Free Rubicon by Steven Saylor Page A

confused ..."
    She took refuge in abstractions; it was easier to talk about Rome's problems than about her own suspicions. I nodded. "When you say that Numerius was a confidential courier for Pompey, you mean that he carried secret information."
    "Yes." She bit her lip. Her eyes glistened. "Secret information has value, doesn't it? Men will pay gold to get it."
    "Perhaps," I said carefully. "You say you found a box full of gold. Did you find any other boxes with surprises inside?"
    "What do you mean?"
    "If Numerius possessed valuable information— documents— he must have kept them somewhere."
    She shook her head. "No. Only the box with the gold."
    "Have you looked again? I mean, since ..." I glanced at the body.
    "I stayed up all last night searching the house, pretending to help my brother and sons pack. If there were any more surprises to be found, I wanted them to be found by me— not by my brother, or by Pompey ... or by the assassin who killed my son. I found nothing." She exhaled wearily. "You take it for granted, don't you— that Numerius was a spy? It doesn't even shock you."
    "It's as you say, we live in a world turned upside down. Men become capable of ... anything. Even good men."
    "My son was a spy. There, I've said it, for the first time aloud. It wasn't as hard as I thought it would be. But to say the rest ... to call him a ..."
    "A traitor? Perhaps he wasn't. Perhaps he spied for Pompey, not against him."
    "Then why did he insist the gold be kept secret from Pompey? No, he was doing something behind Pompey's back. I'm sure of it."
    "And you think this was the reason he was killed?"
    "Why else? He had no personal enemies."
    "Unless there were other secrets he kept from you."
    She gave me such a fierce look that a shiver ran up my spine. The atrium suddenly seemed very cold. The light from the overcast sky grew even weaker, dwindling to a soft, uncertain radiance that cast no shadows. Numerius on his bier, bloodless and dressed in white, glowed like a statue carved from solid ivory.

VI

    As I made my way homeward from Maecia's house, the scene in the Forum was even more hectic than before, the people more frantic, the rumors wilder.
    Before the Temple of Vesta an old man gripped my arm. "Have you heard? Caesar is at the Colline Gate!"
    "Odd," I said. "Just moments ago a fishmonger told me Caesar was on the opposite side of town, coming in the Capena Gate at the head of an army of Gauls, carrying Pompey's head on a stake."
    The old man reeled back in horror. "He and his barbarians have surrounded us, then! Jupiter help us!" He ran off before I could say a word. I had thought to comfort the poor man by mocking his rumor with another that contradicted it; instead he believed both rumors and now was off to tell people the city was doomed.
    I continued to make my way across the Forum, alone. Maecia had offered to send her messenger back with me for protection. I had declined. It was one thing to have him lead me to her house, another to take advantage of her generosity. She was without her brother or sons and had only her male slaves to protect her. Who knew how lawless the city might become in the next few hours, especially if rumors of Caesar's approach were true?
    From the Temple of Vesta I could see that the Ramp was crowded, but not jammed. Foot traffic was passing in both directions. Still, my heart beat faster as I entered the confined passage between the House of the Vestals and the Temple of Castor and Pollux. I saw no sign of that morning's panicked stampede until I took the sharp leftward turn onto the Ramp. I sucked in a breath when I saw blood on the flagstones, smeared by the passage of hundreds of feet. I remembered the screaming woman. Someone had been trampled by the crowd, after all. I quickened my pace and began the ascent.
    Parts of the Ramp are like a tunnel, densely shaded by overhanging yew trees. It was in one of these patches, looking up ahead, that for the second time in two days I