Of far more interest to me were his cryptic words about Julia. Was he suggesting a union between our houses? I could think of it in no other terms. Marriages between the great families were always political, but there were gradations of meaning. We Caecilii were an immense gens, but the Julians were tiny. At any given time they had no more than one or two marriageable daughters. Such an offer was serious indeed. If it was an offer. More likely, I thought, it was a distraction. That would mean that Caesar was afraid I would find out something he wanted to remain concealed.
The whole matter, or rather matters, had grown too confusing. I decided to narrow my attention. I decided that if I were to regain any perspective at all, I would have to grasp my courage in both hands and confront the person in Rome I feared above all others. I would go and question Clodia.
I dismissed my clients. After the morning's delays, it would be futile for us all to troop off to attend Celer's morning call. I was especially courteous in my dismissal, though. These men had stood by me unflinchingly when I was about to go to battle with my mortal foe, even though many of them were too old for a street brawl. It was only a client's duty, and I was obligated to do the same for them, but an actual instance of fulfillment of the mutual obligation was special, and despite my lifelong reputation for laxness, I have never been accused of ingratitude by my clientela.
It was a daunting prospect, but I did not need to nerve myself up to the task as I might have on ordinary days. I had faced a death-fight with her brother and bearded Caesar already since breakfast, so a bout with Clodia was not as daunting as it might have been.
By the time I arrived at Celer's house he had long since departed for the Curia on public business. The great house was quiet as his household staff busied themselves with their various domestic tasks. I told the majordomo to announce me to the lady Clodia and inform her that I requested an interview. He conducted me to a small waiting room off the atrium, and I stood about there for a few minutes until a barefoot slave girl appeared.
"Please come with me, sir," the girl said. "My mistress will see you now." I followed her. She was a slight but beautiful creature, with yellow Gallic hair. Clodia always surrounded herself with beautiful things: slave, freeborn, animal and inanimate.
She led me to a suite of rooms in a corner of the mansion. These rooms were plainly newer than the rest of the house, and Clodia's touch was visible everywhere. The walls were painted by masters, mostly landscapes and mythological scenes, and the floors were mosaics of equal quality. Every humblest furnishing was exquisite. The vases and statuary were worth a good-sized town.
"A private interview, Decius? How brave."
I turned from the lamp of Campanian bronze work I had been admiring. Clodia was as beautiful as any of the art in the room, and knew it. She stood in a doorway that opened onto a garden. It was a trick of hers with which I was all too familiar. It allowed light to pass through the sheer garments she favored. This day she had outdone herself. She wore a gown made of the famous, or rather infamous, Coan cloth. It was forbidden by every new pair of Censors, but that just meant that it was inadvisable to wear it in public. Her gown had been dyed purple, a further extravagance. She appeared to be surrounded by a fine violet mist.
"Why, Clodia," I said, "I am here on a mission assigned by your husband. I even have his permission to call on you."
"How unthinkably proper," she said. "You are always so dutiful."
"Attention to duty is what made Rome great," I said, quoting my second old saying of the day.
She smiled. "You know, Decius, every time I've counted you out of the game, you show up again with more friends, more influence and just a tiny bit more rank. I won't say power."
"Slowly and steadily," I said. "That's the best way to advance."
"The safe way."
"Safe is the best way to stay alive," I said. "At least, I've always thought so. Lately, someone has been trying to kill me for no reason I can imagine. It wouldn't be you, would it?"
"Just because I tried to have you killed before?" She looked truly hurt. "You were in my way then. I'm not frivolous. I don't try to kill people out of spite. Why do you suspect me?"
"Your little cousin Appius Nero tried to poison me a few nights back. Afterward he was seen coming here. You and Celer are the only people of consequence in this house, and that narrowed things somewhat."
"You're an idiot. He had no cause to poison you, and he came here because he'd had an argument with my brother and needed a place to stay. They must have patched things up, because I haven't seen him since yesterday morning."
"You won't be seeing him," I told her. "Someone killed him right in front of my house last night."
Her face froze in mid-smile. "Killed?" she said. Her control was great, but I was sure that she was shocked.
"Yes. Done in just like Capito."
She turned away from me so I couldn't read her expression. "Well. Poor Nero. I didn't know him well, but he was a kinsman and rather young."
"Old enough to try to poison me," I said.
"It's all distressing, but that isn't why you came here today, is it?" She turned back, and her mocking face was in place once more.
"No. What I came to ask about was your brother's indiscretion at the rites of Bona Dea. The city is shocked. There must be an accounting."
"Oh, you know Clodius. He loves to make fun of our religious guardians. He's never grown up and loves to make his elders angry."
This was an amazing thing to hear from Clodia because it was so perfectly true. Her adulation of her brother was legendary. She had even changed her name when he had changed his. She was often angry with him, but it was unlike her to belittle him in front of an enemy. I was already suspicious. Suspicion was a habit when dealing with Clodia. But this was intriguing. Could she be a bit upset with her beloved brother? Then someone called from another room.
"Clodia? Who is it?"
"Am I intruding?" I asked.
"Yes, but I forgive you. Come, Decius, you must meet Fulvia."
"Fulvia? Is she back in Rome?" I knew only one prominent woman of that name, but she had fled Rome after the Catilinarian debacle.
"No, this is a kinswoman of hers. She's just come to Rome from Baiae."
We went into a bedroom, this one betraying Clodia's taste for erotic art. It resembled the decor of a brothel in subject matter, but here as elsewhere everything was of highest quality. A young girl sat up in a silk-cushioned bed and I made a formal obeisance, careful to be impassive, because once again Clodia was trying to upset my equanimity.
The girl was exquisitely beautiful, her hair as blond as a German's. She was so slight and tiny that she might have been a child, but she wore another of the Coan gowns, and that dispelled any such illusion. Her eyes were huge, her mouth startlingly full-lipped. She appeared to be no more than sixteen, but her face, despite its purity, had that indescribable yet unmistakable stamp that bespoke depthless depravity.
"My dear," Clodia said, "this is Decius Caecilius Metellus the Younger, son of the Censor."
"I am terribly honored to meet such a distinguished man," Fulvia said. It was against such a voice that Ulysses had his men stuff their ears with wax. Unlike Ulysses, I was not lashed to a mast, but it required some effort not to leap onto the bed with her.
"All Rome rejoices to have so lovely a visitor among us," I said. "Is this just a visit, or can we hope you are here to stay?"