Above the din of the rain, no one heard the banging on the door. It was only when the slave began to shout and struggle with the latch, knocking the doors against the bar, that we noticed the commotion. Bethesda was apprehensive at once; a few bad experiences in Rome had made her wary of nocturnal visitors. Her agitation communicated itself to Diana, who squirmed on her lap. Meto set down the scroll and rushed with me to the atrium. We kept beneath the colonnade to avoid the pelting rain. I opened the peephole and looked out.

The slave was pointing wildly towards the highway and shouting. The rain suddenly came down in a rush, and I couldn't make out a single word.

We unbarred the door. The slave rushed in, soaked with rain, his bedraggled hair streaming. 'Men!' he said hoarsely. 'Coming from the highway! A whole army of them on horseback!'

He exaggerated. Thirty men do not make an army, but they do make an intimidating sight when seen rushing towards you in the darkness, wrapped in black cloaks. The pounding hooves joined the din of the rain and rose above it, like a constant peal of thunder drawing closer. The horsemen were less than a hundred feet away.

'Catilina?' shouted Meto.

'I can't tell,' I said.

'Papa, should we bar the doors?'

I nodded and pulled the rain-sodden slave inside. We slammed the door and dropped the bar, towards what end, I wasn't sure. It was meant to keep out sneak thieves and burglars, not an armed force. Armed men could easily force the doors to the library or the kitchen. But it would buy us time to find out who they were and what they wanted. At the other end of the atrium, beyond the curtain of rain, I saw Bethesda standing erect with Diana in her arms, both of them staring back with huge eyes.

The banging at the door came so swiftly and so loudly that I bolted backwards and almost tripped. Meto seized my elbow and steadied me. I pressed my eye to the peephole.

'Catilina?' whispered Meto.

'I don't think so.' I could hardly see their faces for the darkness and the shadow of their cowls. The man at the door banged again, not with his fist but with something hard that resonated through the wood — the pommel of a dagger.

'Escaped slaves?' said Meto. I turned my head and saw that he was looking at me with fear in his eyes. I put my hand on his shoulder and drew him closer to me. What had I done, to bring my family to such a place? In the city one might always hope to flee, to raise a call to neighbours, to hide amid the jumble of walls and rooftops. The farmhouse and the fields around it suddenly seemed to me a very naked place, open and indefensible. I had my slaves, but what protection were they against a band of armed horsemen?

The banging resumed. I put my mouth to the peephole. 'Who are you? What do you want?'

One of the men who remained on horseback, the leader, I supposed, gestured to the man at the door to stop his banging. 'We want the man you're hiding here!' he shouted.

'What man? Whom do you want?' I felt a stab of relief. It was all some bizarre mistake, I thought.

'Catilina!' the man shouted. 'Bring him to us!'

'Papa?' Meto looked at me, confused.

I shook my head. 'Catilina isn't here,' I shouted.

'Catilina is here!'

'Papa, what is he talking about?'

'I don't know.' I looked at Bethesda, who stood as stiff as a statue while Diana clung to her neck and hid her face. I put my mouth to the peephole. 'Who sent you?'

In answer the banging began again. From somewhere outside I heard shouting and screams. I looked through the peephole. Beyond the men on horseback, I saw a confusion of cloaked figures running in and out of the stable.

In the next instant I heard a crashing noise of splintered wood from within the house. I swung around. Bethesda looked towards the hallway to the library and screamed. She clutched Diana more closely to her breast, while Diana struggled in a panic. The men were within the house.

I ran through the atrium, knocking over the brazier. Bethesda clutched at me, and Meto pressed against my back. Aratus appeared from somewhere, his face a mask of confusion and fear. There was another crash from the kitchen, and Congrio came running towards the centre of the house, bellowing in fright.

A bolt of lightning splintered just above the house, casting everything into stark light and shadow. The thunderbolt followed without a pause, a booming blast that seemed to shake the floor. It quieted into a crackling rumble that rolled around the house like a giant grinding stone. Above the din of the rain I heard the noise of tables overturned, the clatter of metal pans knocked across the floor, the crash of breaking pottery. From either side of us, men poured into the atrium, bearing long daggers in their fists. We shrank back while they rushed to the front doors, unbolted them, and swung them open.

The leader jumped down from his horse. Mud and water splashed about his feet. He drew his dagger and came towards the house, taking high steps to pull his feet clear of the sucking mud. He was so tall that he had to stoop to enter the doorway.

He walked past the overturned brazier, kicking it out of his way. 'Gordianus the Finder?' he said, shouting to make himself heard above the rain and the continual crashing and clatter inside the house. Diana began to wail.

I stood as tall as I could and pulled Bethesda closer. Meto moved from behind me to stand by my side. 'I am Gordianus,' I said. 'Who are you, and what do you want?'

Because of his cowl I could see only the lower half of his race. He grinned broadly. 'We want the wily fox we've run to earth. Where is he?'

'If you mean Catilina, he isn't here,' said Meto, his voice cracking slightly.

'Don't He to me, little boy.' 'I'm not a boy!'

The man laughed. I recognized the laugh, if not the man; it was the laughter of exhilaration that comes when men give themselves over to pillage and plunder, the cruel, barking laughter that comes at the climax of a chase or in the thick of battle. It turned my heart to ice.

Men continued to swirl around us, their daggers flashing amid the raindrops. A few had pushed back their hoods. They were mostly young and clean-shaven, with glittering eyes and tightly pressed Ups. A few faces were vaguely familiar. Where had I seen them before?

Meto pressed his lips to my ear. 'Cicero's bodyguards!' he hissed. "That day in the Forum—'

'What are you whispering about?' the man bellowed. 'Where have you hidden him?'

'Catilina isn't here,' I said.

'Nonsense! We know this place is his refuge. We've followed him all the way from Rome. The fool thought he could slip away unseen! We've come to take him back — one way or another.'

'He isn't here. Not in the house, anyway. Perhaps the stable—'

'We've already searched the stable! Now hand him over!'

One of his companions ran up and spoke in his ear.

'Impossible!' he shouted. "They're hiding him somewhere.'

'But there were at least ten men in his party,' said the other in a strained voice. "They couldn't hide ten men and ten horses in a house like this—’

'Ten men and nine horses,' said the leader. ‘You forget the one we found riderless on the road.' He turned towards me. 'For hours we've chased him. He had a good lead when we started, but soon we were nipping at his heels. Never mind that the night's as black as pitch and as wet as a lake. Up the road a bit there was a break in the clouds, just one tiny hole, and we caught a glimpse of them under starlight ahead of us, like ants in the pass between the mountain and the ridge. Then the hole in the sky closed and blackness swallowed them. By the time we caught up with them, they'd vanished — except for a lone horse, wandering on the road without a rider. Was it Catilina he threw? Is that why they stopped here, thinking they'd be safe and we would pass them by? Where is he? Hand him over!'