'Your father is well except for the pain in his head.'
I opened my eyes and saw Meto for only an instant before his image was blurred by tears. The tears seemed to carry away some of the ache behind my eyes, which was good, for I had many tears to spill. But tears would never make Meto the way he had been before. Rufus had said his wounds were minor, and by the scale of suffering around us he was correct, for Meto still walked and breathed and had all his parts. But the blade that had sliced away a bit of his left ear and cut a gash all the way to the corner of his mouth would leave him with a scar that he would carry forever.
It was impractical and inadvisable for Meto to speak, because the movement of his jaw pulled at the torn flesh of his wound. Rufus had fashioned for him a simple bandage to tie around his head, which kept his mouth shut and also covered the cut. When I first saw him, he had removed the bandage for a while to take a little food and water.
It was hardly easier for me to speak, or listen for that matter, because of the throbbing in my head. Perhaps it was just as well, for words could only have obscured the feelings that passed between us as he sat beside my cot, holding my hand.
I did manage to tell him about the new corpse which had appeared just before I left the farm, and also of my dream about the Minotaur, and what I had surmised from it, I knew now who had left the bodies on the farm, and why, and with whose assistance. Meto was taken aback at first, disbelieving, and questioned me through clenched teeth, but as I laid before him the bits of evidence that came to my mind, he was compelled to agree with what the dream had told me.
I longed to go home. Now that Meto was safe, I brooded over the safety of Bethesda and Diana, whom I had left at the mercy of the Minotaur. Had Eco come, as I asked him to? Even if he had, bringing Belbo and a dozen bodyguards with him, I feared that he might fail to protect them, not knowing what to protect them from The Minotaur was growing more desperate and more devious. But when I stood up and attempted to dress myself, I barely managed to stagger back to the bed. Riding a galloping horse would have been a torture impossible to bear.
Rufus offered me nepenthes for my pain and also to help me sleep. I refused him, telling him that there must be wounded men in the camp in far more agonizing pain than I was, who could use the same draught of forgetfulness to ease their release into death. Still, I think he must have put some poppy juice in the wine he brought me later, for despite my pain and the turmoil of my worries, I slipped into a fretless, healing sleep unhaunted by Minotaurs or any other monsters.
I woke only once in the night, to a darkness lit by a single small lamp and the sound of two voices quietly conversing.
'But the eagle at the Auguraculum, and Catilina's eagle—' I heard Meto say, his voice constricted by the bandage around his head.
'Yes, I agree, these were signs and you read them rightly,' said Rufus. 'It was the will of the gods that you should fight beside Catilina.'
'But I should have stayed with Papa! I only ended up taking him away from Bethesda and Diana when they needed him most — when they needed both of us to protect them. If something terrible has happened on the farm—'
'You can't blame yourself, Meto. There are forces greater than ourselves that drive us through this world, just as winds drive sailing ships or make feathery seeds go dancing on the air. To submit to the wind that brought you here was not a folly.'
'But if that was my destiny, I should have died fighting beside Catilina! It was what I thought would happen. I was ready; I didn't fear it. But when I saw Papa fall, I had to go to him. When I saw he was still alive, I couldn't leave him there. I left the battle and carried him to safety, meaning to return, but my strength deserted me and the enemy found me unconscious. I should fall on my sword in shame!'
'No, Meto. You told me something earlier, about the eagle standard. You said that just before you went to your father, you saw the standard totter and fall.'
'Yes, Tonguius was struck in the eye by an arrow. The standard fell and there was no one to pick it up.'
'Don't you see? An eagle appeared to us all at the Auguraculum, to signal the beginning of your manhood. When you first saw Catilina's silver eagle, you recognized it as an omen and followed it all the way here and into battle. But when that eagle fell, not to rise again, you were released. You had done what you were meant to do. It was the gods' way of telling you to leave Catilina, whom the gods themselves could no longer help, and to go to your rather, whom you alone could help. You did the right thing.'
'Do you really think so, Rufus?'
'I do.'
'And I'm not just a coward or a fool?'
'To follow a dream is never the act of a coward; to lay that dream aside in the fullness of time is the opposite of foolishness. To carry a man over your shoulders across a battlefield is not the act of a coward; to do so for the sake of your father marks you not as a fool but as a Roman, Meto. Ah, your rather seems to be stirring. Gordianus? No, I see he's still asleep. But look, he's smiling; his pain must have eased, for him to be having such pleasant dreams.'
The next morning I felt remarkably better. Long hours of sleep and the draught of nepenthes must have sorted out the jumbled humours in my head, and the walnut on my forehead had miraculously shrunk to a chickpea. Rufus fretted that I was not yet ready to travel, but when I insisted, he said he would supply horses for us.
'We're not prisoners, then? We're free to go?' I said.
Rufus smiled. 'Certain privileges are allowed to an augur who represents the Pontifex Maximus himself Let us say that, like nepenthes, I have been able to induce forgetfulness. Officially neither of you ever existed. No prisoners were taken at the battle of Pistoria; every one of Catilina's men died in combat. So the Senate will be told, and so the historians will record it. You're both remarkably lucky, not just to be alive but to have each other. Fortune smiles on you, Gordianus.'
"Then I pray she continues to smile,' I said, thinking of the farm and what might have transpired in my absence.
No one took any notice of us as we mounted our horses and made our way through the makeshift lanes and thoroughfares that threaded among the tents and bonfires. A sombre mood prevailed, but there was also that hint of anarchy that enters such encampments when the battle is won and danger has departed. Men sat about in groups, drinking wine, arguing over details of the battle, gambling and haggling over the loot they had stripped from the dead.
