The guards at the front gate were something new, the old gatekeeper told me, called up in response to the chaos of the previous night. Ordinarily, the house of the First Timouchos required no more security than the house of any rich man, and probably less; what sneak-thief would dare to steal from the city's foremost citizen?

"Any other day this is the safest house in Massilia!" he insisted. "Still, we can't let in just anyone, can we? So when you come back, knock like this on the gate," he said, tapping his foot three times against the wood. "Or never mind that, just call out your name. I'll remember it-you've got a funny Roman name; never heard it before. Mind you be careful out in the streets. Things are getting strange out there. What kind of errand is so important you have to leave the safety of this house, anyway? Never mind, it's none of my business."

Davus stepped first through the open door into what appeared to be a narrow alley. Following him, I thought of something and turned back. "Gatekeeper," I said, "you must know the First Timouchos's son-in-law."

"Young Zeno? Of course. Uses this gate all the time. Always in a great rush, coming and going. Except when he's with his wife, of course. Then he slows his pace to match hers."

"He goes out with Cydimache?"

"Her physicians insist that she take long walks as often as she can. Zeno goes with her. It's a touching sight the way he hovers over her and dotes on her."

"I noticed last night that he was walking with a slight limp. Has he always been lame?"

"Oh, no. A fit young man. Very fit. Won races at the gymnasium when he was a boy."

"I see. Perhaps he was limping because of a wound he suffered in yesterday's battle."

"No, he's had that limp for a while. It's gotten much better."

"When was he injured?"

"Let me think. Ah, yes, it was the day Caesar's men tried to batter down the walls. A crazy day that was, with everybody running every which way. Zeno must have hurt himself running back and forth along the battlements."

"No doubt," I said. I stepped out to join Davus, who awaited me in the alley with a smug look on his face.

XIX

"The house of Arausio? You're close. Turn down this street to the left. After a while you'll come to a house with a blue door. Go down the little alley that runs alongside it, and when that comes to a dead end, you'll be in what they call the Street of the Seagulls, on account of the crazy old woman who used to put out fish for seagulls; some days, when I was a little girl, they were so thick in the street that you couldn't get past the nasty creatures. To your right, the street runs up a little hill. You'll find Arausio's house at the top. I always thought that house must have a wonderful view of the harbor…"

The speaker was a pale, thin, young woman, whose Greek was as heavily accented as mine, though with a Gaulish, not Latin, accent. Her fair hair was pulled back from her gaunt face, tightly bundled at the nape of her neck with a leather band, and hung in a tangle down her back, unwashed and badly in need of combing. She wore no jewelry, but bands of pale flesh around several fingers showed where she customarily wore rings. Had distress driven her to sell them, or did she fear to wear them in public? Her voice had a slightly hysterical edge. She seemed glad to have someone to talk to, even two strangers asking for directions. "Those seagulls! When I was a girl, I remember helping my mother carry food home from the market-in a basket just like the one I'm carrying today, perhaps the very same one; this basket is older than I am-and once we took that street, and it was a terrible mistake, because the gulls attacked us. Horrible creatures! They flew at me and knocked me down, stole what they wanted from my basket, and scattered the rest all over the street. Oh, my basket must have been filled with all sorts of food, olives and capers and flatbread, but of course it would have been the fish that attracted them…" I glanced at the straw basket she carried at her side. The handle was of leather, and the Gaulish design featured a spiral pattern around the rim. No seagulls would attack her today for what her basket contained. It was empty.

"Down this street to the left, did you say? Thank you." I gestured for Davus to move on. A glint of madness had entered the woman's eyes.

"There, you see, Davus? I told you it would be a simple thing to find the house of Arausio. Just a matter of asking the locals."

"Yes. You keep asking, and they keep sending us in circles."

"It's these winding streets. Very confusing. Do you suppose that's the house with the blue door?"

"That's not blue, it's green."

"Do you think so?"

"And I don't see an alley running alongside it."

"No, neither do I…"

Davus sucked in a sharp breath. He was justifiably exasperated, I thought, then I realized it was something more than that. "Maybe we should ask them for directions," he said.

"Ask whom?"

"Those two fellows following us."

I resisted the urge to look behind. "The same two we saw the other day?"

"I think so. I thought I got a glimpse of them not long after we left the First Timouchos's house. Now I've just seen them again. It can't be coincidence."

"Unless two other lost strangers are wandering the streets of Massilia in circles, looking for the house of Arausio. But who could have sent them? Who wants us followed? Surely not Apollonides. We slept last night under his roof. If he wanted to confine us, he could have locked us in a room. The fact that we're out on the streets today must mean that he's forgotten us, cares nothing about us."

"Unless he intentionally allowed us to leave his house and sent these men to see where we'd go," suggested Davus. "Why would he do that?"

"Maybe he knows what we're up to."

"But, Davus, even I'm not sure of that."

"Of course you are. We saw Apollonides's son-in-law murder an innocent young woman, and you're trying to find the proof. Things are going quite badly enough for Apollonides these days without the scandal of a murder to taint his household."

"You're assuming that Apollonides knows that Zeno killed Rindel-"

"Perhaps he confronted Zeno. Perhaps Zeno confessed the crime to him!"

"And you're assuming that Apollonides knows that I have some interest in the matter."

"You witnessed it. You reported what you saw directly to Apollonides. And if he kept watch on the scapegoat's house, he knows that you had a visit from Arausio. Why else would Rindel's father have come there, except to ask about her murder."

"If I grant that you're right on all counts, then why doesn't Apollonides simply lock me in a room? Or cut off my head and be done with me?"

"Because he wants to sec where you go, whom you talk to.

He wants to find out who else suspects the truth, so that he can deal with them as well." Davus tapped his head. "You know how such a man's mind works. Apollonides may be just a mullet compared to sharks like Pompey and Caesar, but he swims in the same sea. He's no less a politician than they are, and his mind works just like theirs. Always scheming, always putting out fires, trying to guess what happens next and who knows what, thinking up ways to turn it all to his advantage. It makes my head hurt, thinking about men like that."

I frowned. "You're saying I'm a hound who imagines he's out foraging on his own, but all the time Apollonides has me on a long leash?"

"Something like that." Davus wrinkled his brow. Too many metaphors had worn him out.

"Tell me, Davus, do you see our two followers now?" He discreetly glanced over his shoulder. "No."

"Good. Because this must be the house with the blue door, and that must be the alley that runs alongside it. If we disappear around the corner fast enough, we may give them the slip."