Caesar accompanied his guests to the door personally. As he was leaving, Marcus Aemilius Lepidus took his hand and said, ‘I’m expecting you for dinner tomorrow night, then. I hope you haven’t forgotten.’

‘How could I forget?’ replied Caesar. ‘It wouldn’t be wise to neglect the invitation of a man who has an entire legion in fighting order at his command!’

Lepidus laughed as the others slipped past one by one, meeting the escorts they had waiting outside.

Silius’s glance happened to fall on Antony as he was exchanging a few words with his servants. That seemed odd to him, as did Antony’s expression. He turned to Caesar and said, ‘Commander, if you don’t need me at the moment, there are a few things I have to look after.’

Caesar grinned. ‘At this hour? How can I say no? What’s she like? Blonde or brunette?’

‘Brunette, commander,’ replied Silius with the hint of a smile.

‘Be sure to distinguish yourself in the line of duty, then.’

‘You can count on that, commander,’ replied Silius, trying to assume a rakish air. ‘The Thirteenth never disappoints!’

He crossed the threshold, but before leaving turned around, serious again: ‘Commander. . there may be another explanation.’

‘For what?’

‘For that rumour about the Sibylline Books. Maybe it’s not someone who wants to isolate you or discredit you — or rather, maybe that’s not all. Maybe someone is trying to force your hand. .’

Caesar said nothing.

Silius gave a nod and walked off into the dark.

Slipping between the northern corner of the Domus and the House of the Vestals, Silius lingered in the shadows at the edge of the halo of light cast by a couple of tripods beside the entrance. He was keeping an eye on Antony’s litter and the two armed bodyguards escorting him with lanterns in hand. The small convoy set off on the same road that Lepidus was taking towards the Tiber Island at first, but then turned left on the riverbank at the Sublicius Bridge, bound towards the portico of a small shipyard. Where was Mark Antony headed?

Silius followed at a safe distance, conveniently shielded by the big alders that lined the southern bank of the river. The darkness hid him, while Antony’s litter was easily visible thanks to the lanterns his bodyguards held high to light their way and to frighten off muggers and thieves.

Silius saw the litter stopping and then a certain jostling about in the shadows. Something was happening. At that distance, he couldn’t make out what it was, so he drew closer. He saw someone getting out of the litter dressed as a servant, though he could not be a servant, and someone getting into the litter who was dressed as Antony but was not him.

Silius followed the man dressed as a servant who was walking unaccompanied towards the Sublicius Bridge. It was Mark Antony. The men accompanying his litter were protecting a servant wearing Antony’s clothing.

Silius crossed the bridge after him and continued shadowing him, although by this time he was fairly sure of where they were both headed: Caesar’s villa on the other side of the Tiber, where Cleopatra lived. Antony was about to go in alone, at night and without an escort, wearing the clothes of a servant.

A chorus of dogs barking, then a door opening silently. Antony slipped in and the dogs quietened down. Just after that, a line of guards came around the western corner of the house, making their rounds of inspection at the garden’s perimeter.

In a single moment, Silius saw many of his suspicions confirmed and the collapse of others that he might have defended vehemently if it had ever come to that.

He had to find his way in, but how? He could run back to the Domus, report to Caesar on what he’d seen and return with a group of men who would replace these guards and occupy the entrances. That would allow him to enter the villa and the queen’s apartments, in order to spy on her and Antony. But all that would take much too long. Whatever was happening in that house had to be discovered without delay.

Silius entered the garden by climbing over the wall and carefully approached the villa. The dogs must have been busy greeting the newly arrived guest. Silius circled around the building cautiously, checking every corner. He’d been in that house before, with Caesar, and he’d know where to go once he got in. But the problem was getting in. Cleopatra’s residence was a kind of fortress. Antony had let himself in the side door with a key, and the dogs had immediately stopped barking because they were obviously familiar with him.

The main entrances were guarded. And the patrol he’d already seen was encircling the perimeter.

He noticed a chimney at the end of the western corner of the house, where the servants’ quarters were located. There were some square openings on the chimney wall where the wooden beams of a maintenance scaffold had been removed. He thought he could use them as toeholds, so he did just that. When the guards had passed he kicked off his shoes and climbed to the top. Part of the roof was covered with tiles; if he could cross without making any noise, he would find himself in the terraced area, which would make an easier surface to move on. Once on the terrace, he paused to get his bearings. To his right were the peristyle and the inner garden. He could hear the monotonous bubbling of the fountains. A little further on was the atriumwith its pool at the centre, and in the middle was the master apartment. He remembered that there was a small thermal bath system on the other side of the house that probably wasn’t being guarded.

He crossed the terrace and another section of tile-covered roof and easily reached the baths, which were covered in part by tiling and in part by fine plaster. He slipped down to the first terraced level and reached the dome of the laconicum, the steam bath, which was open at its centre to allow the smoke from the braziers to escape. He made the opening bigger by using his dagger to prise off the tiles, working in silence, and dropped in. He had the good luck to land on a pile of ashes that remained at the centre of the dead embers. And from there he slid to the floor without difficulty.

He was inside!

The queen must still be in her winter apartments, adjacent to the walls of the calidarium, to take advantage of the warmth created by the room’s heating system. Accustomed as she was to the climate in Egypt, Cleopatra detested the cold, damp Roman winter.

Silius groped his way around in the almost complete darkness, attempting to recall the plan of the house. He was drawn like a moth to the dim glow cast by a lantern in one of the adjacent rooms. He had to try hard not to fumble or make any noise that would give him away. The house was immersed in silence and the slightest sound would bring on the dogs or worse.

He reached the calidarium, which was linked to the laconicumby a short corridor. He counted his paces and stopped at the place where, according to his calculations, the brick cavity wall that collected the heat produced by the baths met the queen’s living quarters.

He put his ear to the wall and he thought he could make out voices having what seemed to be a conversation.

He used the tip of his dagger to chip away at the mortar that joined one cavity segment to the next. He worked very carefully, well aware that if he could hear their voices, they’d be able to hear any noise he made. He was tense and sweating profusely, anxious to complete this mission he’d assigned himself. The sensation of being so close to making an extraordinary discovery made him feel strangely elated, almost inebriated.

As soon as he’d removed the layer of mortar between one heat collector and the next, he was able to stick the point of his blade into the brick and widen the hole he had made until it was half a palm wide. He drew close to listen.