Roman Blood by Steven Saylor

Author:Steven Saylor [Saylor, Steven]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Minotaur Books
Published: 2007-04-01T07:00:00+00:00

I had lied to Cicero; I had nothing to ask Tiro. It was Rufus I talked to as we walked through the Forum and up the Palatine to Caecilia’s house. Tiro trailed behind us, distracted and glassy-eyed.

I had taken little notice of Rufus when I first met him. Each of his qualities had been eclipsed by those around him. As a noble, Caecilia Metella exuded greater prestige, being more comfortable with her power and more conscious of it; Cicero outshone him as a scholar; and for the exuberance of youth, he could not compete with Tiro. Finally speaking to him alone, I was impressed by his reserve and his manner, and equally by his quick wits. Apparently Cicero had kept him busy in the Forum every day since he had taken the case, trusting Rufus to file the necessary papers and arrange court business in his name. As we walked through the Forum, he gave a nod or exchanged a few words with those he knew—deferentially to the older patricians, less so to those nearer his age or of a lower class. Despite the fact that he did not yet wear the toga of manhood, he was obviously known to important people and had earned their respect.

A man is known in the Forum for the size and impressiveness of his retinue. Crassus is legendary for strutting through with bodyguards, slaves, secretaries, sycophants, fortune-tellers, and gladiators in tow. We are a republic, after all, and the sheer mass of bodies surrounding a politician draws attention. The quantity rather than the quality of his supporters often lends a man prestige in the open Forum; some office seekers are said to purchase their retinues wholesale, and there are Romans who make a living off the crumbs they receive for showing up to follow a powerful man about the city. Midway through the Forum I realized that Tiro and I, however inadequate, were being looked upon as Rufus’s retinue. The idea made me laugh.

Rufus seemed to read my thoughts. “My brother-in-law,” he began, speaking the words in such a way that he could mean only Sulla, “has fallen into the habit lately of walking through the Forum with no retinue at all, not even a bodyguard. In preparation for his retirement, he says, and his return to private life.”

“Can that be wise?”

“I suppose he’s so great that he doesn’t need a retinue to impress others. So brilliant that any companions would simply be invisible, obscured by his blinding light like candles beside the sun.”

“And whereas candles may be blown out on a whim, no man can extinguish the sun.”

Rufus nodded. “Who thus needs no bodyguard. So Sulla seems to think. He’s taken to calling himself Sulla, Beloved of Fortune—as if he were married to the goddess herself. He thinks he has a charmed life, and who would argue with that?”

Rufus had taken the first step, showing a willingness to speak frankly of his sister’s husband. “You have a sincere dislike for Sulla, don’t you?” I said.

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