'Look there,' she said. 'Who are those men and where did they come from?'

I started to speak and coughed instead, as the cake seemed to turn to dust in my throat. Meto, seeing that I was helpless, took the cue. 'What men?' he asked innocently.

"Those two men right down there, on horseback. Wherever did they come from?' Claudia furrowed her plump brow, cocked her head, and pulled at a strand of red hair that had escaped from the bun on her head.

Meto shrugged. 'Just two men on horseback.'

'But they're heading towards the north. I didn't see them ride up. Look, you can see the whole length of the Cassian Way coming up from the south, halfway to Rome — oh, I exaggerate, but still, we would have seen anyone approaching for miles. And suddenly two horsemen appear from nowhere.'

'Not really. I saw them riding up,' said Meto matter-of-factly.

'You did?'

'For quite some time. I think it was when you pointed out the wagons with Arretine vases coming over the pass. Yes, I noticed the two horsemen riding up from the south, quite far away. And now look, the wagons have gone about half that distance. That means the horsemen are going twice as fast as the wagons. Is that right, Papa?'

I nodded dumbly, still clearing my throat, and took back my poor opinion of Meto's acting skills.

Claudia remained dubious. 'You saw them riding up all this time — passing the wagons and getting closer?'

Meto nodded.

'And you, too, Gordianus?'

I shrugged and nodded. 'Two horsemen on the Cassian Way,' I said. 'Probably coming up from Rome.'

Claudia was perturbed. 'Why didn't I notice them? Cyclops and Oedipus, my eyes must be getting as weak as Gnaeus's.'

'It's not so odd,' I reassured her. 'You were distracted by our company and simply didn't notice. It's nothing to make a fuss over.'

'I don't like horsemen appearing from nowhere,' she muttered. 'I don't like feeling…' Her voice trailed off, then she managed a smile. 'But you're right, I'm being silly. Just a silly old woman, set in my ways and upset when I'm taken by surprise, and more upset when I realize I'm not as sharp as I like to think I am. Ah, well, have you had enough of the cakes? Here, I'll wrap them up again; mustn't waste them. The gods despise a wasteful man, my father always used to say. I really must be going. There, thank you, Meto, for helping me gather things up.'

She picked up her basket, stood and straightened her back. 'I leave for Rome tomorrow and won't be back for such a long time — you can imagine all the instructions to be left with the slaves, and the confusion in the household with the new cook, not to mention the packing! Oh, I hate the fuss — why Lucius left me a house in the city I can't imagine! But I'm glad I managed to see you here on the ridge, both of you. And I shall see you again on Meto's toga day! The party will be at your house?'

'Yes, Eco's house now. On the Esquiline. It's a little hard to find—'

'Ah, but you and Lucius were such good friends, I'm sure his old slaves in the city will know how to find the place. I shall be there.' 'We look forwards to having you.'

'And, Gordianus — consider seriously what I said, about Gnaeus. You must watch yourself. You have a family to look after.' Before she turned away, her face took on a quite stern, almost severe expression.

The moment she disappeared into the brush I licked the honey from my lips and suddenly craved another cake, too late. Meanwhile, Catilina and Tongilius had picked up speed and made rapid progress on the Cassian Way. Meto and I watched them for a while longer, until their blue-cloaked figures began to merge with the northern horizon, obscured, by the rippling heat that rose from the sun-baked paving stones.

'Catilina is a fascinating man,' said Meto.

'Catilina,' I said, 'is a blur on the horizon.'

XV

The following days passed without incident — or rather, without any unpleasant interludes of the Nemo variety. Of incident there was an abundance, for transporting a family from the farm to the city, even for a brief visit, is a matter of complex logistics and planning. When I consider that great generals like Pompey are able to move their armies successfully over vast arenas on land and sea, complete with tents and cooking utensils and stocks of food and all their daily needs, I am truly awed.

Aratus told me he had always been in charge of helping Lucius pack his things, and since Lucius had gone back and forth from city to countryside quite often and had no doubt travelled in considerable luxury, this claim at first impressed me. Then I realized that Lucius, being so rich, could have afforded to own two or more of everything, and so had little need to carry his necessities on his back like a turtle. Conversely, Bethesda and I had to plan very carefully to bring enough so that Eco would not be burdened by us, and at the same time make sure that the farm was well provisioned in our absence. It was a considerable job.

Nevertheless, I managed to make time to begin construction on the water mill. The time was right for the project, for the weather continued clear and hot, and the flow in the stream diminished appreciably from day to day. This made it easy to remove stones and to fill areas that needed levelling with mortar and brick. I was disturbed to see the water become so slow and shallow, but, fortunately, the farm had a well at the foot of the ridge. The well had been there since before anyone living was born, Aratus told me. It was situated among olive trees and ringed with a low stone wall. The shaft was so deep it barely sent back a faint echo from its watery black depths. The old well had always been reliable, Aratus assured me, even in years of drought.

Meanwhile, between work on the mill and preparations for the trip to Rome, I enjoyed my respite from worrying over unwanted visitors. The election would be held on the fifth day before the Ides; thus the consular contest would be decided even before we set out for Rome. I could arrive in the city without giving the matter another thought; hopefully, I would be able to enjoy Eco's company and Meto's day of manhood without any further worries about matters over which I had no control and in which I had no interest. Catilina would be elected, or he would not, but in either event his brief incursion into my lite would be over.

It bothered me that the mystery of Nemo's death and identity and his appearance in my stable had never been explained, but it would have bothered me more if further threats had followed, or if Diana and Bethesda were to stay behind while I went to Rome. But we would all be together in the city, safe in Eco's house, or as sate as anyone can be in a place like Rome.

On the day before we were to leave, I took a few moments from the preparations for the trip and the work on the mill and stole away by myself to the place where Meto and Aratus and I had buried Nemo. I stood before the simple stele and ran my fingers down the vertical letters that spelled the name of no one. 'Who were you?' I said. 'How did you die? What became of your head, and who arranged it so that I would find you in my barn?' I tried to convince myself that the whole incident was now over and done with, but at the same time I felt something else that was harder to dispel than my vague foreboding: a sense of guilt and failure, of an obligation denied. Not my obligation to Cicero, which had now been discharged, but to the shade of Nemo.

I shrugged. To relieve a kink in the muscles of my shoulders, I thought — or was it to demonstrate my indifference to the restless dead? What did I owe Nemo, after all? If I had seen his face, would I have even known him? It seemed to me unlikely. He had been neither client nor friend, so far as there was any way of knowing. I owed him nothing. I shrugged — yet I did not turn my back on his gravestone, and instead found myself staring at it, studying each of the four letters of the name I had given him, which was not a name at all but the very opposite.