The laughter caught in Antony's throat. He sighed and made a face that was hard to read. He poured himself more wine, drained his cup and looked at me steadily. "Gordianus, I swear to you by the shade of my father, I had nothing to do with Clodius's death. So.I hope that you'll go back and find whoever these rumour mongers were, and set them straight,"

I tried to return his gaze with one as steady. It's not often that I find myself the less honest of two parties in a conversation. "I intend to do that, Marc Antony."

"Good! Such a rumour should be nipped in the bud, before some scoundrel like Cicero puts it to his own use. Oh, Mercury and Minerva!" He slapped his forehead.

"What's wrong?" said Meto.

"What if this awful rumour should reach all the way to Fulvia? Since Clodius died, I've worked so hard to be strong for her, to give her someone to lean on, someone she can trust absolutely. I couldn't stand it, if anything should poison that. But what am I saying? Fulvia would never believe such a rumour, not for a moment. She knows me better than that."

I shrugged and made a sympathetic smile.

That night we learned from Tiro that after waiting in Caesar's courtyard all day, Cicero had once more failed to gain an audience with the general. He would have to seek an audience again the next day, and so would not be heading back to Rome again until at least the day after that, at the earliest. To Eco and me, eager to return to our families, this seemed an eternity.

"But Papa, Antony's leaving for Rome early tomorrow morning," said Meto. "Why don't you travel with him?"

"We could hardly presume -"

"It would be no imposition, Papa. Come, I'll ask him myself if you want."

"Stay where you are, Meto! You've already put me on the spot with Antony once today."

"Papa, you need to go home, and you need a safe escort. You don't want to travel with Cicero, anyway, do you? He'd drive you mad. And he'll travel slower. Go with Antony. He likes you, couldn't you tell? He'll be glad to have your company. And you can get to know him better and make up your mind about him, if you haven't already. It's so perfect, the gods themselves must have arranged it."

"What do you think, Eco?" I said.

"I think I want to get back to Rome as soon as possible, and that Caesar seems determined to keep Cicero waiting as long as he can."

"Then, if you really think Antony would be amenable, Meto "

"We'll ask him right now."

This, I gathered, was how things were done in Caesar's army. Having lived so long in devious Rome, I found it hard to get used to such forthrightness.

We departed for Rome before dawn.

The journey lasted for four days and passed without incident. Antony seemed to be as transparent as Meto had indicated. He drank more than he should, and when he drank he showed his emotions more plainly than most men. I could imagine him killing out of pain or rage, or professionally, as a soldier, but it was difficult to see him as a conspirator in some devious plot. He was equally outspoken about those whom he hated (Cicero, chiefly) and those whom he loved (Curio, Fulvia, Caesar and his wife and cousin Antonia, in that order so far as I could tell). His lack of charm was in itself charming, just as his homeliness made him oddly handsome. I became very relaxed in his company, and began to see why Meto was so fond of him.

On the last day we talked a little about his military service in Egypt. Four years had passed since Antony had helped the Roman governor of Syria to restore King Ptolemy Auletes to the throne that had been usurped by his daughter Berenice. "I loved Alexandria," Antony told me, "and the Alexandrians loved me. Do you know the city?"

"Oh, yes. I met my wife there." I remembered something he had said back in Ravenna. "Antony, what did you mean when you referred to 'that old business about King Ptolemy's daughter'?"

"When was that? Jog my memory, Gordianus."

"You said, 'I swear, I never touched the child!' It was some sort of joke. You and Meto both laughed, anyway."

"Ah, that wasn't about Berenice. I was referring to Ptolemy's other daughter."

"And?" Eco raised a suggestive eyebrow.

"Nothing happened! She was only fourteen, entirely too young for my tastes." This rang true; Fulvia was older than Antony. "Oh, some of my officers claimed I was moonstruck for the girl, in a daze after I'd met her. I still take some needling about it. All nonsense! Though I have to admit, she was quite impressive, child or not."

"Remarkably beautiful?" I thought of my own Diana, only a few hours away.''Beautiful? No, not at all. Plenty of women are beautiful, and so are quite a few boys, but not her. Beauty is common, compared to what she possessed. A certain quality; I can't explain it. She was unlike anyone else I've ever met, except maybe Caesar."

Eco laughed. "A fourteen-year-old girl reminded you of Caesar?"

"It sounds absurd, I know. If she'd been just a little older…"

"If this was four years ago," I said, "she'd be eighteen now."

The idea cast a strange look across Antony's face. Dazed, his officers had said. Moonstruck. "Maybe some day I shall return to Egypt to see what's become of her."

"What do they call this unusual female?"

Antony smiled. "Cleopatra."

We crossed the Tiber as the light of day began to soften and approached the city. The Field of Mars opened oh our right. To our left, the old city walls skirted hills covered with buildings. The Flaminian Way ran straight ahead towards the Capitoline Hill, with its temples clustered crownlike at the summit. I had never been so glad to see a place in all my life.

Outside the Fontinalis Gate we dismounted from our horses and took our leave of Antony. I hardly noticed the armed soldiers who flanked the gateway. I had grown used to seeing soldiers at Caesar's camp, and travelling with Antony.

Eco and I hurried through the narrow streets and cut across the Forum, not far from the charred, ruined mass of the Senate House, were we saw more soldiers, publicly bearing arms in the Forum as if they were an occupying army. Rome had seen civil war and armed soldiers inside her gates, but never had an army been used to.police the population by the consent of the Senate. People seemed to be going about their business in a normal manner, but everything seemed strange to me. We saw a crowd in front of the Rostra, gathered for what appeared to be a contio of some sort. We made a wide detour to avoid it.

We slipped behind the Temple of Castor and Pollux to reach the Ramp, which was guarded by yet more soldiers. My heart was racing as we neared the top, not from exertion but from excitement. I crossed the street and rapped on the door of my house.

The door opened. An ugly, unfamiliar face peered out at me. For an instant I was confused. This was not my house. My family didn't live here. We were not even in Rome, or at least not in the Rome I knew.

I felt as the lemures of the dead must feel when they walk the earth, reduced to shadows and finding nothing as they remember it.

But it was my house, of course. The ugly face of the guard was unfamiliar because he came from Pompey's household. He didn't recognize me either, and looked ready to break me in two if I tried to slip past him. The family must be safe, after all, I thought. I felt a giddy urge to hug him, but didn't dare.

"Who are you and what do you want?" he snarled.

"You stupid oaf" said Eco. "This is Gordianus, the owner of this house, and I'm his son, Eco. Now run tell the -"

He was interrupted by a cry of pure joy. The guard understood at once and drew aside, with a sudden smile that changed the whole nature of his face. Diana was suddenly before me, and then pressed close to me with my arms around her. Bethesda and Menenia appeared, and the laughing twins, but I saw them only uncertainly, like images in water, their ecstatic, beaming, impossibly beautiful faces glimmering through a veil of tears.