"Is that… a woman, do you think?" whispered Hieronymus. He meant the upper figure, who wore a dark, voluminous, hooded cloak that flapped in the wind to reveal what had to be a woman's gown beneath. Her movements were halting and uncertain, as if she were weak or confused. Her hesitation allowed the lower figure to continue closing the gap between them. Her pursuer was certainly a man, for he was dressed in armor, though without a helmet. His dark hair was cut short and his limbs looked dark against the white stone and the pale blue of his billowing cape.

Beside me, Davus stirred and opened his eyes. "What…?"

"He's chasing her," I whispered.

"No, he's trying to stop her," Hieronymus said.

The twilight played tricks on my eyes. The harder I stared at the distant drama on the rock, the more difficult it was to discern the crabbed movements of the two figures. It was almost easier to watch their progress from the corner of my eye.

Davus leaned forward, suddenly alert. "That looks dangerous," he offered.

The woman paused and turned her head to look behind her. The man was very close, almost near enough to grasp her foot. "Did you hear that?" whispered Hieronymus.

"Hear what?" I said.

"She shrieked," agreed Davus.

"That might have been a seagull," I objected.

The woman put on a burst of speed. She gained the summit of the rock. Her cloak blew wildly about her. The man lost his footing and scrambled on the rock face, then recovered and scurried up after her. For an instant they merged into a single figure; then the woman vanished, and only the man remained, his figure outlined against the leaden sea beyond.

Davus gasped. "Did you see that? He pushed her!"

"No!" said Hieronymus. "He was trying to stop her. She jumped!"

The distant figure knelt and looked over the precipice for a long moment, his pale blue cape thrashing in the wind. Then he turned about and climbed down the rock face, not straight down the way he had come but angling toward the nearest connecting section of the city wall. As soon as he was close enough he leaped from the rock onto the battlement platform. He stumbled when he landed and apparently hurt himself. He broke into a run, limping slightly and favoring his left leg. There was no one else on the platform, the Massilians having earlier moved all their men to the other side of the city to deal with the assault from Trebonius's battering-ram.

The limping runner reached the nearest bastion tower and disappeared into the stairwell. The base of the tower was hidden from view. There was nothing more to see.

"Great Artemis! What do you make of that?" asked Hieronymus.

"He pushed her," Davus insisted. "I saw him do it. Father-in-law, you know how keen my eyes are. She tried to cling to him. He pushed her away, over the edge."

"You don't know what you're talking about," said Hieronymus. "You were asleep when I explained to Gordianus. That's the Sacrifice Rock, also called the Suicide Rock. He didn't chase her up the face of it. She went there to kill herself, and he tried to stop her. And he very nearly did-but not quite!" The hard lines around his mouth suddenly loosened. He covered his face. "Father!" he moaned. "Mother!"

Davus looked at me with a puzzled frown. How could I explain the scapegoat's misery?

I was saved from the attempt by the arrival of a breathless slave, a young Gaul with a red face and unruly straw-colored hair. "Master!" he cried to Hieronymus. "Men downstairs! The First Timouchos himself, and the Roman proconsul! They demand to see… your visitors." The slave cast a wary glance at Davus and me.

That was all the warning we had. The next moment, with a great tramping of feet, soldiers emerged from the stairway onto the rooftop terrace, their drawn swords gleaming dully in the gloaming.

VIII

Davus reacted at once. He jumped up from his chair, pulled me to my feet, pushed me to the far side of the terrace, then took a stance before me. He had no weapon, so he raised his fists. Back in his slave days, he had been trained to be a bodyguard. His trainers had done a good job.

"Look behind you, father-in-law," he whispered. "Is there any way to jump from the roof?"

I looked over the short railing of the terrace. In the courtyard. below I saw more soldiers with drawn swords.

"Not an option," I said. I laid a hand on his shoulder. "Step back, Davus. And drop that boxer's stance. You'll only antagonize them. We're the intruders here. We must trust to their mercy.

I took a deep breath. Hieronymus had given me plenty to drink, but nothing to eat. I was light-headed.

The soldiers made no move to attack us. They fell into a line, swords drawn but lowered, and simply stared at us. Hieronymus flew into a frenzy.

"What are you doing here? This is the sacred residence of the scapegoat! You can't bring arms here. You can't enter at all without permission from the priests of Artemis!"

"How dare you invoke the goddess, you impious dog!" The booming voice came from the man who had evidently dispatched the soldiers up the stairs and who now followed behind them. His armor was magnificent, as bright as a newly minted coin. A pale blue cape trailed behind. The horsehair crest on the helmet carried under his arm was likewise died pale blue. The color matched his eyes. They seemed too small, as did his thin nose and narrow mouth, for such a broad forehead and an even broader jaw. His long, silver hair was swept back like a mane.

"Apollonides!" said Hieronymus, uttering the name like a curse. Through gritted teeth, to me, he added, "The First Timouchos." Another man followed Apollonides, wearing the armor of a Roman commander. A copper disk on his breastplate was embossed with a lion's head. I recognized him at once; but then, I knew he was in Massilia and was not surprised to see him. Would he recognize me? We had met only briefly, and months ago.

"By all the gods!" Lucius Domitius Ahenobarbus put his hands on his hips and stared at me. "I don't believe it. Gordianus the Finder! And who is this big fellow?"

"My son-in-law, Davus."

Domitius nodded, pulling thoughtfully at the red beard across his chin. "When did I last see you? Don't tell me-at Cicero's house in Formiae. The month was Martius. You were on your way to Brundisium. I was on my way here. Ha! When the old men who hang about the market square told Apollonides that two Romans had dragged themselves out of the inner moat, he wanted to be sure they weren't a couple of my men gone astray before he cut off their heads. A good thing I came along to identify you! Who'd have thought…?"

His brow darkened. I could read the change as clearly as if he'd spoken his thoughts aloud. He had finally remembered not just my name and my association with Cicero; he now recalled that I was Meto's father. If Meto had come to Massilia, secretly loyal to Caesar but seeking a position with Caesar's enemies, it was to Domitius that he would have offered his services. Had they met? What had passed between them? What did Domitius know of Meto's whereabouts? Why was his expression suddenly so dark?

"Who is this fellow?" demanded Apollonides impatiently. Clearly, from the way they conversed, he and Domitius considered each other to be of equal rank-one, supreme commander of the Massilian forces; the other, commander of the Roman troops in Massilia loyal to Pompey and the Roman Senate.

"His name is Gordianus, called the Finder. A Roman citizen. We've met before, once, briefly." Domitius squinted and studied me as he might a map turned upside-down.

"Loyal to Caesar or to Pompey?" Apollonides looked at me more as if I were a strange animal; tame or feral?

"That's a very good question," said Domitius. "And how did he come to be in the city?"