'And now Mummius finds himself awaiting the slave's destruction.'

'Yes. He's tried to hide his anguish from Faustus Fabius and the rest of Crassus's retinue, and most of all from the men under his command, but everyone knows. Rumours spread very quickly in a small, private army. It was quite a spectacle to hear him prostrating himself before Crassus in the library the other day, scrambling to come up with the most ludicrous arguments to save Apollonius-'

'This was behind closed doors, I assume?'

'Can I help it if I could hear every word through the windows that face the courtyard? Mummius pleaded for the boy's life; Crassus invoked the stern majesty of Roman law. Mummius argued for an exception; Crassus told him to stop playing the fool. I believe he even called Mummius 'unRoman' at one point, the direst insult a stolid soldier like Mummius can receive from his commander. If you think Gelina is distraught, you should have heard Mummius that day. I can't imagine how he will react when a Roman blade cuts into the tender young flesh of Apollonius and the pretty slave begins to bleed…' Metrobius slowly shut his eyes, and a strange expression settled on his face.

'You're smiling,' I whispered.

'And why not? Mollio gives the finest massage on the Cup. I feel quite delicious, and am ready for my bath.'

Metrobius stood and held his arms aloft while the slave wound the long towel around him. I sat up and mopped my perspiring forehead. 'Do I only imagine it,' I said quietly, 'or are there those in this house who actually look forward to seeing the slaves executed? A Roman seeks justice, not vengeance.'

Metrobius did not answer, but slowly turned and left the room.

'A pity you're no better at swimming than I am,' I said to Eco as we left the baths. He gave me a pained look but did not dispute the fact. 'Our next task must be to have a look at the waters around the boathouse. What was being dumped from the pier last night, and why?' I looked down from the terrace outside the baths. From where we stood I could see the boathouse and most of the pier. There was no one about. The coastline was dotted with craggy rocks, and the water looked sufficiently deep to be daunting. 'I wonder if that boy Meto is a swimmer? He probably grew up here on the Cup; aren't all the local boys divers and swimmers, even the slaves? If we can find him quickly, perhaps we can explore the boathouse and its environs before time for the midday meal.' We found him on the upper floor. When he saw us he smiled and came running.

I began to speak, but he seized my hand and tugged at it. 'You must go back to your room,' he whispered. I tried to make him explain, but he only shook his head and repeated himself. Eco and I followed while he ran ahead.

The room was flooded with sunlight. No one had come to tidy our beds yet, but I sensed that someone had been in the room. I looked sidelong at Meto, who peeked back at me from behind the door. I pulled back the coverlet on my bed.

The ugly little figurine was gone. In its place was a piece of parchment with a message in red letters:

CONSULT THE SIBYL AT CUMAE GO QUICKLY

'Well, Eco, this changes our plans. No swimming this morning. Someone has arranged for us to receive a message directly from the gods.'

Eco looked at the scrap of parchment, then handed it back to me. He seemed not to notice, as I had, that wherever the letter 'A' occurred it was given an eccentric flourish, with the crossbar tilted sharply down to the right.

XI

When I asked Meto if he could show us the way to the Sibyl's cave, or at least to Cumae, he stepped back, shaking his head. When I pressed him, his face turned pale. 'Not me,' he whispered. 'I'm afraid of the Sibyl. But I know who could show you.' 'Yes?'

'Olympias goes to Cumae every day at about this time, to fetch things from Iaia's house and to look after the place.'

'How convenient for us,' I said. 'Does a wagon take her, or does Olympias prefer the luxury of a litter?'

'Oh, no, she rides a horse, as well as any man. She's probably in the stable now. If you hurry-'

'Come along, Eco,' I started to say, but he was already out the door ahead of me.

I half expected to find Olympias waiting for us, but she seemed genuinely surprised when I called to her from the courtyard. She was already setting out from the stable mounted on a small white horse. She had changed her long, shapeless painter's gown for a short stola that allowed her to sit astride the horse. The garment left her legs completely naked from the knees down. Eco pretended to study the horse with admiration while darting glances at the perfect curvature of the girl's tawny calves pressed against the animal's flanks.

Olympias agreed to accompany us to Cumae, but only after some hesitation. When I told her that we were seeking the Sibyl, she looked alarmed at first, then sceptical. Her confusion surprised me. I had thought she must have some part in this shadowy plan to lure me to Cumae, yet she seemed to resent the imposition. She waited while Eco and I borrowed horses from the stable keeper, and then the three of us set out together.

'The boy Meto says you make this journey every day. Isn't it a long ride there and back?'

'I know a shortcut,' she said.

We passed between the bull-headed pylons and onto the public road, then turned right, as Mummius and I had done the day before when the slave showed us where the bloody tunic had been found. We quickly passed that place and proceeded north. The hills on our left were covered with orchards of olive trees, their branches heavy with an early crop; there were no slaves to be seen. After the orchards there came a vineyard, then scattered patches of cultivated farmland, then a patch of woodland. 'The land all around the Cup is remarkable for its fertility,' I said.

'And for stranger things,' Olympias remarked.

The road began to wind downwards. Through the trees I saw ahead what had to be Lake Lucrinus, a long lagoon separated from the bay by a narrow stretch of beach. 'That's where Sergius Orata made his fortune,' I said to Eco. 'Farming oysters and selling them to the rich. If only he were here with us, I'm sure he'd want to treat you to an extensive tour and lecture.' Eco rolled his eyes and made an exaggerated shudder.

The prospect widened and ahead I was able to see the course of the road as it followed the strand between the lake and the bay and then curved away toward the east, where it passed through a series of low hills before descending again into the town of Puteoli. I saw many docks there, but as Faustus Fabius had said, few big ships.

Olympias looked over her shoulder. 'If we were to take the road all the way, we'd pass Lake Lucrinus and go halfway to Puteoli before turning back toward Cumae. But that's for wagons and litters and others who need a paved road. This is the way I go.' She turned off the road onto a narrow path that cut through low bushes. We passed through a stand of trees onto a bald ridge, following a narrow track that looked like a goat path. There were rolling hills on our left, but on our right, towards Lake Lucrinus, the land fell steeply away. Far below us, on the broad, low plain surrounding the lake, the private army of Crassus was encamped.

Tents had been pitched all about the shore. Little plumes of smoke rose from cooking fires. Mounted horsemen cantered on the plain, throwing up clouds of dust. Soldiers drilled in marching formation, or practised swordplay in groups of two. The sound of swords banging shields echoed up from the valley, along with a deep bellowing voice that was too indistinct to understand but impossible not to recognize. Marcus Mummius was shouting instructions at a group of soldiers who stood in rigid formation. Nearby, before the largest of the tents, stood Faustus Fabius, recognizable from his mane of red hair; he was leaning over and speaking to Crassus, who sat in a backless folding chair. He was dressed in full military regalia, his silver accoutrements glinting in the sun, his great red cape as vivid as a drop of blood on the dusty landscape.