When I returned to my seat at the triumph, Caesar had already passed, without incident. The legionaries who had served him in Asia were marching by.
I was a bit taken aback by Bethesda's reaction. She seemed hardly to have noticed my absence. Perversely, perhaps, I felt obliged to point out that I had been gone a rather long time.
"Have you?" she said. "When there's so much to watch, the time simply flies. You missed the Cappadocian acrobats. I swear, those boys and girls must have wings, to fly through the air like that!"
"And the Bithynian archers-they were impressive!" offered Davus.
"Archers?" I said.
"They shot hundreds of arrows high into the air," explained Bethesda, "from which multicolored pennants unfurled. The arrows fluttered down, as harmless as a rain of rose petals. It was really quite spectacular."
"You know, I could have been in danger," I said.
"Danger? When all Rome is watching a triumph? How?"
"I don't know. Someone might have tried to stab me in the public latrine. That happened once before-"
"Oh, that was a long time ago!" said Bethesda.
"Which doesn't mean it couldn't happen again. So, it never occurred to you to send Rupa or Davus to look for me?"
She shrugged. "I assumed you ran into someone and were chatting away. I should hate to interrupt when you're busy catching up on gossip with some lowlife from the Subura or some wharf rat from the docks-"
"Excuse me, Wife, but most of my chatting these days is done with people considerably higher up the social scale than that. I talk to senators and magistrates, and relatives of the dictator, and famous playwrights-"
"Yes, yes," she said. "Now shush. The soldiers have broken into one of those chants they love so much. By Bona Dea, it's not about Caesar and King Nicomedes again, is it? I suppose those archers from Bithynia reminded them…"
If this was material for a play, it was decidedly a comedy, and at my expense. I sat though the remainder of the triumph in glum silence.
The feasting that followed the triumph left me torpid and drowsy. I meant to read more of Hieronymus's reports when I returned home, looking especially for anything to do with the playwrights Laberius and Syrus, but I could hardly stay awake long enough to tumble into bed. I slept like a stone. Bethesda complained of my snoring the next morning.
During breakfast, I received another message from Calpurnia.
Come at once! I am desperately fearful! My wise counselor assures me the danger increases as the time grows shorter. Have you discovered nothing? Rub the words from this wax as soon as you have read them and report to me in person.
Now there, I thought, is a woman who knows how to fret over her husband. Taking Rupa with me, I went to her house at once.
Porsenna the haruspex was with her, looking as self-important as ever. Uncle Gnaeus sat with his arms crossed, shaking his head from time to time to express his opinion that all this fuss was for no good reason. Calpurnia was in a highly agitated state.
"You realize there is only one more triumph remaining?" she said.
"Yes, tomorrow's African Triumph," I said, "ostensibly to celebrate the defeat and death of King Juba but also to mark Caesar's triumph over his Roman opponents who fled to Africa after the battle of Pharsalus. No Roman has ever before celebrated a triumph for killing other Romans-"
"Which makes this occasion all the more dangerous for Caesar," said Calpurnia. "How his enemies would love to pull him down even as he reaches the pinnacle of his glory!"
"Is that what your haruspex tells you?"
"Porsenna's warnings are dire. But it's also common sense."
"Then surely your husband will take every precaution. No man has more common sense than Caesar. Why, only yesterday, someone was telling me what a good judge of character Caesar must be-"
"Enough prattling!" said Calpurnia. "Have you discovered anything that might be useful? Anything at all?"
I sighed. "I'm no closer to being able to tell you who killed Hieronymus, and why. As I told you from the outset, that is my real purpose for pursuing this matter."
"When will you know something?"
"It's impossible to say. And yet…"
All three of them leaned toward me.
"Go on!" said Porsenna.
"Over the years, I seem to have developed a certain instinct. As others can smell rain before it comes, so I can smell the truth approaching."
"And?"
"My nose has begun to twitch."
"What is that supposed to mean?" snapped Uncle Gnaeus.
"I sense that I'm drawing closer to the truth, though I don't yet have an inkling of what that truth is or where or how the revelation will come. It's like the first whiff of a scent. You know you recognize it, even though you can't put a name to it. At least, not yet… but soon…"
"You sound as mystical as Porsenna!" said Calpurnia. "I thought you relied on logic and deduction, like a Greek philosopher."
