Vibius and Rufus. He was willing to bet his goat on it. If he was right, there’d be no need to make a choice, because he knew how they moved. The flip of a coin decided who would go where and how. Knowing who they were made it easier to calculate. They had certainly left Lux Fidelisover five days ago, on two of which the weather had been bad. They would have begun along the high course of the Reno. The one heading east would have had it easy at first and then found things more difficult; the one who had taken the mountain route would have made slow progress at first and then been much quicker. Pullus decided to try to reach the former first, whichever of the two that was, and took off even more swiftly through fields and forests, following the briefest route possible thanks to his innate sense of direction in the dark, moving by instinct, like a blind man.

By morning he was on the street at a few miles from an important changing station. This was where he would wait. If his hunch proved to be right, one of the two would show up here before evening. He entered the mansioand handed over the coded message that annulled the first order. He gave instructions to refer the counter-order to all the remaining stations up to Rome. A messenger departed at once.

Having completed his mission, he would have been free to return to Lux Insomnis, but he wasn’t ready for that. If by chance the two speculatoreswere his friends, he preferred to wait and be sure that his message had been delivered in time and that at least one of them had been saved.

It had stopped raining, but Pullus was soaked through and shivering with the cold. Every now and then he would run around in a circle to keep warm. He kept scanning the horizon, the rain-damp street that came from the north. A mule-drawn cart passed and its driver cast a curious glance at the odd bloke running around a milestone. A shepherd passed as well, with a flock of sheep, and then a peasant pushing a heifer forward along the loose earth on the left-hand side of the road. The traffic increased as the day wore on, but no one that fitted the description of either of his friends put in an appearance. It was late in the afternoon when he saw a horseman followed by another man on horseback as well, lagging behind him. The second seemed to be advancing with some difficulty.

The first stopped to let the second catch up and Pullus recognized him: Rufus!

‘Rufus!’ he yelled as loudly as he could. ‘Rufus!’

The horseman jumped to the ground and ran up to him. ‘ Pulle! I knew we’d run into you!’ He hugged the boy, realizing he could count every rib and vertebra, scrawny as he was.

The second horseman rode up as well: Vibius. He showed signs of a violent altercation and his horse seemed exhausted. He must have kept up a gallop for a very long stretch indeed.

‘Why are the two of you together?’ asked Pullus.

‘Yesterday morning,’ replied Vibius, ‘as I was approaching the fifth mansio, two armed men tried to stop me. I fought back but the two of them together were too much for me. I got away and raced off as fast as I could until I lost them. At that point, I decided to find Rufus. We always have a contingency plan and a second meeting point. But let me tell you, you look terrible, boy! Cover up or you’ll catch your death!’

He took a dry blanket from his bag and tossed it over the boy’s shoulders. Pullus regained a little colour, and a little voice.

‘We received two messages up at the station. The first was to intercept two speculatoresat any cost. I wondered whether it might be the two of you. But then we got a second message, last night, which began with the army code and cancelled the first order. We couldn’t answer because of the bad weather, but I took off right away and didn’t stop until I got here. A messenger set off with the counter-order this morning, so you shouldn’t have any problems.’

‘I always knew we could count on you,’ said Rufus. ‘But who do you think gave the counter-order?’

‘I don’t know. The commander didn’t give me time to ask.’ Then he added, ‘What will you do now?’

Vibius turned to his comrade. ‘You go on. I’ll leave you my horse. He’ll recover quickly if he’s not carrying a rider. You can alternate the two and cover a greater distance.’

Rufus tied the second horse to the harness of his own as Vibius took the provisions satchel and the flask. They said goodbye.

‘Who knows, maybe none of this will have been necessary,’ said Vibius.

‘That’s what I’m hoping,’ replied Rufus.

‘Good luck, my friend.’

‘Good luck to the two of you! Be careful.’

‘No one will notice a couple of men on foot,’ replied Pullus with a tired smile.

Rufus jumped on to his horse and took off, pulling along the riderless horse of his comrade. Meanwhile, Vibius and Pullus set off down another road.

Caupona Fabulli ad flumen Tiberim, pridie Id. Mart., hora nona

Fabullus’s Inn at the Tiber River, 14 March, two p.m.

Publius Sextius recognized the inn from a distance and he stopped. The weather had got better but was not stable and from the way the sky was looking he guessed it would worsen again that night. He had to get as close as possible to his destination so as not to lose another day. But would it make a difference, one day more or less? His long experience on the battlefields and roads of the empire had taught him that very often a mere hour gained or lost could indeed decide the outcome of a battle or even of a war. In any case, it was best to arrive early to whatever event destiny had prepared for you. If the event was favourable, nothing would change. If it was unfavourable — or catastrophic — there might be time to prevent it from happening, or at least limit the damage.

What he desired most keenly was to stretch out on a bed and relax limbs tormented by the strain of endless riding. Then to eat something and drink a cup of strong red wine. But he decided to lie down on the ground under the shelter of an ancient olive tree, to eat a piece of cheese and soften a chunk of dry bread with water. Better this than risk another unpleasant encounter after everything that had already happened to him.

He slept as he was used to sleeping in these circumstances, without ever drifting into unconsciousness and without losing the sense of time passing. He had left his horse free to graze, certain it would not wander off. When he felt a little stronger, he called the horse with a whistle and started off again.

He headed in the same direction for a long while, avoiding places where too many people were to be found, until he was forced to return to the Via Cassia so as to be sure to find a way to cross the water. One could always count on a bridge of stone, at least; they never collapsed.

The terrain was very rough and he couldn’t stray too far from the road, although he mostly stayed on the loose-surfaced track at the side of the stone pavement. It was much faster that way and he felt that he was making up for lost time. Fortune seemed to be smiling on him now, he thought, as he managed to change his horse at a farm near Sutri without drawing attention to himself. The breeder accepted the difference in price between the horse Publius Sextius was leaving and the one he was buying, and he was free to set off once again at a fast pace. He was bound for the banks of the Tiber, beyond the Via Cassia, where he’d be able to board a ship at last.

He could feel that his mission was drawing to an end. He would soon be able to relay his message and to report directly to Caesar.

But all at once, as the sun was about to sink behind the hills, a horseman appeared in the middle of the road, barring his way. In his hand he held a drawn sword.

At first he thought of turning around, but two things stopped him. One, he’d never done such a thing in his whole life; he’d never turned tail. And two, he was curious. Curious to see who dared to take on Publius Sextius alone. Traitor or foe, whichever he was, perhaps he deserved this confrontation.