Girls strolled from couch to couch, pouring wine for the guests. Boys traversed the room with silver platters, offering delicacies. A singer joined the musicians and recited a long ballad in Greek about a band of explorers who sailed up the Nile in search of the river's origin, encountering many wonders along the way.

All around me, people engaged in conversations, leaning forward on couches pulled into circles or reclining with their couches pulled close together, head-to-head, but no one spoke to me. The Egyptians saw my Roman toga and regarded me with suspicion; the Roman officers, knowing who I was, shunned me for fear of picking up Meto's bad fortune. Sitting alone, I pricked up my ears and listened to what others were saying to one another.

"He's obviously scared half out of his wits," said one Egyptian courtier to another. Both appeared quite young, though age is sometimes hard to judge with eunuchs. "Do you recall how cocky he was when he first arrived, all bloated with pride over his victory at Pharsalus, thinking he could remake Egypt with a wave of his hand? Then he saw Pompey's head in a basket, and he's been struggling to keep his own head above water ever since. Now Achillas has arrived, and Caesar knows the game is over. He just hopes to get out of Alexandria alive!"

A Roman officer, overhearing them, interrupted. "You know, you couldn't be more mistaken."

"How's that?" asked the courtier, curling his lip.

"About Caesar. This banquet is just another demonstration of his total mastery of the situation. Think of it as a wedding celebration. Egypt is Rome's new bride, to be put in her place with a sound thrashing if she's naughty, or, if she's sweet and obedient, with a sound-"

"You vile Roman!" snapped the eunuch. The unpleasantness of the encounter seemed about to escalate.

The officer scowled. "You're pretty when you're angry. Maybe you're the one in need of a good, sound-"

Both of the eunuchs shrieked with laughter. The Roman threw back his head and joined them. I realized they knew one another already, and were on friendly terms, at the very least. Thus had the confined, uncertain life in the palace bred unexpected relationships among the Romans and Egyptians.

On the dais, a serving girl had arrived with a fresh pitcher of wine. A protocol had been established whereby the queen would be served first, then the king, then Caesar; but ahead of them all, of course, a cup was poured for a taster, selected and approved, I assumed, by all three of them. The taster was a pretty young girl not unlike the late Zoe, perhaps another consecrated temple slave of Isis. She was situated on a couch in front of the dais and to one side, discreetly out of the way but close at hand and with nothing to impede the line of vision between the royal couple and herself, so that any plate or pitcher from which she safely partook could be taken at once to the king and queen without leaving their sight.

The serving slave poured a splash of wine from the pitcher into the taster's clay vessel; the taster raised the cup to her lips and swallowed.

A vision passed before my eyes. My own cup trembled in my hands. "So that's how it was done!" I whispered.

I looked from the taster to Merianis and felt a pain in my heart, compounded of anger and remorse. I would have to share my sudden revelation with Caesar at once. To do so would mean the end of Merianis, and perhaps the end of Cleopatra. What had they intended? Which of them was more culpable? Was it possible that Merianis had acted without her queen's knowledge? It would be up to Caesar to determine the answers to those questions; but whatever he might discover by torture and interrogation, and whatever excuses the guilty might offer, surely even Caesar's much-celebrated clemency could not extend to forgiving the deception that had been perpetrated that day on Antirrhodus. It would not be Meto who fell to harsh Roman justice; I now knew a way to prove his innocence.

I stood unsteadily, my legs trembling. I braced myself and strode across the crowded room, directly toward the dais. Cleopatra was the first to notice my approach. She gave me a withering look that made it clear she thought I had no business being in the room at all. Merianis, sensing her queen's displeasure, followed her gaze and drew a sharp breath when she saw me, then lowered her eyes; did she realize what was about to happen? When Ptolemy saw me he flashed a quizzical smile; had he heard about the poisoning on Antirrhodus and Meto's imprisonment, or had Caesar managed to keep that intelligence from him? That question was answered when I looked at Pothinus, whose cool, appraising glance told me that he was entirely aware of my situation.

At last Caesar noticed my approach. He had been smiling at some quip from Ptolemy, but his smile vanished at once. In the mirror of his face, I saw how terrible my countenance must appear. I was the messenger in the play who arrives bearing news that will shatter all expectations. Guards abruptly converged from either side to check my approach. Caesar raised his hands to order them back.

I stopped at the foot of the dais and looked up at him. A hush had fallen on the room as others noticed my approach and the reactions of those on the dais.

"Do you have something to say to me, Gordianus?"

"Yes, Consul. But not here. If I could speak to you in private…" I cast a glance at the queen and Merianis.

"Can this not wait, Gordianus?"

"If I can tell him who poisoned the wine on Antirrhodus, would the consul have me wait?" I lowered my voice as much as I could, but it was impossible to keep those on either side from overhearing. I felt the eyes of the king and queen upon us, and Caesar must have felt them as well.

"Step closer, Gordianus."

I stepped onto the dais. "If we could speak in private-"

He shook his head. "The purpose for this festive occasion takes precedence over all else, Gordianus, including any news you may have for me. I'm on the verge of announcing a glorious peace in Egypt. I will not interrupt the banquet, not even for this. Step closer and whisper into my ear, if you wish."

I dropped to one knee before him. He leaned forward and inclined his head.

"Meto is innocent, Consul. I can prove it, here and now, if you'll allow it."

"How?"

"Bring the amphora of Falernian that Meto brought to Antirrhodus. Have it tasted-"

"And kill another pretty temple slave?"

"The taster will not die, because the amphora was never poisoned. I'll drink from it myself, if you wish."

He drew back, just enough to look me in the eye. "What are you saying, Gordianus?"

"The wine in the amphora was never poisoned."

He thought for a moment. "But at the queen's behest, the wine from the golden cup was poured back into the amphora-"

"Nor was there ever poison in the golden cup the queen presented to Caesar."

Caesar frowned. "And yet, the temple slave Zoe most certainly died." "Because her cup was poisoned-the clay cup from which she and she alone ever drank, and that later was broken when she fell. That cup and only that cup was poisoned! Do you remember? When Merianis fetched her, Zoe brought her own cup with her-"

"And Merianis proceeded to fill that cup with wine from the golden cup."

"But the wine itself was untainted. The poison was already in Zoe's cup, put there without Zoe's knowledge."

"Put there by whom?"

"Perhaps by the person who fetched her," I said, though it was hard to imagine that Merianis was capable of such cold-blooded treachery.

"But the alabaster vial was later found upon Meto."

"The vial was planted upon Meto by Apollodorus. And who went to fetch Apollodorus?" I kept my eyes lowered, but Caesar looked past me, toward Merianis.

"You're saying both were involved-Merianis and Apollodorus?"