"I do. But sometimes I seem to skip a step or two in the chain of reasoning. I arrive at the truth by a kind of shortcut. Does it matter how I get there?"
"It matters when you get there," she said. "In time to save Caesar!"
I took a deep breath. "I'll do what I can."
I returned home. Once again I set to studying Hieronymus's reports and his personal journal. Though the hour was early, the day was already hot. No breeze stirred the baking heat of the garden.
I found nothing new to pique my interest, but I did come across a passage I had not read before, concerning the doorkeeper at Hieronymus's building, the slave called Agapios. In passing, Hieronymus noted, "What a flirt the boy is! Today he actually winked at me. To be sure, Cytheris served wine of Chios last night, and that vintage is said to restore the allure of the drinker's lost youth."
"Hieronymus, Hieronymus!" I muttered. "What a vain old fellow you were, and how easily you were flattered." In fact, I felt a bit put out by the passage. Agapios had flirted with me as well, but obviously the young man did so promiscuously and without the least sincerity. Some slaves acquire a habit of flirting with their superiors; they ingratiate themselves by reflex.
Diana brought me a cup of water. She surveyed the scrolls and scattered bits of parchment all around me. She seemed to hesitate, then spoke.
"Papa, do you think you've given sufficient weight to the note Hieronymus left for whomever might find his private writings? I mean the part where he says, 'Look all around! The truth is not found in the words-' "
"Daughter! Have you been looking through these documents behind my back?"
"You never forbade me to read them, Papa."
"But I never asked you to do so." I scowled at her. The heat was making me irritable.
"Hieronymus was my friend, too," she said quietly.
"Yes. Of course he was." I sipped the water.
"I want to know what happened to him, just as you do," she added. "And since you think it unseemly that I should go about asking questions of strangers, as you do, what else can I do but read his reports and try to imagine which of those people wanted to kill him?"
"I'll grant that you have the advantage of younger, stronger eyes. How much have you read?"
"Only bits and pieces. Some of his Greek I can't follow, and sometimes his handwriting is very hard to make out."
"As I know only too well! But what were you saying earlier, about something I've overlooked?"
"I don't know that you've overlooked it, Papa. But it strikes me that it might be significant. It's this part here." She reached for a scrap of parchment and read aloud. " 'I dare not write my supposition even here; what if this journal were to be discovered? Must keep it hidden. But what if I am silenced? To any seeker who finds these words and would unlock the truth, I shall leave a key. Look all around! The truth is not found in the words, but the words may be found in the truth.' "
I nodded. "Yes, yes, I noticed that passage at once when I discovered his private writings. There was no literal key, or at least none that I could find. As for looking all around, I did so. I scoured every corner of his rooms."
"Was Rupa with you?"
"No, this was before your mother issued her proclamation that I should never venture out alone. Why do you ask?"
"Another pair of eyes might have seen something you overlooked."
"Do you think I should go back and look again, and take Rupa with me?"
"No, I think you should take me with you."
"Diana, you know how I feel about your interest in this sort of-"
"But, Papa, you just admitted that my eyes are younger and stronger. Might I not see something that you overlooked? Four eyes are better than two."
"An aphorism worthy of Publilius Syrus!"
"So you will take me with you to Hieronymus's apartment?"
"I never said that!"
But that was what I did.
An hour later, three of us arrived at the building in the Subura: Rupa, Diana, and myself. Agapios the door slave was nowhere to be seen, but we did not need him; I had the key to Hieronymus's rooms. As we made our way up the stairs, Diana bounded ahead of me. I could see she was very excited to be accompanying her father in the performance of his work.
But her excitement gradually faded as we conducted our examination of the rooms. Together, we searched the furniture, looked for hidden compartments in the walls and the floor, and sorted though Hieronymus's few possessions. We looked through the various scrolls that remained in the bookcase, searching for any scraps of parchment with Hieronymus's handwriting. We circled the rooftop terrace, searching for hidden compartments in the exterior walls.
We discovered nothing of interest.
At length, Diana sighed. "I was so sure we'd find something."
I nodded. "I know that feeling."
"And yet, I was wrong."
