A long silence followed and Silius, with his ear glued to the hollow in the wall, feared that they had moved to another room where he would no longer be able to hear them. But then Cleopatra spoke up again. Although her voice was muted and distorted, its timbre and tone were laden with irresistible sensuality, made even more intriguing by that Greek lilt. Silius had seen her several times but had never heard her speak before. Now he could well understand how Caesar had fallen in love with her, how anyone who had the fortune to meet her, see her, listen to her, would find her entrancing.
‘I’ve heard that Caesar’s life is in danger.’
Antony didn’t say a word.
‘Do you know anything about this?’
Antony did not reply.
‘I’m alone in this city. There’s no one I can count on.’
Antony said something that Silius missed, then Cleopatra began to speak again.
‘But I have met a few people here. I managed to find the ear of a man who is very close to Caesar, just before he was about to depart for a mission in the north of the peninsula. I asked him to find out whatever he could about this threat to Caesar’s life. I told him what I knew and gave him some contacts. .’
Silius thought of Publius Sextius and was startled.
‘I made him swear that the matter would remain between the two of us. I wanted him to understand that it was Caesar’s safety I was concerned about, immensely so, although Caesar himself seems to give it no thought. I should be hearing from this person by tomorrow. If it’s any later than that it might be too late. Do you understand what I’m saying?’
Silius imagined that Antony had nodded or answered her with a look.
‘Good,’ continued Cleopatra. ‘If anything should happen, you will be the only person I can trust in this city. Cicero despises me and there are many others who can’t stand me. Antony, you must promise me you’ll be careful. You must be prudent. Do it for me and for my son.’
Silius heard nothing more, but he’d heard enough. He was certain that Caesar would listen to him now and take immediate action. The problem now was getting out. He couldn’t go back by the route he used to get in, because he had no way of getting up to the hole he’d dropped through at the centre of the laconicum dome. So he had to find a way out through the house. At least he was familiar with the layout and the darkness would cover him. He could get to the peristyle and from there to the servants’ quarters. He could use the side door, slipping out between the guards’ rounds.
A sudden gust of wind swept in from the hole in the dome and stirred up a cloud of ashes from the floor. Silius could not hold back a violent sneeze.
He froze, ears straining, heart in his throat. He heard nothing. After all, he thought, anyone in the house could have sneezed. A sneeze was no cause for alarm.
He started to move again, cautiously. He crossed the tepidarium and the frigidarium, reached the door and opened it on to the corridor that led to the peristyle. He looked round anxiously. There were only a few lanterns lit under the portico; no one was in sight. He made his way towards the atrium, staying close to the wall.
A voice rang out behind him as the light of several torches flooded the portico. ‘Quite a bad cold you have there, Silius Salvidienus. What are you doing out at this time of night?’
It was Mark Antony.
16
In Monte Appennino, mansio ad Castaneam, a.d. III Id. Mart., prima vigilia
The Apennine Mountains, the Chestnut Tree station, 13 March, first guard shift, six p.m.
Since Publius Sextius had reached the Arno before daylight, he decided to rest for a couple of hours until he could hear the ferryman stirring. He led his horse on to the pontoon, which was on a ferry rope, and soon found himself on the other side of the river. He resumed his journey, keeping within sight of the Via Cassia as he rode. He travelled the entire day, until dusk, when he decided to head towards a light he could see in the distance at the edge of a wood. The terrain was uneven and rocky and the path he was using so rutted he couldn’t wait to get there. It was marked on the map he’d been given and looked like a mansio, so he thought he’d be able to get something to eat and perhaps even change his horse there.
As he got closer, he realized the light was actually reflecting from a fire burning inside the building’s enclosure wall. He could see nothing else; the place did not seem to be guarded.
He stopped his horse, dismounted and began to approach cautiously on foot. Realizing that the horse would draw attention, he tied the animal’s reins to an oak sapling and went on alone.
There was indeed a fire burning in the courtyard. Four individuals had gathered around it, sitting on their travel bags. He thought he recognized one of them, a man wearing a grey cloak; his face was very pale and had a weaselly look. In the corner was a wagon with two horses still yoked to the shaft.
When the man in the grey cloak got to his feet, one of the other men followed suit. The other two remained sitting near the fire.
‘I prefer working on my own, but seeing as you’ve caught up with me, at least keep your eyes open,’ the man in grey said. ‘Be wary of anyone who approaches. We’ll relieve you in a couple of hours and then we’ll be off. We’ll take the same roads that he’ll have to take, assuming, of course, that he’s still behind us.’
‘Have no fear, Mustela,’ replied one of the two. ‘No one gets by here without my permission.’
The man called Mustela answered, ‘Decius, don’t let your guard down. You know him. And beware of his cane. It’s more deadly than a sword in his hands. He’s very dangerous-’
‘I know, I know, you’ve told me already. Just take it easy.’
Publius Sextius started at those words. Of all the roads that led to Rome, these four cut-throats had found the very one he had taken and were lying in wait for him no less. He had to act at once, without alerting them to his presence.
Mustela and his companion went in and Publius Sextius soon saw the light of a lamp behind a window on the second floor. It soon went out.
He slipped into the stables and sat down on the straw. A hound started barking, but Publius Sextius reached into his satchel for a chunk of salted meat, which he tossed over to the dog, who swallowed it whole. He came closer, wagging his tail, hoping for more food. It wasn’t often that he enjoyed such generosity. Never, in fact. Publius Sextius petted him and gave him another bite. He’d made a friend who would not betray him.
Knowing he could rest easy from that point of view, he went into the hayloft and then back outdoors again through a door that was slightly ajar. He was now on the opposite side of the mansio. The gigantic chestnut tree from which the station got its name extended its boughs towards the room that had been lit up a few moments before. The moon appeared in a wide gap between the clouds.
Publius Sextius began to climb the tree, pulling himself up on the lower branches, then using the forks in the trunk like a ladder. He soon arrived at the branch leaning closest to the window. It was easy work to open the unlocked shutters and prise the windowpanes apart with the knife he wore at his belt. He pulled it open cautiously and slipped inside without making a sound, but a beam of moonlight from the open window gave him away.
One of the two men jumped to his feet, shouting, ‘What in Hades. .’
Sextius, who already had his cane in hand, struck the man violently, knocking him to the floor.
Mustela, realizing that from being hunter he had become prey, was out of his room and in the hall in no time. He found a small balcony from which he could leap to the ground, stifling a cry of pain when he hit the hard earth below.