'Misunderstood again — it is a curse that the gods have put upon me, that the face the world sees is seldom my true face, but often the very opposite. When my motives are purest, other men doubt me, and yet when my intentions slip from the path of virtue I find that other men flock to me with praise.'

'And then, how did Clodius know that you would respond to that forged note from Fabia, unless he had evidence that the two of you were more than friends?'

'Another irony — quite often one's enemies are the best and truest judges of one's character. Clodius knew my sentimental heart and adventurous spirit. He devised the most forbidden lure he could imagine and then tempted me with it. Had I truly been Fabia's lover I would have sensed that the note was false.'

'And again, I recall that in Cato's speech in Fabia's defence, he dwelt heavily upon the fact that when the Virgo Maxima rushed into the Vestal's room, the two of you were discovered completely dressed—'

'And don't forget that the assassin said likewise before he expired. Before killing his companion so as to leave a corpse, he had instructions from Clodius to wait until Fabia and myself were undressed so that we would be found that way. But as he himself declared, "they would not take off their clothes!" He said it more than once, do you remember?'

'I do, and it caused me to wonder, for why did Clodius think you would take oft your clothes in the first place, and in the second, it occurred to me that for a man and a woman to have intercourse, they need not take off’ their clothes, but merely rearrange them.' I looked from the stars to Catilina, but the lamps had burned so low that his eyes were in shadow and I could not read his face. His lips seemed to curve into a smile, but perhaps I only imagined it.

'Really, Gordianus, you are as devious as any advocate. I'm glad it was that idiot Clodius who spoke against me at the trial, and not you, or else my defence would have been utterly demolished.' He sighed. 'Anyway, all of that is ancient history now, as dead as Spartacus, just a slightly lurid tale to quicken the pulse of a young man like your son.'

'Yes, about Meto…'

'Do I hear another note of dissatisfaction in your voice, Gordianus?' 'If you are to stay in my house, I would prefer that you respect my authority as head of this household.' 'Have I somehow offended you?'

'More than once you cast doubt on my judgment regarding my son, and you did it in front of Meto himself. I realize your manner is ironic, Catilina, but Meto is likely to take your comments seriously. I ask that you refrain from ridiculing me, however good-naturedly. I will not have my authority undermined.'

I kept my voice even and tried to speak without undue passion. There followed a long silence. I could see that Catdlina's face was turned up to the stars, his jaw clenched. That he failed to reply seemed to indicate that he was angry and was biting his tongue. If I had offended him, I could not regret it.

Then he laughed. It was a low, quiet laugh, gentle and without harshness. The laughter faded and after a moment he spoke. 'Gordianus — but no, you will think I am ridiculing you again. Even so, I must say it. How could I undermine your authority with the boy? Any fool could see that he worships you. Such devotion is like a rock, and my teasing is like a pebble cast against it. Even so, I apologize and ask your forgiveness. I am a guest in this house, here upon your sufferance, and I have behaved as if I were in my own home, without regard to your sensibilities. That is rudeness on my part, not to mention a failure of wisdom I meant no offence. You see, I was serious when I said that men mistake my meaning. If only I could learn to do the opposite of what I intend to do, then everyone would be pleased with me at last.'

I stared at him in the darkness, not knowing whether to be charmed or offended, whether to laugh at his wit or fear him. 'If I distrust you, Catilina, perhaps it's because you speak in riddles.'

'Men offer riddles when they cannot offer solutions.'

‘You're cynical, Catilina.'

He laughed softly, this time with a touch of bitterness. 'Against the insoluble ugliness of life, one man takes refuge in flippant cynicism while another takes refuge in smug certainty. Which man is Cicero and which is me? No, don't answer.' He was silent for a moment, then said, 'I understand you've had a falling-out with Cicero.'

'I've always had my differences with him. I never care to work for him again.' It was not exactly a lie.

'You're not the only one who's become disillusioned with our consul. For years Cicero paraded himself as the fiercely independent champion of reform, a battler against the status quo, the outsider from Arpinum. But when it came his time to stand for consul, he found that I had the constituency for reform already in my hand, so he moved without a moment's hesitation into the opposite camp and made himself a puppet for the most reactionary elements in Rome. It was a transformation to make a man's head spin, yet he changed his rhetoric without a stutter or even a pause for breath! Oh, others were surprised, but I saw it coming from the first days of his campaign. A man who will do anything to get himself elected is a man without principles, and Cicero is the worst. All his old supporters with any integrity — like young Marcus Caelius — have abandoned him, just as he abandoned them to go to sit in the lap of the oligarchy. The ones who've stayed with Cicero have no more principles than he does. They simply bend towards power as flowers bend towards the light. The last year in Rome has been a farce—'

'I've been away from Rome the whole tame.'

'But surely you visit the city?'

'Not at all.'

'I can't blame you. The place is full of vipers, and worse than that, it's become a city without hope. The oligarchs have won. You can see the resignation on people's faces. A small group of families own and control everything, and they will do anything not to share their wealth. There was some chance for reform with the Sullan legislation, but Cicero of course saw to it that those reforms came to nothing—'

'Please, Catilina! Surely Caelius told you that talk of politics is like a bee sting to me — I swell up and break out in welts if I'm exposed to it.'

Though his eyes were in shadow I could see that Catilina regarded me steadily. 'You're a strange man, Gordianus. You invite me, a candidate for consul, into your home, yet you cannot abide to speak of Rome's fate.'

'You said yourself that you came here to escape from politics, Catilina.'

'So I did. Yet I think that I am not the only one who poses riddles here.' He sat unmoving in the darkness, watching me.

Perhaps Catilina trusted me no more than I trusted him, but which of us had the greater cause to be suspicious? I might have asked him outright what he knew of the headless body that had been left in my barn, but if he was responsible he would hardly have admitted it, and if he knew nothing and said as much I wouldn't have believed him. Still, I thought that I might trap him by laying my words in a circle around him and then pulling them tight.

'The riddle you posed earlier was too easy, Catilina. But I find myself still puzzled by one that Marcus Caelius posed when he visited me last month. He said that you invented the riddle, so surely you can tell me the solution.'

'What riddle was that?'

'It was posed in this fashion: "I see two bodies. One is thin and wasted, but has a great head. The other body is big and strong — but has no head at all" '

Catilina did not respond immediately. From the shifting shadows on his brow and around his mouth I thought I saw him frowning. 'Caelius told you this riddle?'

'Yes. Contemplating it has caused me considerable distress.' I spoke only the truth.