Towards the rear of the camp our route took us by the commander's tent. Was Antonius still hiding inside, crippled by gout? I smiled at the thought, but the smile stiffened on my face when I saw the trophy erected on a spit outside the tent. Meto must have seen it in the same instant, for I heard him suck in his breath through clenched teeth.
Now I knew what Rufus had meant when he had said that I might see Catilina's face again.
They had saved it so that it might be taken to Rome and shown to the Senate and the people as proof of his demise. Those who had feared him would have their fears allayed; those who had wished for his triumph would see their wishes shattered; those who might want to emulate him would be given a vivid warning. 'I see two bodies, one thin and wasted, but with a swollen head, the other headless, but big and strong,' he had told the Senate. 'What is there so dreadful about it, if I myself become the head of the body which needs one?' But now the head of Catilina, bloody and torn at the neck, was mounted on a stake outside the tent of his conqueror, of no more use to anyone. The expression of haughty disdain frozen upon his features was wasted on the impervious flies which buzzed about his eyes and hps.
I swallowed hard. Beside me Meto made a peculiar sound, a great sob stifled by the bandage that kept his jaw shut. We paused for a long moment, gazing upon Catilina for the last time. It was Meto who turned away first, snapping his reins and kicking his horse to a gallop. He raced through the camp and I followed, past startled soldiers who shook their fists and cursed, and slaves who stooped to pick up their scattered burdens. Meto did not slow his steed until he was well out of the camp and onto the open road, where the cold grey sky and the naked hills seemed to offer a kind of solace.
XL
Travelling south, I found the mood of the countryside no different from when I had travelled north, for we were ahead of the news that Catilina had been defeated and killed. I had no wish to be the bearer of tidings, welcome or not, and kept my mouth shut at the places where we stopped. This was hard to do when I heard men speak of the glorious future that Catilina would bring, or heard others make the same weary jokes about the ruining of a Vestal Virgin, or heard others rant against his vile habits and mad schemes. I feared that Meto would feel compelled to shout and argue, and might reopen his wound, but he bore all that was said about Catilina with the taciturn, hard-jawed stoicism of a true Roman.
On the morning of our return, when we at last drew near the farm and the countryside grew more familiar, I felt my spirits lift. A light mist covered the earth, muting the subtle colours of winter and softening the world's sharp edges. The air in my lungs was cold and invigorating. We were almost home. What was done was done, and life could begin again. Of course there was the matter of confronting the Minotaur, but so long as nothing terrible had taken place in my absence, I almost looked forward to the meeting. At least it would mean an end to the mounting collection of unwanted corpses on my property, and an end to my ongoing displays of wrongheaded deduction.
Meto was glad to be home, too. When we turned off the Cassian Way onto the dirt road, he broke into a gallop, and so did I. A slave was posted on the roof of the stable and stood up to scrutinize us as we approached. Good, I thought; a close watch was being kept even in daylight, just as I had ordered. When the slave recognized us, he began to call out, The Master! And young Meto!'
As we were dismounting in front of the stable, Eco stepped out of the house. I smiled at him, but he did not smile back. He must have noticed Meto's bandage, I thought, and was worried by it. But then Bethesda came ranning after him. She could not yet have seen Meto's bandage, but her face was red from crying. She ran past Eco, who was walking towards us as if every step caused him pain. She clutched my arms so hard that I thought her nails would tear the sleeves of my tunic.
'Diana!' she said, in a voice hoarse from crying. 'Diana is gone!'
Everything changed in an instant, as if night had fallen in the blink of an eye, or the air had somehow frozen solid.
'Gone?' I said. 'Do you mean—'
'Missing,' said Eco.
'For how long?'
Bethesda spoke in a rush. 'Since yesterday. I was with her all morning, and at midday she ate, but after that — it wasn't until the middle of the afternoon that I realized she must be gone. I took a nap — oh, if only I hadn't. When I woke up I couldn't find her. I called for her everywhere, I shouted until I was hoarse, until long after it was dark, but there was no answer and she never came. How could she be lost? She knows every part of the farm, and she knows better than to go wandering beyond it. I don't understand — '
I looked at Eco. 'The well?' I said.
He shook his head. 'I looked there, and in every other place I could think of where she might have fallen or hurt herself. The slaves have combed the property from end to end, more than once. There's no sign of her.'
'Meto!' cried Bethesda suddenly, seeing his bandage for the first time. She stepped away from me and put her arms around him. 'And the neighbours?' I said to Eco..
'I've gone to see all four of them. They all claim complete ignorance, but who knows? If I had cause to blame one of them, I'd gladly burn down his house to make him tell the truth.'
'Who saw Diana last?'
'She wasn't satisfied with her midday porridge and wanted more. Bethesda was asleep, so Diana took it on herself to go into the kitchen for another helping. Congrio says he teased her about being such a glutton, but gave her another bowl. She ate it there in the kitchen, and then she ran outside to play. But no one seems to have seen her—'
'Meto!' cried Bethesda as he tore himself from her arms and ran towards the house.
'Come, Eco, hurry, before he kills him?’ I cried, running after Meto.
By the time I reached the kitchen, Congrio had already been knocked to the floor. He was on his back, a look of surprised panic in his eyes, with his hands raised to shield his face. Meto wielded a heavy iron poker from the furnace and was swinging it without restraint. The metal made a curiously pleasant sound as it connected with the soft flesh that padded Congrio's body. ‘Where is she? Where is she?' Meto kept growling through clenched teeth, while Congrio wailed and screamed.