"That's the problem, I fear! You see, Laberius, I left the triumph and wandered in this direction in search of escape. I thought that's what I was in for, when I paused to listen to you in the theater. Instead, what did I hear? Topical satire about the state of Rome, veiled references to the dictator-the very things from which I was fleeing! No, thank you, playwright. If there's no escape from the dictator anywhere in Rome, not even in the theater, then I might as well spend the day with my loved ones. Which reminds me, my wife will be desperately worried by now. Hercules protect me-I must face the wrath of Bethesda! Now there's a subject for a play."

With a final glance at Pompey, who gazed over our heads with a placid smile, I took my leave of Decimus Laberius.

XVII

When I returned to my seat at the triumph, Caesar had already passed, without incident. The legionaries who had served him in Asia were marching by.

I was a bit taken aback by Bethesda's reaction. She seemed hardly to have noticed my absence. Perversely, perhaps, I felt obliged to point out that I had been gone a rather long time.

"Have you?" she said. "When there's so much to watch, the time simply flies. You missed the Cappadocian acrobats. I swear, those boys and girls must have wings, to fly through the air like that!"

"And the Bithynian archers-they were impressive!" offered Davus.

"Archers?" I said.

"They shot hundreds of arrows high into the air," explained Bethesda, "from which multicolored pennants unfurled. The arrows fluttered down, as harmless as a rain of rose petals. It was really quite spectacular."

"You know, I could have been in danger," I said.

"Danger? When all Rome is watching a triumph? How?"

"I don't know. Someone might have tried to stab me in the public latrine. That happened once before-"

"Oh, that was a long time ago!" said Bethesda.

"Which doesn't mean it couldn't happen again. So, it never occurred to you to send Rupa or Davus to look for me?"

She shrugged. "I assumed you ran into someone and were chatting away. I should hate to interrupt when you're busy catching up on gossip with some lowlife from the Subura or some wharf rat from the docks-"

"Excuse me, Wife, but most of my chatting these days is done with people considerably higher up the social scale than that. I talk to senators and magistrates, and relatives of the dictator, and famous playwrights-"

"Yes, yes," she said. "Now shush. The soldiers have broken into one of those chants they love so much. By Bona Dea, it's not about Caesar and King Nicomedes again, is it? I suppose those archers from Bithynia reminded them…"

If this was material for a play, it was decidedly a comedy, and at my expense. I sat though the remainder of the triumph in glum silence.

The feasting that followed the triumph left me torpid and drowsy. I meant to read more of Hieronymus's reports when I returned home, looking especially for anything to do with the playwrights Laberius and Syrus, but I could hardly stay awake long enough to tumble into bed. I slept like a stone. Bethesda complained of my snoring the next morning.

During breakfast, I received another message from Calpurnia.

Come at once! I am desperately fearful! My wise counselor assures me the danger increases as the time grows shorter. Have you discovered nothing? Rub the words from this wax as soon as you have read them and report to me in person.

Now there, I thought, is a woman who knows how to fret over her husband. Taking Rupa with me, I went to her house at once.

Porsenna the haruspex was with her, looking as self-important as ever. Uncle Gnaeus sat with his arms crossed, shaking his head from time to time to express his opinion that all this fuss was for no good reason. Calpurnia was in a highly agitated state.

"You realize there is only one more triumph remaining?" she said.

"Yes, tomorrow's African Triumph," I said, "ostensibly to celebrate the defeat and death of King Juba but also to mark Caesar's triumph over his Roman opponents who fled to Africa after the battle of Pharsalus. No Roman has ever before celebrated a triumph for killing other Romans-"

"Which makes this occasion all the more dangerous for Caesar," said Calpurnia. "How his enemies would love to pull him down even as he reaches the pinnacle of his glory!"

"Is that what your haruspex tells you?"

"Porsenna's warnings are dire. But it's also common sense."

"Then surely your husband will take every precaution. No man has more common sense than Caesar. Why, only yesterday, someone was telling me what a good judge of character Caesar must be-"

"Enough prattling!" said Calpurnia. "Have you discovered anything that might be useful? Anything at all?"

I sighed. "I'm no closer to being able to tell you who killed Hieronymus, and why. As I told you from the outset, that is my real purpose for pursuing this matter."

"When will you know something?"

"It's impossible to say. And yet…"

All three of them leaned toward me.

"Go on!" said Porsenna.

"Over the years, I seem to have developed a certain instinct. As others can smell rain before it comes, so I can smell the truth approaching."

"And?"

"My nose has begun to twitch."

"What is that supposed to mean?" snapped Uncle Gnaeus.

"I sense that I'm drawing closer to the truth, though I don't yet have an inkling of what that truth is or where or how the revelation will come. It's like the first whiff of a scent. You know you recognize it, even though you can't put a name to it. At least, not yet… but soon…"

"You sound as mystical as Porsenna!" said Calpurnia. "I thought you relied on logic and deduction, like a Greek philosopher."

"I do. But sometimes I seem to skip a step or two in the chain of reasoning. I arrive at the truth by a kind of shortcut. Does it matter how I get there?"

"It matters when you get there," she said. "In time to save Caesar!"

I took a deep breath. "I'll do what I can."

I returned home. Once again I set to studying Hieronymus's reports and his personal journal. Though the hour was early, the day was already hot. No breeze stirred the baking heat of the garden.

I found nothing new to pique my interest, but I did come across a passage I had not read before, concerning the doorkeeper at Hieronymus's building, the slave called Agapios. In passing, Hieronymus noted, "What a flirt the boy is! Today he actually winked at me. To be sure, Cytheris served wine of Chios last night, and that vintage is said to restore the allure of the drinker's lost youth."

"Hieronymus, Hieronymus!" I muttered. "What a vain old fellow you were, and how easily you were flattered." In fact, I felt a bit put out by the passage. Agapios had flirted with me as well, but obviously the young man did so promiscuously and without the least sincerity. Some slaves acquire a habit of flirting with their superiors; they ingratiate themselves by reflex.

Diana brought me a cup of water. She surveyed the scrolls and scattered bits of parchment all around me. She seemed to hesitate, then spoke.

"Papa, do you think you've given sufficient weight to the note Hieronymus left for whomever might find his private writings? I mean the part where he says, 'Look all around! The truth is not found in the words-' "

"Daughter! Have you been looking through these documents behind my back?"

"You never forbade me to read them, Papa."

"But I never asked you to do so." I scowled at her. The heat was making me irritable.

"Hieronymus was my friend, too," she said quietly.

"Yes. Of course he was." I sipped the water.

"I want to know what happened to him, just as you do," she added. "And since you think it unseemly that I should go about asking questions of strangers, as you do, what else can I do but read his reports and try to imagine which of those people wanted to kill him?"