marked the turnoff. A long, winding road led up to the ridgetop. It was not paved but was excellently graded and maintained, and shaded by a canopy of towering oaks. Here and there statues of woodland beasts adorned the route or could be glimpsed in open meadows. I had the feeling not so much of entering the woods as of passing through a park.
The villa itself was a long, two-storey building that sprawled along the ridge, the red tiles of its roof making it visible from a great distance amid the stony grey-green and umber winter landscape around it. As we entered the forecourt a slave appeared almost at once to help us dismount and to take our horses. Another slave must have run to alert the foreman, for even before Davus's mount had disappeared into the stable, the door of the main entrance opened and a tall, sturdy-looking man with greying hair and a look of authority stepped out to greet us. When I produced the letter of commission which Pompey had given me, the man hardly glanced at it.
'Yes, we've been expecting you,' he said.
'How can that be?'
'The master sent a messenger a couple of days ago saying we should look for you.'
'But I met your master only last night.'
The man gave me a wry look. 'The master has a way of knowing what a man will do before the man himself knows.'
'Your master was very confident of my cooperation.'
'I suppose he was,' said the foreman, with a look that implied and why not? 'These are your companions?'
'My son and my bodyguard.'
'No one else? This is your entire party?' He peered at the road behind us.
'I prefer to travel discreetly.'
'There's safety in numbers.'
'Not always,' I said, dunking of Clodius.
'Ah, well, I prepared the villa for a larger party,' sighed the foreman, evidently disappointed that his master's foresight had fallen down at details. He clapped his hands. 'Well, then, your stay shall be all the more comfortable. Feel free to sleep in a different room every night and eat several meals a day. The idea seems to please this one.' He raised an eyebrow at Davus, who returned a crooked smile as he reached back to rub his saddle-weary rump.
In the city, Pompey was known for his lack of ostentation, as a man who cared little for the gaudy ornaments of wealth, but there was nothing spartan about his villa on Mount Alba. Perhaps, like many politicians, he maintained a stern, sober guise in the city but allowed himself to put on a more festive and pleasure-loving face in the seclusion of the countryside. Or perhaps the luxurious amenities to be found at every turn were put there solely for visitors, such as myself Many a rich man keeps his country villas not as private retreats but for the entertainment and lodging of others.
The bathing rooms in our wing were lit by skylights above and by a row of tiny windows at eye level, through which I caught glimpses of the twilit sea on the far horizon; we had risen high enough on the mountain to see the coast. The walls and floors were decorated with ornately patterned tiles whose subtle grey-blues and moss greens duplicated the colours of the distant, darkening sea. The three pools were kept at perfect temperatures for taking the cold, warm and hot plunges; I went through all three several times, feeling my saddlesore body grow more and more relaxed. As the natural light began to fade, lamps were brought; the reflection of their orange flames danced upon the water. A wizened, toothless old slave with remarkably strong hands gave us massages. I insisted that Davus be given a thorough massage as well, considering that he was likely to be even staffer than myself the next day. Even the towels we were given were inordinately thick and luxurious. No day could have had a sweeter ending.
Our dinner was served in a heated room near the baths, where the same furnaces which heated the water also sent warmed air through vents in the floor. The quality and variety of the meal was remarkable, especially a course of little pies filled with wild game and onions.
Our sleeping chambers were located above the baths, yet another clever way of making the most of the heat generated by the furnaces and the steam. The furniture was mostly of Eastern design and manufacture; the gold- painted chairs with tasselled red pillows were a bit elaborate for my simple tastes, as were the madly patterned hangings which covered the doorways. Pompey had spent many years in the East and had apparently developed an appreciation for the florid styles and delicate craftsmanship to be found in those lands he had conquered or pacified, where such booty was his for the taking.
The bed was a beautiful thing carved from some dark, exotic wood, strewn with plump silk pillows and soft woollen blankets, and covered with a gauzy canopy. Bethesda would have deemed it too fine to sleep on. Diana would have adored it. Though I had planned to stay up for a while to sort out with Eco all that we had seen and learned that day, and intended only to test the bed to see how soft or hard it was, I must have fallen asleep only moments after putting, my head on a pillow and closing my eyes. When I next opened them, the room was bright with the cold light of morning.
I rose, sinking my toes into the plush wool rug, stretched myself smiled at the surprising lack of soreness in my buttocks and legs, drank from a ewer of cold spring water, relieved myself into the pot by the bed, pulled on my cloak and my shoes and finally stepped towards the light. It streamed through shutters drawn over a wide doorway on the southern side of the room. I pulled them back, stepped onto the spacious balcony, and stood astonished at the view. Of all the luxuries at Pompey's villa, surely this was the most unusual and offered the most enduring delight
Towards the west I was able to look down on the wooded hillside above the Appian Way, catching glimpses of the wide ribbon of road below. Beyond the road were the foothills, where shreds of mist still clung to treetops, and beyond the foothills a wide expanse of open plains and farmland extended to, the distant blue-green sea. Above all was the. deep blue bowl of the cloudless sky. If the day remained clear, the sunset from this vantage point would be extraordinary.
I turned and walked to the opposite side of the balcony with the morning light on my face and looked down onto a wood-encircled lake hidden from the lower world. Its placid surface, as smooth as polished silver, reflected the forested cone of Mount Alba. The sun had just risen from behind the mountain and for the moment seemed to be balanced on its highest peak.
'What a view!' said Eco, joining me on the balcony. When I gave a start, he laughed. 'Relax, Papa! If we aren't safe in this house, we aren't safe anywhere. What a view,' he repeated, turning his head from side to side to take it in. 'Pompey seems to have a penchant for houses with a view, just as Fausta Cornelia has a penchant for getting caught…'
I took up the theme. 'Just as Clodius had a penchant for making trouble and for acquiring real estate — '
'Often both at the same time.'
'And as Milo has a penchant for social climbing,' I went on, 'and Cicero for winning impossible cases. Every man acts out of his own nature, and moves on a singular path towards his destiny.'
'What's your penchant, Papa?'
'Trying to figure out the others! Not always a rewarding pursuit, or a pleasant one.'
Eco sighed. 'Things could hardly get more pleasant than this.' 'Yes, men like Pompey do know how to live.' 'I could get used to it.'
'Best not to, Eco. We'll be out of here as quickly as possible. Aren't you missing Menenia and little Titus and Titania?'
He looked wistful. 'Menenia never served me a meal like the cook made last night. Or gave me a massage like that shrivelled old bath attendant!'
'Men like Pompey own all the best slaves.'
'Speaking of which, Papa, I had to rouse Davus from his bed before I came here. He's practically paralysed.'
'The more muscles a man has, the more there are to ache.' 'Did a wise old Etruscan say that?'
'I doubt there was ever a wise old Etruscan who didn't know how to ride a horse. But Davus is young and supple. We'll see that he gets another good dose of riding today to work out the stiffness.'
'Papa, you've never been one to torture a slave.'
'Consider it the revenge of the old on the young. But it's time to start moving. First, we eat. Shall we see
