death. It was as if I had been buried alive — which was not far from the truth.
Now I was free and back in Rome at last, safe and fed and surrounded by my loved ones. But I was also tired, exhausted by four days of riding and still not fully recuperated from the debilitating effects of our captivity. Much, much too tired for what Bethesda wanted, I thought… and yet the movements of her hand began to stir me, and her warmth seemed to pour a kind of vitality into my body, bringing me fully to life again. I felt myself sinking into a state beyond words or caring, like a stone dissolving into water.
'But not here,' I whispered. 'We should go… inside…'
'Why?'
'Bethesda…!'
So we did it there in the garden like young lovers, not once but twice, with the moon for a lamp. The night air grew chilly, but that only made the places where our flesh touched burn all the warmer.
Only once did I have the sensation that we were being watched, but when I looked around it was only the head of Minerva that looked back at me, lying sideways in the grass. I ignored her until we were finished the second time. When I looked again, she still seemed to be watching me, with a look of hurt in her lapis lazuli eyes. And when will you tend to my needs? her expression seemed to say — as if single-handedly I could put the goddess of wisdom together again and return her to her pedestal.
Bethesda and I eventually retired to the bedroom, but at some point in the night I got up to relieve myself. The hulking shadow I saw across the garden alarmed me at first, until I realized who it was.
'Davus!' I whispered. 'Why are you up? Pompey's guards take the night watch.'
'I couldn't sleep.'
'But you should. I'll' need you fresh and alert tomorrow.'
'I know. I'll try to sleep now.' He began to walk off, slump-shouldered. I touched his arm.
'Davus, I meant what I said tonight. I thought we had lost you for good. I'm glad it wasn't so.'
'Thank you, Master.' He cleared his throat and looked away. What was wrong with him? Why did he feel so guilty?
'Davus, no one blames you for what happened.'
'But if I'd known how to ride a horse — '
'I've ridden horses all my life, and they pulled me off my mount with no trouble at all.'
'But nobody pulled me off my horse. I was thrown! If I'd stayed on, I could have ridden for help.'
'Nonsense. You'd have stayed and fought, and they'd have killed you for certain. You did your best, Davus.'
'And it wasn't good enough.'
Where had he come by such a conscientious nature, having been a slave all his life? 'Davus, Fortune smiled on you. The horse threw you, you were left for dead, and you're alive today. Fortune smiled on all of us. We're still here, aren't we? You should let that be enough.'
He finally looked me in the eye. 'Master, there's something I have to say. You said you were glad to find out I was still alive, but you can't know how glad I was today, when you showed up at the door! Because — well, I can't explain it. I wish I could, but I can't. May I go now?'
'Of course, Davus. Get some sleep.' He lumbered away, tongue-tied and close to tears. I thought I understood. Minerva, who could see everything from the place where she had fallen, must have had quite a laugh at me that night.
The next morning I asked Diana to show me the note she had mentioned in her letter to Meto, the one that had arrived by anonymous courier addressed to her mother. It was just as she had transcribed it:
Do not fear for Gordianus and his son. They have not been harmed. They will be returned to you in time.
I showed it to Eco. 'Does the handwriting look familiar to you?' 'No.'
'Nor to me. Still, it tells us something. The parchment is of good quality, as is the ink; it didn't come from a poor household. Moreover, the spelling is correct, and the letters are properly made, so we may assume that the writer is educated.'
'Probably a slave, taking dictation.'
'Do you think so? To send a message such as this, I imagine a man might actually write the note himself. I think it might profit us to look among my records and correspondence, to see if we can find another example of this handwriting.'
'I don't have many such specimens, and neither do you, Papa. Most letters come on wax tablets, so that you can write over them and send them back.'
'Yes, but we may find something-a bill, a receipt, anything. Do you see how he's made the letter G in my name? That's rather distinctive. If we could find the man who makes his Gs that way…'
'We'd find a man who must know something about our captivity.'
'Exacdy.'
Eco smiled. 'I need to clean my study and sort through my correspondence, anyway. Shall we start here, or at my house on the Esquiline?'
'Here, I think. Unless of course you want to drop by your house just to have a look at it, since you've been away so long. Of course, we should report to the Great One, sooner or later — '
As if responding to a cue in a play, Davus appeared in the doorway.
'A caller, Master.'
'Anyone I know?'
'I think you gave him a nickname. Something silly…' Davus looked thoughtful. 'Oh, I remember: Baby Face!'
I turned to Eco. 'It looks like we shall be seeing the Great One sooner then, not later. Should we take cloaks, Davus?'
'No, it's mild this morning, Master, and the sky is clear. Shall I… shall I come with you?'
'I doubt if there's any need, Davus, with Baby Face and his men to look after us. Stay here. You've done such a good job of looking after the women in our absence.'
I thought this would cheer him up, but my words of praise only seemed to plunge Davus into a deeper gloom.
XXVIII
As consul, despite the fact that he retained command of his legions in Spain, Pompey was now legally able to enter the city and might have taken up residence in his old family house in the Carinae district. Instead he chose to remain in his villa out on the Pincian Hill, probably because it was more defensible, I thought, as we ascended through the terraced gardens ringed with soldiers keeping watch among the statuary. Was this how a king would live, if Rome had a king?
The Great One received us in the same room as before. He sat in a corner with a pile of documents on his lap, dictating to a secretary, but as we entered he put the documents aside and dismissed the secretary. He showed us onto the terrace, which was bright with morning sunlight. No columns of smoke marred the skyline of the city. Pompey had vowed to restore order, and so he had.
'You've been gone for a very long time, Finder. I must confess, I had almost given up on you. It was a pleasant surprise when I received news of your return yesterday. You both look well enough, if a bit thinner than when I last saw you. I managed to keep myself informed of your circumstances, thanks to your wife. You were waylaid down by the Monument of Basilius, I understand. And not too many days ago she received some sort of note advising her not to worry, promising that you would eventually be freed. And here you are.'
'Except that our captors didn't free us, Great One. We escaped.'
'Really?' Pompey raised an appreciative eyebrow. 'You've had an adventure, then. Here, sit. I could use a good story to distract me from my own affairs for a while. Begin at the beginning.'
If Pompey preferred to call it a story rather than a report, I had no objection, though it was clear from his frequent questions that he wanted complete details of everything we had seen, heard and done on the Appian Way. He didn't call his secretary to take notes, apparently preferring to hold the relevant details in his head and to keep
