"It's not really that much of a stretch. Their father was a medieval-history professor at Oxford, and they both followed pretty much in his footsteps. Mary studied medieval history just like him; Lisa went into archaeology. Lisa got a fellowship to do her Ph.D. in Italy, and while they remained close, Mary's life took another direction. She went to work at Sotheby's as an expert in medieval art and began to mix with a more rarefied set of people, among them her future husband, James Stuart. They met, fell in love, and got married, and while they lead very different lives than Lisa and John, they apparently are genuinely happy, from what Lisa has to say. Mary prefers high society; Lisa worked hard to make a name for herself in academia. Her sister supports her, as she does her daughter, Gina, by underwriting excavations from time to time."

"Well, we're lucky that you're friends with John."

"Yes, they're both really wonderful people. John is the only American I know with zero interest in making tons of money, and they both really love it here. He resists being transferred anywhere else, and I imagine the Stuarts' influence can't hurt with the embassy."

"You think they'll let you take me to the party?"

"I'm going to ask. D'Alaqua made an impression on you, didn't he?"

"I have to say he did, Marco. Of course, he's one of those larger-than-life personalities that any woman could fall in love with."

"Which is not, I hope, your case."

"No? Why not?"

"Sofia, for heaven's sake, you can't get mixed up with somebody we're investigating, and you shouldn't get mixed up with this guy at all-rich, never married, clearly not looking for the woman of his life…"

"Marco, please. I hope you know my feet are planted firmly on the ground, and there's not a thing- or man-in the world that could change that. Nor is D'Alaqua exactly in my league, for that matter. So not to worry"

"I'm going to ask you a personal question. If it makes you uncomfortable, you can tell me to screw myself. What's going on with Pietro?"

"You don't have to go screw yourself, boss. I'll tell you the truth: It's over. It was going nowhere."

"How does he feel about it?"

"We're having dinner tonight, to talk. But he's not stupid-he knows. I think he feels the same way, honestly."

"I'm glad."

"Glad? How come?"

"Because Pietro's not the right one for you. He's a nice guy, with a great wife who'll be immensely happy to get her husband back. And you, Sofia, one of these days ought to get out of here and start a new career, with other people, other ways of looking at the world. Frankly, the Art Crimes Department is small potatoes for you."

"Marco! Don't say that! Are you trying to tell me something? Don't you know how happy I am here? I don't want to leave; I don't want to change a thing!"

"You know I'm right. But put it on a back burner if it's too much to think about right now. I'm happy to have you as long as you want to stay."

"Your house?" Pietro asked Sofia as they left work later that day.

"No, let's go to a restaurant."

Pietro took her to a small tavern in Trastevere, the same place they'd gone the first time, when their relationship began. It had been a long while since they'd been back. They ordered dinner and talked about small things, putting off the moment when they had to face each other.

Finally, over coffee, Sofia put her hand on his. "Pietro-"

"It's okay. I know what you're going to tell me, and I agree."

"You know?"

'Anyone would. In some things you're an open book."

"Pietro, I care about you, but I'm not in love with you, and I don't want a commitment. I'd like us to be friends and to work together the way we have so far, with no awkwardness or hard feelings."

"Sofia, I love you. Only an idiot wouldn't be in love with you, but I'm well aware that we're from different sides of the tracks-"

Sofia, uncomfortable, made a gesture to stop him. "Don't say that. That's ridiculous."

"I'm a cop. I look like a cop and I act like a cop. You're a university girl, a woman with class, whether you're in jeans or Armani. I've been lucky to be with you, but I've always known that someday you'd be out the door, and that day has come. D'Alaqua?"

"Where did that come from? He couldn't have been less interested. No, Pietro, this isn't about someone else. It's just that we took what was between us as far as it could go. We've come to an end. You love your wife, and I understand that. She's a great person, and beautiful to boot. You'll never divorce her; you couldn't bear to live without your kids."

"Sofia, if you'd given me an ultimatum I would have left her."

They sat in silence. Sofia struggled to hold back tears. She'd made up her mind to break it off with him and not let herself be swayed by any emotion that put off the decision she should have made months ago. "I think it's best for us both," she finally said. "Can we be friends?"

"I don't know," he answered after a moment.

"Why not?"

"Because I don't know. I honestly don't know how I'll feel when I see you and can't be with you, or when you come in one day and announce there's another man in your life. It's easy to say we'll be friends, but I don't want to lie to you-I don't know if I'll be able to. And if I can't, I'll leave before I start hating you."

Sofia was moved by Pietro's candor. His eyes were filled with tears. She had never dreamed that he cared so much. Or maybe it was just injured pride. Marco was so right-it was deadly to mix work and private life. But what was done was done. Now they had to get past it.

'No, I'll go," she told him. "I just want to see our work on the shroud through to the end. Then I'll ask for a transfer, or a leave."

"No, that wouldn't be fair. I know that you'll be able to treat me as a friend, just one of the guys. I'm the problem, not you-I know myself. I'll ask for the transfer."

"No, Pietro. You like Art Crimes, it's been a move up for you, and you're not going to lose it because of me. Marco says I should be looking for something new, and the truth is, I feel like taking on other things-teaching at the university, doing archaeology, maybe even opening an art gallery. I feel like one phase of my life is ending and another one is beginning to open up. Marco has seen that, and he's been encouraging me to find something else-and deep down I know he's right. I just want to ask you one favor: Do everything you can to stick it out for a few more months, until we wrap up this investigation. Please, let's make these months as good as they can be."

Izaz and Obodas devoured the cheese and figs that Timaeus had set before them. They were weary from the long days of travel, which had been shadowed by the constant fear of capture by the soldiers of Maanu.

But now they were here, in Sidon, at the house of Timaeus. Harran, the leader of the caravan, had promised them he would send a messenger to Senin in Edessa, to report that their journey had ended safely.

Timaeus's gaze was penetrating, despite his advanced years. He had greeted them warmly and insisted that they rest before they recounted the incidents of their journey, knowing they were weary in body and soul. He had been expecting them for months, ever since he had received a letter from Thaddeus telling him of his concern over Abgar's health and explaining the difficult situation the Christians would face when the king died, despite the queen's support for them. The queen herself had sent messages as well.

He had arranged that Izaz and Obodas would stay with him in his home, sharing a small room, the only one he had besides his own. His was a modest residence, in keeping with a follower of the true teachings of the Christ.