'Sad news,' said Octavius. 'Such a terrible crime, in the heart of the city. His killer?'
'Unknown,' I said.
'An outrage. Has my uncle been told? He must do something about it.'
'I still have hope that the killer, or killers, may be exposed,' I said. Octavius nodded. His expression had never altered. 'But, forgive me, citizen, for marring the day with such tidings. This is a joyous occasion.'
'It is, indeed!' Atia came striding into the garden. 'And joy must be shared. We have many more visitors waiting to pay their respects.'
Hirtius put on a wounded face. 'Have we outstayed our welcome already?'
'You? Never! But right now, you're welcome to go find my uncle and bring him here, if you want to be useful.' Atia smiled and left the garden.
'Farewell, then.' Hirtius gazed wistfully at Octavius and cocked his head. 'My boy, my boy, how very fine you look in that toga!' He took a step toward Octavius, and for a moment I thought he might kiss him again. But Octavius stiffened slightly and drew back, and there was something awkward and perfunctory about their parting embrace.
We left the garden and returned to the vestibule, where the next visitors were already being greeted by Atia.
Hirtius's lictors were waiting for him on the doorstep. As we headed back toward the place where I had left Rupa, with the lictors clearing a path, a murmur ran through the crowd. Heads turned in a single direction. In a hush, the name 'Caesar' passed from tongue to tongue, then was shouted aloud: 'Caesar! Hail, Caesar!'
Octavius's granduncle had finally arrived. He was attended by a considerable retinue and surrounded by lictors, but he broke away from his party to walk, alone and unprotected, into the gathering before Atia's house.
Everyone of importance in Rome appeared to know that this was the toga day of Caesar's grandnephew and that Caesar himself, sooner or later, would be in attendance. If anyone desired to harm Caesar in a public place, here was the perfect opportunity. How many knives might be hidden in that crowd? It would take only one to kill a man. How quickly could a determined assassin strike, before anyone could stop him?
I stood on tiptoes to watch Caesar's slow progress through the gathering. Men pressed forward to touch him, utter words of greeting, and speak their names in hopes that he would remember them. Every time Caesar turned or nodded, I flinched. By my heartbeats, I counted the number of times he escaped a possible death.
He saw Hirtius and moved toward us.
'Aulus Hirtius! How is our boy holding up on his special day?'
'Splendidly, Caesar. He was born to wear a toga.'
'Good, good. And can this be Gordianus beside you? Tell me, Finder, did you enjoy your seats at yesterday's triumph?'
'We were able to see everything, Dictator.'
He nodded and pursed his lips. 'Including that business with Arsinoe and her anonymous admirer?'
My mouth went dry. Rupa was standing only a few feet away. I did my best not to look in his direction. 'That was quite unexpected,' I said.
'Yes. After a lifetime in politics, a man thinks he knows the Roman people, yet they continue to be full of surprises. But let's hope there'll be no more surprises in the triumphs to come.'
I nodded. 'Will your nephew be taking part?'
Caesar brightened. 'He will, indeed. Not in tomorrow's triumph but in the one after, the final triumph, over Africa. Gaius Octavius shall receive military honors and ride at the head of my troops, and after the procession, he shall join me when I dedicate the new temple; Venus is his ancestress as well as mine. It's my hope that the people of Rome will love him as dearly as I do, and as does Hirtius here.'
'They will, Caesar,' said Hirtius. 'How could they not embrace him?'
'I look to you, Hirtius, to see that the boy is properly outfitted and knows how to conduct himself in the triumph. We don't want him to look like a raw recruit by the way he handles his weapon or leaves a piece of armor unbuckled.'
'I have every confidence that the boy-the young man-will satisfy your expectations,' said Hirtius.
Caesar nodded and pressed on. A few moments later, he disappeared into Atia's house unharmed. I felt relieved.
I also experienced a nagging uncertainty. The rumors recounted by Hieronymus were stuck in my head; they had shaped my ideas about Octavius before I had a chance to meet him. I had found Hirtius's casual but insistent habit of touching the young man, and Octavius's passive but unemotional reaction to being touched, not innocent and endearing but oddly disturbing. What was the exact relationship between Caesar and Octavius, and between Octavius and Hirtius?
Was I allowing gossip and innuendo to color my observations? To be seduced into error by way of preconception-this was a common, often dangerous mistake made by amateurs such as Hieronymus when they set about uncovering secrets.
I reminded myself that Octavius was only seventeen, a sheltered youth without a father and hardly any practical experience of the world. He must be acutely self-conscious about living in his granduncle's shadow, and was probably a bit intimidated by the huge public reaction to his birthday. What I took to be aloofness was more likely the closely guarded expression of a young man who did not yet know himself and was quite uncertain of his place in the world.
When I arrived home, Calpurnia's messenger was waiting for me.
Again, she asked whom I had interviewed and what I had discovered. Despite her deliberately cryptic choice of words, I could sense her increasing anxiety.
Again I sent a reply saying I had nothing significant to report.
I spent the rest of the day in a strange state of mind, hardly stirring from my garden. The day was brutally hot. I thought of young Octavius sweltering in his toga while augurs watched the flight of birds from atop the Capitoline, no doubt assuring Caesar that all the auspices were good. I drank only water, abstaining from wine, and took a number of brief naps. From time to time I reached for Hieronymus's reports, but his handwriting seemed more indecipherable than ever and his prose more pointlessly prolix. There was still a great deal of material I had not yet read or had only scanned in a haphazard fashion.
Finally, shadows began to lengthen, but the heat of the day gave no indication of relenting.
My daughter joined me in the garden.
'Are you all right, Papa?' said Diana.
I considered the question. 'I'm not unwell.'
'It's this heat! Davus and I were just down at the riverside market. The whole city is in a kind of daze.'
'Good. I thought it was only me.'
She frowned. 'Your work isn't going well, is it?'
I shrugged. 'Who can say? A sudden revelation could come to me at any moment. That's happened before. But right now, I have no idea who killed Hieronymus or why.'
'It will come to you. You know it will. But something else is bothering you.'
I nodded. 'You can see inside my head; you inherited that ability from your mother.'
'Perhaps. From the look on your face, I can see that you're troubled.'
I shaded my brow and squinted at the sun. It seemed to have caught on the edge of the roofline; I could have sworn it was just sitting there, not moving. 'When I accepted this mission from Calpurnia, I told her I was doing so for only one purpose: to see justice done for Hieronymus. But that's no longer true, if it ever was. Somehow, I've become caught up in her zeal to safeguard Caesar. Today, outside the house of Gaius Octavius, there was a large gathering. Caesar walked through the crowd alone, without any lictors, without even friends to protect him. I found myself very nearly in a panic when I thought of the danger he was facing. My breath shortened. My pulse began to race. I was relieved beyond words when he passed safely through the crowd and disappeared into the house.'
'Was he any safer inside?' said Diana. 'Weren't all those people going to follow him in, one or two at a time, to pay their respects to his kinsman? And might not this Gaius Octavius himself pose a threat to Caesar? You must have thought so, or you wouldn't have paid a call on him.'
