brokered between them and their debtors; those who had sought relief before the stillborn insurrection had received much better deals than those who were seeking relief now.
'I represent Volumnius,' said the ferret, 'to whom you owe the sum of-'
'I know exactly how much I owe Volumnius,' I said.
'Do you? Most people have difficulty calculating the interest that accumulates. They almost always underestimate the amount. They don't understand that if they miss making even a single payment-'
'I haven't missed a payment. According to the agreement I made with Volumnius, the first installment isn't due-'
'— until tomorrow. Yes, this is merely a courtesy call to remind you. I presume you will have the first installment ready for me, first thing in the morning?'
I peered out the peephole at the faces of the ferret's two henchmen. Both had hands the size of small hams and small, beady eyes. They looked too slow and stupid to be gladiators. Their sort was good for only one thing, overpowering and intimidating victims smaller and weaker than themselves. The sum of their brainpower combined was probably below that of the average mule, but they could probably follow simple orders from the ferret-'Break this fellow's finger,' say, or, 'Break his arm,' or, 'Break both arms.'
'Go away,' I said. 'Payment isn't due until tomorrow. You've no right to come harassing me today.'
'Harassing you?' said the ferret, flashing a wicked smile. 'If you call this harassment, citizen, then just wait until-'
I slammed shut the little hatch over the peephole. The noise it made was as feeble as I felt at that moment. 'Go to Hades!' I shouted through the door.
I heard the ferret laugh, then bark an order at his henchmen to move on, then the sound of their footsteps receding.
Davus frowned. 'What are we going to do if they come back tomorrow?'
'If they come back, Davus? I don't think there's any doubt about that.'
We returned to the dining room. Bethesda looked at me expectantly. Diana, I noticed, looked first to Davus to ascertain his expression, and only then at me; further proof, if any was needed, that she was now more his wife than my daughter. That was only proper, but still it irked me. Hieronymus was eating the last of his farina very slowly and looking glum. Androcles and Mopsus, having risen and eaten before anyone else, were in the garden, where I had assigned them some tasks to work off their morning burst of energy. Through the window I could see them squabbling and pelting each other with pulled weeds, oblivious to the crisis in the household.
I opened my mouth to speak, but what was there to say? False words of reassurance? An abrupt change of subject? Or perhaps a resumption of the previous subject, namely the hopelessness of Bethesda's demand for a journey to Egypt? At that moment, nothing would have pleased me more than the prospect of a trip to Alexandria, or to any other place, as long as it was as far from Rome as possible.
I was spared from having to speak by an abrupt knock at the door. 'Not again!' I muttered, stalking back to the foyer. I didn't bother with the peephole but threw back the bar and pulled open the door. Even the ferret and his henchmen wouldn't dare to attack a Roman citizen on his doorstep on the day before a loan came due. Or would they? I wondered if I could gouge out the ferret's eyes before the two giants had time to disable me…
'What are you doing back here?' I shouted. 'I told you-'
The man on my doorstep stared at me blankly. I stared back at him just as blankly, until I recognized him. He was the personal secretary to Calpurnia who had called at my door previously.
'What are you doing here?' I asked, in a very different tone of voice.
'My mistress sent me. She wants to see you.'
'Now?'
'As soon as possible. Before-'
'Before what?'
'Please, follow me and ask no questions.'
I looked down at the old tunic I was wearing. 'I shall have to change.'
'No need for that. Please, come at once. And you might want to bring a bodyguard with you, for later.'
'Later?'
'To walk you home safely. The streets are likely to be-well, you'll see.' He smiled, and I had a glimmer of what he was trying to tell me, or more precisely, what he was trying not to tell me.
'Come along, Davus,' I called over my shoulder. 'We've been summoned by the first woman in Rome.'
The slave led us across the Palatine Hill to the large house where Calpurnia was residing in her husband's absence. Even before we reached the house, I could see that the surrounding streets were busier than normal. Messengers were fanning outward from the house while men in togas were converging upon it. There was a sense of excitement, of a charge like lightning in the air. It intensified in the forecourt of the house, where men in small groups talked in hushed voices while slaves scurried to and fro. I recognized several senators and magistrates. Trebonius and Isauricus stood together off to one side, surrounded by their lictors. Something important had happened. The eyes and ears of all Rome were becoming trained upon this house.
The slave ushered us through the forecourt, up the steps, and into the house. The guards recognized him and allowed us to pass without question.
From the buzz of excitement outside, I expected the inside of the house to be a veritable beehive, but the hall down which the slave led us was surprisingly empty and quiet. We emerged in a sunlit garden where Calpurnia, seated in a backless chair, was dictating in a low voice to a scribe. At our approach she looked up and made a sign for the scribe to withdraw. At another sign, the slave who had escorted us also vanished.
'Gordianus, you came very quickly.' With a raised eyebrow she took note of my shabby tunic, and I knew I should have taken time to put on my toga, no matter what the slave had said.
'Your man indicated that the summons was urgent.'
'Only because, in a few moments, all Rome shall know. Once the word is out, there's no telling how people will react. I assume that most people will be as overjoyed as I am-or will pretend to be.'
'You've received good news, Calpurnia?'
She drew a breath and closed her eyes for a moment. She had not yet repeated the news often enough to have become inured to it. When she opened her eyes, they glittered with tears. Her voice trembled.
'Caesar has triumphed! There was a great battle in Thessaly, near a place called Pharsalus. Pompey's front lines gave way; then his cavalry broke and fled. It was a complete rout. Caesar himself led the charge to overrun the enemy's camp. Some of their leaders escaped, but the engagement was decisive. Almost fifteen thousand of the enemy were slain that day, and more than twenty-four thousand surrendered. Caesar's forces lost scarcely two hundred men. Victory is ours!'
'And Pompey?'
Her face darkened. 'Even as Caesar was leading his men over the ramparts into the enemy's camp, Pompey fled from his tent, threw off his scarlet cape to make himself less conspicuous, mounted the first horse he could find, and escaped through the rear gate. He made his way to the coast and boarded a ship. He appears to have headed for Egypt. Caesar pursues him. That's the only bad news, that Caesar can't yet return to Rome. But that was to be expected. Caesar will have to settle Rome's affairs in Egypt and elsewhere before he can at last come home to rest.'
For a long moment, I took in the momentous nature of what Calpurnia had just told me. Waves of emotion passed through me. Like her, I experienced a trembling in my throat, and tears came to my eyes. Then doubts and questions intruded on my thoughts.
Could it really be over? With a single battle, was the war truly ended? What of Pompey's naval fleet, which had always been superior to Caesar's and which was still presumably intact? Who else besides Pompey had survived, and how easily would they give up the fight? What of Rome's other enemies, such as King Juba, who had annihilated Curio and his expedition in Africa? What of Egypt, which was engaged in its own dynastic civil war? Calpurnia spoke of settling affairs there as if the job involved tools no more complicated than a broom and a dustpan, but when had anything to do with Egypt ever been that simple? Would it really be such a trivial task to track down Pompey, as if he were an escaped slave? If and when Caesar trapped him, did he intend to murder Pompey in cold blood? Or would he bring him back to Rome as a prisoner, parading him in chains behind his chariot in a triumphal procession, as he had done to Vercingetorix the Gaul? Doubts shadowed the news Calpurnia had
