"She understood too, in the end."

"Did she? I can hear her now: `Papa, what can you be thinking, taking Davus with you? Didn't you just trek all the way to Brundisium and back to fetch him from Pompey's clutches? Now you want to go off to yet another battlefield and put him back in harm's way.' She had a point."

"Father-in-law, you couldn't possibly have traveled here alone. A man your age-"

"And you made Diana see that. Congratulations, Davus-you wield more influence over my daughter than I ever did! But before we left, she made me promise that I wouldn't put you in danger if I could possibly avoid it."

"So… you're saying that this tunnel business is dangerous."

"Of course it is! Men were never meant to burrow through the ground like rabbits, any more than they were meant to fly, or breathe underwater. And people tend not to like it when an army appears out of a hole in the ground."

"You could be killed, father-in-law."

I ran my fingertip over another blade and gasped when it cut me. I sucked at the thin trickle of bright red blood. "It's possible."

"Then I'm coming with you."

I shook my head. "No, Davus-"

"It was agreed that I would come along to protect you. You haven't had much need for protection until now."

"No, Davus. I promised your wife that I'd bring you home alive."

"And I promised your wife the same thing!"

We stared at each other blankly, then both laughed. "Then I suppose it's a question of which of them we're more afraid of," I said. After a heartbeat, we spoke in unison: "Bethesda!"

I sighed. "Very well, Davus. I think I saw a mail shirt over there that might be big enough to fit you."

Our outfits were convincing enough to fool the grub master, at least. Granted, the man hardly looked at us as we passed by, bowls extended for a helping of millet porridge. He did notice our relative sizes; Davus received a portion twice the size of mine.

We ate hastily, then set out. The camp, so quiet and still in the hour before dawn, was now bustling with excitement. Messengers ran to and fro, officers shouted, bright-eyed soldiers whispered to each other as they formed ranks. Everyone seemed to sense that this was a special day.

We descended the hill, keeping the city wall and the contravallation to our right. Ahead and below, hidden from the watchers on the city walls, I spotted a curving fold in the hillside shaded by oak trees, just as Vitruvius had described it. The little hollow was already densely packed with men, their helmets visible through the leaves as we descended.

A well-worn path led down into the hollow. Men stepped aside, jostling each other to make room for us. A glance at their equipment showed that I had not been far off the mark in choosing our own gear. We were inconspicuous, in that regard at least.

The men talked in low voices. Behind me I heard someone say, "How old is that one? You don't see many graybeards on special missions."

Another soldier shushed him. "What are you thinking, courting hubris on this of all days? Or don't you care to live long enough to have your own gray beard?"

"I didn't mean it as an insult," said the first soldier.

"Then keep your mouth shut. If a fellow can live that long fighting in Caesar's army, he must have the gods on his side." The first soldier grunted. "What about the big one with him? I don't remember ever seeing him at training drills. I thought the call for this mission was strictly for short fellows like us. That big ox is liable to stop up the tunnel like a cork in a bottle!"

"Shut up! Here comes the man himself. This is it!"

Flanked by officers, Trebonius appeared on the hillside above us. He was dressed in full regalia, wearing a crested helmet and a sculpted chest plate that caught flashes of morning sunlight through the shimmering oak canopy. I tugged at Davus's elbow. "Lower your face. And hunker down, as best you can."

Trebonius pitched his orator's voice just loud enough to fill the hollow. "Soldiers! The auspices are favorable. The augurs have declared this a good day for battle-more than good, a propitious day for Caesar and Caesar's men. Today, if the gods see fit, the gates of Massilia will be opened, thanks to your efforts. You will greatly please Caesar, and Caesar will duly reward you. But let me repeat what I have said from the beginning of this siege: When Massilia falls, Caesar, and Caesar only, shall decide her fate. There will be no looting, no rape, no arson. You all understand this, I know. Remember your training. Follow the orders of your mission commander. Now the operation begins. No cheering! Silence! Save your voices for later, when you can let out a victory cry from the walls of Massilia."

Trebonius saluted us. As a body, we saluted back.

"Fall in!" an officer shouted. Around us, everyone began to move, but toward what I couldn't tell. Davus stayed close beside me, hunkering down. We followed the flow like grains of sand in an hourglass: The hollow became noticeably less crowded. Men were disappearing as if the earth itself had swallowed them. There seemed to be no precise order; each man simply moved into the queue as quickly and efficiently as he could. I shuffled forward.

Suddenly, the mouth of the tunnel was before me. Stout timbers outlined a black hole in the hillside. For an instant I froze. What sort of madness had brought me to such a moment? But there was no backing out. Trebonius was watching. Davus jostled me from behind.

"Take it!" said the same voice that had ordered us to fall in. I held out my hand and a lighted taper was pressed into it. "Remember your training," said the officer. "Don't let it go out!"

I moved forward, lowering my head and holding the taper as steadily as I could; my hand shook. I entered the mouth of the tunnel. Behind me I heard a clank and a grunt-the noise of Davus's helmet striking the lintel.

We proceeded at a steady pace. The tunnel was level at first, then began gradually to descend. A framework of timbers supported the walls and the roof. In most places the tunnel was barely wide enough for two men to pass each other. At a few points, where it threaded a course between two rock faces, it constricted even more. The roof was never quite high enough for me to stand fully upright. I had to walk slightly stooped. Poor Davus practically had to bend himself in two.

The tunnel stopped descending and became level again. The pace slackened. Occasionally we came to an abrupt standstill. Men bumped into each other. Tapers were dropped or blown out, then quickly relit from another. Without them the darkness would have been absolute.

We stopped, then shuffled forward; stopped again, then shuffled forward. The atmosphere was humid and stale. Smoke from the tapers burned my eyes. A cold clamminess settled over me. I breathed dank air into my lungs.

The tunnel began almost imperceptibly to ascend. We came to another standstill. Time passed. No one spoke.

At last, in the absence of orders or movement, some of the men began to whisper. The sound was like hissing heard though a trumpet. Occasionally, from the vaguely lit stretches before me or behind, I heard grim laughter. What sort of gruesome banter were the men passing back and forth? Meto's sense of humor had changed much in the years since he became a soldier; it had grown more vulgar and cruel, more mocking of god and man alike. Laughing in the face of Mars, he called it; whistling past Hades. Sometimes, Meto said, with certain death looming ahead-his own death or his enemy's-a man had no choice but to scream or laugh. What would happen if a single man in the tunnel began to scream and panic? I thought about that and was thankful for the release of an occasional burst of harsh laughter.

A chain of whispers came from the head of the line. The young soldier in front of me turned and said, "This is where we wait while the sappers dig out the last bit of earth. Pass it on." I relayed the message to Davus. When I turned back, the young soldier ahead was still looking at me. His voice had been familiar; I suddenly realized that he was the one who had been talking about me behind my back out in the hollow. By the flickering light of his taper, he looked hardly older than a child.