scowling mouth-not the door slave of a secure and respectable home, but quite obviously a bodyguard. I stepped back a few paces so that I did not have to strain to look up at him, and asked to see his master.
'If you had legitimate business here, you'd know that there is no master in this house,' he growled.
'Of course,' I said. 'I misspoke. I meant to say your mistress-the mother of the late Furius.'
He scowled. 'Do you misspeak again, stranger, or could it be that you don't know that the old mistress had a stroke not long after her son's death? She and her daughter are in seclusion and see no one.'
'What was I thinking? I meant to say, of course, Furius's widow-'
But the slave had had enough of me, and slammed the door in my face.
I heard a cackle of laughter behind me and turned to see a toothless old slave woman sweeping the portico of the house across the street. 'You'd have had an easier time getting in to see the dictator Sulla when he was alive,' she laughed.
I smiled and shrugged. 'Are they always so unfriendly?'
'With strangers, yes. You can't blame them-a house full of women with no man around but a bodyguard.'
'No man in the house-not since Furius was executed.'
'You knew him?' asked the slave woman.
'Not exactly. But I know of him.'
'Terrible, what they did to him. He was no enemy of Sulla's; Furius had no stomach for politics or fighting. A gentle man, wouldn't have kicked a dog from his front step.'
'But his brother took up arms against Sulla, and died fighting him.'
'That was his brother, not Furius. I knew them both, from when they were boys growing up in that house with their mother. Furius was a peaceful child, and a cautious man. A philosopher, not a fighter. What was done to him was a terrible injustice-naming him an enemy of the state, taking all his property, cutting off his-' She stopped her sweeping and cleared her throat. She hardened her jaw. 'Who are you? Another schemer come to torment his womenfolk?'
'Not at all.'
'Because I'll tell you right now that you'll never get in to see his mother or sister. Ever since his death, and after that the old woman's stroke, they haven't stirred out of that house. A long time to be in mourning, you might say, but Furius was all they had. His widow goes out to do the marketing, with the little girl; they still wear black. They all took his death very hard.'
At that moment the door across the street opened. A blond woman emerged, draped in a black stola; beside her, reaching up to hold her hand, was a little girl with haunted eyes and black curls. Closing the door and following behind was the giant, who saw me and scowled.
'On their way to market,' whispered the old slave woman. 'She usually goes at this time of morning. Ah, look at the precious little one, so serious-looking yet so pretty. Not so much like her mother, not so fair; no, the very image of her aunt, I've always said.'
'Her aunt? Not her father?'
'Him, too, of course…'
I talked with the old woman for a few moments, then hurried after the widow. I hoped for a chance to speak with her, but the bodyguard made it plain that I should keep my distance. I fell back and followed them in secret, observing her purchases as she did her shopping in the meat market.
At last I broke away and headed for the house on the Palatine.
Lucius and Cornelia hurried to the atrium even before the slave announced my arrival. Their faces were drawn with sleeplessness and worry.
'The lemur appeared again last night,' said Lucius.
'The thing was in my bedchamber.' Cornelia's face was pale. 'I woke to see it standing beside the door. It was the smell that woke me-a horrible stench! I tried to rise and couldn't. I wanted to cry out, but my throat was frozen-the thing cast a spell on me. It said the words again: Now you. Then it disappeared into the hallway.'
'Did you pursue it?'
She looked at me as if I were mad.
'And then I saw the thing,' said Lucius. 'I was in the bedchamber down the hall. I heard footsteps, and called out, thinking it was Cornelia. There was no answer and the footsteps grew hurried. I leaped from my couch and stepped into the hall…'
'And you saw it?'
'Only for an instant. I called out; the thing paused and turned, then disappeared into the shadows. I would have followed it-really, Gordianus, I swear I would have-but at that instant Cornelia cried out for me. I turned and hurried to her room.'
'So the thing fled, and no one pursued it.' I stifled a curse.
'I'm afraid so,' said Lucius, wincing. 'But when the thing turned and looked at me in the hallway, a bit of moonlight fell on its face.'
'You had a good look at it, then?'
'Yes. Gordianus, I didn't know Furius well, but well enough to recognize him across a street or in the Forum. And this creature-despite its broken teeth and the tumors on its flesh- this fiend most certainly had the face of Furius!'
Cornelia suddenly gasped and began to stagger. Lucius held her up and called for help. Some of the household women escorted her to her bedchamber.
'Titus was just the same, before his fall,' sighed Lucius, shaking his head. 'He would faint and suffer fits, grow dizzy and be unable to catch a breath. They say such afflictions are frequently caused by spiteful lemures.'
'Perhaps,' I said. 'Or by a guilty conscience. I wonder if the lemur left any other manifestations behind? Show me where you saw the thing.'
Lucius led me down the hallway. 'There,' he said, pointing to a spot a few steps beyond the door to his room. 'At night a bit of light falls just there; everything beyond is dark.'
I walked to the place and looked about, then sniffed the air. Lucius sniffed as well. 'The smell of putrefaction,' he murmured. 'The lemur has left its fetid odor behind.'
'A bad smell, to be sure,' I said, 'but not the odor of a rotting corpse. Look here! A footprint!'
Just below us two faint brown stains in the shape of sandals had been left on the tiled floor. In the bright morning light other marks of the same color could be seen extending in both directions. Those toward Cornelia's bedchamber, where many other feet had traversed, quickly became confused and unreadable. Those leading away showed only the imprint of the forefeet of a pair of sandals, with no heel marks.
'The thing came to a halt here, just as you said; then it began to run, leaving these abbreviated impressions. Why should a lemur run on tiptoes, I wonder? And what is this stain left by the footsteps?'
I knelt down and peered closely. Lucius, shedding his patrician dignity, got down on his hands and knees beside me. He wrinkled his nose. 'The smell of putrefaction!' he said again.
'Not putrefaction,' I countered. 'Common excrement. Come, let's see where the footprints lead.'
We followed them down the hallway and around a corner, where the footprints ended before a closed door.
'Does this lead outside?' I asked.
'Why, no,' said Lucius, suddenly a patrician again and making an uncomfortable face. 'That door opens into the indoor toilet.'
'How interesting.' I opened it and stepped inside. As I would have expected in a household run by a woman like Cornelia, the fixtures were luxurious and the place was quite spotless, except for some telltale footprints on the limestone floor. There were windows set high in the wall, covered by iron bars. A marble seat surmounted the hole. Peering within I studied the lead piping of the drain.
'Straight down the slope of the Palatine Hill and into the Cloaca Maxima, and thence into the Tiber,' commented Lucius. Patricians may be prudish about bodily functions, but of Roman plumbing they are justifiably proud.
'Not nearly large enough for a man to pass through,' I said.
'What an awful idea!'
