If Domitius had his way, would the deciding battle take place at Corfinium, with Caesar's legions confronting the combined loyalist forces? Or would Corfinium be abandoned in a loyalist retreat? If that happened, it was easy, looking at a map, to imagine Caesar's troops forcing Pompey relentlessly southward into the heel of the Italian boot, toward the seaport of Brundisium. Some rumors claimed that Pompey was already assembling a navy at Brundisium, and had all along intended to flee across the Adriatic Sea to Dyrrhachium rather than engage Caesar.

Hearing such tactical questions discussed by citizens standing in line for pots of rancid olives and loaves of stale bread was a strange experience. It was common enough to hear men in the Forum speculate about battles and troop movements in faraway provinces- but never on Italian soil, and with the fate of Rome in the balance.

The sky began to drizzle. I had had enough of the Forum.

I made my way back to the Ramp, with Mopsus and Androcles running circles around me. Halfway up, beneath the branches of a towering yew that blocked the drizzle, I happened to look ahead. My heart skipped a beat.

Had I lost my sense? Or was the same uncanny experience happening again? Up ahead, I thought I saw a familiar figure, except that this time the man in the green tunic was pulling on his cloak, not shrugging it off.

"Boys!" I said, calling them in from their orbit. "Do you see that fellow up ahead, walking alone?"

Mopsus and Androcles nodded in unison.

"I want you to follow him. Not too close! I don't want him to know. Do you think you can do that?"

"I can, Master," said Mopsus, hooking his thumb to his chest.

"And so can I," insisted Androcles.

"Good. When he arrives at his destination, one of you find a hiding place to keep watch while the other runs back to tell me. Now go!"

Off they went. When they drew close to the man in the dark cloak, one broke to the left, the other to the right, like jackals hunting in tandem. One by one, all three reached the upper end of the Ramp and disappeared. I resisted the urge to quicken my stride. I whistled a comic Egyptian tune, one that Bethesda used to sing to herself back in the days when she was my slave instead of my wife and had no slaves of her own to do the household chores. Happy days, I thought. Those were the days when I first met Tiro.

I came to the top of the Ramp. The stump of the fallen yew was out of the drizzle, so I sat there to wait. If I was correct, the man in the dark cloak would not be going far, and it would not be long before one of the boys came running back with news.

I waited. And waited some more. At last I began to wonder if I had been wrong after all, and had sent the boys on a fool's errand. The drizzle stopped. I got up from the stump and walked in the direction of Cicero's house. It occurred to me that if the man was not who I thought he was, I might have put the boys in danger. The crisis had frayed everyone's nerves. Even a respectable citizen might react unpredictably if he discovered he was being followed by two unknown slave boys.

I followed the rim road to Cicero's house and stopped in the deserted street. There was no one to be seen. I had been wrong, after all, I thought- and then heard a hissing from the opposite side of the street, where the cedars and cypress trees had been thinned to allow a view of the Capitoline Hill.

"Master! Over here!"

I peered into the underbrush of shaggy bushes dotted with tiny red berries. "I can't see you."

"Of course not. You said to hide." It was Mopsus.

"He said for me to hide." That was Androcles.

"No, I was to hide, and you were to run back and tell him."

"No, you were to run back, while I stayed to watch."

"Boys," I interrupted, "you can both come out now."

One head emerged, then another. Both had bits of twigs and red berries stuck in their unruly hair. "Isn't that right, Master?" said Mopsus. "I was to stay and watch, and Androcles was to run back and tell you."

I sighed. "Meto says that one mark of a great general is that he never gives an unambiguous order. Clearly, I'm no Caesar. And you two are as bad as Domitius Ahenobarbus and Pompey Magnus, squabbling like that instead of doing what needs doing."

"Did you hear that?" said Mopsus to Androcles, emerging into the street and swaggering a bit. "He compared you to Redbeard, and me to the Great One!"

"He did not. I'm Pompey and you're Domitius!"

"Boys, enough! Tell me where the fellow went and what you saw."

"We followed him here, to Cicero's house," said Androcles, eager to deliver the news ahead of his older brother.

"And he went in the door?"

"Not exactly…"

"They let down a ladder from the roof. He climbed up. Then they drew back the ladder," explained Mopsus.

I nodded. "Thank you, boys. You both did a good job. Better than Pompey and Domitius seem to be doing, anyway. Now you can both run along home."

"And leave you alone, Master?" said Mopsus, alarmed. "But isn't the fellow terribly dangerous? A thief or a murderer?"

"I don't think so." I smiled at the thought of mild, bookish Tiro as an assassin.

Once the boys were off, I banged on the door. There was no answer. I stepped back and surveyed the roof, but saw no signs of life. I banged on the door again. At last, the peephole opened and a brown eye peered out.

"No one's home," said a gruff male voice.

"You are," I said.

"I don't count. The Master's gone. The house is closed."

"Even so, I have business with someone inside."

The eye disappeared, then reappeared some moments later.

"Who-?"

"My name is Gordianus. Cicero knows me. I saw him the night before he left Rome."

"We know who you are. Who is it you want to see?"

"The man who arrived ahead of me. The one you let up by ladder."

"No such person."

"He wasn't a phantom."

"Maybe he was."

"No more games! Tell Tiro I need to see him."

"Tiro? The Master's secretary is away in Greece. Too sick to travel-"

"Nonsense. I know he's here. Tell him that Gordianus needs to see him."

The eye disappeared and was gone for a long time. I stood on tiptoes and tried to peer inside through the peephole, but could see only shadows. Something moved among the shadows. I drew back. The eye reappeared.

"No, there's no Tiro here. No one by that name."

I banged on the door. The brown eye gave a startled blink and drew back. "Tiro!" I shouted. "Let me see you! Or shall I stand here in the street, shouting your name until every wretched soul left in Rome knows that you're back? Tiro! Tiro!"

A hissing issued from the peephole. "All right, all right! Stop shouting."

"Very well, then, open the door."

"Can't."

"What? Tiro!"

"Shhhh! Can't open the door."

"Why not?"

"It's barricaded shut."

"Barricaded?"

"Boards nailed across the door, and sandbags piled behind the boards. I have to crawl through a tunnel just to get to this peephole! Step back into the street."

I backed up to the middle of the street and looked up. A few moments later two men appeared on the roof. I recognized them as the two guards who had been posted at Cicero's door the night I last saw him. Together they lowered a long wooden ladder to the street.

"Don't tell me Cicero's wife and his pregnant daughter go up and down this thing every time they leave the house!" I eyed the spindly steps and felt the brittleness in my bones.

"Of course not," said the older one. It was he who had been addressing me from behind the door. "The Mistress and Tullia left days ago. Stayed with Cicero's friend Atticus here in the city for a while, then went to join the Master down at the villa in Formiae, on the coast. There's nobody at all in the house now, except some of us slaves left behind to guard the valuables."