. It was another part of that faculty Asklepiodes and I had discussed. One thing I could be sure of. My father had no illusions about me. If he had recommended me for the job, he understood what might come of it.
The truth of the matter was that this caused me no great crisis of conscience. The profanation of the Bona Dea ceremonies seemed ludicrous rather than shocking. I did not classify mere scandal as crime, whatever the pontifexes might think. Besides, she was not really one of the official state deities. When someone was trying to poison me, the indignation of some highborn Roman ladies seemed a small matter, indeed.
"What is to be my official capacity in all this?" I asked him.
"Oh, say that you're acting on my behalf as Consul-elect."
"I can't do that! Granted you'll win the election, but if you assume the authority so far ahead of time, people will regard it as high-handed. They'll vote against you out of spite."
"You're not going to be making speeches to the Centuriate Assembly," he said testily. "You're going to be questioning in the houses of Senators, discreetly and in privacy. They know how these things work."
"Where should I start?"
"You're the investigator. I leave it up to you."
I took a deep breath. "I will have to question Clodia."
He glared from beneath his bristly eyebrows. "If you must," he all but muttered. "Just keep my admonitions in mind."
"Well," I said, "I'll be about it." I dreaded confronting Clodia, but the chance of doing Clodius a bad turn was too good to miss.
I didn't question Clodia first, though. I left Celer's house and made for the Forum, with Hermes dogging my steps. The day was blustery and the law courts had moved indoors. I found Cicero in the Basilica Porcia, the oldest of our permanent law courts. He had been listening to a defense conducted by one of his students and readily stepped aside with me into one of the aisles. I briefly sketched my commission from Celer and asked Cicero's opinion, wanting to be sure of my legal ground.
"Since no official investigator has been named, you may do what you like as an interested citizen. Celer, of course, has no authority, and I suspect that he is motivated primarily by personal interests."
"Keeping Clodia out of it, you mean?"
"Not that any involvement of hers matters greatly," he added rather hastily. "If she had anything to do with it, the pontifexes may reprimand her, but no more.The sacrilege was committed by Clodius, who as a man was forbidden to look upon the rites. If formal charges are brought, they will be against him alone."
"That sets my mind at ease, a little," I said.
"Has Celer indicated his preference for a colleague?" Cicero asked, changing the subject rather abruptly. He was a politician, and power interested him far more than ritual matters.
"He asked me to broach the matter to Mamercus Capito," I told him.
"Now disqualified."
"Decidedly. The main contender now seems to be Lucius Afranius," I said. "Did I just hear you groan, sir?"
"I groan because I am not a philosopher," Cicero said, "and only a philosopher could look upon Lucius Afranius without groaning. The man is a nonentity."
"I think that's what Celer likes about him," I admitted.
"These times call for firm direction from our Consuls. I shudder to think of Afranius in such a position."
"It will essentially be a one-man administration, and Celer will be the man," I said. "You must admit that his withdrawal of opposition to the Pompeian demands was a wise political move, however much he may have disliked it."
Cicero shook his head. "No, no, I mean no disrespect to your kinsman, but he is too firm an adherent of the aristocratic party. It was foolish to oppose the triumph, that is
The truth of the matter was that this caused me no great crisis of conscience. The profanation of the Bona Dea ceremonies seemed ludicrous rather than shocking. I did not classify mere scandal as crime, whatever the pontifexes might think. Besides, she was not really one of the official state deities. When someone was trying to poison me, the indignation of some highborn Roman ladies seemed a small matter, indeed.
"What is to be my official capacity in all this?" I asked him.
"Oh, say that you're acting on my behalf as Consul-elect."
"I can't do that! Granted you'll win the election, but if you assume the authority so far ahead of time, people will regard it as high-handed. They'll vote against you out of spite."
"You're not going to be making speeches to the Centuriate Assembly," he said testily. "You're going to be questioning in the houses of Senators, discreetly and in privacy. They know how these things work."
"Where should I start?"
"You're the investigator. I leave it up to you."
I took a deep breath. "I will have to question Clodia."
He glared from beneath his bristly eyebrows. "If you must," he all but muttered. "Just keep my admonitions in mind."
"Well," I said, "I'll be about it." I dreaded confronting Clodia, but the chance of doing Clodius a bad turn was too good to miss.
I didn't question Clodia first, though. I left Celer's house and made for the Forum, with Hermes dogging my steps. The day was blustery and the law courts had moved indoors. I found Cicero in the Basilica Porcia, the oldest of our permanent law courts. He had been listening to a defense conducted by one of his students and readily stepped aside with me into one of the aisles. I briefly sketched my commission from Celer and asked Cicero's opinion, wanting to be sure of my legal ground.
"Since no official investigator has been named, you may do what you like as an interested citizen. Celer, of course, has no authority, and I suspect that he is motivated primarily by personal interests."
"Keeping Clodia out of it, you mean?"
"Not that any involvement of hers matters greatly," he added rather hastily. "If she had anything to do with it, the pontifexes may reprimand her, but no more.The sacrilege was committed by Clodius, who as a man was forbidden to look upon the rites. If formal charges are brought, they will be against him alone."
"That sets my mind at ease, a little," I said.
"Has Celer indicated his preference for a colleague?" Cicero asked, changing the subject rather abruptly. He was a politician, and power interested him far more than ritual matters.
"He asked me to broach the matter to Mamercus Capito," I told him.
"Now disqualified."
"Decidedly. The main contender now seems to be Lucius Afranius," I said. "Did I just hear you groan, sir?"
"I groan because I am not a philosopher," Cicero said, "and only a philosopher could look upon Lucius Afranius without groaning. The man is a nonentity."
"I think that's what Celer likes about him," I admitted.
"These times call for firm direction from our Consuls. I shudder to think of Afranius in such a position."
"It will essentially be a one-man administration, and Celer will be the man," I said. "You must admit that his withdrawal of opposition to the Pompeian demands was a wise political move, however much he may have disliked it."
Cicero shook his head. "No, no, I mean no disrespect to your kinsman, but he is too firm an adherent of the aristocratic party. It was foolish to oppose the triumph, that is
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