"Coponius may have been slandering Dio," I said.
"It hardly sounds like it. From the way you tell it, Coponius talked about Dio's bedroom habits only reluctantly, and he was more embarrassed than judgmental, as if he was telling you that Dio was flatulent or snored. And what about the slave, Philo? He told the same story."
"Slaves like to gossip as much as their masters." I shook my head. "I don't like having my memories of Dio tainted by hearsay."
"Ah, but from the girl's lips it wouldn't be hearsay."
"So you think I want to find this girl for no other reason than to put my mind at rest about Dio?"
"Isn't that it, Papa?" His sympathetic gaze made me feel suddenly unsure of myself.
"Partly, yes. But that's not the only reason," I insisted. "There's something else, something I can't quite put my finger on."
"Another intuition from the goddess Cybele, guiding you on?"
"I'm serious. I can't help but feel that this Zotica knows something, or did something… "
"Or had something done to her," said Eco under his breath.
"Eco, you said I could call on you if I needed help. This is what I want you to do: find this slave dealer on the Street of the Scythemakers. Find out what became of Zotica."
"Are you sure, Papa? It seems to me that my time would be better spent trying to contact Lucceius's kitchen slaves. And if I'm to do that, I should get started. It will take me a day to get to Picenum, another day to get back, plus the time spent there. Since the trial is only four days away-"
"No, find out about the girl first. You can get started this afternoon. It's too late to leave for Picenum today, anyway."
Eco shook his head at my stubbornness. "Very well, Papa. I'll go and see if I can track down this Zotica for you. If her story is awful enough, I suppose it may save me the bother of needing to go up to Picenum."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Well," Eco began, but he was interrupted.
"If Dio was such a bad man, why are you bothering to find the person who killed him, anyway?"
"Diana!" I turned and saw my daughter standing in the doorway.
"Can't I come and be with you, Papa?" She walked to me and took my hand. Her long straight hair glittered blue-black in the sunlight. "The only thing Mother and Menenia talk about is the twins, and all the twins want to do is pull my hair and scream in my ears. They're such little monsters! I'd much rather be with you and Eco."
"Diana, why did you say that?"
"Because the twins are monsters – Titania is a harpy and Titus is a cyclops!"
"No, why did you say what you said about Dio? No one said he was a bad man."
Diana looked at me blankly.
"I think," said Eco, "that someone has been eavesdropping, and for quite a while."
"No I haven't!"
"It's a very bad habit, Diana, especially when your brother and I are discussing business."
"But I told you, I wasn't eavesdropping." She stepped back and crossed her arms, and gave me her version of the Medusa look.
"Diana… "
"Besides, Papa, isn't eavesdropping what you and Eco do for a living? I don't see why you should pick on me for doing it, even if I was, which I wasn't."
"It's a matter of showing respect to Papa," said Eco.
"No one in this house seems to have any respect for me," said Diana. "Whenever the monsters come over I might as well be made of stone." She turned and left the room.
"My, my," said Eco. "Is that what it's like to have a thirteen-year-old daughter in the house?"
"Just wait," I sighed.
"Perhaps you've been ignoring Diana."
"I probably have. She's becoming difficult."
"It was the same with Meto, remember?"
"It started later with Meto, and that was different. That I understood, whether I liked it or not. But with Diana, I don't understand. Not at all. She's the only one of you who's actually of my own flesh and blood, but sometimes I think Bethesda created her all by herself."
"She's more like you than you realize, Papa."
"Yes, I'm sure you're right." I tried to remember what we had been talking about, but found myself musing instead on the scent of jasmine that lingered in the warm air. Diana had recently begun to use the same fragrant oil that Bethesda used to scent her hair, just as she had begun to occasionally use her mother's jewelry and scarves. I closed my eyes. I breathed in the fragrance; it might have come from either of them. Diana was becoming so much like her mother…
I was interrupted by the sound of a cleared throat. I opened my eyes, blinking at the bright sunshine. "What is it, Belbo?"
"A caller, Master. The little gallus again. He says that you must come with him at once."
"Come with him?" I turned my face back to the sun and closed my eyes again. My legs ached from too much walking. The sunshine was making me sleepy.
"Yes, you must!" piped a familiar voice. I opened my eyes to see Trygonion slipping past Belbo into the atrium. His silver bracelets jangled and glittered in the sunlight, and his red and yellow robes were dazzling. Eco raised his eyebrows. Belbo stamped his foot in frustration.
"Clodia needs you," said Trygonion. "At once! It's a matter of life and death!"
"Life and death?" I said skeptically.
"And poison!" said Trygonion, exasperated. "The monster is planning to poison her!" "Who?"
"Caelius! Clodia!"
"Trygonion, what are you talking about?"
"You must come at once. There's a litter waiting outside."
I wearily got to my feet.
"Do you want me to come with you, Papa?" said Eco. "No. I'd rather you got started finding Zotica." "Take Belbo with you, Papa."
"No need to take along that hulking brute," said Trygonion. "You'll be in the litter. It's well guarded."
"Shall I tell Bethesda you'll be back for dinner?" said Eco, raising an eyebrow.
"Bait me all you like, Eco. I'm not letting you come along," I said. His laughter followed me out of the atrium.
The litter in front of my house was far more impressive than I would have expected even Clodia to send for a mere hireling. The box was draped with red and white striped silk, like Clodia's tent on the Tiber. The poles were of polished oak, borne aloft by a team of bare-chested slaves with oxlike shoulders, dressed in white loincloths and thick-soled sandals. Every one of them was blond-Scythians, perhaps, or captured Gauls from Caesar's conquests. I had seen them before, among the young men cavorting in the river at Clodia's horti. A small retinue of bodyguards stood behind, probably recruited from Clodius's gang. I didn't like the looks of them, which meant they had the right look for a bodyguard.
Trygonion snapped his fingers. With well-practiced efficiency, the bearers lowered the box. A slave put down a block of wood so that we could step inside.
I gestured for Trygonion to enter but he shook his head. "I have business elsewhere. Go ahead, climb in!"
I stepped onto the block and parted the curtains. A melange of exotic scents issued from within. Jasmine was among them, along with frankincense and sandalwood and more elusive scents-Clodia's smell. The inner draperies were of some heavy, opaque fabric, making the interior of the box seem very dark after the bright sunlight of the street. I was already inside, settling back against the cushions and being lifted aloft, before I realized that I was not alone.
"Thank you for coming." A hand touched my arm. I sensed her presence, smelled her scent, felt the warmth of her body.
"Clodia!"
She stirred beside me. Her leg brushed against mine. She laughed softly and I smelled her breath, warm and moist against my face and vaguely smelling of cloves.