any variety in my tablemates, the simple meal and the loud, vulgar conversation made me feel that I was at a feast fit for King Numa.
In the midst of the talk someone mentioned Marc Antony.
Meto saw my reaction, noticed the same reaction from Eco, and raised an eyebrow. 'Do you know him, Papa? Ah, but that's right, I introduced you to Marc Antony last year. Here in Ravenna, wasn't it?'
'Yes.'
'He's looking very sleek,'' said one of the men. 'All that lolling about down in Rome agrees with him.'
'I should think that Rome is considered a hazardous posting these days!' said another.
'He keeps himself fit doing daily drills — '
'At the widow Fulvia's house!'
There was a round of suggestive grunts and laughter.
I turned to Meto. 'Do I take it that Antony is here in Ravenna?'
'Yes. He's been in the camp for several days, conferring with Caesar about the situation in Rome. He's heading back tomorrow, I think. What's that look on your face, Papa?'
'Oh, nothing.' When this did not satisfy him, I indicated that we should move outside where we could talk more discreetly.
'Well, Papa?' he said, as the three of us strolled between the tents.
'It's probably nothing at all, but when I told you yesterday about our investigations on the Appian Way, I forgot to mention Marc Antony.'
'Antony? What possible connection — '
'He threatened Clodius's life last year on the Field of Mars — chased him to a warehouse on the river, where Clodius hid in a cupboard under a stairway.'
Meto laughed. 'Oh, that story!'
'You know it?'
'Of course. Antony loves to tell it, especially when he's a little drunk. He claims he had no intention of killing Clodius. He just wanted to turn him into a eunuch.'
'What did they fight about?'
'Who knows? Papa, their relationship went back a very long way. They'd been in love with the same woman, Fulvia. They may have been in love with each other at some time or other, for all I know. They probably met on the Field of Mars, exchanged a few friendly insults, Clodius said something that tugged a bit too hard on Antony's balls, and Antony whipped out his sword. But no one was hurt in the end.'
Eco groaned. 'Meto, the puns!'
Meto smiled and shrugged. 'I can keep it up all day. But what has this to do with — '
I had told Meto the day before aboutmy commission from Pompey, but had not mentioned Fulvia. My meeting with her had come to seem incidental. 'Fulvia asked me to find out if Antony was involved in her husband's death.'
'But he's one of the people working to bring Milo to trial.'
'That proves nothing.'
'Did you find any evidence to implicate him?' I considered this carefully. 'No one who witnessed the event or the aftermath had anything at all to say about Antony.' 'Well, there you have it.' 'Perhaps.'
'Really, Papa, Antony is a good soldier and a friend of mine. I can't stand by and hear him called a murderer.' 'No one has called him a murderer, Meto.' 'But you seem to think he might be.'
What had Cicero said about me? Always the one to bide his time, sift every shred of evidence, seek for further revelations, postpone the final judgment. 'If Fulvia were here with us now, I couldn't in good conscience say that I had proved otherwise.'
'Then let's go and ask him.'
'What?'
'We'll ask him.'
'As simple as that?'
'Why not? Antony isn't exactly simple, but he's as clear and plain to read as Caesar's Latin. Come with me.' 'Come with you where?'
'To Antony's quarters. They're on the far side of the villa. This way.'
Eco and I followed after him. 'But Meto, this is mad! What do you expect me to do? Say, 'Hello, do you remember me, Meto's father, and by the way, did you help murder Publius Clodius?''
'I imagine you can be more subtle than that, Papa.'
'And if he should decided to whip out his sword and give chase, like he did with Clodius on the Field of Mars?'
'You heard the fellows in the tent — Antony's got a bit plump, attending all those dinner parties in Rome. Maybe you can outrun him. Here, we enter through this door.'
As with Caesar, we had to apply to a guard before reaching the man himself. My hope was that Antony would be too busy to see us, but at the sound of Meto's voice a head poked through the curtains to his office, wearing a broad grin. 'Meto! Have you eaten yet?'
'I've swallowed my ration of swill for the day, if that's what you mean.'
'Join me anyway. I managed to salvage a few edible things out of the pot. Who are your friends? Ah — it's your brother, isn't it, and your father, the famous Finder.'
'Famous?' I said, as we stepped through the curtains.
'Or infamous. Whatever. Come in. Sit. Manius, find something else to do.' Antony gestured to a secretary, who promptly scooped up his tablet and stylus and left the room. 'Wine? Well, that goes without saying. I know how you take yours, Meto: neat. Meto's like me, has a terrible allergy to water. Do you take yours watered, Gordianus? And you, Eco?'
'More water than wine for me,' I said. 'I've been away from wine for a while. I'm having to get used to it again. Besides,' I added under my breath, 'I may have to do some running soon.'
'And the same for me,' said Eco, raising an eyebrow.
Physically, Antony had the potential to be mtimidating. He had a wrestler's build, with a muscular neck and shoulders and a broad barrel chest- rather like a younger, taller version of Milo, I thought. He was only a few years older than Meto, probably thirty or thirty-one. In profile, his jutting brows and chin and his dented boxer's nose gave him a rather brutish appearance, but when he looked at me straight on this impression was melted away by the gentleness of his eyes and mouth and the fullness of his cheeks. Antony was handsome in a homely sort of way, to use one of Bethesda's phrases. He had a sort of look that many women find irresistible and that many men trust instinctively, as Meto certainly seemed to do.
'When did you arrive, Gordianus?' Antony looked at me with an expression that hardly seemed that of a guileful killer, or a kidnapper, for that matter.
'Just yesterday.'
'Oh?' He nodded, then frowned. 'Don't tell me you came with Cicero?'
'We arrived together, yes. But I only joined him on the last leg of the journey, quite by chance.'
'That's good to hear. Then you're not a part of his little mission to Caesar?'
'Most definitely not,'
'Papa and Eco are here on their own business,' said Meto. 'Really? What's that?' said Antony. 'They're here to investigate you.' 'Meto!' This was really too much.
Antony narrowed his eyes. 'Me? This isn't related to that old business about King Ptolemy's daughter back in Egypt, is it? I swear, I never touched the child!' Antony and Meto both laughed at what was apparently an old joke.
'No,' said Meto, 'it's something to do with — ' 'With a nasty rumour that someone started down in Rome,' I said. 'My son seems determined to make light of the situation, but it's deadly serious.' Meto had controlled the conversation long enough. Since he insisted on forcing the matter, I decided to make the best of it. 'I'll begin by telling you what I told Caesar earlier today: at the request of Gnaeus Pompey, Eco and I did a little snooping into the circumstances of the death of Publius Clodius. Outrageous as it may seem, we encountered a rumour — and I tell you this, Marc Antony, because you're my son's friend and I think you should know that such a thing was said about you — we encountered a rumour that you were somehow involved.'
