"A good thing. When the Egyptians catch a runaway, they feed him to the crocodiles in their pool." Just then one of those torpid beasts bellowed from the other side of the wall surrounding the compound.
"I've heard that," Hermes said, his face pale. "Is it true?"
"Absolutely," I assured him.
A liveried slave stood in the gateway to greet visitors, and when he saw my Senator's insignia, he bowed so low that his nose could have brushed his ankles.
"Senator Decius Caecilius Metellus the Younger to see the Ambassador Lisas," I said grandly. The slave conducted me into a wide atrium and hurried off in search of the master. In the center of the room was a sphinx of white marble with the face of Alexander the Great.
A few minutes later Lisas waddled in amid a cloud of greetings. Besides his great girth, he was distinguished by a huge black wig and grotesquely heavy facial cosmetics. Like all the ruling caste of Egypt, he was of Macedonian descent, but he affected the trappings of the pharaonic past. He was famed for his many perversions, some of them unknown outside Egypt until he brought them to Rome. In spite of all this, I liked the man, who was genuinely kind and thoughtful.
"It is so good to have you back among us, Decius Caecilius," Lisas said, eyeing Hermes wistfully. I knew he would do no more than look. He was too well-mannered to make an indecent proposal concerning another man's slave. "But I can see that you're faint with hunger. Please come with me and we'll remedy that." I went with him into a triclinium laid out as if for a minor banquet. It was not a regular dining-hour, but Lisas kept a buffet in this room at all hours for unscheduled visitors. I heaped a plate with smoked fish and pickled tongue and other items such as did not have to be served hot. Lisas did likewise and we sat down to talk. Since this was purely informal, we dispensed with couches and servitors. I brought up the subject on my mind and he mused for a while, popping sugared dates into his mouth.
"Crassus and Caesar:" His pudgy fingers sketched idle designs in the air between us. "One hears so many rumors."
"What sort of rumors?" I asked.
"You recall the year of Caesar's aedileship?"
"Who could forget that year?" I said. "He put on the greatest games in history."
"There was a rumor at the time, just a rumor, mind you, that he had more than public duty and splendid games in mind. He is supposed to have taken part in a conspiracy to overthrow the state, in league with Crassus.
You recall that the Consuls-designate of that year were not allowed to take office?"
"I remember," I said. The year before, the consular election had been won by Publius Autronius Paetus and Publius Sulla, nephew of the Dictator. They had been convicted of bribery before they had a chance to take office, and the two runners-up were chosen to serve in their stead.
"The plan, it is said, was that Caesar and Crassus would attack the Senate house on the new year and kill all their enemies while they were gathered in one place. Then Crassus was to assume the Dictatorship and name Caesar his Master of Horse. Publius Sulla and Autronius would then serve as Consuls."
"That sounds like malcontent talk to me," I said. "Not that I'd put it past any of them, but it's rather farfetched. Neither Caesar nor Crassus had enough followers to pull it off. Now, Sulla I can understand. He's harebrained enough to try something like that. Ever since the old Dictator died, every adult male bearing the name Cornelius Sulla has been involved in every crackpot conspiracy that's come along. He was tried for throwing in with Catilina, and it took a defense by Cicero to get him off. His brother was accused and convicted, although he escaped execution."
"It was Caesar's intervention that spared him, was it not?" Lisas said blandly.
"Now that I think of it, it was. Servius Sulla was so guilty, Jove himself couldn't have got him free, but Caesar got his sentence commuted to exile." This looked suspicious, but by this time I was seeing conspiracies everywhere. I shook my head. "No, Caesar and Crassus are too shrewd for anything so desperate."
Lisas smiled his man-of-the-world smile. "So it may seem to you, my young friend, but that is not at all apparent to me. In Crassus I see a man of thwarted ambition who yearns for supreme power and glory, only to see it all go to Pompey. Caesar is a man who has watched his best years pass by without performing any deeds of note. They may have perfected a pose of serene majesty, but they are desperate men. Historically, such men have always been the overthrowers of states and the establishers of tyrannies."
"Well, perhaps among Greek and Asiatic states," I said. "But we are Romans."
"And what of that? Was Gaius Marius any different, or the great Sulla? Was Romulus, for that matter? The other great men were away from Rome that year. Had they shown enough resolution, they might well have carried out such a coup." He made a gesture intended to acknowledge the mastery of the gods in all things. "They might have, that is, had this matter been anything other than a mere rumor, which, I remind you, is all it is."
"And now," I said, "Caesar is so buried beneath his debts that he needs a province and its legions to dig him out."
"And soon he will have just such excavationary resources," Lisas said.
"Then why," I asked, "is he still in Rome?"
Lisas performed an expressive shrug. "More rumors. His creditors will not allow him to leave until he posts some surety for his debts."
"A surety only Crassus can provide," I said.
"I know of no one else."
I thanked him for his hospitality and his enlightening gossip and took my leave. A slave fetched Hermes and brought him to the atrium. He looked a bit distressed.
"They took me to see the crocodiles," he said. His breath smelled of Egyptian date wine. "There's one in there that must be twenty feet long. Biggest lizard I ever saw."
"Did you see them eat?"
"No, but I saw bones in the bottom of the pool. They looked like human bones."
"It makes you think, doesn't it?" I said. The tour of the crocodile pool was a service the embassy provided for the slaves of their guests. The "bones" were made of marble. It seems that crocodiles crunch bones to tiny fragments.
We almost made it to the door before a house slave scurried up to me with a wrapped parcel.
"The master said that you forgot this. It is for your slaves at home." At a dinner, of course, I would have wrapped some goodies in my napkin to take home to my slaves. It had not occurred to me to do so at this informal lunch. As I have said, Lisas was uncommonly thoughtful. I handed the parcel to Hermes.
"I want you to take this home to Cato and Cassandra. Don't unwrap it and eat along the way. Cato is to divide it among you after you get there."
He shrugged. "They fed me here. Better than you do."
"Lisas can afford it. Do you know where Milo lives?"
"Everyone in Rome knows that."
"Then you are to rejoin me there when you have delivered this. Wait for me in Milo's atrium and don't fraternize with his household staff. They are very bad people."
He grinned with gleeful anticipation. "Yes, sir!" That I was a Senator and a Caecilius Metellus meant little to him. That I was the friend of Titus Milo impressed him no end.
I was glad of the opportunity to walk alone and think things over. I often had my best thoughts in this fashion, ambling along in a semi-unconscious state, letting my feet take me where they would. Sometimes, my feet would lead me to a place crucial to the solution of my problem. I have often wondered why this should be, and I think it may be that the small gods of the crossroads, whose shrines I passed at every intersection, were aiding me. They are the most Roman of deities, and it was only natural that they should take an interest in my ponderings, which usually involved protecting our ancient city in some fashion.