"I know that feeling, too. There's a great deal of frustration and disappointment in this sort of work. But when there's nothing to see, four eyes are no better than two."
"I suppose you're right. But I'd be even more frustrated if I hadn't been able to take a look for myself. Thank you, Papa."
As we made our way down the stairs, I heard voices from the vestibule below. We came upon young Agapios in conversation with Gnaeus Calpurnius. The old priest looked surprised to see me, and even more surprised at the sight of Rupa and Diana.
"What are these people doing here?"
The usually cheerful Agapios seemed completely cowed by Uncle Gnaeus, who was no doubt immune to his powers of flirtation. "The one called Gordianus has the key to the rooftop apartment," he explained.
"How did he acquire that?"
"He took it from me. He showed me the mistress's seal-"
Uncle Gnaeus boxed his ear. "A fine job you've done, looking after this property. I should send you to the salt mines." No sooner had Agapios recovered himself than Gnaeus struck him again.
"Stop!" I said. "It's as the slave says. I took the key by Calpurnia's authority. What business is it of yours?"
"My niece delegated the running of this property to me months ago. She's much too busy to deal with evicting tenants or collecting rents. The slave should never have given you a key to this building without my authority."
"Gnaeus Calpurnius, I think you know the importance your niece attaches to my work, whether you respect it or not. Would you have denied me the key? I think not. For Numa's sake, leave the boy alone!"
"How dare you invoke the name of my ancestor on behalf of a slave, Finder!"
"Here, take back the key. I don't need it anymore." I tossed it at his feet, but it was Agapios who scrambled to retrieve it. The groveling slave offered it to Gnaeus Calpurnius, who gave him a kick.
I hurried out, with Diana and Rupa behind me.
"Now you've seen another side of my work, Daughter." I could see that Diana was shaken by the exchange. "It isn't all sipping wine with Cytheris or trading barbs with Cicero. Strip away their cultivated manners, and you'll find that our betters are a nasty lot."
"What an awful man!" Diana shuddered.
"I've encountered worse," I said, but at the moment I couldn't remember where or when.
After sharing a midday meal with the family, I was inclined to take a nap, but Diana insisted that we sit together in the garden and continue reading Hieronymus's notes. Having worn me down in her pursuit to share my work, she was eager to continue.
It was Diana who came across a passage that neither of us had read before:
Do I miss living in the household of Gordianus? I certainly miss Bethesda's cooking. I miss Gordianus's largesse and his conversation. But the two of them are gone, perhaps never to return. I miss the others, too, of course, but there is much to be said for striking out on one's own and not looking back. I am living my own adventure.
"His own adventure," I whispered, "which came to such a sad end."
Diana nodded. "There's also a bit about that haruspex Porsenna."
Part of the fun is seeing how far I can trick a fellow trickster like Porsenna into trusting me (and inducing Calpurnia to pay me). The fellow is probably a charlatan through and through, but I wonder if he hasn't convinced himself of his powers of precognition. If I validate his prediction of a plot against the dictator, his hold on Calpurnia can only increase. If I were to show him up as a fool or a fraud, even she could not protect me from his fury.
"Do you think he's exaggerating, Papa, about how dangerous Porsenna might be? You've met the man. I haven't."
"Hard to say."
"It's a thought, though, isn't it? Hieronymus might have been killed because he was close to proving that Caesar was not in danger from a plot on his life."
I gazed at her and shook my head. "You have your mother's looks, thank the gods, but I fear you've inherited your father's devious mind."
This made her smile.
"I was also wondering, Papa, if we shouldn't be thinking more about the dedication ceremony at the new Temple of Venus."
"What of it?"
"It's scheduled to take place shortly after the completion of tomorrow's triumph. Might that not be a more likely occasion for someone to gain access to Caesar, if they wanted to do him harm?"
"Perhaps. I presume work on the temple is finished, but I'm not sure about the surrounding area. There's a great deal of new construction taking place. I suppose there might be hiding places suitable for staging an ambush, traps that could be made to look like accidents, that sort of thing."
"Perhaps we should have a look."
"We?"
"It was my idea, Papa."
I sighed. "Very well. Go find Rupa. Let's take a look at Caesar's new temple."