before me. You're right. A gambler like Caelius doesn't go through life thinking of all the ways he might fail. He narrows his thoughts until he can perceive the one path by which he might succeed, then bends all his will toward that path, heedless of the odds against him. If he loses, he loses everything. But if he wins…'
'He wins the world,' said Hieronymus.
VIII
On the day after I called on Terentia and Fulvia, I rose early, taking care not to disturb Bethesda, ate a light break fast, then called Mopsus and Androcles to come and help me put on my best toga again. The wool was a bit dusty from my outing the previous day. After it was properly draped about me, I stood very still while Mopsus gave it a good brushing.
Androcles stood to one side. 'You missed a spot,' he said.
'I did not!' said Mopsus.
'Yes, you did. Right there, along the bottom.'
'I don't see anything.'
'That's because you're blind.'
'I am not!'
'Did I say blind? I meant to say stupid.'
I clapped my hands. 'Boys, stop your squabbling! Mopsus, get back to work.'
Mopsus began brushing again.
'You missed another spot,' said Androcles.
'Are you deaf? The master told you to shut up. Didn't you hear him?'
'He said no such thing! He told you to get back to work.'
I took the ivory brush from Mopsus and gave Androcles a sound smack on the head. He gave a cry and reached up to rub the spot. Mopsus clutched his sides and brayed like a donkey. I gave him a smack as well.
Satisfied that I was presentable, I told the boys to wake Davus if he was not yet up and to dress him. Meanwhile, I looked in on Bethesda. She was still sleeping, but fitfully, tossing and muttering as if in the grip of a fever. I felt her brow, but it was cool. Was she suffering physical discomfort, or simply in the throes of a nightmare? I decided not to wake her. Sleep was her only respite from the malady that had been plaguing her.
Davus was waiting for me in the garden, looking rather cramped in his toga. We left the house and set out on the rim road along the crest of the Palatine Hill.
It was a fine morning, already warm but not yet hot. Golden sunlight slanted through a towering yew tree near my house. Birds sang and flitted amid the branches. A little farther on, I paused to take in a view of the Forum below and the hills beyond. To the right I could see the shallow valley of the Subura, crowded with ugly tenements. More to the center and farther away, atop the Pincian Hill, I saw flashes of sunlight on the tile roof of Pompey's grand house, now deserted and awaiting its master's return. To the left, above the Capitoline Hill, a lone eagle was circling the Temple of Jupiter. Beyond the Capitoline I caught a glimpse of the Tiber, a gold ribbon lit by the sun, with wharves and markets along its banks. In a single, sweeping view I saw a microcosm of the whole world- palaces and slums, the dwellings of prostitutes and Vestal Virgins, temples where the gods were worshipped and markets where slaves were sold.
'What a remarkable city!' I said aloud. Davus responded with a nod. For good or ill, Rome was the center of the world. In spite of all the world's troubles and my own-my crushing debts, my rupture with Meto, Bethesda's mysterious ailment, the murder of Cassandra-such a view on such a morning could still inspire me with that curious sense of hope that young men feel when they rise and greet the world on a sunny summer morning and anything seems possible.
'Where are we going, Father-in-Law?'
'Today, Davus, I intend to pay a visit to Marc Antony's wife-and perhaps to his mistress, as well.'
I had never met Antonia and knew her only by reputation. She was Antony's first cousin and his second wife; his first had been Fadia, the daughter of a wealthy freedman. That marriage-for love, people said-had scandalized Antony's family; even though Fadia brought him a handsome dowry, she had been his social inferior. But Fadia died young, and Antony's second marriage had done much to repair his reputation among the Roman aristocracy. Antonia was handsome, well-to-do, and Antony's exact social equal. But she also shared his weakness for adultery. While Antony had scandalized all Italy in the last year by traveling about with his mistress, the actress Cytheris, Antonia had been carrying on with Cicero's dissolute son-in-law Dolabella. According to the chin-waggers in the Forum, the only bond still holding Antony and Antonia together in marriage was their six-year-old daughter.
It was her shrieking I heard from within when a hulking slave opened the door at Antonia's house. A moment later, beyond the slave, a tiny naked figure streaked by, followed by a stooped, hobbling nurse unable keep up with her charge. 'I will not! I will not!' the little girl cried, then screamed again. Is there anything so ear-piercing as the scream of a six-year-old girl? I covered my ears. The girl dashed off.
Before the door slave could ask our names or business, Antonia herself appeared, following after the child and the nurse. It was early in the day, so I was not surprised to see her wearing only a simple yellow stola without jewelry, and with her hair undressed, hanging down almost to her waist. With or without adornment, she was a beautiful woman. I thought of poor, plain Tullia, and wondered if the rumors about Dolabella and Antonia were true.
She looked past the door slave at Davus and me, put her hands on her hips, and raised an eyebrow. 'Are you from my husband?'
'No. My name-'
She narrowed her eyes. 'From Dolabella?'
'No.'
'Then what business have you got knocking on my door at such an early hour? No, wait-I know you from somewhere, don't I? Ah, yes, you're the one who buried Cassandra.'
'I am.'
'Gordianus, isn't it? The so-called Finder? I've heard of you from my husband. You've got the son who goes about with Caesar, taking his dictation. Dictation from the dictator!' She uttered a crude laugh. I winced at this reference to Meto.
Before I could answer, the naked child came racing by in the opposite direction. Antonia stooped down, captured her, and held her wriggling until the nurse arrived. As the screaming child was led off, Antonia shook her head. 'She's as willful as her father. The little monster inherited his temperament. And my looks, don't you think? Juno help the man who marries her!' She saw the nonplused expression on my face and laughed. Then her smile faded. 'I suppose you're here to talk about Cassandra. Come along, then. There's a nice spot of sun in the garden, and peacocks to amuse us.'
There were indeed peacocks in the garden, three of them, all strutting about with their fans in full display. Chairs were brought, along with pitchers of water and wine. Antonia had not yet taken her break fast; she told the serving slave to bring enough for all three of us. When I saw the plate of delicacies he delivered, I let out a gasp. I had not seen a date stuffed with almond paste in months; the plate was heaped with them. It seemed that the shortages that plagued ordinary citizens did not affect the household of Caesar's right-hand man.
Davus gobbled up a date. He licked his fingertips and was about to reach for another when I stopped him with a look.
Antonia laughed. 'Let the big fellow eat his fill. I have more dates and figs and olives than I know what to do with. Before he left to join Caesar, my husband spent months traveling all over Italy-with that strum pet of his, for all the world to gawk at-and he did a very good job of gathering provisions. Rather like a squirrel gathering acorns for the winter. Ostensibly his mission was to cow the locals and impose great Caesar's will, but he was really just extorting everyone. He's a pirate at heart, you know. A lying, drinking, whoring pirate.' She snapped her fingers and pointed to her empty cup. The slave poured a measure of wine. Antonia put it to her lips before he could add an equal measure of water.
'My husband won't last, you know. His days are numbered. I don't think Caesar much liked the way Antony
