"It will not be difficult work, Belas, though it will take you out of the city for a while."

"Out? I do not like the towns, Servilia. The peasants would not know a fine play by Euripides if it ran around them shouting vulgar obscenity. I haven't left the city for almost twenty years and why would I? The world is here and there are some who come to every performance that has a part played by Belas, no matter how small."

Servilia did not laugh at his vanity. Though he claimed a genius as yet unrecognized, he could be a hard and cunning man and he had been reliable in the past.

"Not even the towns, Belas. I want you to watch an estate outside the city for me, a woman there."

Belas took in a sharp breath. "Is there a tavern near this place? Surely I am not required to lie in stinking ditches for you? Dionysus should not be reduced to such a level."

"There is no tavern, my fox, and I suspect you have already guessed the place I will send you. As I remember the play, Dionysus would lie anywhere for a few good pieces of gold as well."

Belas shrugged and his face changed subtly, his features a mask for the man within. "It can only be this new wife of Caesar's. The whole city is talking of the girl. No courtship, I noticed, or poems bought from the writers of such lines, not for him. He must have spent her weight in gold, judging by the estate her father is suddenly looking at buying."

He watched her closely as he spoke and could not resist smiling smugly as her face showed the accuracy of his chatter.

"It has been a month since the hasty ceremony and still no announcement of a swelling belly," he went on. "Did he not sample her before the wedding? Pompeia comes from a fertile family and I have been waiting for the happy news and more free wine to drown our envy. He may be bald under those leaves, but he has had a daughter before, so perhaps she is barren?"

"You are a malicious little gossip, Belas, did I ever tell you?" Servilia replied. "He is not bald yet and not every marriage is blessed with children from the first night."

"I have heard he tries valiantly, though. Stallions have done less with mares in heat, from what I-"

"Enough, Belas," she said, her expression growing cold. "An aureus a week, until the army leaves for Greece. Will you tell me you can do better in a playhouse somewhere?"

"Not better than the payment, but my public will forget me. I may not get work as easily afterwards. They are fickle, you know, in their affection, and prices have risen with all the gold Caesar brought from Gaul. Two gold pieces a week would keep me alive long enough to find work, when you are finished with old Belas."

"Two it is, but I will want your eyes on that house at all times. I do not want excuses from you, or one of your wild stories about gambling games that dragged you in against your will."

"My word is good, Servilia. You have always known that." His tone was serious and she accepted it.

"You have not said what I am looking for," he went on.

"She is very young, Belas, and the young can be fools almost as much as the old. Watch she does not stray or be tempted by some fine boy in the city."

"And your interest in this, my beautiful queen? Could it be that you are hoping she will be tempted? Perhaps I should put temptation in her path for her to stumble over. Such things could easily be arranged."

Servilia bit her lip as she thought, before shaking her head. "No. If she is a fool, it will not come through me."

"I am curious to know why you would spend gold on another man's wife," Belas said, tilting his head as he watched her reactions. To his astonishment, spots of color appeared on her cheeks.

"I… will help him, Belas. If to be useful is all I can have from him, then I will have that."

At her words, his face softened and he approached her, taking her in his arms. "I have been as hopeless, once or twice. Love makes fools of great hearts."

Servilia pulled free of the embrace, touching at her eyes.

"Will you do it then?"

"Of course, my queen. It is done, as soon as I put the mask of beloved Dionysus back in the box and the crowds have sighed their last at my lines. Would you like to hear the climax? It is a rare piece."

She glanced in gratitude at him for the chatter that smoothed over the moment of sadness. "Let me summon the girls, Belas. You are always better when there are pretty women listening to you," she said, relaxing now that their business was over.

"It is my curse to have them inspire me," he said. "May I choose a favorite when I am done? An actor of my quality must be rewarded."

"Just one, Belas," she said.

"Two? I thirst for love, Servilia."

"One," she said, "and a cup of wine for the thirst."

Caecilius shivered as the cold sea spattered over the bows of the tiny boat in the darkness. He could hear the hiss and slap of waves, but on the moonless night it was as if he were floating through absolute darkness. The two rowers never spoke as they guided the craft, and only the stars glimpsed through drifting clouds kept them on course for the Greek shore. The sail had been brought down some time before, and though Caecilius was no sailor, he guessed the act had some significance.

"In my favor, two knives and an assortment of Greek coinage, value as yet unestablished at current prices," Caecilius murmured to himself. One of the rowers shushed him between strokes and Caecilius went on in silence with his mental list. In times of discomfort, he had found that it helped him to see his way more clearly if he could take the most formless of situations and add a little structure.

"A gold ring of Caesar's tied into a pocket of a good leather belt. A pair of stout sandals with wool to pad the feet against blisters. A little food in case I have to hide for a few days. Salt and oil to add taste to the food. A waterskin that appears to have a small leak."

These were the things he had brought to spy on Pompey's army, he thought miserably. It didn't seem like a great deal in the circumstances. As another spray of cold water crossed his seat, Caecilius took a better grip on his plummeting morale.

"A fine mind, a good knowledge of Greek that can pass as a peasant, at least. Sharp eyes. Experience and some wisdom picked up along the way."

He sat a little straighter in the boat as he listed those accomplishments, feeling better. After all, he had been recommended for the task and Caesar would not have sent a fool. All he had to do was gauge the strength of the legions and the numbers of galleys Pompey had assembled. With his Greek, he thought he would probably get work in one of the camps until it came time each month to head back for the coast and deliver his reports. Eventually, whoever came to meet him would tell him the task was finished and he could jump in and be carried back home.

"Will it be you coming for me?" he whispered to the closest oarsman.

The man hissed an angry reply before he had even finished his question. "Keep your mouth shut. There are galleys in the water around here and voices carry."

It was not much of a conversation and Caecilius tried to settle back and ignore the water that seemed to delight in leaping over the bows and greeting him like an old friend. No matter how he tried to shelter himself, another splash would find him and work its way into his most intimate crevices.

"On the other side," he thought to himself, "I have a right knee that hurts whenever I put weight on it. Two fingers that ache when it rains. A strong desire not to be here. I do not know what I will be facing and there is a chance that I will be captured, tortured, and killed. And surly companions who care nothing for my troubles."

As he finished his list, both rowers paused at some instinct and sat absolutely motionless in the boat. Caecilius opened his mouth to whisper a question, but the nearest pressed a hand over his face. Caecilius froze and he too looked around into the darkness, his ears straining.