"Please explain," I said.

"Certain rebellious elements among the tribes, hearing of the strife in Rome, concluded that I would be detained in Ravenna indefinitely, unable to rejoin my troops. They seized the opportunity to instigate a revolt, which has spread rapidly. The first blow was struck at Cenabum-you cansee it on the map there. The man I personally appointed to run the Roman trading post was murdered and his property plundered. A young Avernian named Vercingetorix seems to think the time is right to make himself king of the Gauls. He's already managed to unite a great many tribes under him. Worst of all, he's cut me off from the main body of my troops. It poses something of a puzzle, how I shall reach my men." Caesar studied the map and suddenly seemed very distant from us. "So you see, a simple murder on the Appian Way has already had profound consequences far beyond the death of a single man. Publius Clodius in death has caused even more havoc than he caused in life, and Milo has wielded his greatest influence on the course of the world as a killer instead of a consul." Caesar looked away from the map. "But you haven't yet told me the story of your misfortune, Gordianus."

"There's not much to tell. We were waylaid in the vicinity of the Monument of Basilius by men whose faces we never properly saw, bound inside sacks and transported to a place which turned out to be somewhere near Ariminum. We weren't too badly treated. When we made our escape, one of our keepers was killed and the other escaped. Unfortunately, I doubt that we could find the place again." "Was there a request for ransom?"

"Apparendy not, though someone did send my wife an anonymous note saying that we would not be harmed and would eventually be released."

"How curious. Do you think this episode was connected with your investigations for Pompey?" "Perhaps."

Caesar laughed. "You're a reticent fellow, Gordianus. I respect a man who's able to say no more than he should – that's rare. It's obvious you were never trained as an orator! I should like to think I might call on you myself some day, if I ever need a man of your talents and discretion."

"That would be an honour, Caesar."

He smiled for a moment, then gazed at the map again with an abstracted look. The recounting of my misadventures had distracted him for a moment, but now his attention had returned to the corcerning problems of Gaul.

"Shall we leave you now, Caesar?" said Meto.

"I do need to return to my work now, yes. I'm glad to learn that you shall remain beside me, Meto, especially in the days to come. It was good to see you again, Gordianus, and you, too, Eco. I wish you both a safe and uneventful journey back to Rome. And Gordianus…"

"Yes, Caesar?"

"When you report to Gnaeus Pompey, say that you spoke to me and tell him, if you would, that I send him my warmest regards. He was my son-in-law, you know, and still would be if ill fortune had not intervened. He should have had a son from Julia, and I a grandson. But the Fates deemed otherwise and robbed us both."

"I'll do as you ask, Caesar."

The secretary called for the guard, who came to escort us out. The man paused. "Shall I show the others in now, Caesar?" "What others?"

"Cicero and his man. They're waiting in the courtyard. He insists that he has business of the greatest importance."

Caesar pressed his fingers together and studied the map of Gaul. "No, not yet. I shall finish dictating this chapter first. Perhaps, after I take my midday meal, I shall have time to receive Marcus Tullius Cicero."

The guard escorted us down a hallway and back to the courtyard. At our approach, Cicero rose to his feet. Before he could say a word, the guard cut him off with a shake of his head. Cicero crossed his arms and sat down again. He did not look at us as we passed by, but instead pretended to find some grim fascination in the fountain in the centre of the courtyard. I tried very hard not to smile.

We ate with Meto in a large tent filled with soldiers. Under normal circumstances, I would have judged the food barely passable and the company just tolerable. After long days of captivity, however, and the deprivation of any variety in my tablemates, the simple meal and the loud, vulgar conversation made me feel that I was at a feast fit for King Numa.

In the midst of the talk someone mentioned Marc Antony.

Meto saw my reaction, noticed the same reaction from Eco, and raised an eyebrow. "Do you know him, Papa? Ah, but that's right, I introduced you to Marc Antony last year. Here in Ravenna, wasn't it?"

"Yes."

"He's looking very sleek,'' said one of the men. "All that lolling about down in Rome agrees with him."

"I should think that Rome is considered a hazardous posting these days!" said another.

"He keeps himself fit doing daily drills -"

"At the widow Fulvia's house!"

There was a round of suggestive grunts and laughter.

I turned to Meto. "Do I take it that Antony is here in Ravenna?"

"Yes. He's been in the camp for several days, conferring with Caesar about the situation in Rome. He's heading back tomorrow, I think. What's that look on your face, Papa?"

"Oh, nothing." When this did not satisfy him, I indicated that we should move outside where we could talk more discreetly.

"Well, Papa?" he said, as the three of us strolled between the tents.

"It's probably nothing at all, but when I told you yesterday about our investigations on the Appian Way, I forgot to mention Marc Antony."

"Antony? What possible connection -"

"He threatened Clodius's life last year on the Field of Mars – chased him to a warehouse on the river, where Clodius hid in a cupboard under a stairway."

Meto laughed. "Oh, that story!"

"You know it?"

"Of course. Antony loves to tell it, especially when he's a little drunk. He claims he had no intention of killing Clodius. He just wanted to turn him into a eunuch."

"What did they fight about?"

"Who knows? Papa, their relationship went back a very long way. They'd been in love with the same woman, Fulvia. They may have been in love with each other at some time or other, for all I know. They probably met on the Field of Mars, exchanged a few friendly insults, Clodius said something that tugged a bit too hard on Antony's balls, and Antony whipped out his sword. But no one was hurt in the end."

Eco groaned. "Meto, the puns!"

Meto smiled and shrugged. "I can keep it up all day. But what has this to do with -"

I had told Meto the day before aboutmy commission from Pompey, but had not mentioned Fulvia. My meeting with her had come to seem incidental. "Fulvia asked me to find out if Antony was involved in her husband's death."

"But he's one of the people working to bring Milo to trial."

"That proves nothing."

"Did you find any evidence to implicate him?" I considered this carefully. "No one who witnessed the event or the aftermath had anything at all to say about Antony." "Well, there you have it." "Perhaps."

"Really, Papa, Antony is a good soldier and a friend of mine. I can't stand by and hear him called a murderer." "No one has called him a murderer, Meto." "But you seem to think he might be."

What had Cicero said about me? Always the one to bide his time, sift every shred of evidence, seek for further revelations, postpone the final judgment. "If Fulvia were here with us now, I couldn't in good conscience say that I had proved otherwise."

"Then let's go and ask him."

"What?"

"We'll ask him."

"As simple as that?"

"Why not? Antony isn't exactly simple, but he's as clear and plain to read as Caesar's Latin. Come with me." "Come with you where?"

"To Antony's quarters. They're on the far side of the villa. This way."