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"Only a moment?"

I shrugged and gazed down at the dead man.

"What was he doing here? Why did he come to visit you?" asked Pompey.

I raised an eyebrow. "I thought you might be able to answer that question, Great One. Did you not send him to me?"

"I sent him into the city to deliver some messages, yes. But not to you."

"Then why did you come here, if not to find him?"

Pompey scowled. "Where is that wine?"

The slave boys appeared, Androcles bearing cups and Mopsus a copper flask. Casting furtive wide-eyed glances at the corpse, they made a mess of pouring the wine. I joined Pompey in his first cup, but he drained his second cup alone, downing it without relish as if it were medicine. He wiped his mouth, handed his cup back to Androcles and dismissed the boys with a curt wave of his hand. They ran back into the house.

"If you must know," he said, "I came here straight from Cicero's house up the road. I sent Numerius to Cicero with a message earlier today. According to Cicero, Numerius's next stop was your house. I didn't expect to still find him here. I only thought that you might know where he'd gone next. What business did he have with you, Finder?"

I shook my head. "Whatever it was, he's silenced forever now."

"And how in Hades did anyone get in and out of this garden? Do you think a man could have come down from the roof and then retreated the same way? I don't see how it's possible. The roof is above any man's reach, and the columns are too recessed to be of any use for climbing onto the roof. Not even an African ape could have done it!"

"But two men might have," noted Davus. "One to boost the other, and then to be hoisted up in turn."

"Davus is right," I said. "Or one man alone could have done it, with a sufficient length of rope."

Pompey's scowl intensified. "But who? And how did they know to find him here?"

"I'm sure, Great One, if you make inquiries-"

"I've no time for that. I'm leaving Rome tonight."

"Leaving?"

"I'm heading south before dawn. So will anyone else with a shred of sense, or an iota of loyalty to the Senate. Is it possible that you haven't heard the latest reports? Do you never come out of that study of yours?"

"As seldom as possible these days."

He flashed me an angry look that held a glimmer of envy. "You do know that six days ago Caesar crossed the Rubicon River into Italy with his troops, and occupied Ariminum. Since then he's taken Pisaurum and Ancona, and sent Marc Antony to take Arretium. He moves like a whirlwind! Now there's word that both Antony and Caesar are marching on Rome, closing on us like a vise. The city is defenseless. The closest loyal legion is down in Capua. If rumors are true, Caesar could be here in a matter of days, perhaps even hours."

"Rumors, you say. Perhaps they're only that."

Pompey looked at me suspiciously. "What do you know about it, holed up here in your garden? You have a son with Caesar, don't you? That boy who used to be one of Crassus's slaves, and claims to have fought with Catilina. He sleeps in the same tent with Caesar, I'm told, and helps him write those pompous, self-serving memoirs. What sort of contact does he keep with you, Gordianus?"

"My son Meto is his own man, Great One."

"He's Caesar's man! And whose man are you, Finder?"

"It took many years and a great many Romans to conquer Gaul, Great One. Many a citizen has a relative who's served in Caesar's legions. That hardly makes us all partisans of Caesar. Look at Cicero- his brother Quintus is one of Caesar's officers, and his protege Marcus Caelius has run off to join Caesar. Even so, no one would ever call Cicero a Caesarian." I refrained from pointing out that Pompey himself had been married to Caesar's daughter, and it was only after Julia's death that their differences became irreconcilable. "Great One, I served you loyally enough when you hired me to investigate the murder of Clodius, did I not?"

"Because I paid you, and because in that instance there was no choice to be made between Caesar and me. That's not loyalty! Loyalty comes from slaves and soldiers- from beatings, bloodshed, and battle. Those are the only ties that truly bind men together. 'The most honest man in Rome,' Cicero called you once. No wonder no one trusts you!"

Pompey turned from me in disgust and knelt beside his kinsman. He observed the body more closely than he had in his initial shock. "Here's his moneybag, with coins in it- the killer was no thief. And here's his dagger, still in its sheath. He didn't even have time to draw it. It must be as you said- the killer came silently and took him from behind. He never saw the face of the man who murdered him!"

In truth, Numerius had been without his dagger when he died; Davus had taken it from him, and replaced it after we searched the body. I could explain none of this to Pompey. He was right not to trust me.

Pompey touched the dead man's face with his fingertips. He gritted his teeth, fighting back his grief. "Someone must have followed him here when he left Cicero's house. Perhaps they followed him from the moment he left my villa this morning, waiting for the chance to strike. But who? Someone from Caesar's camp? Or one of my own men? If there's a traitor in my household…"

He lifted his angry gaze to the statue of Minerva looming over us. The goddess of wisdom was portrayed in battle gear, ready for war, an upright spear in one hand and a shield in the other, with a crested helmet on her head. An owl perched on her shoulder. A snake coiled at her feet. She had been toppled and broken in two during the Clodian riots. I had spent a small fortune to have the bronze repaired and freshly painted. The colors were so lifelike that the virgin goddess seemed almost to breathe. She looked directly at us, and yet her gaze remained aloof, oblivious of the tragedy at her feet.

"You!" Pompey rose to his feet and shook his fist. "How could you allow such a thing to happen, right before you? Caesar claims Venus for an ancestor, but you should be on my side!"

There was a rustle among the bodyguards, made uneasy by their master's impiety.

"And you!" Pompey turned to me. "I charge you with finding the man who did this. Bring me his name. I'll see to justice."

I shook my head, averting my eyes from Pompey's wild gaze. "No, Great One. I can't."

"What do you mean? You've done such work before."

"Very little since I last worked for you, Great One. I have no stomach for it anymore. I made a promise to myself to retire from public life if I managed to reach sixty years. That was a year ago."

"You don't seem to understand, Finder. I'm not asking you to find Numerius's killer. I'm not hiring you. I'm ordering you!"

"By what authority?"

"By the authority vested in me by the Senate's Ultimate Decree!"

"But the law-"

"Don't quote the law to me, Finder! The Ultimate Decree empowers me to do whatever is necessary to preserve the state. The murder of my kinsman, acting as my agent, is a crime against the state. Discovering his killer is necessary to protect the state. The Ultimate Decree empowers me to enlist your assistance, even against your will!"

"Great One, I assure you, if I had the strength, and if my wits were as sharp as they once were-"

"If you need a helper to guide you about like blind Tiresias, call on your other son. He's here in Rome, isn't he?"

"I can't draw Eco into this," I said. "He has his own family to look after."

"As you wish. Work alone, then."

"But, Great One-"

"Say no more, Finder." He stared at me coldly, then turned his gaze to Davus. "You there! You still look to be a healthy fellow."