A Mist of Prophecies

XVI

Davus and I left Clodia on the banks of the Tiber, gazing at the sunlight on the water, alone with her memories. We retraced our steps past the riverside gardens of the rich and back into the city.

Davus was refreshed from his swim, but the heat of the day oppressed me. I was weary in mind and body. By the time we made our way up the slope of the Palatine to my house, I wanted nothing more than a few quiet hours of rest in a shady corner of my garden.

I had spoken to them all now-all the women who'd come to see Cassandra end in flames-except one.

Would Caesar's wife deign to see me? The more I thought about it, the less likely it seemed. Calpurnia would be surrounded by an army of advisors and attendants and bodyguards to protect her both from those who sought her husband's favors and those who sought his destruction. There was the complication that she might consider me an enemy since I had turned my back on Caesar along with Meto in Massilia.

From what I knew of Calpurnia, she was not the sort to act on a sudden whim or a sentimental impulse or out of prurient interest. She was sensible, discreet, and utterly respectable-precisely the qualities that had convinced Caesar to marry her. Everyone knew his famous quip about his previous wife, whom he had summarily divorced after she became the subject of gossip: "Caesar's wife must be above suspicion." Calpurnia was said to be so devoid of even petty vices that no scandal could ever be attached to her; not the sort of woman, I thought, to admit the likes of myself into her presence, even for a formal audience. People might talk.

And yet, she had come to see Cassandra burn.

I sat on my folding chair in the shade and leaned back against a pillar. I narrowed my eyes and watched a hummingbird flit from flower to flower. I shut my eyes and listened to the buzzing of his wings as he circled the garden and flew over my head. I must have dozed, for the next thing I knew, Androcles had hold of my arm and was shaking me awake.

"Master, there's a man at the door asking for you, and a great litter out in the street, and bodyguards, lots and lots of bodyguards, and-"

"What? What are you talking about?"

"A visitor for you, Master."

I blinked, cleared my throat, and brushed my fingers through my hair. "Very well, send him in."

"No, he says that you must come to the door."

I felt a sudden chill. A great litter, an army of bodyguards, a high-handed summons to come to my own front door-who could it be? Only one person would be so presumptuous, I thought: the man who would own this house himself soon enough, once all my debts came due and I was found to be penniless. Why had Volumnius come to harass me now on this particular day?

"Where's Davus?" I asked.

"With Diana, in their room," said Androcles.

"Napping?"

"I don't think so. The door's shut, but I'm pretty sure they're not asleep."

"How can you tell?"

"All that noise they make! I'm surprised you can't hear them out here. He grunts and squeals like a boar with a spear in his side, and then she-"

"Enough, Mopsus! Never mind fetching Davus. Surely even Volumnius won't dare to have a Roman citizen beaten on his own doorstep," I declared; but as I rose, unbending my stiff knees, I had my doubts.

I made my way across the garden and through the atrium, with Androcles scurrying after me. The man in the foyer didn't have the look of a debt collector; he was too old and too small. He had the self-assured, sophisticated air one associates with slaves who act as personal secretaries to citizens of wealth and taste. With relief, I knew that it was not Volumnius who had come calling on me. Who, then? Something in the slave's manner suggested that he waited upon a mistress, not a master. A woman in a sumptuous litter, attended by many bodyguards…

In my experience, the gods in their whimsy so fashion the world that sometimes the thing that seems most unlikely is precisely the thing that occurs. I knew at once, and with absolute certainty, whom the slave represented.

"Will your mistress do me the honor of stepping inside?" I said.

The slave raised an eyebrow. "Alas, much as it would please her to grace your household with her presence, her schedule today will not permit it. But she very much wants to speak to you. If you'll follow me, there's a litter waiting. We think it best if you come alone."

"Of course. Androcles, when Davus and Diana… reappear… let them know that I've left in the company of Caesar's wife. And I shall be returning…?" I looked at the slave.

"You should be gone for no more than an hour or so," he assured me. "That's all the mistress can spare. May I?" He extended his open hands, almost touching me, and I realized he intended to search my person. I nodded and allowed him to run his hands over my tunic. Satisfied that I carried no weapons, he stepped back and allowed me to walk out the door ahead of him.

Two identical litters were waiting in the street, each fitted with a resplendent canopy made of ivory poles and white draperies that shimmered with golden threads, hemmed with a purple stripe. The drapes of the first litter were closed, concealing its occupant. I was ushered into the litter behind it. The slave joined me, closed the drapes, and settled back into the pile of cushions opposite me.

With a steady gracefulness that did credit to the bearers, the litter rose and began to move forward.

"Where are we going?" I said.

The slave smiled. "We'll be there very shortly."

