‘I’m infinitely grateful to you,’ replied Antistius, trying to hide his excitement. ‘When the moment comes, I promise you won’t be sorry about this.’

‘Tell me what I can do for you.’

‘Brutus’s name has recently appeared on the city walls and even on the courthouse door, accompanied by an instigation to emulate the distant forefather who drove the last king out of Rome. The implication is clear. It means there’s someone out there who wants Brutus to take matters into his own hands and bring down Caesar, the very man who spared his life.’

Artemidorus did not answer and Antistius hurried to reinforce his words.

‘Brutus acts in a way that is difficult to understand. Some time ago, he sided with Pompey, despite the fact he was behind his father’s death, and now it seems he’s plotting against Caesar, to whom he owes his life. Caesar, who pardoned him after the Battle of Pharsalus and allowed him to take up his seat in the Senate and continue his political career. .

‘You Greeks hold liberty and democracy in great regard, and I can imagine that you do not think well of Caesar. But remember that he refused the king’s crown when it was offered to him and has used the powers granted to him only to end civil strife. Don’t forget that Caesar has no legitimate son. Why would he aspire to a monarchy that would die with him?’

‘I’m convinced of what you say. There’s no need for you to justify Caesar to me.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that Brutus treats you unfairly, even as far as your salary is concerned. I want you to know that if you help us, your troubles will be over for ever. Caesar’s generosity knows no limits.’

‘I’m willing to help you without any recompense,’ replied Artemidorus firmly. ‘What do you need to know?’

‘Forgive me! I did not mean to imply that I was offering you money in exchange for your help, although we’re both well aware that in this corrupt city money is often the only solution. The truth is that I’m very worried about Caesar. I’ve heard disturbing rumours and the writing on the walls speaks clearly. I’m afraid that Brutus might be persuaded to act rashly, to make a move that would have dramatic consequences.’

‘Do you mean. . a conspiracy?’

Antistius nodded with an enquiring expression on his face. ‘Do you know anything that could help me?’

‘Nothing certain, mind you. It’s really no more than a fleeting. . sensation. People coming in and going out of the house at odd hours.’

‘What do you mean by odd?’

‘In the middle of the night, before dawn. Why would anyone receive friends so late at night unless he was hiding something?’

‘You’re absolutely right. Do you know who these friends are?’

‘No. It’s always been after dark and the meetings are always held behind closed doors, in Brutus’s study. Once I was awakened by the dog barking and then I heard Brutus’s voice greeting a group of people coming in through the rear gate.’

‘How many people, would you say?’

‘I couldn’t be sure, but quite a few. Six or seven, maybe more.’

‘Can you think of any reason besides a conspiracy for such meetings?’ asked Antistius.

‘Yes, of course there could be other reasons. . a political alliance, for example. There are elections coming up. Maybe they are putting together some electoral strategy that they want to keep secret.’

‘Possibly, but I’m suspicious nonetheless, and worried. I’d ask you to remain watchful. I want to know who is visiting the house, how many of them there are and why they are meeting. Are there others involved, perhaps, who never show up in person? Keep your eyes open and inform me of anything new immediately.’

‘It won’t be easy,’ replied Artemidorus, ‘but I’ll do my best. If I learn anything, I’ll be sure to let you know.’

‘Come here when you have news. If I’m not around, my assistant will know where I am and how to find me at any time. Farewell, Artemidorus. Be careful.’

Artemidorus promised he would and took his leave.

Antistius reflected on the meeting in silence and didn’t move until the servant knocked to say that a new patient had arrived.

Romae, Taberna ad Oleastrum, a.d. V Id. Mart., hora octava

Rome, the Wild Olive tavern, 11 March, one p.m.

Sitting under the olive tree, Silius looked at the sun and then at the shadow cast by the pole holding up a skeletal grapevine. He called the tavern boy over and said, ‘Bring me a glass of Tuscolano Rosso and some toasted bread.’

His order was promptly filled. Silius dipped the toasted bread into the wine and began to eat. There weren’t many people on the road at this time of day. A sausage vendor had set up a cart at the other end of the square and a group of rowdy youths was swarming around him. Two or three of them distracted him while the others were busy stealing sausages and passing them behind their backs to the last in line. At this point, they exchanged a signal and scampered off laughing. The vendor ran after them with a whip, while others popped out of a narrow alleyway and made off with another three or four sausages.

‘The pack at work,’ mused Silius, ‘drawing the victim away from safety.’

He raised his eyes to the sky for a moment to watch the flight of a couple of gulls. There was no sign of the person he was waiting for. He finished eating and waited some more, ordering another glass of wine now and then.

The owner of the tavern passed by with a bowl of dormouse stew for some other customers and Silius stopped him.

‘Are you sure no one has asked for me?’

‘I’ve already told you,’ replied the man, ‘not a living soul. I know everyone around here. If a stranger showed up I would spot him immediately. Don’t you know what this bloke looks like? Tall, short, fat, thin. .’

‘No,’ said Silius, looking down. ‘I have no idea.’

The tavern owner shrugged and widened his hands as if to say, ‘So what do you want from me?’

Silius swallowed another mouthful of wine, wiped his lips with the back of his hand and made to leave. But as he was getting to his feet, he saw a person at the corner of the house on his left making an odd gesture. Could it be him?

Silius took a quick look around and, trying not to attract any attention, walked towards the individual who was beckoning to him. Now he could see the person well. It was a woman of modest appearance, probably a servant or a freedwoman, wearing work clothes, with a rope belt around her waist. She looked about forty, and had the callused hands of a woman accustomed to working in the fields.

‘Come this way,’ she called as Silius approached. ‘I’m the person you’ve been waiting for.’

‘Good. Well, then?’

‘The person who sends me says they can’t meet with you. They don’t know you well enough and can’t receive you.’

Silius was clearly irritated. ‘Damn it all! But why? Don’t they know how important this is? That it’s a matter of life or death?’

‘I know nothing,’ replied the woman. ‘I’ve never even seen the person who sent me here before. I don’t even know who it is.’

Silius grabbed her arm. ‘Listen to me! I must — whatever the cost — meet with the person who sent you. If you do as I say, I’m willing to pay you well. Say that I have very important information that directly regards the person — and that person’s son. You’re a slave, aren’t you? Am I right?’

‘You are,’ she replied.

‘Well, I promise you here and now that I’ll give you enough money to buy your freedom. Just do what I’m asking, by all the gods!’

The woman lightly touched the hand that was gripping her sleeve so Silius would let go, then responded without looking at him, ‘Do you really imagine that a woman of my condition can speak to a high-ranking person? I received an order and I learned the words I told you by heart. Tomorrow I’ll be on some farm or other tying up bundles of twigs. I’m sorry. I would have helped you willingly.’