'I was just thinking of that proverb myself. But I suppose Gelina is by nature an emotional woman. She certainly seems distraught about the fate of her slaves.'
, He shrugged. 'If Crassus insists on killing them, it's a stupid waste, but I'm sure he'll give her others. Crassus owns more slaves than there are fish in the sea.'
'It impresses me that Gelina was able to convince Crassus to send a ship for me.'
'Gelina?' Metrobius smiled oddly. 'Yes, it was Gelina who first mentioned your name, but by herself I doubt that she could have talked Crassus into going to so much effort and expense on account of mere slaves.'
'What do you mean?'
'I thought you knew. There is another who longs to see these slaves plucked from the jaws of death.' 'Whom do you mean?'
'Who journeyed all the way to Rome just to fetch you?'
'Marcus Mummius? A man who would drive a whole ship of slaves to the point of death on a mere whim? Why would he lift a finger to save Gelina's slaves, especially in defiance of Crassus's will?'
Metrobius looked at me oddly. 'I thought surely you knew. When you spoke of Mummius having a weakness…' He frowned. 'You disappoint me, Finder. I think perhaps you are as dense as I originally thought. You were sitting beside me at dinner last night. You saw as clearly as I did the tears that sprang from Mummius's eyes when the slave boy sang. Do you think he wept for cheap sentiment? A man like Mummius weeps only because his heart is breaking.'
'You mean-'
'The other day, when Crassus made up his mind that the slaves should die, they argued and argued. Mummius was practically on his knees, begging Crassus to make an exception. But Crassus insists that they shall all be punished, including the beautiful Apollonius, no matter how harmless or innocent the boy may be, and no matter how much Mummius desires him. And so, the day after the funeral, Marcus Mummius will have to watch as his own men herd the boy into the arena and put him to death along with the rest of the household slaves. I wonder if they'll behead them one by one? Surely not, it would take all afternoon, and even a jaded Baian audience would start to fidget. Perhaps they'll have the gladiators do the dirty work, trapping the slaves under nets and rushing at them with spears
'Then Mummius wishes to save them all, simply for the sake of Apollonius?'
'Of course. He's quite willing to make a fool of himself on the boy's behalf. It all began on his last visit here with Crassus, back in the spring. Mummius was instantly smitten, like a stag struck with an arrow between the eyes. During the summer he actually wrote the boy a letter from Rome. Lucius intercepted it and was quite disgusted.'
'Because the letter was pornographic?'
'Pornography, from Mummius? Please, I'm sure he has neither the imagination nor the literary skill. On the contrary, it was quite chaste and cautious, rather like an epistle from Plato to one of his students, full of pious praise for Apollonius's spiritual wisdom and his transcendent beauty, that sort of thing.'
'But Lucius married for love. I should think he might have sympathized.'
'It was the impropriety of it that scandalized Lucius. A citizen consorting with one of his own slaves is one thing; it need never be known. But a citizen writing letters to another man's slave is an embarrassment to everyone. Lucius complained to Crassus, who must have said something to Mummius, since there was never a second letter. But Mummius remained smitten. He wanted to buy Apollonius for himself, but to do that required going through both Lucius and Crassus. One or the other refused to sell — perhaps Lucius, to spite Mummius, or perhaps Crassus, wanting to avoid further embarrassments from his lieutenant.'
'And now Mummius finds himself awaiting the slave's destruction.'
'Yes. He's tried to hide his anguish from Faustus Fabius and the rest of Crassus's retinue, and most of all from the men under his command, but everyone knows. Rumours spread very quickly in a small, private army. It was quite a spectacle to hear him prostrating himself before Crassus in the library the other day, scrambling to come up with the most ludicrous arguments to save Apollonius-'
'This was behind closed doors, I assume?'
'Can I help it if I could hear every word through the windows that face the courtyard? Mummius pleaded for the boy's life; Crassus invoked the stern majesty of Roman law. Mummius argued for an exception; Crassus told him to stop playing the fool. I believe he even called Mummius 'unRoman' at one point, the direst insult a stolid soldier like Mummius can receive from his commander. If you think Gelina is distraught, you should have heard Mummius that day. I can't imagine how he will react when a Roman blade cuts into the tender young flesh of Apollonius and the pretty slave begins to bleed…' Metrobius slowly shut his eyes, and a strange expression settled on his face.
'You're smiling,' I whispered.
'And why not? Mollio gives the finest massage on the Cup. I feel quite delicious, and am ready for my bath.'
Metrobius stood and held his arms aloft while the slave wound the long towel around him. I sat up and mopped my perspiring forehead. 'Do I only imagine it,' I said quietly, 'or are there those in this house who actually look forward to seeing the slaves executed? A Roman seeks justice, not vengeance.'
Metrobius did not answer, but slowly turned and left the room.
'A pity you're no better at swimming than I am,' I said to Eco as we left the baths. He gave me a pained look but did not dispute the fact. 'Our next task must be to have a look at the waters around the boathouse. What was being dumped from the pier last night, and why?' I looked down from the terrace outside the baths. From where we stood I could see the boathouse and most of the pier. There was no one about. The coastline was dotted with craggy rocks, and the water looked sufficiently deep to be daunting. 'I wonder if that boy Meto is a swimmer? He probably grew up here on the Cup; aren't all the local boys divers and swimmers, even the slaves? If we can find him quickly, perhaps we can explore the boathouse and its environs before time for the midday meal.' We found him on the upper floor. When he saw us he smiled and came running.
I began to speak, but he seized my hand and tugged at it. 'You must go back to your room,' he whispered. I tried to make him explain, but he only shook his head and repeated himself. Eco and I followed while he ran ahead.
The room was flooded with sunlight. No one had come to tidy our beds yet, but I sensed that someone had been in the room. I looked sidelong at Meto, who peeked back at me from behind the door. I pulled back the coverlet on my bed.
The ugly little figurine was gone. In its place was a piece of parchment with a message in red letters: CONSULT THE SIBYL AT CUMAE GO QUICKLY
'Well, Eco, this changes our plans. No swimming this morning. Someone has arranged for us to receive a message directly from the gods.'
Eco looked at the scrap of parchment, then handed it back to me. He seemed not to notice, as I had, that wherever the letter 'A' occurred it was given an eccentric flourish, with the crossbar tilted sharply down to the right.
XI
When I asked Meto if he could show us the way to the Sibyl's cave, or at least to Cumae, he stepped back, shaking his head. When I pressed him, his face turned pale. 'Not me,' he whispered. 'I'm afraid of the Sibyl. But I know who could show you.' 'Yes?'
'Olympias goes to Cumae every day at about this time, to fetch things from Iaia's house and to look after the place.'
'How convenient for us,' I said. 'Does a wagon take her, or does Olympias prefer the luxury of a litter?'
'Oh, no, she rides a horse, as well as any man. She's probably in the stable now. If you hurry-'
'Come along, Eco,' I started to say, but he was already out the door ahead of me.
I half expected to find Olympias waiting for us, but she seemed genuinely surprised when I called to her from the courtyard. She was already setting out from the stable mounted on a small white horse. She had changed her
