which I had deposited for security with Volumnius. He was a banker with an excellent reputation, trusted by everyone from Cicero to Caesar. But with the war had come shortages, and with shortages had come outlandish prices, even for the most basic staples of life. I had seen the savings of a lifetime devoured by butchers and bakers in a matter of months. Volumnius-or rather his agents, for I never dealt with the man directly-saw my deposits dwindle to nothing, then offered to extend credit. What could I do but accept? I fell into the trap and learned what every debtor knows: a debt is like a baby, for it begins small but rapidly grows, and the bigger it gets, the louder it cries out to be fed.
Brooding in my garden, I reluctantly admitted to myself that I missed the jabbering of the chin-waggers down in the Forum. Opinionated old fools they might be, but at least their complaints took my mind off my own problems; and every now and then one of them actually said something intelligent. I missed reading the Daily Acts posted in the Forum, with the latest news of Caesar's movements, even if I knew that nothing in such notices was to be entirely trusted since they were dictated by the consul Isauricus. To be sure, Davus and Hieronymus still made forays down to the Forum and always bought back the latest gossip, but there was something stale and unnourishing about such third-hand information. I was a Roman citizen, and the public life of the Forum was part of the very fabric of my existence.
One afternoon I could no longer stand my idleness and isolation. Bethesda, Diana, and Davus had gone to the markets to spend my latest loan from Volumnius. Hieronymus was in my study perusing a very old volume of The Punic War by Naevius that Cicero had given me as a gift many years ago; it was the most valuable scroll I owned, and so far I had resisted selling it, since I couldn't hope to get anything approaching its true value. Bored and restless, on a whim I did something I had not done in a very long time. I left my house unaccompanied, taking not even Mopsus or Androcles with me.
Later I would question my motive for leaving the house alone that day. Did I not know, in some corner of my mind, exactly where my feet were taking me when I set out? I decided to avoid the Forum, so I crossed the Palatine Hill and descended on the east side, wandering past the Senian Baths, wending my way through increasingly narrower streets as I entered the neighborhood of the Subura.
If someone had asked me where I was headed, I couldn't have said. I was simply out for a walk, enjoying the weather, trying for a while to forget my troubles. Yet every step brought me closer. It was the barking of the Molossian mastiff chained beside the front door that startled me to my senses. I stopped and stared dumbly at the beast, then confronted the red-washed facade of the shabby tenement where Cassandra lived.
I stepped toward the doorway. The dog stopped barking. Did the beast recognize me? Did he remember that I had visited the building a month before, when I was carried in, unconscious, by Rupa, and then a little later was escorted out by him? The dog made no objection when I stepped through the doorway. He looked up at me and wagged his tail.
I was at once surrounded by a familiar mix of odors-boiled cabbage, urine, unwashed humanity. My memory was poorer than the mastiff's; I wasn't sure which doorway opened into Cassandra's room. Each doorway was covered by a ragged curtain to afford a degree of privacy. One of the curtains, a faded blue, looked vaguely familiar. I stood before it for a long moment, listening, but heard nothing from within. I might have called her name, but somehow I knew the room was empty. I lifted the curtain and stepped inside.
It was just as I recalled. The floor was packed earth. A high, narrow window afforded a view of the yellow building next door and a bit of sky; from nearby came the sound of clanging metal from the Street of Copper Pots. The only furnishings were a crudely made folding chair and a threadbare pallet strewn with equally threadbare pillows. A few thin coverlets were neatly folded on the pallet. Next to the coverlets was a curious object: a short baton made of leather. I picked it up. Imbedded in the surface I saw the impression of human teeth. If I were to give it a name, I would have called the thing a biting stick. I put it back where I had found it.
The walls were bare. There was no box or pouch for keeping coins or trinkets. There was not even a lamp to light the room at night. Cassandra had no need to fear leaving the room unattended. There was nothing here to steal.
I heard a noise and turned to see her standing in the doorway. She stared at me and let the curtain drop behind her.
Her hair was slightly damp. Her cheeks were red from scrubbing. I realized she must have just returned from a visit to the public baths. In Rome, even beggars can enjoy the luxury of a hot bath for the price of a few coins.
There was no surprise on her face. She looked almost as if she had been expecting me. Perhaps, I thought, she does possess some sort of second sight.
'Snooping?' she said. 'There's not much to see. If you'd like, I can tie back the curtain to let in a bit more light.'
'No, that won't be necessary.' I stepped away from the pallet to the center of the room. 'Forgive me. I didn't mean to snoop. Force of habit, I suppose.'
'Did someone send you here?' She didn't sound angry, merely curious.
'No.'
'Then why did you come?'
I don't know, I was about to say, but that would have been a lie. 'I came to see you.'
She nodded slowly. 'In that case, I'll leave the curtain over the doorway. That will give us a little privacy. Most of the tenants are out of the building at this hour anyway, scavenging for something to eat.' She crossed her arms. 'Are you sure you weren't spying on me? Isn't that what people pay you to do? Isn't that why they call you the Finder?'
'I don't recall telling you that.'
'No? Someone else must have told me.'
'Who?'
She shrugged. 'What was it you said to me last time? 'You're not entirely unknown in the Forum.' Neither are you, Gordianus. People know you by sight. They know your reputation. Perhaps I was a little curious about you after having you here in my room. Perhaps I asked a few questions here and there. I know quite a few things about you, Gordianus the Finder. I think that you and I are very much alike.'
I laughed. 'Are we?' Staring into her blue eyes, acutely aware of her youth and her beauty, I could hardly imagine anyone with whom I had less in common.
'We are. You seek the truth; the truth seeks me out. In the end we both find it, only in different ways. We each have a special gift. That gift wasn't something we chose; it chose us. The gift is ours whether we want it or not, and we must do with it what we can. A gift can also be a curse.'
'I'm not sure I understand. People say that you have the gift of prophecy, but what's my gift?'
She smiled. 'Something far more valuable, I should think. I'm told that people feel compelled to confide in you, to tell you secrets, even when they shouldn't. Something in you draws the truth out of them. I should think that must be a very powerful gift indeed. Has it not provided all that you've gained in life? Your fortune, your family, the respect of powerful men?'
'My fortune, such as it was, has been swallowed up by a certain greedy banker. My family has been torn apart. As for the respect of powerful men, I'm not sure what that's worth. If you can show me a way to eat it, I'll prepare it for dinner and invite you to take the first portion.'
'You sound bitter, Gordianus.'
'No. Just weary.'
'Perhaps you need to rest.' She drew closer. Her freshly washed body smelled slightly of the jasmine perfume used to scent the cold plunge at the women's baths. Bethesda sometimes returned home from the baths carrying the same scent. Cassandra's hand brushed against mine.
'Where is Rupa?' I lowered my voice, for she had drawn very close.
She answered in a whisper. 'Out scavenging, like everyone else. I don't expect him back anytime soon.'
Many thoughts crossed my mind at once. I thought of the foolishness of men, especially men of my age, when they confront a beautiful young woman. I considered the implications of taking advantage of a woman subject to fits of insanity. I stared into Cassandra's eyes searching for some sign of madness there, but saw only a flame that drew me like a moth.
I put my hands on her shoulders. I bent my face to hers. I touched my lips to hers and slid my arms around her. I pressed the slender warmth of her body firmly against mine. I felt an exhilaration, a thrilling sensation of
