'You are a very proud young man,' he said. 'Very proud and very beautiful, like your sister.' He reached for his wine and took a sip. "But unlike Valeria, you seem to lack a sense of humour. And if Hortensius is your half brother, perhaps that explains why you have only half his good sense, not to mention good manners.' He sipped more wine and sighed. 'When I was your age, many things about the world displeased me. Instead of complaining, I set about changing the world, and I did. If a song offends you, don't throw a tantrum. Write a better one.'
Rufus stared back at him, holding his arms stiffly at his sides, clenching his fists. I imagined all the insults running through his head and whispered a silent prayer to the gods that he would keep his mouth shut. He opened his mouth and seemed about to speak, then looked angrily about the room and stalked out.
Sulla settled back on his couch, looking rather disappointed to have had the last word. There was an awkward silence, broken by a quip from the would-be poet:
'There's a young man who's stunted his career!'
It was an abysmally stupid remark, coming from a nobody and aimed at a young Messalla and brother-in-law of the dictator. The silence became even more awkward, broken only by scattered groans and a suppressed cough from Hortensius.
The host was undismayed. Chrysogonus smiled his golden smile and looked warmly at Metrobius. 'I believe there's at least one more verse — no doubt the best saved for last.'
'Indeed!' Sulla rose to his feet, his eyes twinkling, staggering just a bit from the wine. He walked to the centre of the room. 'What a gift you've all given me tonight! Even sweet little Rufus, acting so foolish and cocky — such a fiery head of hair, such a fiery temperament, as contrary as his sister. What a night! You've made me remember everything, whether I wanted to or not — good days and bad days alike. But the old days, those were the best, when I was a young man with nothing but hope, and faith in the gods, and the love of my friends. I was a sentimental fool even then!' With that he took Metrobius's face between his hands and kissed him full on the mouth, at which the audience spontaneously applauded. When Sulla broke the kiss, I saw tears on his cheeks. He smiled and staggered back, gesturing for the lyre player to resume as he fell back onto his couch. The song began again:
but Tiro and I never heard the ending. Instead we turned our heads as one, distracted by the same unmistakable noise — the rasping slither of a steel blade drawn from its scabbard.
Chrysogonus had sent someone to check the upstairs after all, or else we had simply lingered too long in one place. A hulking figure emerged from the shadow of the doorway, limping slightly as he stepped into the pool of moonlight from the balcony. His wild hair was like a halo of blue flame and the look in his eyes turned my blood to ice. In his left hand he held a knife with a blade as long as a man's forearm — perhaps the same blade he had used to stab Sextus Roscius over and over again.
A heartbeat later Magnus was joined by his henchman, the blond giant, Mallius Glaucia. The scar rent across his face by Bast looked raised and ugly in the pale light. He held his blade at the same angle as his master, tilted up and forwards as if poised to gut an animal's belly.
'What are you doing here?' Magnus said, twisting the knife in his fingers so that the blade glimmered in the moonlight. His voice was higher than I had expected. His rural Latin was overlaid with the grating nasal accent of the street gangs.
I looked into both men's eyes; they had no idea who I was. ' Glaucia had been sent to my house to intimidate or murder me, no doubt at Magnus's order, but neither of them had actually seen me, except as a passing stranger on the road in front of Capito's house. I slowly withdrew my hand from my tunic. I had meant to reach for my knife; instead I slipped the iron ring from my finger. I threw my hands in the air.
'Please, forgive,' I said, surprised at how little effort it took to sound meek and humble in the face of two giants bearing steel blades. 'We're the slaves of young Marcus Valerius Messalla Rufus.
We were sent upstairs to fetch him, before the entertainment began. We lost our way — so stupid!'
'And is that why you're spying on the master of this house and his guests?' Magnus hissed. He and Glaucia separated and approached from two sides, like the flanks of an army.
'We paused here, just to have a look over the balcony and get some fresh air.' I shrugged, keeping my hands in sight and doing my best to appear pathetic and confused. I glanced at Tiro and saw that he was following my lead admirably, or else was simply frightened out of his wits. ‘We heard the singing, found the little window — stupid and presumptuous of us, of course, and I'm sure the young master will see that we're beaten for such insolence. It's just that it's not often we have the chance to look down on a gathering of such splendour.'
Magnus grabbed me by the shoulder and shoved me onto the balcony, into the moonlight. Glaucia pushed Tiro against me so that I tripped backwards against the waist-high brick wall and had to grab the edge to steady myself. I looked over my shoulder. The yawning abyss below resolved into a grassy knoll dappled by the moon shadow of the cypress trees. From below, the balcony had not looked nearly so far from the ground.
Magnus pulled at my hair and poked the tip of his blade into the soft flesh below my chin, forcing me to turn and face him. 'I've seen you before,' he whispered. 'Glaucia, look here! Where do we know this dog from?'
The blond giant scrutinized me, pouted his lips, and wrinkled his forehead. He shook his head, baffled. 'Don't know,' he grunted: Then his face lit up. 'Ameria,' he said. 'Remember, Magnus? Just the other day, on the road, right before we got to Capito's villa. He was corning the other way, riding alone.'
Magnus snarled at me. 'Who are you? What are you doing here?' The knife pressed harder, until I felt the skin break. I imagined my blood trickling down the blade. Never mind who I am, I wanted to say. I know who you are, both of you. You murdered your cousin in cold blood and stole his estates. And you broke into my home and left a bloody message on my wall. You would have murdered Bethesda if you'd had the chance. You'd probably have raped her first.
I brought my knee up with a jerk, straight into Magnus's crotch. By reflex he reached downward. The blade ripped against my tunic, grazing my chest. No matter; I knew I was doomed anyway — Glaucia was right beside him with his dagger poised to strike. I braced myself for the blow to my heart. I even heard it, a sickening sound of ruptured flesh.
Except that no one had stabbed me, and Glaucia had tumbled to his knees, dropping his blade and grasping his head. Tiro stood over him holding a bloody brick in his hand. 'It came loose from the wall,' he explained, staring at it in amazement.
Neither of us thought to reach for Glaucia's blade, but Magnus did. He snatched it up and retreated a few steps, then advanced with a blade in each hand, snorting like a Cretan bull.
I was over the wall before I even realized it, as if my body had leaped and left my head behind. I was falling through blackness, but not alone. To one side and a little above me, another body was dropping through space — Tiro. A little beyond him, plummeting like a burnt-out comet, was a fragment of brick, tumbling end over end and smeared with blood that glinted purple in the blue moonlight. Magnus was a furious face that peered over a wall high above, flanked by two upright daggers, growing smaller by the instant.