like Catilina in his agitation, I had raised myself halfway out of the water. I sighed and settled back into the soothing warmth.

‘You're very protective of the boy, as well you should be,' said Catilina. "These are dangerous times, full of peril. I'm a father, too. I worry constantly about the future of my wife and her daughter. Sometimes I think it would be better to follow your example and withdraw from the world entirely, or as much as a man can. To live in simple obscurity, like Cincinnatus. You know the old story — when the Republic was imperilled, the people called on the farmer Cincinnatus, who laid down his plough, assumed the dictatorship, and saved them all.'

'And when the peril was over, he laid down his dictatorship and went back to his plough.'

'Yes, but the point is that he acted when the occasion called for it. For a man to turn his back on the world entirely is to relinquish his opportunity to shape the world's future. Who can give up that chance, even if his efforts end in failure?'

'Or in utter disaster?'

'No, Gordianus, when I contemplate the world my descendants will live in, I cannot become a hermit, apathetic and ineffectual. And when I think of the shades of my ancestors watching me, I cannot be idle. The founder of my family stood by Aeneas when he first set foot on Italian soil. Perhaps it's my patrician blood that drives me to take the reins — to rip them from the Optimates' hands if I have to!'

He reached out and clutched a fistful of steam, then relaxed his grip and slowly dropped his open hands into the roiling water. The motion took on a vague and unreal aspect in the orange haze, like an actor's gesture seen from afar.

For a while we were both quiet. A slave stepped silently into the room and asked if he should open the valve from the furnace to add fresh hot water. I nodded, and the slave withdrew. A moment later the pipes gurgled and the tub swirled. The mist thickened and the lamp burned lower. In the dense orange haze I could see Catilina's face only as a soft blur.

'Do you want to know a secret, Gordianus?'

Oh, Catilina, I thought, there are many secrets I would like to know, foremost among them the identity of Nemo and how his headless body came to rest in my barn! 'Why not?'

'It's a riddle, actually—'

'Telling a secret and posing a riddle are entirely different things, Catilina. I would like to hear a secret. But tonight I would not care to hear a riddle.'

'Indulge me. Well, then: how can a man lose his head twice?'

The water swirled. The mist was as thick as a sea fog. 'I don't know, Catilina. How can a man lose his head twice?'

'First, over a beautiful woman, and then to the executioner's blade.'

'I understand the answer but not the riddle.'

'I lost my head over the Vestal Fabia, and then almost lost my head for the crime. Do you see? I think it's a rather good riddle. I was younger then. What a fool I made of myself…'

'What are you saying, Catilina?'

'I'm telling you that what you always suspected was true. There was more between Fabia and myself than a shared appreciation for Arretine vases.'

'And that night in the House of the Vestals—'

'It was the first time. Before that, she always resisted me. But that night she gave in to me. When the man behind the curtain cried out, we were in the middle of making love. Fabia wore her gown, and I wore my tunic, and we stood the whole time. I wanted her to be naked, I wanted to touch her everywhere, I wanted to take her on the couch. But she insisted we keep our clothing on and do it standing up. Even so, it was one of the most exciting and exquisite moments of my life. When the man cried out, I hardly heard him in the heat of my passion. It might have been myself crying out in sheer ecstasy. Fabia panicked, of course. She pushed at me, trying to make me withdraw, but I told her that would be madness. I wasn't quite finished, you see, and if she pushed me out of her I would either leave a pool of evidence on her floor or else carry a telltale bludgeon inside my tunic. We consummated the act and drew apart only moments before the Virgo Maxima entered the room. Fabia's cheeks were as red as apples. Her breasts were heaving, covered with beads of sweat, I was still tingling—'

'Catilina, why are you telling me this?'

'Because you prize the truth, Gordianus; you're one of the few men I know who does. Because you've never been quite certain what really transpired, and now you can be.'

'But why tell me now?'

Catilina was quiet for a long moment. In the dim orange mist I tried to make out his expression, but could not tell if he smiled or frowned, or even if his eyes were open. At last he said, "They say you have a gift for listening, Gordianus. Every politician needs a listener. They say you have a way of drawing out the truth, even if one doesn't mean to speak it.'

'"They"?'

'Crassus, actually. In all these years he hasn't forgotten your late-night conversations down in Baiae. He says he can't recall ever speaking so frankly to another man, and a hireling at that He says you have some uncanny power to draw the truth from men's hearts.'

'Only if their hearts are burdened with something that they need to release.'

‘What sort of burden?' he said.

'It varies from man to man, woman to woman. Some feel compelled to confess fear of failure, others their remorse for wickedness done to the dead. Some confess their shame at submitting to the cruelty of others, some confess their shame for inflicting such cruelty. Some have committed terrible crimes and gone unpunished by man or god, and yet feel they must tell someone. Others have only imagined such crimes, and yet they feel a burden just as heavy as if they had committed them.'

'And what of those who failed to commit a crime when they should have?'

‘I don't understand.'

'What of those who should have taken action, and then quavered and railed to act? Have you ever encountered aman like that, Gordianus, whose confession was that he did not commit a crime when he should have?'

'Is this another riddle, Catilina?'

Despite the dimness, I knew he smiled. 'Perhaps. But like the riddle that Caelius repeated to you, the time for its telling hasn't yet arrived. Perhaps that time will never come.'

'I should think, Catilina, that you already have plenty of crimes to confess without fretting over those you might not be able to get around to.'

I thought my bluntness would offend him. Instead he laughed, sharply at first, and then with a low chuckle that blended with the gurgling of the pipes and the hissing of the water. 'I fear that the reputation far outstrips the reality, Gordianus. And if you observe the reality, you will see that I have been the victim of my enemies' unrelenting persecution. Yes, three years ago I was brought to trial, accused of practising extortion against the locals while I was propraetor in Africa. Were the charges brought because of true misdeeds? No, my old enemy Clodius mounted the prosecution on behalf of the Optimates for no other purpose than to wreck my political career. They achieved their object, in the short run; thanks to the way they drew out the proceedings, I was disqualified from running for consul for two years! But ultimately I was acquitted, a fact no one seems to recall. Did you know that before the trial Cicero himself offered to defend me? Yes, the same lying opportunist who now paints me as the most wicked man in Rome. I think this says more about Cicero than it does about myself

'Last year I was finally able to stand for consul, and there was nothing the Optimates could do to prevent me. To thwart me, they made Cicero their creature and set his venomous tongue against me. I lost. Even so, they feared that I would run again, and win, and so to prevent me they mounted another prosecution against me, this one for murdering Gratidianus back in the days of Sulla! You can be sure that Cicero did not offer to speak for my defence this time! Even so, again I was acquitted, and the Optimates failed in their attempt to keep me out of the race. I was free of the cloud in plenty of time to stand for consul again this year.