'He killed it?'
'Yes’
'Are you sure?' 'Quite’
'Completely sure?'
•Yes’
'Good!'
'Why do you ask about the Minotaur?' I said, anticipating the answer.
'Because Meto has been saying that if I'm not good, you'll feed me to it. But you've just said that it's dead’ 'Ah, so it is’
'So Meto is wrong!' She rolled out of my lap. 'Oh, Papa, I almost forgot! Mama sent me to fetch you. It's important.'
‘Yes?' I raised an eyebrow, imagining some dispute with the unskilled slaves who were overseeing the kitchen in Congrio's absence.
‘Yes! There's a man who's come to see you, a man on horseback all the way from Rome, all covered with dust.'
It was not one man, but three. Two of them were slaves, or more precisely bodyguards, to judge from their size and the daggers at their belts. The slaves had not entered the house, but stood outside with their horses, drinking water from a jug. Their master awaited me just inside the house, in the little formal courtyard with its fishpond and flowers.
He was a tall, strikingly handsome young man with dark eyes. His wavy black hair was trimmed short over his ears but left long on top, so that black curls fell carelessly about his smooth forehead. His beard was trimmed and blocked so that it was no more than a black strap across his chin and upper lip, accentuating his high cheekbones and red lips. As Diana had said, he was dusty from his journey, but the dust did not hide the fashionable and expensive-looking cut of his red tunic or the quality of his riding shoes. He looked familiar; a face from the Forum, I thought.
A slave had brought him a folding chair to sit on. He stood up as I entered and put down the cup of watered wine from which he had been drinking. 'Gordianus,' he said, 'it's good to see you again. Country life agrees with you.' His tone was casual, but it carried the polish of an orator's training.
'Do I know you?' I said. 'My eyes fail me. The sunlight is so bright outside, here in the shade I can't see you clearly
'Forgive me! I'm Marcus Caelius. We've met before, but there's no reason you should remember me.'
'Ah, yes,' I said. 'I see you more clearly now. You're a protege of Cicero's-and also of Crassus, I believe. You're right, we've met before, no doubt at Cicero's house or in the Forum. Memories of Rome are so irrelevant here, I sometimes have a hard time recollecting. And the beard fooled me. The beard is definitely new.'
He reached up and stroked it proudly. 'Yes, I was probably clean-shaven when we met. You've grown a beard, as well.'
'Mere laziness — not to mention cowardice. At my age a man needs every drop of blood he has to keep his bones warm. Is that the fashion in Rome these days? The way you trim it, I mean.'
'Yes. Among a certain set.' There was a trace of smugness in his voice that put me off.
'The girl has already brought you some wine, I see.'
'Yes. It's quite good.'
'A modest vintage. My late friend Lucius Claudius was rather proud of it. Are you on your way from Rome to some point farther north?'
'I've come from Rome, yes, but this is my destination.'
'Really?' My heart sank. I had hoped he was merely passing through.
'I have business with you, Gordianus the Finder.' 'It's Gordianus the Farmer now, if you don't mind.' 'Whatever.' He shrugged. 'Perhaps we could retire to another room?'
"The courtyard is the coolest and most comfortable place at this time of day.'
'But perhaps there's another place more private, where we might be less likely to be overheard,' he suggested. My heart sank again.
'Marcus Caelius, it's good to see you again, truly. The day is hot and the road is dusty. I'm glad I can give you a cup of cool wine and a respite from your horse. Perhaps you require more than a drink and a brief rest? Very well, my hospitality is not exhausted. To ride all the way from Rome to my door and back again in a single day would challenge even a man as young and fit as you appear to be, and so I will gladly offer you accommodations for the night, if you wish. But unless you want to talk about haymaking or pressing olive oil or tending the vine, you and I have no business to discuss. I have given up my old livelihood.'
'So I've heard,' he said amiably, with an undaunted glimmer in his eyes. 'But you needn't worry. I haven't come to offer you work.'
'No?'
'No. I've come merely to ask a favour. Not for myself, you understand, but on behalf of the highest citizen in the land.' 'Cicero,' I sighed. 'I might have known.'
'When a duly elected consul calls him to duty, what Roman can refuse?' said Caelius. 'Especially considering the ties that bind the two of you. Are you sure there's not another room that might be more appropriate for our discussion?'
'My library is more private… if hardly more secure,' I added under my breath, remembering my glimpse of Aratus skulking away from the window two days before. 'Come.'
Once there, I shut the door behind us and offered him a chair. I sat near the door to the herb garden, so that I could see anyone approaching, and kept an eye on the window above Caelius's shoulder, where I had caught Aratus eavesdropping. 'What have you come for, Marcus Caelius?' I said, dropping all pretence of pleasant conversation. 'I'll tell you right now that I will not go back to the city. If you need someone to spy for you or dig up trouble, you can go to my son Eco, though I hardly wish it on him.'
'No one is asking you to come back to Rome,' said Caelius soothingly.
'No?'
'Not at all. Quite the opposite. Indeed, the very fact that you are now living in the countryside is what makes you so appropriate for the purpose Cicero has in mind.'
'I don't like the sound of that.'
Caelius smiled thinly. 'Cicero said you wouldn't.'
'I'm not a tool that Cicero can pick up whenever he wishes, or bend to his purpose at will; I never was and never will be. No matter that he's consul for the year, he's still only a citizen, as I am. I have every right to refuse him.'
'But you don't even know what he's asking of you.' Caelius seemed amused.
•Whatever it is, I won't like it,'
'Perhaps not, but would you refuse an opportunity to serve the state?'
'Please, Caelius, no empty calls to patriotism.'
'The call is not empty.' His face became serious. "The threat is very real. Oh, I understand your cynicism, Gordianus. I may have lived only half as long as you, but I've seen my share of treachery and corruption in the Forum, enough for ten lifetimes!'
Considering his political education at the side of men like Crassus and Cicero, he was probably speaking the truth. Cicero himself had trained him in oratory, and the pupil did his master proud; the words that poured from his lips were polished like precious stones. He might have been an actor or a singer. I found myself listening to him in spite of myself
"The state stands poised on the brink of a terrible catastrophe, Gordianus. If it steps over that brink — or is pushed, against the will of every decent citizen — the descent will be more abrupt and harrowing than anything we've known before. Certain parties are determined to destroy the Republic once and for all. Imagine the Senate awash in blood. Imagine a return of the dictator Sulla's proscriptions, when any citizen could be named an enemy of the state for no reason at all — you must remember gangs running through the streets, carrying severed heads to the Forum to receive their bounty from Sulla's coffers. Only this time the anarchy will spread unceasingly, like waves from a great stone cast into a pond. This time the enemies of the state are determined not to reform it, at whatever bloody cost, but to smash it altogether. You own a farm now, Gordianus; do you want to see it taken from you by force? It will happen, most certainly; because in the new order everything already established will be usurped and thrown down, ground into the dust. The fact that you no longer live in Rome will provide no protection to you or your family. Bury your head in a haystack if you wish, but don't be surprised when someone comes up behind you and cuts it clean off'
I sat for a long moment in silence, unblinking. At last I managed to shake my head and suck in a breath. 'Well done, Marcus Caelius!' I said. 'For a moment there, you had me entirely under your spell! Cicero has taught you exceedingly well. Such rhetoric could make any man's hair stand on end!'