Fausta's father owned it; imagine the uses wily old Sulla must have found for such a screen to hide behind! I brought it with me when I left Rome. Fausta wanted to keep it, but I smuggled it out from under her nose. I wonder if she ever missed it?'
'Tell the story, Milo!' I whispered hoarsely.
He lowered his eyes. 'You won't like the ending.'
'Tell me!'
'Very well. You have to realize, Redbeard here thought I was deluded. Said my mind was addled from too much bad Massilian wine. `You're wrong about Meto,' he told me. `The man can be trusted; Pompey himself says so. What Meto knows about Caesar and the way his mind works could fill a book. His value to us is immeasurable.' Ha! Don't glare at me like that, Redbeard. You're the one who insisted on bringing Gordianus into my house. If I needle you a bit, you'll just have to bear it.
'So there was Redbeard listening behind the screen, and in that storage room beyond he managed to stuff ten or so hand-picked soldiers-probably the same bodyguards escorting him tonight. Meto didn't suspect a thing. At some point Redbeard made a shuffling noise. Meto glanced at the screen. I told him it was a rat. And so it was!' Milo laughed. Domitius stared at him coldly.
'Meto and I talked around and around each other. The little dove fetched wine, and I pretended to be drunk- well, perhaps I wasn't entirely pretending. Drunk or not, I turned in a performance worthy of Roscius the actor. My part was the diver who's stepped to the precipice and needs just a puff of air at his back to take the plunge; the coward who's mustered his last scrap of courage and needs only one more turn of the screw to reach the sticking point; the lover bursting with emotion who can't quite bring himself to be the first to say, `I love you.' Around and around we talked, your son and I, with Redbeard fidgeting behind that screen, about to sneeze at any moment, for all I knew. The suspense was terrible. I imagine it made my performance all the more convincing.
'Finally, Meto made his play. `Milo,' he said, `you're trapped in Massilia. Domitius treats you like a slave. You have no hope of reconciliation with Pompey. Desperate times demand desperate actions. Perhaps you should consider a radical move.'
' `But where else is there for me to go?' I asked. `After Massilia, the next port of call is Hades.'
'Meto shook his head. `There's another choice.'
''Caesar, you mean? But Caesar would never have me. He relies too much on the good will of the Clodians. That rabble would turn on him in an instant if he took me in.'
''Caesar is beyond needing the Clodians,' said Meto. `He's bigger than the Clodians now. Bigger than Rome. He can ally himself with whomever he chooses.'
' 'But you've turned your back on Caesar,' I said. 'Meto looked at me squarely. 'Perhaps not,' he said.
'I told him, `I can't deny that I've thought about it. It seems to me that it's the only choice I have left. But I'd need a go-between, someone to help me cross to the other side. Tell me, Meto, are you that man?'
'Meto nodded. Why, at that precise moment, Redbeard felt it was necessary to make such a show of knocking the screen down, I don't know. My heart almost flew out of my mouth. Meto was on his feet with his dagger drawn in an instant. He saw Redbeard, saw the look on my face, saw the first of the soldiers burst out of the storage room. It should have all been over in an instant. Instead… Milo stopped and took another drink.
'Tell me!'
'No need to shout, Gordianus. Let Redbeard tell you. It's his story from here on.'
Domitius looked at me coldly. 'I'd given my men instructions to capture Meto, not to kill him if they could help it. They were too cautious.'
'Too clumsy!' interjected Milo.
'It happened very quickly,' Domitius went on. 'Meto was out of the room before my men could catch him. I had more men posted at the front door, but Meto surprised us by running into the garden and climbing onto the roof. He jumped down into a side alley and ran to the back of the house. I had more men posted there, but he got past them. They chased after him. He was a fast runner. He might have eluded them entirely, but one of my men threw a spear and managed to graze his hip. That slowed him down. Still, he managed to reach the city wall, down where it runs along the sea. He climbed the stairs up to the battlements, not far from the Sacrifice Rock-'
'The Sacrifice Rock!' I whispered, remembering vividly what I had seen there at twilight.
