I got up and walked, not entirely in a straight line, across the room. Sitting alone in the corner was Tiro.

"Exercising your rights as a freedman to go out drinking and whoring in the middle of the night?" I said. "Surely Cicero wouldn't approve."

Tiro looked up at me bleakly but didn't speak.

"The atmosphere in this place can hardly be good for your health," I said. "And this wine would rot anybody's stomach. Is there room on that bench for me?"

"I can't stop you from sitting wherever you want, citizen."

"Tiro, let's have no hard feelings between you and me." I put my arm around him.

"Gordianus, you're drunk."

"And you will be, too, soon enough. Do you come here often?"

He finally smiled a bit. "Every now and then. Sometimes I just have to get away. And sometimes…" I saw that he was looking at one of the women for sale.

"Tiro, you dog. Are you telling me that you have a secret life that Cicero wouldn't approve of?"

"Why not? He's done things behind my back that I don't approve of, hasn't he? Gordianus, if I had known at the time, if there had been any way for me to stop it -"

"No, Tiro, not another word about that. Not tonight! I have too much else on my mind that I'm trying to forget." I summoned the serving boy to refill Tiro's cup. "I couldn't believe your master's performance today."

"He's not my master any longer. You know that."

"Sorry; habit. What in Hades was wrong with him? He seemed so sure of himself last night, so confident. He was pure Cicero. I wanted to strangle him!"

"When you saw him, yes. But he's been up and down for days now. Giddy and sure of himself one moment, blind with despair the next. You have no idea how this crisis weighed on him. How many friends deserted him over Milo. How shabbily Pompey and Caesar have been treating him. You know his Achilles' heel, his digestion; he's hardly been able to eat a thing for days. He wakes up in the middle of the night with cramps. It's been a terrible ordeal, a crushing burden. What he allowed Milo to do to you – I know you said not to speak of it, but I have to – that was out of character for him, and you know it. Just as out of character as what happened today. Thank the gods it's over, at least!"

"I've seen Cicero under pressure, but I've never seen any orator fell apart as he did today. What a spectacle."

"You sound as though you enjoyed it, Gordianus."

"Oddly enough, I actually felt a bit sorry for him. But a great many people appeared to relish it."

"That mob! Cicero was right to be afraid of them."

"Pompey's troops were there to keep order."

"Oh, really? And would they have protected Cicero, if someone had started throwing stones at him?"

"What do you mean?"

"Who knows what secret orders Pompey gave to his men?" "I can't believe -"

"Pompey was ready to be rid of Milo. He'd just as soon be rid of Cicero, too, if there was an easy way. Would his soldiers have defended Cicero, if it had come to that? Or would they have looked the other way, just for a few moments? Can you think of a more convenient way to get rid of Cicero for good, with no blame attached to the Great One himself? You shake your head, Gordianus, but believe me, Cicero had good reason to be frightened for his life today."

"He simply panicked, then?"

"Something like that. Oh, it was excruciating to watch." "Yes, I saw you squirming all through the speech." "And Milo was practically frothing at the mouth! Now he talks as if it's Cicero's fault that he was convicted." "That's nonsense."

"He says they should have explained the full circumstances and argued for his technical innocence, no matter how embarrassing it might have looked, or how unlikely."

My head was muddled with wine. Tiro seemed to be echoing something Cicero had said the night before. I hadn't understood Cicero either. "What are you talking about, technical innocence -"

"And I know what you'll ask next: was the speech really that good? That's the truly painful thing. All the hours we put into that speech, and then to have it blown away like dust in the wind. It just might have got Milo off. Who knows? You can judge for yourself when we publish it. There'll have to be revisions, of course. Then the world can see Cicero's case for Milo laid out in all its perfection, without the distraction of that howling mob!"

"Alas, too late for Milo. Tiro, what was that you said about -"

"By Hercules, there's someone I don't care to see! It was good talking to you, Gordianus." As he rose from the bench, I squinted through the orange haze to see who had arrived. I didn't recognize him at first, until I heard someone call his name: "Philemon!"

I felt an impulse to introduce myself. I looked around for Eco, but couldn't find him in the haze. Was I that drunk? At last I spotted him off in a little anteroom, playing at dice. Faintly, above the roar, I heard him cry Menenia's name for luck.

Philemon was looking for a place to sit. I waved him over.

"Do I know you, citizen?"

I couldn't blame him for being wary. "Not yet, but we have something in common."

"We both like cheap whores and rancid wine?" "A bit more than that. Sit. I'll buy you a cup." "I'd rather you bought me a whore."

"Maybe I will! I suppose it wasn't easy, doing without for all that time."

"What, while I was stuck in Milo's villa? At least that swine will never spend another holiday there!"

"I suppose not. Have you finished that cup-already? You must have another." Philemon was behind me in inebriation, but he quickly caught up. He seemed to revel in repeating the story that had made him one of the prosecution's chief witnesses. He launched into the tale with no prompting from me. The wine seemed to loosen his lips.

"All right," he said at one point, "the way I told it in court, I made us out to be a bit more heroic than we were; there, I've admitted it."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, it's true enough that when we came upon Eudamus and Birria, and realized what they were up to, boasting about trying to kill Clodius, we shouted at them to stop."

"Yes, and then you said you and your friends rushed at them, but they beat you back and pursued you."

He laughed sheepishly. "Right! Except that we never rushed at them. I mean, this was Eudamus and Birria, grinning and covered with blood! Rush at them? I think not. We turned tail and ran, and they came after us."

"It's nothing to be ashamed of," I assured him.

"No, but try telling it that way in front of a crowd of a few thousand people!"

"Did you sweeten the truth about anything else?"

He shook his head, then shuddered. "You can't imagine it, being tied up at the mercy of creatures like that. My blood was like iced water. The first big fight they had, when they marched us through Bovillae, I thought I'd empty my bowels." "A fight? What do you mean?"

"An argument, among themselves. Pretty fierce. I thought maybe they'd kill each other and leave us alone. Something about where to go next and what to do about Clodius. I suppose they were arguing over what to do with his body."

"But his body was already gone. Senator Tedius had arrived on the scene, loaded it into his litter and sent it on to Rome."

"Ah, yes, that's right. Maybe that's what they were arguing about, then – wondering where the body had gone. I suppose that gave them a start! Yes, I suppose that's what Milo was so furious about when they brought him the news. What, do you think he wanted them to bring back Clodius's head for a trophy?"

"He appears to have ended up with Clodius's ring. That should have been enough, I'd think." I imagined Eudamus or Birria slipping it off the corpse's finger. I swallowed hard. "I wonder if Milo intends to take the ring to Massilla with him – a comfort for his exile?"

Philemon wasn't listening. "Yes, Senator Tedius. I saw him testify at the trial today. We passed him in the road, you know, between Bovillae and the place where Milo was waiting. Just sitting by the side of the road with his bodyguards, looking pleased with the world. You'd think he might have helped us!"