"Did you ask her why?"

"She told me she was concerned about Cyrus's condition." "Was she that close to Cyrus?"

"You've seen her house – imagine having your architect die on you in the middle of redoing that monstrosity!"

"I see what you mean. But does it really matter that Fulvia didn't go with Clodius?"

"Maybe, maybe not. Consider this: if a man was plotting to ambush his enemy – as Milo contends that Clodius was – he'd leave his wife at home, don't you think? But here's something curious: Clodius did take his young son along with him. The boy is only a child – eight years old. That seems to negate the idea that Clodius left Fulvia behind because he was plotting violence. You'd think he would have left his son safely at home, too."

"Did Fulvia say why he took the boy with him?"

"She says Clodius wanted to introduce his son to the city leaders in Aricia. Now that sounds like a typical Roman politician – never too soon to start cultivating the heir! And of course, absent his wife, what better way to show himself off as a good family man than to bring along his little boy? Clodius's enemies -"

"Meaning Cicero and Milo."

"- have spent yean painting him as an incestuous, whoremongering former male prostitute who lives to seduce other men's wives and sons – which may or may not have touched on the truth. That sort of talk doesn't necessarily ruin a man's reputation in jaded, sophisticated Rome, but it's poison out in the countryside, where people still take old-fashioned virtues seriously. So when Clodius shows up to speak to the citizens of Aricia, he wants to present himself as an upstanding husband and father. How better to do that than to deliver his speech with eight-year-old Publius junior by his side?"

Eco frowned. "But the boy wasn't there when Clodius and Milo had their skirmish on the Appian Way the next day, was he?"

"No. But we shall come to that. One more thing to consider, while we still have Clodius setting out for Aricia: a large contio was held in the Forum that morning, called by the same radical tribunes who've been instigating riots since Clodius died. Normally, Clodius would have made a point of attending such a contio, to make sure things went according to plan. Instead, he headed off for Aricia."

Eco shrugged. "A man can't be in two places at once."

"No, so he has to make a choice. Some would say that it's hard to imagine Clodius missing a rabble-rousing contio just to curry favour with the town fathers at a rest stop on the Appian Way – unless he had an ulterior motive."

"Such as an ambush on his mortal enemy?"

"So his enemies might suggest. Simply another point to keep in mind."

"What sort of entourage did Clodius take with him?" "Three friends and a number of slaves – Fulvia says twenty-five or thirty – most of them on foot and all of them armed." "So many?"

"A large bodyguard, granted, but hardly unreasonable. How else could a man like Clodius travel safely in the countryside? As it was, the bodyguard wasn't adequate to save him in the end. But there will be those who'll suggest that such a formidable group must have been intended for attack rather than defence. Another detail to be noted."

"So at last we have Clodius on his way."

"Yes. He deals with last-minute business at home, gives Fulvia a kiss, stops in to see the dying architect He and his thirty or so men stride through the Capena Gate – perhaps a cold drop of water falls on his neck just as it did on mine, and gives him a start. It's mid-morning – the market is jammed with shoppers and stinks of fish. Slaves and humble citizens recognize him, hail him. Those who despise him only scowl and bite their tongues – they'd be outnumbered in a crowd like that. He and his friends get horses from somewhere – Pompey's can't be the only stable in the area – and they're off on the Appian Way, with their entourage walking behind them. Clodius probably pauses to pay homage at the tombs of his illustrious ancestors – his son is with him, and what patrician father would pass up the opportunity to impress his birthright on a boy?

"They pass the notorious Monument of Basilius and Clodius doesn't give it a thought – the place is dangerous only at night, and there's a troop of armed men marching behind him. The road is wide, so Clodius and his three friends ride abreast, with his son at his right hand listening to the grown-ups converse. The little fellow must be quite impressed with his father – all those men at Papa's beck and call, the huge crowds that gather when Papa speaks, such a grand house to grow up in. To think, it will all be in ruins the next day.

"Now Clodius and his company have come to the same long, dull stretch of road where we find ourselves. Clodius has his friends along to keep the conversation lively, and of course his son, to whom he can point out the various shrines and tombs that continue to dot the way now and again. When that fails, he can brag about the road itself as every Claudian has done since it was built. It is a remarkably fine road, isn't it? The blocks so perfectly cut and fitted, the surface so level and smooth, the way so remarkably wide – ox carts going in opposite directions can pass without even pausing. You'd think the gods themselves, had made such a road, but no, it was Appius Claudius Caecus, many-times great-grandfather of our own Publius Clodius. One more thing for that little boy to be proud of.

"Aricia lies ahead at the end of the journey, about four hours away. A horseman in a hurry could make it sooner, but since the bodyguards are walking, Clodius and his friends on horseback are obliged to keep a slow but steady pace. On the way to Aricia, what will they pass?"

"A lot of nothing!" said Davus, asserting his presence after a long silence. He seemed in control of his horse and in better spirits, ready to laugh at himself

"A lot of empty farmland, to be more precise, interspersed with woods here and there and some marshes in the low spots, all very flat and not particularly scenic. To the left, distant mountains on the horizon. To the right, a gentle, gradual slope towards the sea. And up ahead, growing steadily larger as they draw nearer, Mount Alba. What do you think of it, Davus?"

He peered at the low, peaked mass on the horizon. "It must be enormous!"

I smiled. "Not really. Only a small mountain, as mountains go, but a major landmark in these flatlands. There are several small towns among the ridges and foothills. Aricia is one of them. But the first one we'll come to, just as the ground begins to rise, is Bovillae. You've taken this road plenty of times on your way down to Neapolis, Eco – how far is Bovillae from Rome?"

"A little past the eleventh milestone."

"And what's there, at Bovillae?"

"I've been through the place, Papa. I'm not sure I've ever stopped." "Think!"

He stared through narrowed eyes at the foothills ahead as if by squinting he could make out the details at such a distance. "I seem to remember an inn along the road. And a stable."

"Yes, the stable has probably been there in one form or another for well over two hundred years, since the first stretch of the Appian Way from Rome to Bovillae was paved. Appius Claudius Caecus built the road as a military route for the legions to use, that's why it's so wide and so straight. Bovillae was the first post-station for military messengers, a place to change horses. And where there's a stable, of course there's an inn. What does the inn at Bovillae look like?"

"A stone building. Two storeys."

"Yes, there's probably a communal sleeping room upstairs, a tavern downstairs, and a cookhouse at the back. A stable and an inn; what else?"

Eco shrugged. "A few houses here and there, away from the road. Oh, and an altar to Jupiter, built under a circle of old oak trees with a little creek nearby. A very pretty spot."