It was even possible that Quintus Fabius himself had arranged to have his stepson kidnapped-a clever way to get rid of Spurius without drawing suspicion to himself. The idea was monstrous, but I had known men devious enough to concoct such a scheme. But if that were the case, why had he engaged my services? To demonstrate his conscientious concern by calling in an outsider, perhaps. To prove to Valeria and the rest of the world that he was quite serious about rescuing his kidnapped stepson. In which case, part of his plan for getting rid of Spurius would have to include the unfortunate death of the Finder sent to handle the tragically botched ransom…

The journey seemed to go on forever. The road became rockier and rougher. The wagon rattled and lurched. My extravagant fantasies of treachery and death suddenly paled beside the imminent danger of being crushed if one of the heavy trunks should be pitched onto me. By Hercules, the wagon bed was hot! By the time the wheels ground to a halt, my tunic was as soaked as if I had taken a dip in the sea.

The sail cloth was thrown back. I was chilled by a salty breeze.

I had expected that we would return to the stable where I had seen Spurius. Instead, we were on a strip of sandy beach beneath low hills somewhere outside the city. The tiny cove terminated in boulders at both ends. A small relay boat was drawn up in the shallows. A larger vessel was anchored out in the deeper water. I sprang from the wagon, glad to breathe fresh air again.

Cleon and his three companions hurriedly began to move the trunks from the wagon into the relay boat. "Damned heavy!" grunted one of them. "We'll never be able to move it all in one trip. It'll take at least two-"

"Where's the boy?" I demanded, grabbing Cleon's arm.

"Here I am."

I turned and saw Spurius approaching from a group of sheltering boulders at the end of the little beach. In the heat of the day he had stripped off his tunic and was wearing only a loin-cloth. It was all he usually wore, if he wore even that; his lean, chiseled torso and long limbs were deeply and evenly bronzed by the sun.

I looked at Cleon. His brows were drawn together as if he had pricked his finger. He stared at the boy and swallowed hard.

"It's about time!" Spurius crossed his arms and glared at me. Petulance made him even more beautiful.

"Perhaps you'd like to put on your tunic," I suggested, "and we'll be on our way. If you'll point the way to Ostia, Cleon, we'll begin walking. Unless you intend to leave us the wagon?"

Cleon stood dumbly. Spurius stepped between us and drew me aside. "Did anyone follow the wagon?" he whispered.

"I don't think so."

"Are you certain?"

"I can't be absolutely certain." I glanced at Cleon, who appeared not to be listening. The little relay boat was heading out to the larger ship with its first load, riding low in the water under the weight of the gold.

"Well, did Pater send along a troop of armed guards or not? Answer me!" Spurius spoke to me as if I were a slave.

"Young man," I said sternly, "my duty at this moment is to your mother and father-"

"My stepfather!" Spurius wrinkled his nose and spat out the word as if it were an expletive.

"My job is to see that you get home alive. Until we're safely back in Ostia, keep your mouth shut."

He was shocked into silence for a moment, then gave me a withering look. "Well, anyway," he said, raising his voice, "there's no way these fellows will release me until all the gold is loaded onto the ship. Correct, Cleon?"

"What? Oh, yes," said Cleon. The sea breeze whipped his long black hair about his face. He blinked back tears, as if the salt stung his eyes.

Spurius gripped my arm and led me farther away. "Now listen," he growled, "did that miserly pater of mine send along an armed force or not? Or did he send you alone?"

"I've already asked you to keep quiet-"

"And I'm ordering you to give me an answer. Unless you want me to make a very unsatisfactory report about you to my parents."

Why did Spurius insist on knowing? And why now? It seemed to me that my suspicions about the kidnapping were confirmed.

If there was no armed force, then Spurius might as well stay with his so-called captors, if only to stay close to the gold, or his portion of it. Perhaps his stepfather could be had for a second ransom. But if an armed force was waiting to act, then it would be best for him to be "rescued" by me now, to allow the fishermen-for surely these Neapolitan Greeks were anything but pirates-to make their escape immediately, along with the gold.

"Let's suppose there is an armed force," I said. "In that case, your friends had better get out of here at once. Let's suppose they get clean away. How will you get your share of the gold then?"

Spurius stared at me blankly, then flashed such a charming smile that I could almost understand why Cleon was so hopelessly smitten with the boy. "It's not as if I don't know where they live, down on the bay. They wouldn't dare try to cheat me. I could always denounce them and have every one of them crucified.

They'll keep my share safe for me until I'm ready to claim it."

"What sort of bargain did you strike with them? Nine-tenths of the gold for you, one-tenth for them?"

He smiled, as if caught at doing something wicked but clever. "Not quite that generous, actually."

"How did you find these 'pirates'?"

"I jumped in the bay at Neapolis and swam from boat to bat until I found the right crew. It didn't take long to realize that Cleon would do anything for me."

"Then the idea for this escapade was entirely your own?"

"Of course! Do you think a half-witted fisherman could come up with such a scheme? These fellows were born to be led. They were like fish in my net. They worship me-Cleon does, anyway-and why not?"

I scowled. "While you've been romping naked in the sun, enjoying your holiday with your admirers, your mother has been desperate with worry. Does that mean nothing to you?"

He crossed his arms and glared. "A little worry won't kill her. It's her fault, anyway. She could have made the old miser give me more money if she'd had the nerve to stand up to him. But she wouldn't, so I had to come up with my own scheme to get Pater to cough up a bit of what's rightfully mine anyway."

"And what about these fishermen? You've put them all in terrible danger."

"They know the risks. They also know how much they stand to profit."

"And Cleon?" I looked over my shoulder and caught him staring doe-eyed at Spurius. "The poor fellow is heartsick. What did you do to make him that way?"

"Nothing to embarrass Pater, if that's what you're getting at. Nothing that Pater hasn't done himself, with the prettier boy slaves, from time to time. I know my place, and what's proper for a man of my station; we take pleasure, we don't give it. Not like

Caesar, playing boy-wife to Nicomedes! Venus played a joke on poor Cleon, making him fall in love with me. It suited my purposes well enough, but I shall be glad to be rid of him. All that attention is cloying. I'd rather be waited on by a slave instead of pursued by a suitor; you can get rid of a slave just by clapping your hands."

"Cleon could be hurt before this is over. He might even be killed if something goes wrong."

Spurius raised his eyebrows and looked beyond me at the low hills. "Then there is an armed guard…"

"It was a stupid scheme, Spurius. Did you really think it would work?"

"It will work!"

"No. Unfortunately for you, young man, I have a vested interest not only in rescuing you, but in recovering the ransom as well. A portion of that gold will be mine."

Challenging him outright was a mistake. He might have offered to buy my silence, but Spurius was even more miserly than his stepfather. He waved to Cleon, who came running. "Is all the gold loaded?"