"Where is the ring now?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Because I should like to return it to the family. You admit that taking it was a mistake. The goddess has no use for it. To keep it as a trophy surely would be hubris, a curse on your own house."

Tedia considered this and seemed about to speak, but her father shook his head. "The ring is the only real evidence against us. All that we've told you is only a story from our own lips. Your witness at the tavern – that girl in the window, I suppose – may have seen that Clodius was still alive, but she couldn't have seen into the litter. No one saw the actual moment of his death except my daughter and me. The Vestals know that a woman brought them Clodius's ring, but they never saw the woman's face. Only the fact that we possess the ring offers any proof of what we did. Why should we give it up to you, Gordianus? What will you tell the family of Clodius, that you recovered the ring from the true killers of their beloved, a woman and a lame old man? Shall we have to suffer their revenge?"

"What should I tell them, that I happened to find it by the side of the road? Think, Tedia, of the tears you shed when you heard the testimony of Fulvia. Do you really want to keep the ring?"

She took a breath and began to move, but her father clutched her arm.

"Only if you make an oath, Gordianus," said Tedius. "No promises!"

"There will be, if you want the ring. You'll make an oath never to repeat what you heard here today, and in return we shall give it to you. Think, Gordianus, what purpose will it serve to incite the Clodians against my daughter and me? The mob has finally been assuaged by Milo's conviction; you’ll simply make fools of them and set them rioting again. Think how irritated Pompey will be, to discover that his court failed to find the whole truth and that the conviction of Milo is flawed! Rome has been ripped apart by what happened here on the Appian Way. But now the people have been pacified and the wicked on both sides have been punished – Clodius is dead, Milo is exiled. What purpose could there possibly be in delivering a last revelation, except to massage your own vanity, to show off your perseverance and cleverness? Make the oath I require; return the ring to the one who loved Clodius best, and leave the rest to the gods."

I walked to the window. Below, the town of Aricia, where Clodius had given his final address, had darkened to a jumble of deep blue shadows. I thought for a long time. What did I owe to Milo, who had committed such a grievous offence against me, and would have killed me outright if Cicero had not restrained him? What did I owe to Cicero, who acquiesced to my abduction? Or to the friends and heirs of Clodius, who instigated the riots that resulted in the sacking of my house and the death of Belbo? What did I owe to Rome itself – for who could say any longer what Rome was, or would become in the next few years? All was in flux, all was chaos and confusion. I found myself confronted by what I most craved, the truth, but I also found myself utterly alone; even Eco was not there to share the discovery or advise me. That was just as well; I doubted that he would have approved of the decision I made. I turned back to Sextus Tedius.

"You have my word; I swear by the shade of my father that I'll keep your secret. Bring me the ring."

Tedia left the room. While she was gone, a slave entered with a burning taper and lit the lamps, dispelling the growing darkness. Tedia returned and dropped the ring into my open palm, looking glad to be rid of it.

It was heavy, made of solid gold. I saw the name p. clodius pulcher engraved on it, but was at a loss to see any other ornament. Surely there should be some reference to the glories of his illustrious ancestors? Then I held it to the light and noticed the honeycomb pattern scored into the glittering surface of the ring itself, inside and out, little interlocking polygons like the perfectly fitted stones which paved the Appian Way. The ring was the very image of the great road, cast in a circle without beginning or end, a homage to the place where its wearer had fallen to his enemies and breathed his last with a blue ribbon wound tight around his throat.

That night we slept in an inn in Aricia. The tavern below was loud and smoky, and the bedding had ticks in it, but I slept better there than I should have in Bovillae, with all its phantoms, living and dead.

I was up before dawn, and woke the boys. All three of us had to shake Davus to get him up. We were on the. road before the first hour, and made swift progress. We reached the city before midday. I had three last calls to pay, and then I could turn my back for good on all that had happened on the Appian Way.

Mopsus and Androcles grew increasingly excited as we made our way through the Forum and up the Ramp to the Palatine. Both were wide-eyed at the sight of so many buildings and people. Davus put on a slightly snobbish air – the city slave condescending to the country slaves. I remembered his own consternation at finding himself in the countryside for the first time in his life, but said nothing.

All three of them grew quiet as we neared the house. Davus's face grew long. The boys drew closer together. We had hardly stepped into the foyer before Bethesda appeared.

"So these are the new slaves," she said, ignoring Davus.

"Yes, this is Mopsus, and this is his brother, Androcles. Boys, this is your new mistress."

The boys lowered their eyes and sneaked glances at her. Androcles whispered in his older brother's ear, "She's beautiful!"

Bethesda's lips almost formed a smile. She was resplendent in a saffron-coloured stola and a simple silver necklace, with hair done up very high on her head in such a way that the strands of grey looked like white veins snaking through shimmering black marble. I was almost as awed by her as the boys were.

"You both look agile and energetic," she said, making the words sound more like a judgment than a compliment. "I suppose we shall find ways to keep you busy. You might be good at carrying messages, I imagine, except that you must be ignorant of the city. You shall have to do a great deal of exploring in the next few days, to acquaint yourselves with the seven hills. Right now, you must be hungry after your trip. Davus will show you where the kitchen is – won't you, Davus?"

"Yes, Mistress." Davus was the most awed by her of anyone. It was remarkable how small a space such a large fellow could seem to occupy, and how quickly he could make his exit from a room.

Bethesda and I were left alone.

"Husband, I did a great deal of thinking yesterday."

"So did I."

"You and I must have a serious talk."

"Can it wait? I have a few more errands to finish today, and then-"

"I suppose. But by the end of the day, I want a resolution to this matter of Diana and your… and Davus."

"I agree. Shall we talk this evening, then?"

"Yes." Our eyes met, and it hardly seemed necessary to talk at all. We were agreed about what to do. I had lived with her long enough to be able to read that much from her eyes.

I ate a quick meal of olives, cheese and fresh bread, then headed out again. I took Davus with me, though a protector hardly seemed necessary. The streets seemed almost preternaturally calm after the furore of recent days.

The Great One had moved into the city and was in residence at his house in the Carinae district, as I had hoped. He agreed to see me almost at once.

The house in the Carinae was a sprawling old villa surrounded by newer, taller buildings. It had been owned by Pompey's family for generations. There was a musty smell everywhere in the house, and in the room where Pompey gave audiences there were no fabulous views, only a glimpse of an inner courtyard with a modest fountain. The room was full of old trophies from various military campaigns, some brought back by Pompey from the East, some acquired by his father – exotic weapons and bits of armour, statuettes of obscure gods, shadow puppets from the Parthian borderlands and antique theatre masks from Greece. Lurking discreedy in the corners and shadows, as always, were the soldiers responsible for his safety.