two men who were seen with him trespassing on the Sacrifice Rock.'
'You took your time fetching them here.'
'I took the most direct route, First Timouchos. Our progress was… difficult.'
Something-a large wine jug perhaps-crashed against the courtyard gates with a loud explosion.
'I want that mob dispersed at once,' said Apollonides. 'First Timouchos, the noise is misleading. They're not as dangerous as you might think. They're completely disorganized. Loud, but not armed-'
'Then they should be easily dispersed.'
The officer ground his jaw. 'The sight of the scapegoat excited them. Perhaps if we allow them a little time to cool off-'
'At once, I said! Call up archers. Spill some blood if you have to, but clear the streets immediately. Do you understand?' The officer saluted and backed down the steps. Apollonides turned his attention to us. He glared at Davus and me, then settled his gaze on Hieronymus, who stared sullenly back at him. 'You're lucky to still be alive,' Apollonides finally said.
'The goddess protects me,' answered Hieronymus, his voice steady but hoarse from yelling. 'I have a higher purpose.'
Apollonides's pale blue eyes flashed. A thin smile spread across the mouth too small for his massive jaw. 'Call it what you want. Your higher purpose will still lead you straight to Hades. When you meet them there, give your parents my regards.' Hieronymus stiffened, and for a moment I thought he might rush up the steps and hurl himself at Apollonides. But Apollonides, a better judge of Hieronymus than I, never flinched.
'Am I under arrest, then?' demanded Hieronymus. Apollonides snorted. 'Don't be ridiculous. I had you brought here for your own safety. You should be thankful for my diligence.'
'And my friends? Are they under arrest?'
Apollonides glowered at us. 'I'm not sure. I haven't yet made up my mind. Would you believe I've had other things to think about today? In the meantime, you'll all spend the night here-where I can keep an eye on you.'
Apollonides withdrew without another word. Slaves escorted us into the house to show us to our quarters. On the way, we passed through the central garden, where evidently a dinner party of considerable size was being prepared. A little army of slaves hurried this way and that, carrying couches, small tables, portable lamps, and stacks of empty serving trays. A celebration feast, I thought; only tonight there would be no cause for celebration.
While Hieronymus was shown to his own private quarters, Davus and I were escorted down the same hallway but in the opposite direction. We descended a short flight of steps. The hallway grew narrower, the ceiling lower, the way more poorly lit, until at last we came to a tiny, windowless room at the very end of the hallway. There were two small sleeping cots and just enough space to walk between them, if I angled my body sideways. A feeble light was cast by a little hanging lamp burning rancid oil. I fell onto my cot and realized, with a long exhalation, how weary I was. But sleep was impossible. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw twisted faces from the mob.
At the sound of footsteps, I sat up. Hieronymus stood in the doorway. He surveyed our accommodations and raised an eyebrow. 'Cozy,' was all he said.
'I suppose your own quarters are rather larger.'
He shrugged. 'An anteroom, a bed chamber, and another room with a private balcony. Anything less would be an insult to the goddess!'
By the lamp's flickering light I noticed a shiny object on the little finger of his left hand. It was the ring set with a black stone that he had discovered on the Sacrifice Rock. In the rush of events, I had forgotten about it.
He followed my gaze and wriggled his finger, making the stone flash in the light. 'A tight fit, even on my little finger. What do you make of it, Gordianus?'
'A woman's ring, obviously. I don't think I've ever seen a stone quite like it.'
'No? I suppose they're more sought after in Massilia than elsewhere, on account of the xoanonArtemis. It's a bit of skystone; fallen from the heavens, just as thexoanon Artemis fell to earth long ago. Skystones aren't necessarily pretty. Sometimes they're quite ugly, in fact, but this one is rather interesting; not solid black, you see, but with smoky swirls of silver shot through it, and as smooth and shiny as polished marble. Quite valuable, I imagine.'
'The sort of ring a Massilian might give to his lover?'
'I suppose, if the man were rich and the lover beautiful enough to wear such fine jewelry.' With a bit of effort he twisted it off his finger and handed it to me.
'What was it doing on the Sacrifice Rock?' I asked. 'We've seen how difficult it is to get to the summit. No one goes there casually, especially now, with everyone banned from climbing the rock. So how did this ring come to be there?'
Hieronymus pursed his lips. 'We do know of two people who were on the rock not long ago. The officer in the light blue cape and the woman who jumped.'
'Who was pushed,' corrected Davus.
I nodded. 'Apollonides dispatched his men to have a look in the vicinity of the Sacrifice Rock, but he explicitly forbade them to climb onto the rock itself. We must assume that the summit of the Sacrifice Rock was never searched. This ring may have been there ever since.'
'Perhaps,' conceded Hieronymus. 'But how did it get there in the first place? It seems unlikely that it could have slipped accidentally from the woman's finger, unless she had very small hands indeed.'
'Perhaps she pulled the ring off her finger before she… went over the edge,' I said.
'Or perhaps the man pulled it off,' suggested Davus. 'We saw them struggle for a bit, remember? Perhaps he pulled it off her finger, then dropped it when he pushed her-'
'When she jumped,' insisted Hieronymus.
'In either case, if this ring did come from the woman's finger…' I left the thought unfinished. 'Do you mind, Hieronymus, if I keep it for a while?'
'You can cast it into the sea for all I care. I've no use for it.' He pressed a hand to his belly. 'Do you suppose we can expect anything resembling a meal this evening?'
Davus's stomach growled sympathetically.
As if on cue, a young slave appeared in the shadowy hallway behind Hieronymus. 'Dinner is served in the garden,' he announced.
'A dinner under the stars-delightful!' said Hieronymus, turning to smile at the slave.
By the lamp's feeble glow I saw the boy's look of surprise. His eyes grew wide, then he stepped back and averted his face. 'Not… not for you,' he managed to stutter. 'I've come for the two Romans.'
'Then where am I to eat?' demanded Hieronymus.
'In… your rooms,' the slave stuttered, his voice hardly more than a whisper, his face turned away from the scapegoat.
'Of course,' said Hieronymus dryly. 'What was I thinking? The scapegoat dines alone.'
The garden was dimly lit. In the few lamps scattered about, the flames burned low. Oil, like food, had become scarce in Massilia. The light was so uncertain that I had trouble estimating how many people had gathered in the garden; perhaps fifty or more. If this had been intended to be a celebration dinner, whom would the First Timouchos have invited? The most exalted of his fellow Timouchoi; the priests of Artemis; military leaders; perhaps a few important Roman exiles; certainly the Roman military commander. Sure enough, I noticed Domitius reclining on one elbow on a dining couch, sipping from a cup of wine. The slave escorted us to the empty couch next to him.
Domitius peered at us blearily. If anyone should have felt betrayed by the day's events, it was him. In Italy he had disregarded Pompey's advice, made a stand at Corfinium against Caesar, and even before the siege was underway had been handed over to Caesar by his own men. Now, once again trapped in a city besieged by Caesar, he had desperately looked to Pompey for relief-and the ships sent by Pompey had sailed past Massilia and into the sunset.
His speech was slurred. 'There you are, troublemaker. I suppose you know you've caused me considerable embarrassment today. A fellow Roman-my personal responsibility-trespassing on sacred ground! What were you
