I was hungry by the time we passed through Bovillae, but I decided to press on to Clodius's villa. As we passed the altar of Jupiter, I caught a glimpse of Felix sitting against an oak tree, dozing in the dappled shade. We passed the road leading up to the new House of the Vestals, and farther on, on the opposite side of the way, the shrine of the Good Goddess. There appeared to be a gathering of women inside, to judge from the Utters and carriages and idle attendants outside. As we passed I heard chanting from within, and recognized Felicia's whimsical singsong. Perhaps nothing much had changed in her world, despite the bloody scene that had unfolded before her eyes and all the commotion it had caused.

We approached Clodius's villa this time by the road leading up to it, and were seen and challenged long before we reached the top. When a group of very rough-looking slaves barred our way, I produced the scrip from Fulvia transferring ownership of the two stableboys. Fortunately, one of the slaves could read, if barely. He slowly mouthed each word, then handed the square of parchment back to me.

"Good riddance, I say! Those two are nothing but trouble. Always getting above themselves. Taking them back to the city, are you?" "That's my intention."

He shook his head. "There'll be no end of trouble for them to get into there. Well, come on. They'll be in the stable, I imagine."

The boys remembered us at once. They seemed especially delighted to see Davus (or the elephant, as Mopsus called him). When I told them they no longer belonged to their mistress, but to me, they were puzzled at first, but together they mounted the third horse readily enough. As we set out, they seemed suddenly to realize that they were leaving for good. Mopsus turned about and hooked his thumbnail under his front teeth to make a clicking sound at the older slaves they were leaving behind. "Goodbye, you no-good drunkards!" His little brother copied him, and the insults degenerated into references to various bodily functions. The slaves standing in the road watching the departure feigned outrage and pretended to look about for stones to throw. Some of them laughed out loud.

How had I described to Bethesda the new acquisitions for the household? "Two high-spirited boys, and very clever. They'll put new life in the house." That was before I realized that new life was already on the way, thanks to Diana and Davus. And I had assumed that the woman who tamed Pompey's bodyguards would have no trouble controlling two boys; now I began to wonder.

Davus seemed finally to relax a bit. I realized that he felt safer with Mopsus and Androcles along; surely I would not try to murder him in front of two laughing boys.

It was late in the afternoon when we returned to Bovillae. I wanted nothing more than some of the hostess's excellent cooking and a reasonably clean place to sleep. We would make an early bed and be up and ready to leave before dawn.

At first I thought that our hostess had lost weight and changed her hair somehow, then I realized it was a different woman behind the counter. She had the same eyes but was thinner and prettier, or would have been except for her drawn expression. I told her we needed accommodation for the night.

"You're early for that," she said, smiling wanly. "The first of the day. So you can have first pick." "Is there much choice?"

"Not really. It's all one room, but some folks prefer to be against the wall instead of out in the middle, or closer to the stairs or the window. Come up, and I’ll show you. Then you can bring up your things to mark your places."

I followed her up the stairs. The upper floor of the inn was much as I expected – a single room with a few small windows and some pallets for sleeping. "This will do," I said. "Davus, take the boys and see that the horses are properly tended to at the stable up the way."

"Yes, Master." He clomped heavily down the stairs. Mopsus and Androcles slipped past him and flew down the steps as if they were all in a race.

The woman moved to the head of the stain and smiled wistfully after them. "I have a little boy myself," she said. "Only a baby. Well, if you're satisfied, then I'll be -"

"This must have been the window where you stood and watched," I said, walking to the open shutters and gazing out

"What do you mean?"

"After the battle was over, and you dared to come out from under the bedding. Your sister told me that you went to the window to have a look, and saw that everyone had already left, except for Sextus Tedius, who must have just arrived." I peered out the window, imagining the scene: dead bodies and pools of blood scattered about, the litter and its attendants, Sextus Tedius and his daughter discovering Clodius's body.

"Who are you?" There was a tremor in her voice.

"My name is Gordianus. I came this way on a mission from the widow Fulvia, in Februarius. I spoke to your sister. She told me what she had learned from you, about the battle between Milo and Clodius. You are the innkeeper's widow, aren't you?"

She relaxed a little. "Yes. My sister told me about you. And about your handsome young bodyguard – that must have been him with you just now."

I smiled. "Yes, I remember she took a liking to Davus. It seems she's not the only one…" "What's that?"

"Never mind. Tell me, did you really go all the way to Rhegium to stay with an aunt?"

The woman looked at me cautiously. "No. That's just what we decided to tell people."

"Then your sister wasn't completely candid when I asked if I could talk to you."

"I was out of my head for a long time. My sister wanted to protect me. If she told you that you couldn't see me, that was the truth."

"I wanted very much to ask you about what you saw that day.": "So did others. My sister kept them all away. She wasn't afraid to testify to the court herself. Someone would have to come forward, she said. But she protected me."

"And now the trial is over, and here you are again. Back from Rhegium, so to speak."

"Yes. Back from Rhegium." She gave me a weak smile. "It feels good to be here, to be working again. I always loved it before. Working with Marcus…"

"What you saw that day -"

She shook her head. "I still can't talk about it."

"Not at all?"

She gripped the stair railing and drew several quick breaths. "I never talk about it. I only told my sister about it once, right after it happened. After that, neither of us could bear to talk about it again."

"I understand." Her sister's judgment had been correct; the woman would have been useless to the court as a witness. She was shaking now. It was hard to imagine her giving testimony in the heated atmosphere that had stifled even Cicero's tongue.

She looked down the stairway. "Even now, every time I go down

these stairs, I think I’ll find him, as I found him that day "

"Your husband?"

"Yes! All bloody and still…"

"Do you need my help, to walk down the stairs?"

"Perhaps. But not yet. I don't want to move."

"Shall I go find your sister, or her husband?"

"No! They must be sick of me by now, but not half as sick of me as I am of them," she said with sudden vehemence. "The way they moved in and took over this place – all for the sake of my little boy, they say, keeping it in trust for him. But they act as if it's their tavern now. As if Marcus never existed. They won't even say his name, for fear of upsetting me. Oh, if only everything could be as it was before! Curse Milo and Clodius both! Curse the gods."

I thought she would weep, but her eyes remained dry. She steadied herself and breathed deeply. "What was it you wanted to know?"

I wrinkled my brow. "Can you speak about that day, or not?"

"Why don't you ask me and find out?"

I looked out the window. Up the road, Davus and the boys had finished stabling the hones and were playing some sort of game with a leather ball, all three of them laughing like children. What sort of father would Davus make?