From their plain tunics, the two appeared to be slaves. They rounded the corner so fast they bumped into each other and almost fell. The taller one saw the shed and pointed. 'There! We could hide there!'
The shorter, stockier one saw the shed and rushed towards it, pushing his companion out of the way. They were almost like comic slaves out of Plautus, except that in a play they would be fleeing a just beating from their master, not a bloody riot.
'Jupiter's balls!' said the taller one, hurrying to catch up. 'You needn't push me down, Milo!'
'And you needn't shout my name out loud, you idiot! Come on, before someone sees us.'
Milo was inside the shed before he realized it was occupied. The first thing he saw were four daggers pointing towards him as Eco's bodyguards advanced. Caelius, coming up from behind, bumped into him and knocked him forwards. Milo's eyebrows shot up and he bared his teeth in a grimace as he tripped forwards and very nearly impaled himself on the nearest dagger. Caelius, glimpsing steel, skittered back and peered wide-eyed into the shed.
'Draw back!' said Eco, calling off the bodyguards. 'These two won't hurt us.'
Milo scanned the faces confronting him and stopped at mine. 'Gordianus? Is that you? Cicero's man?'
'Gordianus, yes. Cicero's man, no. And you're Milo, though who would know it to look at you? Where's your toga?'
'Are you joking? The mob is going after anybody in a toga. They're all a bunch of cut-throat slaves and thieves, killing and robbing every citizen they come to. I threw off my toga the first chance I got. Thank Jupiter I was wearing this tunic underneath.'
'You took off your ring of citizenship as well,' I said, looking at his bare finger.
'Yes, well…'
'I see that Marcus Caelius followed your inspiration.' I shook my head. Two of the most powerful men in Rome were deliberately posing as slaves, and behaving like slaves as well. I suddenly had to laugh.
'Stop that!' said Milo.
'Sony. It's the tension of the moment.' But I started laughing again, and was soon joined not only by Eco but by Eco's slaves. Even Caelius, always ready to see the absurdity in any situation, barked out a laugh.
'But where's your retinue, your bodyguards?' I said.
'Slaughtered. Scattered. Who knows?' said Milo.
'I don't suppose that could be them?' I said, all laughter dying from my voice. A group of dagger-wielding men had just appeared from around the corner.
'Oh, Jupiter's balls!' Caelius groaned. He and Milo shoved their way through the shed and fled out the other side. I followed with Eco and his bodyguards bringing up the rear. Behind us I heard a clash of steel and turned to see one of the pursuers stagger and fall, clutching his chest where Davus had wounded him. At the sight of one of their own gushing blood, the brigands lost heart and fell back.
Caelius and Milo had disappeared. We found ourselves at the edge of the riot, amid the scattered bodies of the wounded and dead. The paving stones were slick with blood. Smoke belched from the entrance to the Temple of Castor and Pollux. Next door, atop the House of the Vestal Virgins, the Virgo Maxima and her priestesses had gathered on the roof and were watching the scene below with expressions of horror and outrage.
'Come! This way!' I said, pointing to the paved walkway between the two buildings. It took us to the base of the Palatine Hill and onto the Ramp. Others were ahead of us, fleeing up the long sloping path like refugees from a sacked city. I thought I glimpsed Caelius and Milo far ahead, travelling at a breakneck pace and knocking people out of their way right and left.
I was completely out of breath before I reached the top of the Ramp. Eco saw my distress and signalled to his bodyguards to help me along. They seized my arms and practically carried me the last few steps. We hurried across the street, towards my house.
Suddenly, ahead of us, from out of one of my neighbours' houses, a group of armed men burst into the street. Their leader clutched a handful of jewellery — strands of pearls and silver links dangled from his grubby fingers. In his other hand he held a dagger dripping blood. The door behind him had been knocked from its hinges.
'You there!' he shouted at us. Though he was some distance away I smelled wine and garlic on his breath. Garlic for strength, an old gladiator's trick; wine to fortify his courage. He had a red face and ice-blue eyes. 'Have you seen him?'
'Seen who?' I gestured to the bodyguards to give the party a wide berth but to keep moving forwards.
'Milo, of course! We're going from house to house searching for him. When we find him we shall crucify him for killing Clodius.'
'Searching for Milo, are you?' said Eco. He was looking at the fistful of stolen jewellery; the sarcasm in his voice made me cringe.
The thief held up his hand and shook it. 'What, these? Who ever said that justice should be free, eh? We deserve our payment, don't we? As much as these rich folk deserve their pretty things.' He made such an ugly face that I thought he was about to come after us with his dagger. Instead he threw the handful of jewellery at our feet. The silver clinked against the paving stones and the strand of pearls burst. Pink and white baubles bounced everywhere like bits of hail. The men behind him yelled and cursed.
'Who cares?' he shouted. 'There'll be plenty more where that came from.' He turned and led his raiding party down the street away from us, towards the next house.
My heart began to pound in my chest. If they were headed in the opposite direction, that meant they had already been to my house…
My head felt light. I blinked at oily spots before my eyes. Confronted with the possibility of my own death, a part of me always reacted with sceptical resignation. Facing the possibility of something terrible happening to Bethesda and Diana, I felt an overwhelming dread.
Eco understood. He clutched my hand and squeezed it. As we approached the house I looked for signs of fire or smoke and saw none. Then I saw the double doors of the entrance. They were standing wide open. The lock had been broken. So had the bar, which lay across the threshold broken in two pieces.
I stepped into the foyer, which seemed very dark after the daylight outside. Rushing forwards, I tripped over something large and solid. Eco and Davus helped me up. 'Papa — ' said Eco.
I hurried on. 'Bethesda! Diana!'
No one answered. I ran from room to room, only vaguely aware that Eco and his men followed after me. Couches and chairs had been knocked over. Cabinets lay on their sides with their doors open.
In my bedroom, the sleeping couch had been senselessly ripped open and the sniffing pulled out in handfuls. A pool of something dark and slick shimmered on the floor in front of Bethesda's dressing table. Blood? I shuddered, close to tears, then realized that it was only unguent from a broken jar which had fallen to the floor.
There was no one in the kitchens, no one in the sleeping quarters. 'Where were the slaves?
I hurried on to Diana's room. The door of her wardrobe stood open and her clothes were scattered all over the floor. The little silver box where she kept her few pieces of jewellery was gone. I called her name. There was no answer.
I came to my study. The scroll cases were empty. They had plucked every scroll from its pigeonhole, probably looking for hidden valuables. Having found none, they had at least left my scrolls and writing instruments intact. Of what use were such things to thieves? Everything lay in piles on the floor, scattered but undamaged, the scrolls still tightly rolled and tied with ribbons.
Then I caught a whiff of something foul. I wrinkled my nose and followed the smell to the corner of the room. Someone had defecated on the floor and then used a torn piece of parchment to wipe himself. I carefully picked up the scrap by a corner to see what it was and read a few lines:
Father, what wretchedness is on us now! I mourn for you still more than for the dead.
Poor Antigone! Poor Euripides!
I stepped from my study into the garden at the centre of the house. The bronze statue of Minerva, which I had inherited from my dear friend Lucius Claudius along with the house, which had been his pride and joy and mine, which had elicited the envy of Cicero himself) had been pulled from its pedestal. Did they think to find some secret treasure chamber beneath it, or did they act out of sheer, wanton destructiveness? The bronze should have survived the fell, but there must have been some hidden flaw in its casting. The virgin goddess of wisdom lay broken in two pieces.
'Papa!'
