Clodia made no reply. She continued to watch Davus eat, but the enjoyment I had seen on her face drained away, replaced by another emotion I could not decipher.

XV

They met under a rose.

I looked from face to face, hardly believing what I saw: the two most dangerous men in Italy, their whereabouts and intentions the subject of every conversation, in a bare room in a shabby tenement in the heart of Rome. Bare, that is, except for the two chairs in which they had been sitting, a cupboard against one wall, and the room's single ornament, a pocket vase made of terracotta hung on the wall above their heads, and in that vase a single blood-red rose.

They were meeting sub rosa, invoking the ancient custom that all who meet under the rose are bound to silence. Following my gaze, Marcus Caelius glanced up at the rose.

"Milo's idea," he said. "He takes that sort of thing very seriously, you know-signs, portents, vows, omens. Thus, a rose to ensure discretion-as if either one of us could possibly benefit by betraying the other. Of course, it obliges you to keep silent as well, Gordianus. What's the matter? You look as if you'd seen Medusa. Come in! I'm afraid we have only the two chairs, so I suppose we should all remain standing."

I let the curtain fall behind me and stepped into the room, overwhelmed by the strangeness of the moment. What were they doing here in the Subura? More to the point, what were they doing in the room directly above Cassandra's, and on a day when Cassandra knew I would be coming?

They were dressed to suit the room and the neighborhood, in shabby tunics and worn shoes. Milo's hair was longer than I had ever seen it, pushed back from his face in a shaggy mane, and his beard was untrimmed. Caelius had a smudge of dirt on his cheek, like some common laborer. It was not the first time I had seen them in disguise. During one of the bloody riots following the murder of Clodius, Milo and Caelius had escaped together from an angry mob by taking off their togas and their citizenship rings and passing as slaves. On this occasion Caelius was wearing his ring, but Milo's finger was bare. He had been stripped of his citizenship and the right to wear a citizen's ring when he was exiled from Rome.

"Are these the disguises you use to go about Rome incognito?" I asked. "You pose as the poor master, Caelius? And you pose as his slave, Milo?"

Caelius smiled. "I told you he was clever, Milo. There's not much the Finder misses."

Milo grunted and peered at me with barely concealed hostility. He was no longer fat and dissipated, as when I had last seen him in Massilia, enduring his exile in a drunken stupor. The danger and difficulty of his escape and his return to Rome were written on his weathered features. His stocky wrestler's physique was back in fighting trim. There was a hard, desperate glint in his eyes.

"You said the Finder would be glad to see us, Caelius," said Milo. "He doesn't look glad to me. He looks rather distressed."

"Only because we've taken him by surprise," said Caelius. "But how else could we approach you, Gordianus? We could hardly have come calling at your house, could we? That would have put your dear family in danger. As it is, you've taken us a bit by surprise. We were thinking we would send someone down to fetch you in a bit, after your nap. But here you are of your own accord."

"I heard the two of you talking," I said. "I recognized Milo's voice."

"Ha! And he was the one telling me to keep quiet," said Caelius. "But that's our Milo. He's never known his own strength, whether cracking two heads together or shouting at me to keep my voice down."

I shook my head. "I don't understand. What are you doing here?"

Caelius raised an eyebrow. "Plotting a revolution, of course."

"No, I mean-here, in Rome. Everyone thinks you're long gone."

"So I was. So I shall be again. I come and go like a puff of smoke! But just now I happen to be back in Rome. Plotting a revolution is complicated business, Gordianus. Tedious, as well-and you know I've never liked hard work. You wouldn't believe the logistics it entails. I have to be everywhere at once, encouraging my partisans, whispering comfort in the ears of the doubtful, holding the hands of the fearful, pressing coins in the palms of the greedy. And not least, approaching old friends and acquaintances to ask for their support." He fixed me with a penetrating gaze.

"And you, Milo?" I said. "I can't believe you've dared to set foot in Rome. Caesar showed mercy when he let you keep your head and stay in Massilia. He'll never forgive this. Does your wife know you're here?"

"Leave Fausta out of this!" snapped Milo.

I shook my head. "You're both mad, meeting like this in the Subura. You're bound to be recognized or overheard. If Isauricus and Trebonius find you-"

"They won't," said Caelius. "They haven't so far. I come and go as I please in the city. I have many, many supporters, Gordianus. More than you realize, I imagine."

"Enough to stage a successful uprising, here and now?"

His smile wavered. "Not quite. The tender shoots still require cultivation. Milo and I have determined that our best course is to raise an armed force in the countryside in order to take the city by force."

"Raise an army? How? From where? Every available fighting man is already enlisted to serve either Caesar or Pompey."

"But not all those men are happy. There are soldiers garrisoned all over Italy who were forced into Caesar's service. They're bored and discontented and ripe for sedition. They're jealous of their comrades who crossed the water with Caesar and Antony, because those are the soldiers who'll share in the spoils of victory, not the ones left behind; all they get to do is bully a few cowering townspeople and plant babies in the local girls."

"But you'll promise them something better? An attack on Rome itself-complete with plunder for the victors? Will you let them sack the city, Caelius? Is this your revenge on Rome, Milo?"

Caelius shook his head. "There'll be plenty of plunder to reward the soldiers, but it won't be taken from ordinary citizens like you, Gordianus. It will come from the greedy landlords and moneylenders who've made themselves rich as Croesus in the last year. The wealth they've stolen and hoarded will be reclaimed and redistributed, beginning with the soldiers loyal to the revolution."

"Loyal to you, you mean."

Caelius shrugged. "Someone has to lead the fight."

"You're deluding yourself, Caelius. If you take Rome by force, you won't be able to control what happens next. You say you'll only plunder the landlords and moneylenders, but you can't guarantee that. Even Caesar's men have slipped out of his control from time to time over the years, looting and burning when he gave them express orders not to-and you're not Caesar, Caelius."

"Rome is sick, Gordianus. She requires a drastic cure."

"Even if it kills her?"

"Perhaps, to be reborn, Rome first must die. A better city will rise from the ashes, like the phoenix."

I shook my head. "This whole argument proceeds from a fallacy. You're presuming you can subvert enough of Caesar's garrisons to storm the city. I simply don't believe it. A few soldiers are that unhappy, perhaps-but the rest will remain loyal to Caesar. They'll band together and destroy you before you ever reach Rome."

"You underestimate the discontent throughout Italy, Gordianus. I've seen it. Antony did Caesar no favors when he crisscrossed Italy before leaving for Greece. He alienated one city after another with his arrogant blustering-traveling like an Eastern potentate with a retinue of sycophants, lounging in his gilded litter with that whore of his, Cytheris. The soldiers liked what they saw no better than the city fathers. To Caesar they might have remained loyal, but not if he intends to leave the likes of Antony in charge when he's absent."