AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“And I thought draping a toga properly was an exacting task,” I observed.
“You see?” Pompaedius said, ignoring me. “All is well. Divine justice has been served. I will take the sacred serpent back to her home by the lake, and the luck of the Marsi will be restored.”
“With quite a bit of prestige accruing to you,” I observed.
“Well,” he said modestly, “it will certainly do me no harm. I must thank you, Senator, for locating her so conscientiously. I am in your debt, as are all the Marsi. And to you, Caesar—”
“Caesar,
” I said, “I wish to arrest this man.”
“What!” cried Pompaedius. “What is this outrage?”
“This man is the imposter. That’s Lucius Pompaedius in the pit there.” Caesar looked at the repulsive corpse bemusedly.
“But I am Lucius Pompaedius!”
“So you are,” I agreed.
“Decius Caecilius,” Caesar said, “philosophical paradoxes have never been your style. Can you not speak plainly?”
I took Caesar’s letter from the place in my toga where I stash things and unrolled it. “Caesar, yesterday when this man came to me I was struck by his name.”
“Pompaedius?” the priest said. “My ancestor was indeed a leader of the uprising against Rome, but we have been loyal citizens for many years, and loyal supporters of Caesar as well.”
“Not your family name, but the appended name, Pollux.”
His eyes shifted ever so briefly toward the doorway. “The dioscuri are patrons of Rome, and my parents gave me the name in token of our loyalty.”
“Commendable,” I said. “But it is also customary to name twin boys Castor and Pollux. Pollux is always given to the senior twin, as Pollux was the immortal brother of the two, fathered by Zeus upon Leda, with Castor fathered by Tyndareus and therefore mortal.”
“That’s one version of the myth,” Caesar said. “There are others.” Sometimes Caesar strayed into pedantry.
“I do not speak of the myth but of the naming custom. The dead man down there is Lucius Pompaedius Pollux, firstborn of the twins. This man who has assumed that name is Lucius Pompaedius Castor.”
“But why?” Julia wanted to know.
“He said it when he called on me yesterday,” I told her. “Power. Prestige. He planned to return to Marruvium as a veritable triumphator. By now his priests have spread the word that the sacred serpent has been stolen, and the whole Marsian countryside will be in a fine lather over it. He will return on horseback with the snake draped over him like Caesar’s purple robe and take his brother’s place, no doubt with a bloodcurdling story about how his jealous brother Castor tried to betray the Marsi by stealing their snake, only to have Angitia, aided no doubt by himself, strike the criminal down for his sacrilege.”
“How did he lure his brother here in order to kill him?” Julia said.
“He didn’t. He killed him in the sanctuary of Angitia at the lake. Easy enough to do for a man as expert with venomous snakes as this one. All he had to do was distract his brother, get him to look in the wrong direction, then jam the serpent’s head into some vulnerable spot. Quite ingenious, really. Pompaedius, did you actually use the sacred snake for this purpose, or did you catch a scaly accomplice in the marshes?” I was rather curious about this. Novel methods of homicide have always fascinated me.
“However it was done,” I went on, “he loaded the rapidly bloating corpse onto a wagon and brought it to Rome. The distance isn’t all that great. This shrine and its alley are so obscure that he could easily unload the corpse at night, without being seen. He left the snake there among its sculpted fellows, knowing that as long as it wasn’t hungry, it would not leave its cool, dark sanctuary with its familiar scent of cedar. That way he knew he could impress his highly placed Roman friends with his snake-charming skill. And indeed we were all impressed. With this done, he paid his call on Caesar, who sent him to me.”
“He is mad!” Pompaedius hissed. “What proof is there?”
“I don’t need proof,” I told him. “The question is, have I convinced Caesar?”
“He is correct,” said Caesar. “You will not be tried before a jury. I am Dictator and I can have you executed right here, should I choose to do so. Arrest him, Decius Caecilius.”
I reached for the priest without thinking and began the old formula, “Lucius Pompaedius Castor, come with me to—” Then he thrust the snake’s head at me.
Julia later told me that I leapt backward with a cry like a frightened girl, but I remember no such thing. Pompaedius began backing away, hissing in his reptilian fashion, holding the deadly head at arm’s length, threatening whoever stepped close.
“Lictors!” Caesar shouted. Instantly the doorway filled with his attendants, holding their fasces like weapons.
“Look out!” Julia cried. “He has a snake! And he’ll use it!” The lictors flattened themselves against the walls, eyes gone wide.