'He wasn't mad enough to leap from the rock,' said Domitius. 'The surf and the rocks below would kill any man. Instead, he ran farther on, to a bend where the sheer wall drops to deep water. Perhaps that was his goal all along; he may have scouted out the place in advance, planning for just such an emergency. I suppose it's barely possible that a man could dive from the wall and swim all the way out to the islands where Caesar's ships are moored. Meto might have made a clean escape…'
My heart pounded in my chest. 'But?'
'But that's not what happened. My men stayed close on his heels. They were almost on him when he jumped. One of them swears he pierced Meto with an arrow on his way down, but that may be idle boasting. The fall alone might have killed him. He disappeared beneath the water. When my men saw his body break the surface, they showered him with arrows. The sun was in their eyes, casting a glaring light on the waves, which made it hard to see, but some of the men swear they saw blood on the water. They all saw his body being swept out to sea by the current. They say he didn't kick or flail his arms, as any conscious man would; he simply floated like a cork for a while, then disappeared below the surface.'
Domitius sat back and crossed his arms, looking pleased with himself. 'Well, then, Gordianus, is that what you wanted to know? Is that what you came all this way to find out? Your son died an outlaw, pursued by soldiers of the legal proconsul of Gaul. I suppose you can take some comfort in the fact that he died loyal to his imperator, if not to Rome.'
The whole world seemed to have contracted to that squalid, dimly lit room. Milo's face was in shadow, impossible to read, Domitius wore an expression of smug satisfaction. I had never shared my son's love for Caesar, but how small these men seemed in comparison!
I felt a gentle hand on my shoulder. 'Father-in-law, you're exhausted. The scapegoat promised us a bed for the night. We should go now.'
I rose without a word and left Milo's study. Milo, almost tripping, hurried after us. 'The little dove will show you out' he said. 'And I'll send one of my gladiators along to show you the way. There's a curfew, but no one's likely to question you in this neighborhood. If they do, just mention Redbeard.' He lowered his voice and laid a hand on my arm. 'Gordianus it gave me no pleasure, exposing your son for what he truly wits, Meto was no more honest with me than I was with him. Caesar would never have taken me in. Never! Meto tried to deceive me just as I deceived him.' I tried to draw my arm away, but Milo clutched it and lowered his voice to a whisper. 'I'm not proud of myself, Gordianus. What I've done, I had to do!'
My eyes were hot with tears. I pulled my arm free. As I hurried on, behind me I heard Domitius address the empty room: 'But who sent the anonymous message that brought Gordianus to Massilia? That's what I'd like to know…'
XI
I scarcely remember our moonlit journey through the streets of Massilia and our return to the scapegoat's house. Hieronymus took one look at my face and nodded gravely. 'Ah, bad news,' he said quietly. Without another word he showed Davus and me to a room with two beds. My mind was in such turmoil that I couldn't imagine sleeping. Sleep came nonetheless, as quickly and deeply as if I had been drugged.
I dreamed. Missiles flew from catapults. Flaming bodies plummeted from siege towers. At my side the engineer, Vitruvius, blithely chattered on about machines of death. He was interrupted by a hooded soothsayer who tugged at his elbow and loudly whispered in his ear, 'Tell the Roman he has no business here.' A soldier in a fluttering blue cape hurried past, limping slightly, and disappeared in a hole in the ground. I took Davus's hand and told him we had to follow. The hole led straight to Hades. I saw a disembodied head levitating amid vents of steam and jets of flames, ringed by blood at the severed neck. 'Catilina!' I cried. The head flashed a sardonic grin and vanished. A cloaked figure stepped out of the mist. She pulled away her veils and I confronted the grossly misshapen xoanon Artemis come to life. 'Marry me,' the thing said, and I started back in horror. Suddenly all Hades
