The Catiline Conspiracy Read Online Free PDF

over there at the banquet?" I asked.
    "Who else? They've been calling on my uncle nearly every morning. That means I have to endure them when I make
my
morning calls." Men that young think that all of life's vexations are aimed solely at them.
    "It could have been Germans," I said consolingly. Then one of the youths challenged him to a wrestling match and they all ran out to the exercise yard. A plunge into the cold pool almost completely cleared my head. After being vigorously toweled and pummeled by the attendants, I felt ready to face the next few courses of the banquet.
    On the street outside the bath, a great crowd of citizens had gathered. Facing the garden, they chanted praises and congratulations to the
triumphator
. Some of the chants were so ancient that nobody knew what the words meant. I was about to push my way into the crowd when I saw a single, lonely figure standing on the pedestal of a statue of Flora that stood in an alcove between the public bath and the new Temple of Minerva. The man was strangely erect and dignified, and even in the gloom of the alcove he seemed familiar. Curious, walked over to the pedestal and looked up.
    "Consul?" I said.
    Cicero looked down. "Is that Decius Metellus? Come up and join me."
    Mystified, I went behind the statue where there were steps to mount the pedestal. It was almost four months past the
Floralia
, but the statue of the goddess had been freshly draped with flowers in honor of the occasion. The smell was almost overpowering.
    Gripping a fold of the goddess's gown to steady myself, I rounded the statue and found Cicero gazing upward. He was very still, and did not seem at all like his usual, public self.
    "Here, out of the torchlight," he said, "it is a good night for observing the stars. I spend a part of every night in contemplating the stars."
    "My father taught me to take the auguries," I said, "but except for the falling sort, those don't take great account of the stars. I'm afraid he considers stargazing to be Oriental mummery."
    "Many Romans think that, but they are wrong. I have studied writings from Egypt and Persia, the Greeks, even the wild Druids agree that the stars exert great influence on us. Especially that one." He pointed and it was plain which one he meant. It was by far the brightest and the reddest, hanging like a brilliant drop of blood amid the jewellike points of white.
    "Even I know that one," I said. "Sirius, the Dog Star,
Canicula
, the little dog, and a few other names. Patron of these very days, the dog days of late summer."
    "What you say is what everyone knows. But why do we fear that one? What makes it a star of evil reputation?"
    "I thought it was because the dog days are the time of pestilence and the beginning of the season of storms." This seemed an odd subject to be discussing at such a festive time.
    "That is true, but there is more. At the festival of this gentle goddess"--he patted the knee of the statue--"at the
Floralia
, we sacrifice red dogs to appease that star.
    We do the same at the
Robigalia
when we honor her male counterpart. Why do we do that?"
    I shrugged, longing for some more of that Caecuban wine. "These are very ancient deities," I said. "We perform a good many rituals we no longer understand."
    "That is true. It is also true that never in living memory has Sirius been as red as it has been this summer."
    In the distance, faint over the chanting of the crowd, we heard the heralds proclaim the resumption of the feast. With great relief I descended and helped Cicero down. He did not need help because he was feeble. He was only forty-three at the time, astoundingly young for a Consul. He needed aid because of the awkwardness of his formal toga, which was so white that he almost glowed in the darkness of the alcove.
    As we made our way through the crowd, I thought about what he had said. Even more than most people, Romans live by signs and portents. I know of no other people who maintain two separate priesthoods to