Rubicon

I hesitated. "There may have been other reasons that someone wanted him dead."

"Such as?"

"His mother seems to think he had a secret livelihood. Working as a paid spy, perhaps."

Tiro frowned. "For someone other than Pompey?"

"Yes. She's ashamed of the possibility, but she told me her suspicions nonetheless. The poor woman is desperate to know the truth about her son's death."

Tiro nodded. "I met Maecia once. An extraordinary woman. Did she hire you to look into Numerius's murder?"

"No, Pompey did. Or rather, the Great One ordered me to investigate."

"Ordered you? He's not our dictator, yet."

"Nonetheless, he was very persuasive. He forced my son-in-law into his service, against Davus's will but following the letter of the law. Pompey was explicit: he won't return Davus to us unless and until I'm able to name his kinsman's killer. My daughter is distraught. Davus could end up in Greece, or Spain, or even Egypt. And if Pompey loses patience with me…" I shook my head. "Generals assign dangerous duties to men they don't like. Davus is at his mercy."

Tiro looked pensively into his wine cup, which was made of cheap yellow earthenware. He ran his finger over the chipped rim. "You've been very candid with me, Gordianus."

"And you've been candid with me, Tiro."

"The two of us have never been enemies."

"We never shall be, I hope."

"I'm going to tell you a secret, Gordianus. Something I probably shouldn't." He lowered his voice. I had to strain my ears to hear him above the bursts of laughter and the clatter of thrown dice. "Only a few days before his death, I met with Numerius Pompeius. We had messages to exchange, between Pompey and Cicero. We met here in the Salacious Tavern- in this very corner, as a matter of fact. His corner, he called it. I got the impression he transacted quite a bit of business from the very spot where you're sitting."

I shivered at the thought of the dead man's lemur sitting beside me. "What sort of business?"

Tiro hesitated. "So far as I know, Numerius was loyal to Pompey. I never had reason to believe otherwise. But the last time I met with him, he claimed to know some interesting things. Dangerous things."

"Go on, Tiro. You have my attention."

"Numerius drank more than he should have. That loosened his tongue. And he was very excited."

"About what?"

"About some documents he'd acquired. 'I'm sitting on something enormous,' he told me, smiling like a fox. 'Something so big it could get me killed if you breathe a word of this to anyone.' "

"What was it, Tiro?"

"Something to do with a plot to kill Caesar."

I managed a grim laugh. "Concocted by Pompey?"

"No! A conspiracy inside Caesar's own camp, involving men close to him. How Numerius could know of such a plot, and what sort of documents he had obtained, I don't know. But that's what he told me."

"When was this assassination supposed to take place?"

"It was supposed to have happened when Caesar crossed the Rubicon, the moment he invaded the motherland and showed his true intentions. For some reason it didn't come off. But this was the thing: Numerius seemed to think it still had a chance of happening."

"Wishful thinking!" I scoffed.

"Maybe. But he claimed to have proof of the plot in the form of documents." Tiro leaned closer to me. "You wouldn't know about that, would you, Gordianus?"

"What do you mean?"

"You say you found Cicero's report to Pompey in Numerius's shoe. What else did you find there? Be honest with me, Gordianus. I've been honest with you."

I took a deep breath. "I found exactly five pieces of parchment, all of the same color and quality, all written in the same hand and the same sort of cipher."

Tiro nodded. "That would have been Cicero's entire report; there were five pages in all. And you found nothing else?"

"That was all I found in Numerius's shoe."

Tiro sat back. After a moment he raised his cup and called for more wine. "And a decent cup as well, with a smooth lip!" he added, in a tone harsh enough to cause the eunuch's grin to vanish. I suddenly realized why he had been so generous with his information. He had hoped I would give him information in return, about the conspiracy documents. I had disappointed him.

We waited for our wine, then drank in silence. Across the room someone shouted, "Gaius Julius!" Dice clattered, and the gambler jumped from his seat. "The Caesar Throw! The Caesar Throw beats all!" The man did a victory dance and scooped up his winnings.

"Not a gracious winner," I muttered.

"I wonder if Caesar will be," Tiro muttered back.

"This talk you had with Numerius here in the tavern, about a plot to kill Caesar- that was a few days before he died."

"Yes."

"But on the day he died, it was the documents from Cicero he was carrying. And wasn't there…" I had to tread carefully. "Wasn't there some sort of altercation that day, between Cicero and Numerius, just before he left Cicero's house and came to mine?"

"Altercation?"

"Shouting, loud enough to be heard in the street."

"Those damned guards! Did they tell you that?"

"I hate to get them in trouble…"

Tiro shrugged. "Cicero may have raised his voice to Numerius that day."

"Raised his voice? He was practically screaming, according to the guards. Something about a debt owed to Caesar. Was it Numerius who owed money to Caesar… or was it Cicero?"

Tiro's face told me I had touched on something sensitive. "Lots of people owe money to Caesar. That hardly compromises their loyalty to Pompey or the Senate."

I nodded. "It's only… I got the impression from his mother that Numerius might have been blackmailing someone."

Tiro shifted in his seat. "I think I've had enough of this wretched wine. After a certain point it gets worse, not better. And this damned cup has more chips than the last!"

"You were in Rome that day, Tiro, the day Numerius died. Did you happen to… follow him… after he left Cicero's house?"

"I don't think I like the tone of your voice, Gordianus."

Did he think I suspected him of the murder? "I only wondered, if you did happen to follow Numerius, whether you might have seen anything significant. Someone besides yourself following him, for instance. Or someone to whom he might have passed documents before he entered my house…"

Tiro looked at me squarely. "Yes, I followed Numerius. Cicero was curious to know where he was headed next. So I followed him along the rim road to your house. I waited so long for him to leave that I finally assumed he'd given me the slip. How was I to know that he was dead inside? And no, I didn't see him pass anything to anyone, nor did I notice anyone else following him. And before you ask, no, I didn't see anyone climb over the roof into your garden, either- though I could hardly have seen all four sides of your house at once, could I?"

I smiled.

"And don't even think of asking if I climbed over the roof and into your garden!" He tried to inject some levity into his voice. "You saw how carefully I had to climb down that rickety ladder at Cicero's house!"

"Yes. Still, you do manage to climb up and down that ladder, don't you?" I likewise tried to keep my tone light.

I excused myself to go to the privy, which was out the back door and across an alley in a little lean-to. There were several holes in the paved floor, but the drunken patrons of the Salacious Tavern were poor marksmen and the place stank of standing urine. It occurred to me that the Cloaca Maxima, the central sewer line into the Tiber, was probably located just beneath my feet.