"They took her to Chrysogonus, in Rome. That was the rumour among the slaves, anyway. Perhaps it's only what we wish might be the truth.'
'Or perhaps it's Elena who's buried here, and the child lives on.'
Carus only shrugged and turned back towards the house.
Thus I departed from Ameria even later than I had hoped. I took the advice of Titus Megarus and spent the night with his cousin. All that day on the road and that night under a strange roof I pondered what Carus had told me, and for some reason the words that lingered in my thoughts were not about Elena or her child, or about Capito and his family, but something he had said about his former master 'And if Sextus Roscius was a terrible father to his daughters, what business was that of mine?' There was something disturbing in those words, and I puzzled over them until at last sleep captured me again.
20
I reached Rome shortly after midday. The weather was sweltering, but the climate in Cicero's study was quite chilly.
'And where have you been?' he snapped, pacing with crossed arms about the room, staring at me and then into the atrium, where a household slave sat pulling weeds. Tiro stood at a table before a bunch of scrolls unrolled and held down by weights. Rufus was there as well, sitting in the corner and tapping at his lower lip. The two of them gave me sympathetic glances that told me I was not the first to receive Cicero's wrath that day. The trial was only four days away. The first-time advocate was not bearing up well.
'But surely you knew I was in Ameria,' I said. 'I told Tiro before I left.'
'Yes, good for you, running off to Ameria to let us handle the case here alone. You told Tiro you'd be back yesterday.' He gave a small burp and made a face, clutching his belly.
'I told Tiro I'd be gone for one day at the least, possibly more. I don't suppose it would interest you to know that since I last saw you my home was invaded by armed thugs — and may have been attacked again — I can't say because I haven't yet returned there, having come straight here instead. They threatened my slave, who luckily escaped, and they butchered my cat, which may seem a small thing to you but which would be an omen of catastrophic proportions in a civilized country like Egypt.'
Tiro looked appalled. Cicero looked dyspeptic. 'An attack on your house — on the night you left Rome? But that can't possibly be connected to your work for me. How could anyone have known—'
'I can't answer that, but the message left in blood on my wall was explicit enough. "Be silent or die. Let Roman justice work it’s will" Probably good advice. Before I left Rome I had to cremate my cat, find lodgings for my slave, and arrange for a guard to watch my doorstep. As for the journey, I invite you to ride to Ameria and back in two days and see if it leaves you in a better humour. My backside is so sore I can hardly stand, let alone sit.' My arms are sunburned, and my insides feel as if I'd been picked up by a Titan and thrown like a pair of dice.'
Cicero's jaw stiffened and quivered, his lips pursed. He was about to snap at me again.
I held up my hand to silence him. 'But no, Cicero, don't thank me yet for all my pains on your behalf. First, let's sit calmly for a few moments while you have a servant fetch us something quenching to drink and bring a meal fit for a hungry man with an iron stomach who hasn't eaten since daybreak. Let me tell you what I discovered on my rounds with Tiro the other day, and what I found out in Ameria. Then you can thank me.'
Which, after I had finished my tale, Cicero did quite profusely. His indigestion seemed to vanish, and he even broke his regimen to share a cup of wine with us. I plunged into the murky matter of my finances and found him completely amenable. He agreed not only to pay for any additional expenses incurred by leaving Vespa for a few extra days in Ameria, but even volunteered to pay for an armed professional to guard my house until after the trial. 'Hire a gladiator from whomever you wish,' he said. 'Charge the debt to me.' When I produced the petition of the citizens of Ameria asking Sulla to reverse the proscription of old Roscius, I thought he might name me his heir.
As I told the tale I paid careful attention to Rufus's face. Sulla was his brother-in-law, after all. Rufus professed only disdain for the dictator, and in any event Titus Megarus's tale implicated not Sulla but Chrysogonus, his ex-slave and deputy.’ Nevertheless, I feared he would be offended. For an instant I considered that it might have been Rufus who betrayed me to the enemies of Sextus Roscius and set Mallius Glaucia invading my house, but I could see no guile in his brown eyes, and it was hard to imagine that those quizzical eyebrows and freckled nose belonged to a spy. (Red hair on a woman is a warning, the Alexandrians say, but put your trust in a redheaded man.) Indeed, when the tale turned to Sulla and cast him in a poor light, Rufus seemed quietly pleased.
When I was done with my tale and Cicero began plotting his strategy, Rufus was eager to be of help. Cicero wanted to send him down to the Forum, but I suggested that Rufus come with me instead and tend to legal errands later. Now that I had uncovered the truth I wanted to confront Sextus Roscius with it, to see if I couldn't break through his shell, and for propriety's sake I preferred to drop in on Caecilia Metella not as a lone inquisitor but as a humble visitor in the company of her dear young friend.
Tiro was busy completing his summary of my account. As soon as I mentioned visiting Caecilia, I saw him look up furtively. He bit his Hp and furrowed his brow, trying to think of some legitimate excuse to come with us. He was thinking of the young Roscia, of course. As Rufus and I made ready to go, he became more and more agitated, but said nothing.
'And, Cicero,' I finally said, 'if you could possibly spare Tiro — that is, if you don't need him for something relating to the case — I'd appreciate your sending him along with us.' I watched Tiro's face light up.
'But I thought he and I might go over your account. I may want to make some notes and observations of my own.'
'Yes, well, I only thought — that is, there were some details of my conversations when he went with me the other day, the interrogation at the House of Swans in particular, that I need to discuss with him — holes in my memory that need patching, that sort of thing. Of course it could wait for another day, but there aren't that many days left. Besides, I suspect I may need him to take down some new material from Roscius himself'
'Very well,' Cicero said. 'I'm sure I can manage for the rest of the afternoon without him.' In his elation at the prospect of a stunning victory in the Rostra he went so far as to pour himself another cup of wine and to reach for a crust of bread.
Tiro looked so happy I thought he might weep.
I had lied to Cicero; I had nothing to ask Tiro. It was Rufus I talked to as we walked through the Forum and up the Palatine to Caecilia's house. Tiro trailed behind us, distracted and glassy-eyed.
I had taken little notice of Rufus when I first met him. Each of his qualities had been eclipsed by those around him. As a noble, Caecilia Metella exuded greater prestige, being more comfortable with her power and more conscious of it; Cicero outshone him as a scholar; and for the exuberance of youth, he could not compete with Tiro. Finally speaking to him alone, I was impressed by his reserve and his manner, and equally by his quick wits. Apparently Cicero had kept him busy in the Forum every day since he had taken the case, trusting Rufus to file the necessary papers and arrange court business in his name. As we walked through the Forum, he gave a nod or exchanged a few words with those he knew — deferentially to the older nobles, less so to those nearer his age or of a lower class. Despite the fact that he did not yet wear the toga of manhood, he was obviously known to important people and had earned their respect.