If the soldiers did not mean to escort him home, then where? Massilia had lost its navy. Massilia had been betrayed by Pompey. Her people already faced starvation and pestilence; now they could look forward to capitulation and total catastrophe. Their city was older than Rome, her ancient ally; older even than their mutual enemy, Carthage. But Carthage had been destroyed, obliterated so completely that no trace of that once-great city, or its proud people, remained. Massilia could be destroyed just as completely. Until now, hope had staved off that cruel realization. Now hope was gone. Was this the moment for the scapegoat to earn his name? Had the priests of the xoanon Artemis determined that now, in this darkest hour, the time had come for the scapegoat to take all the sins of the troubled city upon his shoulder and, with him, into oblivion? Had these soldiers come to drive him back up the rock, onto the precipice, and over the edge-no longer trespassing, but enacting his destiny-while all Massilia watched and cursed his name?
I held my breath. At last the officer spoke.
"You're not to return to your own house, Scapegoat. I'm to take you directly to the house of the First Timouchos. And I have orders to bring along these two as well." He glared at Davus and me. "Come along!"
Meekly, we obeyed. The soldiers drew their swords and formed a phalanx around us. At a quick pace we headed away from the Sacrifice Rock toward the house of Apollonides.
XVI
As we made our way through the heart of the city, I had cause to be thankful for our armed escort.
The streets were crowded with men and women rushing aimlessly about in panic. Hieronymus in his green robes was quickly recognized. Shouts of "Scapegoat! Scapegoat!" preceded, us. At first, the citizens we passed were content to yell curses, shake their fists, and spit on the ground. Then a few of them began to dog our little retinue, running alongside us, waving their arms and screaming hysterically, their faces twisted with hatred. Soon we were surrounded by a roving mob. Urged on by their fellows, a few men, and even some women, dared to rush the moving phalanx. The soldiers shoved them roughly back with their shields, but several of them managed to thrust a hand past the soldiers. They reached for the scapegoat; failing to clutch him, they made obscene gestures. One managed to wriggle his head through. He spat in Hieronymus's face before being thrown back into the crowd.
Finally the commander ordered his men to use their swords if necessary. When the next man rushed the phalanx, there was a flash of steel and a piercing scream. My face was spattered with warm drops. I wiped my cheeks. Beyond the blood on my fingertips, I caught a glimpse of the wounded man as he fell back, howling and clutching his arm.
The mob kept its distance after that, but began to throw things at us, using whatever was at hand-fistfuls of gravel and small rocks, bits of broken paving stones and fragments of roofing tiles, scraps of wood, even household items like small clay pots, which exploded with a loud pop when they struck the soldier's shields and helmets. The rain of objects became so thick that the commander ordered his men into tortoise formation. A roof of shields closed over our heads. A solid wall of shields surrounded us, with swords thrust through the breeches.
It was dark within the tortoise. I was jostled from all sides as we trudged forward. The smell of sweat from the soldiers filled my nostrils. The crashing of hurled debris was like the din of a hail storm.
"Impious fools! Hypocrites! Idiots!" Hieronymus clenched his fists and shouted at the top of his lungs. "The person of the scapegoat is sacred! Harm me now and you only curse yourselves!" His cries were drowned by the clatter and the screams of the mob.
At last we reached our destination. The commander shouted orders. The soldiers contracted into an even tighter formation. We passed through a portal of some sort. Bronze gates clanged shut behind us, muffling the cries of the mob outside. The soldiers broke formation.
We were in a small, graveled courtyard. Relieved to be free of the tortoise and the mob, I turned my eyes upward and for a brief, incongruous moment I was struck by the beauty of the sky above us. It was the hour of twilight. The firmament was dark blue at its zenith, lightening toward the horizon to shades of aquamarine and an improbable orange, streaked with high bands of tenuous, elongated clouds suffused with the blood-red glow of dying sunlight.
I was drawn back to the moment by the clatter of debris hurled against the closed gate behind us. The mob had not dispersed. The soldiers were busy making sure that the crossbar securing the gates was properly in place. Their commander, looking a bit unnerved, mounted the short flight of steps that led up to the porch of a grand-looking house. Its door was open. On the threshold, Apollonides stood with his arms crossed, looking down at us.
"First Timouchos!" barked the officer, saluting. "As you ordered, I've brought the scapegoat, along with the two men who were seen with him trespassing on the Sacrifice Rock."
"You took your time fetching them here."
"I took the most direct route, First Timouchos. Our progress was… difficult."
Something-a large wine jug perhaps-crashed against the courtyard gates with a loud explosion.
"I want that mob dispersed at once," said Apollonides. "First Timouchos, the noise is misleading. They're not as dangerous as you might think. They're completely disorganized. Loud, but not armed-"
"Then they should be easily dispersed."
The officer ground his jaw. "The sight of the scapegoat excited them. Perhaps if we allow them a little time to cool off-"
"At once, I said! Call up archers. Spill some blood if you have to, but clear the streets immediately. Do you understand?" The officer saluted and backed down the steps. Apollonides turned his attention to us. He glared at Davus and me, then settled his gaze on Hieronymus, who stared sullenly back at him. "You're lucky to still be alive," Apollonides finally said.
"The goddess protects me," answered Hieronymus, his voice steady but hoarse from yelling. "I have a higher purpose."
Apollonides's pale blue eyes flashed. A thin smile spread across the mouth too small for his massive jaw. "Call it what you want. Your higher purpose will still lead you straight to Hades. When you meet them there, give your parents my regards." Hieronymus stiffened, and for a moment I thought he might rush up the steps and hurl himself at Apollonides. But Apollonides, a better judge of Hieronymus than I, never flinched.
"Am I under arrest, then?" demanded Hieronymus. Apollonides snorted. "Don't be ridiculous. I had you brought here for your own safety. You should be thankful for my diligence."
"And my friends? Are they under arrest?"
Apollonides glowered at us. "I'm not sure. I haven't yet made up my mind. Would you believe I've had other things to think about today? In the meantime, you'll all spend the night here-where I can keep an eye on you."
Apollonides withdrew without another word. Slaves escorted us into the house to show us to our quarters. On the way, we passed through the central garden, where evidently a dinner party of considerable size was being prepared. A little army of slaves hurried this way and that, carrying couches, small tables, portable lamps, and stacks of empty serving trays. A celebration feast, I thought; only tonight there would be no cause for celebration.
While Hieronymus was shown to his own private quarters, Davus and I were escorted down the same hallway but in the opposite direction. We descended a short flight of steps. The hallway grew narrower, the ceiling lower, the way more poorly lit, until at last we came to a tiny, windowless room at the very end of the hallway. There were two small sleeping cots and just enough space to walk between them, if I angled my body sideways. A feeble light was cast by a little hanging lamp burning rancid oil. I fell onto my cot and realized, with a long exhalation, how weary I was. But sleep was impossible. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw twisted faces from the mob.