Mother.'
Sempronia huffed. 'Why should we tell this fellow anything?'
'Have you forgotten, Mother? When Clodius was murdered, Gordianus was among the first to come to this house to pay his respects. He cared enough to seek out the truth.'
'But he's an old lackey of Cicero's!' Sempronia spat the name.
Fulvia's eyes narrowed. She and Cicero were old and very bitter enemies. 'It's true that you made your reputation working for Cicero, isn't it, Gordianus?'
'I wouldn't say that. I would say, rather, that Cicero made his reputation while I was working for him. I was never his lackey. Over the course of many years, we've had our ups and downs. Of late, I've lost touch with him completely. I haven't heard from him in months.'
'Yet you visited his house only today,' noted Fulvia. I raised an eyebrow. 'I told you, Gordianus, there's little that happens in Rome that I don't know about.'
'Yes-your eyes and ears. Yet you don't know who killed Cassandra?'
Fulvia smiled ruefully. 'I'm not omniscient. I do have… blind spots.'
I nodded. 'Yes, I went to Cicero's house this morning to see Terentia for the same reason I've come to see you. You made an appearance at Cassandra's funeral, which suggests that you must have known her in more than a casual way. Who was she? Where did she come from?'
I addressed Fulvia, but her mother answered. 'She was an Egyptian witch! It stands to reason. All the most powerful witches come from Egypt these days. They carry Greek blood in their veins-which explains Cassandra's blond hair and blue eyes-but unlike the modern-day Greeks, they haven't forgotten the old magic. The traditions are still kept alive in Egypt-the making of amulets, the memorizing of curses, the arts of fortune-telling. Cassandra was an Egyptian witch.'
'We don't know that for a fact, Mother,' objected Fulvia. 'It's only a supposition.'
'Your eyes and ears never told you where Cassandra came from?' I asked.
'Where she was concerned, I was strangely deaf and blind,' admitted Fulvia. 'It was as if Cassandra dropped to earth on a comet-and for all I know, she did.'
'When did you first encounter her?'
'Many months ago.'
'How many?'
'It was in November of last year.'
If that were so, Fulvia had encountered Cassandra even before the day in Januarius when I saw the Vestal Fabia take her into the temple. 'Are you sure?'
'Of course I am! How could I forget that bitter day?' Her face darkened. 'Just how much shall I tell you, Gordianus? Everything? Yes, why not?' She raised a hand to silence her mother, who seemed poised to object. 'Caesar was still here in Rome, flush from his triumphs in Spain and Massilia. Word from the Adriatic Sea was not so good; Dolabella was powerless against Pompey's fleet. But from Sicily…' She sighed and closed her eyes for a moment. 'From Sicily there had come the excellent news of my husband's conquest of the island, followed by the even more promising news that Gaius had pressed on… to Africa.' She lowered her eyes and cleared her throat.
'Every day, here in this house, we waited for word of his progress. A messenger arrived with the news that he had taken Utica. We rejoiced. Then a second report arrived that contradicted the first, saying that Utica was still under siege but would fall into Gaius's hands at any moment. The mood in this house was one of joyful restraint. We lived in anticipation of great and glorious news. My mother made a joke, that soon…' Her voice broke. 'Soon Gaius would have a new honorific to append to his name, and we would thereafter be the family of Gaius Scribonius Curio Africanus-conqueror of Africa!' Fulvia shook her head. 'It's bitter to be left behind. A woman should be allowed to follow her husband onto the field of battle.'
I raised an eyebrow. 'Pompey's wife went with him when he fled from Rome. I understand she's with him even now.'
'I don't mean that-to follow along like baggage! In a better world I should have been allowed to go along with Gaius, not merely as his wife, but as his co-commander! Yes, I know, the notion is absurd; no centurion would ever take commands from a woman. But I should have been there-to counsel Gaius, to help him weigh the advice of his subordinates, to evaluate intelligence from the field, to plot strategy. If I had been there…'
Sempronia touched her arm to comfort her. Fulvia gripped her mother's hand and went on. 'Instead of going with him, I waited here in Rome. Is there any torture worse than waiting and not knowing? Some days I felt as if I were riding a storm-tossed ship, pitched between hope and despair until I thought I'd go mad. Other days were so still and quiet it was like being trapped on a ship in flat water-hours passing without a word, without a sign, only endless waiting and watching and wondering. Until…'
She drew a deep breath. 'As I said, it was on a day last November. I had been to the house of one of Gaius's relatives to see if they had had any news of him, but they knew no more than I did. I was on my way home, passing through the Forum in my litter. The curtains were drawn. No one could see in, but because it was a bright day and the curtains are not entirely opaque, I could see out, at least well enough to tell that we were passing by the Temple of Castor and Pollux. I was thinking about Gaius, of course. Then I heard a voice.
'It was a woman's voice. It came from outside the litter. But the quality of that voice was so strange… and because of the words it spoke… it seemed almost to come from inside my head. The voice said: He's dead now. He died fighting. It was a brave death.
'Those words sent such a chill through me that I thought I might faint. It suddenly seemed dark inside the litter, as if a cloud had swallowed the sun. I called on the litter bearers to halt. My voice must have been very nearly a scream. The litter stopped so abruptly that I was pitched forward. Thraso stuck his head through the curtains, looking alarmed. He asked me what was wrong.
' 'Did you not hear it?' I asked. He looked at me blankly. 'A woman's voice,' I said. 'She spoke to me as we passed the temple.'
'Thraso looked back, toward the way we had come. 'There's no one there,' he said, 'except a crazy woman muttering to herself and pacing the temple steps.'
' 'Bring her!' I told him. He went to fetch her. A few moments later he pulled back the curtains of the litter, and I first saw Cassandra.
'She was dressed in a filthy tunica. She looked frightened and confused. Thraso had to hold onto her tightly, or else she would have fled. 'You spoke to me just now,' I said, 'as my litter passed the steps.' She shook her head and looked at me as if I were the mad one. 'You spoke!' I insisted. 'Say it again. Say the words you said before!'
'The voice that emerged from her was so otherworldly that even Thraso quailed a bit. It didn't match her body, you see. The voice was too old for such a young woman. It didn't quite seem to come from her open lips, yet there was nowhere else for it to have come from. It was uncanny, unnerving. 'He's dead now,' she said. 'He died fighting. It was a brave death.'
'The words were even more disturbing the second time I heard them. They shattered me. I began to shiver and weep. I ordered Thraso to take me home as quickly as possible. 'What shall I do with this one?' he asked. I could see he wanted nothing to do with the woman, but I told him to bring her along with us. He made a face, but he tightened his grip on the woman's arm. He let the curtains drop and ordered the bearers to hurry homeward.
'When we arrived, I told Thraso to bring the woman here, to this room. She was even dirtier than I had realized. Her clothes were ragged and worn. She had a distinct odor, as if she hadn't been to the public baths in days. In a voice as normal as anyone else's, she told me she was hungry. There was nothing menacing or uncanny or even odd about her. She seemed intimidated at being in such a grand house, and rather pathetic. I told Thraso to fetch some food and drink for her. Then I asked her what she had meant by what she said.'
'And what did she tell you?'
'She said she couldn't remember saying anything at all. I was already shaken. I became angry… confused… I pressed her. She cowered and wept. Suddenly she began to quiver and twitch. Her eyes rolled back. She spoke again in that strange, hollow voice that seemed to come from the ether. She described to me a desert plain, blinding sunlight, a hot wind. She heard men shouting, saw flashing swords, heard the sizzle of blood spattered on hot sand. She saw Gaius-it could only have been Gaius, for she described him to me perfectly: his curling black hair,
