Oppressed by the uncertain state of the world, anxious about my debts, worried by Bethesda's illness and the discord in my household, aching from the loss of the son I had disowned-such was the state of my mind when I decided to escape the safe confines of my house and go off wandering one day.

I had done much the same thing almost a month before, on the day I found myself at Cassandra's apartment and later witnessed Caelius's disappearing act in the Forum. But whereas on the previous occasion my feet had taken me straight to Cassandra's door, unwittingly or not, on this day I found myself taking a much longer walk as I trod a meandering course through the city. Having lived so long in Rome, knowing it so intimately, it was probably impossible for me literally to lose myself in the city. Nonetheless, I fell into a certain musing state of mind, forgetful of my bearings and direction and alert only to my immediate surroundings and the sensations they produced.

It was a fine day for such a walk, typical of late Maius, sunny but not too hot. The charm of Rome was everywhere. At a quaint neighborhood fountain, water poured from the mouth of a gorgon into a deep trough from which women scooped brimming buckets. (Water, if nothing else, was still plentiful and free in Rome.) Just around the corner, a huge bronze phallus projecting from the lintel of a doorway proclaimed the presence of a neighborhood brothel. The sun happened to catch the phallus at such an angle that it cast a shadow onto the street so absurdly enormous that I laughed out loud. On the doorstep an uncommonly plump prostitute sat sunning herself like a cat. As I walked by, she opened her eyes to slits, and I believe I heard her literally purring. A little farther on, I came to a long alley fronted by continuous walls on either side; both walls were overgrown with blooming jasmine, and the smell was so heady that once I reached the end of the alley, I turned around and retraced my steps, just to see if the scent was as sweet going in the opposite direction.

Every time I turned a corner, I was confronted by memories, sweet and bitter. I had lived so long in Rome that sometimes it seemed to me the city was a map of my own mind, its streets and buildings manifestations of my deepest memories.

In this austere little house, now painted yellow but bright blue when I last entered the door, I had once comforted a grieving widow who summoned me to solve the murder of her husband-and it turned out that she herself was the murderer…

Down that street a band of thieves, intent on cutting our throats, had once chased me and my slave Belbo-how I missed that faithful bodyguard! The two of us had escaped by ducking into a fountain and holding our breaths…

I crested a hill and saw in the distance the terraces and wings of Pompey's vast mansion atop the Pincian Hill outside the city walls; an intervening haze of heat and dust imbued the place with a slightly unreal, floating quality, like a palace seen afar in a dream. When Pompey slept at night, so far from home, was this how he saw the house he had left behind? The last time I had seen Pompey-making his escape by ship from Italy-he had tried to strangle me with his bare hands. The memory made my throat constrict. At that very moment, was the so-called Great One alive or dead? Was he standing over the slain body of Caesar, listening to his soldiers declare him Master of the World-or was he just another mortal turned to ashes like so many before him, whose ferocious ambitions counted for nothing when the jaws of Hades opened to claim them?

At the craggy base of the Capitoline Hill, I passed the gate of the private family cemetery where years ago I had met in secret with Clodia on the eve of Marcus Caelius's trial for murder. How I had been smitten by that mysterious, aloof, treacherous beauty! In all my life, Clodia had been the only woman who had ever tempted me to stray from Bethesda. Until now…

No matter how circuitous the route, no matter how distracting or amusing or arousing or appalling the memories summoned up by each turning of a corner, my feet knew where they were leading me.

When I arrived at the doorstep of her tenement, guarded by the dog who did not bark at my approach, was I surprised? A little. The part of me that desired her-totally, without question, beyond reason-had outfoxed the part of me that knew such a thing was impossible, improper, absurd. Absurdity, more than anything else, might have stayed me. A much older man hankering after a beautiful young woman inevitably presents a preposterous scene. I thought of every lecherous old fool I had ever seen on the stage and cringed at the idea of making a comic spectacle of myself. Even assuming that my advances were welcomed and mutually desired, there were complications-not least the fact that the object of my desire might be as mad as everyone said, in which case, was I not equally mad to be pursuing her?

As to the greatest complication of all-my companion and wife of many years, ailing and alone in her bed at home-I could not even bear to think of that. In the end, I was hardly thinking at all as I found myself propelled forward by some mechanism of the body far removed from conscious thought.

If she had not been in her room, or if Rupa had been there, perhaps things might have turned out very differently. But she was there, and she was alone. I pulled back the curtain, unannounced and without warning, expecting to give her a start. Instead, she slowly turned her face in my direction, sat up on the pallet, and rose to her feet. As she slowly walked toward me, her eyes never left mine. She parted her lips and opened her arms. I let the curtain drop behind me. I think I let out a little cry, like a child overwhelmed by an unfamiliar emotion, as her lips met mine and covered them.

The morning after my visits to Antonia and Cytheris, I again rose early. Bethesda stirred and spoke a little, but remained in bed. She had almost entirely stopped eating, and this, even more than her lethargy, was beginning to worry me. Her face had become gaunt, her eyes vacant. The powerful will that had ruled my household for so many years seemed to be seeping out of her little by little, leaving only a shell behind.

The day was already warm, but a chill passed through me. For the very first time-always before I had managed to avoid the thought-I had an inkling of what the world would be like without her. I had experienced life before Bethesda, but so long ago I could hardly remember such a thing. To imagine a life after Bethesda was almost impossible. I reminded myself that in such matters we mortals seldom have a choice, physicians and radish soup and prayers to the gods notwithstanding.

I ate a little. I summoned Androcles and Mopsus to help put on my toga, then sent them to do the same for Davus. Thus my day began as had the previous two, and I realized, with a twinge of mingled pleasure and guilt, that I had begun to enjoy this routine. It gave me something to take my mind off Bethesda, and my debts, and the discord in my household. In a curious way, even though it was all about her, it even took my mind off Cassandra, or at least gave me something to think about besides the obsessive longing she had stirred in me-and the consequent guilt-and the grief I had felt when she died in my arms.

I realized, as I made plans and preparations for the day, that I was working again-not for another, and not for money (alas), but working nonetheless at the curious trade that had sustained me throughout my life. In recent years I had gradually retired from that trade, leaving it to Eco. I had become Gordianus the husband, Gordianus the father, Gordianus the chin-wagger in the Forum, and even, against all expectations, Gordianus the illicit lover-but no longer Gordianus the Finder. Now I once again found myself doing what I had always done best, looking for the truth of a matter that no one else cared, or dared, to pursue. I had found my bearings and settled like a wagon wheel into a familiar groove. In spite of all my reasons to feel miserable, at least I could say with certainty who and what I was. I was Gordianus the Finder again, pursuing the course the gods had laid down for me.