Who was in greater danger, Davus or Meto? To judge from the surface of things, anyone would have said Davus, I suppose. I was not so sure.

Long after his bowl of gruel was empty, Antony kept holding up his cup for more wine. Once he was properly drunk, he insisted that Vitruvius and the centurion of the night watch join him in a round of bawdy songs. Most were simply vulgar, but one was actually rather funny, about a mincingly effeminate officer who'd rather be at home trying on his wife's dresses, but who turns out to be the bravest fighter of all. So much for military humor, I thought. Men need a bit of nonsense to divert them, and wine to wash it down, after witnessing carnage such as we had seen that day.

Antony was still singing lustily when I took my leave and went to the officers' tent, where I had been allotted a space. I fell on my pallet but couldn't sleep, fretting over Meto and Davus and wondering what the next few days would bring. When I set out from Rome, I thought I had a plan. Now, worn down by the journey and faced with the realities of the situation, it seemed to me that whatever vague notion I had in mind had vanished like morning mist. I was out of my element. I felt tiny and insignificant, overwhelmed by the forces around me. Now that the critical moment was fast approaching, I did not feel as brave as I had hoped.

The flap rustled. Someone stole into the tent and moved uncertainly among the cots. I heard a whisper: "Gordianus?"

It was Tiro. I rose from my bed, wrapped my blanket around me, and ushered him outside.

"Can't you sleep, either? Isn't the baggage wagon comfortable enough?"

"Lumpy," growled Tiro. "Fortex and I take turns dozing. I'm still not convinced that Antony hasn't recognized me."

"Antony hasn't even looked at you. Nobody notices slaves, unless they're young and beautiful."

"Still, each night, I expect to be strangled in my sleep."

I thought of the wagon driver, strangled in his delirium, but said nothing.

"What happens tomorrow, Gordianus?"

"I don't know. If I'm lucky, I'll see Meto."

"And Caesar as well?"

"Perhaps."

"Take me with you."

I frowned. "I thought you came all this way to see Pompey, not Caesar."

"So I did. This is my exit from Italy, Gordianus. I intend to be on Pompey's ship when he sets sail for Dyrrhachium."

"You never told me that."

"You didn't need to know. But before I go, as long as the opportunity presents itself, I should like to have a peek inside Caesar's tent."

"So that you can assassinate him?"

"Don't joke, Gordianus. I only want to have a look. One never knows what might be useful later."

"You want me to help you spy on Caesar?"

"You owe me a favor, Gordianus. Could you have traveled all the way from Rome this quickly, without me?"

"Could you have survived the last four days without me lying for you, Tiro? I think we're even."

"Then do this for me as a favor, and I'll do a favor for you. Isn't it your intention to get into Brundisium, to retrieve your son-in-law from Pompey?"

"If I can."

"How do you plan to get inside the city walls, with Caesar's army on one side and Pompey's on the other?"

"I'm not sure," I admitted.

"I can get you inside, alive and in one piece. You'll come with me and Fortex. But in return for that favor, I want you to take me along when you see Meto- and Caesar."

I shook my head. "Impossible. Caesar is even more likely than Antony to recognize you. Caesar has dined in Cicero's house! He must have seen you many times, and not just taking shorthand in the Senate."

"Seen me, yes, but never really looked at me. You said it yourself, Gordianus: nobody notices slaves."

"Caesar notices everything. You're risking your head, Tiro."

"Perhaps not. What if he does recognize me? Caesar is eager to be known for his clemency."

"Clemency for senators and generals, Tiro, not for freedmen and spies."

"I'll take my chances. If anyone asks who I am, you'll say I'm Soscarides, Meto's old tutor."

"And what about Meto? Is he supposed to go along with the lie as well?"

"Do this for me, Gordianus! If you want to get into Brundisium before your son-in-law is dead on the ramparts or sailing off to Dyrrhachium, do me this favor."

"I'll sleep on it," I said, suddenly very weary. I yawned. When I opened my eyes, Tiro had disappeared. I returned to the tent.

Despite my worries, despite the horrors I had witnessed that day, sleep came swiftly, but not without dreams. It was not flames or drowning water, or mountain passes and forced marches I dreamed about. It was the girl Aemilia, Numerius's lover. I saw her with a baby in her arms, smiling and content. I felt a great sense of relief and stepped closer to have a look, but stumbled against something at my feet. I looked down to see the body of Numerius, which somehow was also the body of the wagon driver, a garrote twisted tight around his throat. Aemilia's baby had vanished. She shuddered and wept. The front of her gown was soaked with blood between her legs.

I woke with a start. Antony loomed above me, his eyes bloodshot.

"Dawn, Gordianus! Time for me to report to Caesar, and for you to see your son. Piss if you need to. Then round up those two slaves of yours and we're off."

• • •

Before we rode down to the main camp, Antony wanted a last look at the breakwater from the hill. There were clouds overhead, but the horizon was clear. The rising sun in our eyes and its scintillating reflection on the water made it difficult to see, but the wreckage of the flaming ship appeared to have been removed during the night. Men were busy repairing the damage to the breakwater, and construction continued. "Vitruvius is down there now," said Antony. "He told me last night that he hopes to add another raft to each end of the breakwater by the end of the day, to further close the gap. The ships that sailed in yesterday will have a harder time sailing out!"

We rode down onto the plain. Antony was attended by a small staff of officers. I was accompanied by Tiro and Fortex, for whom horses were found. The camp was like a city, probably more populous than the city being besieged and surely more orderly, with its row upon row of precisely spaced tents. Some of the soldiers stood in lines awaiting morning rations. Others, already fed and outfitted for battle, were marching off to man the trenches and earthworks and siege machines below the city walls.

I was astounded by the speed with which Caesar had been able to move such vast numbers of men and equipment. Ten days before, the plain outside Brundisium had been empty; now it was home to thirty-six thousand men, every one of whom appeared to know exactly where he should be and what he should be doing at that moment. Thirty days before, not one of these men had been within two hundred miles of Brundisium, and Domitius still held Corfinium. Sixty days before, Caesar had only just crossed the Rubicon. The scale and swiftness of the operation was awesome. I pitied the Gauls who had confronted such a force. I despaired for Pompey.

We passed a guarded checkpoint, where Antony vouched for me. As we drew closer to the center of the camp, he fell back beside me. I saw him cast a wary glance at Tiro and Fortex, as if seeing them for the first time.

"You are sure, Gordianus, that you can vouch for your two slaves?"

I barely hesitated. "Of course. Why do you ask?"

"No reason, really. It's only, ever since we crossed the Rubicon- before that, actually- there's been a rumor…"

"What sort of rumor?"

"A plot. To assassinate Caesar. Wild talk, of course."

I felt a chill up my spine. "Does Caesar take it seriously?"

"Caesar thinks he's immortal! But what man isn't made of flesh and blood?" He groaned from his hangover and massaged his temples. "It's only- you see, every time I vouch for you, I'm vouching for your slaves as well. Of course, you're above suspicion, Gordianus. That goes without saying. But the slaves who travel with you-"