I felt the motion of the litter each time we took a sharp turn, but we never seemed to go downhill. That meant we were still somewhere on the Palatine Hill when the litter came to a stop. I heard the sound of a heavy bar being lifted on a hinge and gates swinging open. We moved forward into a graveled courtyard; I could hear the stones crunching under the bearers' feet. The litter stopped. The gates swung shut, and the bar dropped back into place. The slave parted the drapes with his forefinger and peered out, awaiting a signal. At last he pushed back the drape and gestured for me to exit the litter.

As soon as my feet touched the gravel, I was flanked by two bodyguards who escorted me across the narrow courtyard, up a short flight of steps, and into a small but elegantly appointed foyer. The white walls were trimmed with blue and gold. A small bronze statue of Venus occupied a scalloped niche. The floor was decorated with a mosaic of Venus emerging naked from the sea. I was reminded that Caesar claimed Venus as his ancestress. It was Venus his soldiers called upon for victory.

The guards escorted me through an atrium where goldfish darted across the sunken pool. Ahead I caught a glimpse of sunlit greenery, a garden surrounded by a portico, but the guards led me to one side, down a short hallway, and into a small library. The far wall was lined with a tall book case, its pigeonholes filled with scrolls. Paintings depicting a battle covered the walls on either side. Arrayed across the wall to the right was the army of the ancient Greeks led by Alexander the Great, instantly recognizable by his chiseled features and his golden mane of hair. On the opposite wall was the army of the Persian king Darius, whom Alexander had defeated to become master of the world.

Seated before the book case, dominating the room despite the massive, dramatic pictures, was Calpurnia. She was handsome enough, though not a great beauty. She seemed oblivious of the latest fashions, with their Eastern and Egyptian influences; from her clothing, jewelry, and hairstyle, she might have been an austere Roman matron of a century ago. Her countenance was as severe as her costume; she looked like a mistress about to rebuke a wayward slave, and I reflexively braced myself. But before she spoke, she smiled, just enough to put me at ease-or to put me off my guard? — and I saw that she possessed a certain charm not unlike her husband's. Had she possessed it before Caesar met her, or had she learned it from him?

"Sit," she said. I turned my head to see that a chair had been placed behind me. The guards had discreetly withdrawn to a post just outside the door.

She waited until I was seated, then paused for several heartbeats before she spoke again. That, too, was a technique of Caesar's, never to seem rushed. "We've never met, Gordianus, but I know of your reputation and of my husband's high regard for you. You've had a long and interesting career in this city. I had thought that you were retired, but I understand that for the last few days you've been rather busy, crisscrossing Rome with that burly son-in-law of yours."

"You've had someone following us?"

The brusqueness of the question left her unfazed. "Let us say that you have been observed. One by one, you've been visiting each of the women who came to Cassandra's funeral. I was there, too. You must have seen my litter. Yet you haven't yet called on me."

"I intended to do so."

"Why didn't you come to me first?"

I cleared my throat. "Out of deference, I suppose. Great Caesar's wife must be a very busy woman, with little time to answer the queries of a humble citizen like myself. Or so I thought. May I ask where we are?"

"In a house tucked away on a little cul-de-sac on the Palatine Hill. You needn't know the exact location. My husband has owned this place for years, but only a very select few have ever stepped inside it. Even some of his closest advisors are unaware of its existence. It seemed an appropriate place for you and I to meet, since this was where Cassandra resided."

I frowned. "Here? But I thought-"

"That shabby room in the Subura? Her residence there was a pretense, part of the role she played. This was the house where she kept her possessions. It was to this house that she retreated whenever she felt she might be in danger, or whenever she grew too sick of her role as a pauper and needed a taste of luxury. I imagine she would have liked to bring you to this house, Gordianus, but that wasn't possible. Her room was just across the garden. It was in this room that I came to meet with her. I would sit here, and she would sit where you're sitting, in that very chair."

"You met with Cassandra?"

"On a regular basis, so that I could give her instructions, and so that she could deliver any valuable information she had uncovered since our last meeting."

I took this in. "Cassandra was your spy?"

"My husband's spy, to be more precise. It was Caesar who recruited her, Caesar who briefed her on what he expected from her, and Caesar who trained her-as a spy, I mean. Cassandra was already an accomplished actress, of course, but the arts of the spy are somewhat more specialized." She peered at me intently. "Are you grinding your teeth, Finder?"

"Always Caesar!" I said, staring up at the image of Alexander, then across to the image of Darius. Which would Caesar resemble more when the story of his life came to an end? The conqueror beloved by gods and storytellers, or the arrogant emperor who owned the world but lost it? On his journey to his destiny, Caesar had swept the whole world along in his wake. He loomed over everything, casting his shadow not just over armies and kings but over every thing and every person I loved. Now I found his shadow had covered Cassandra as well.

Calpurnia looked at me coolly. "I understand that you harbor some sort of grudge against my husband for having claimed the loyalty and affection of your son-"

"Meto is no longer my son!"

She nodded. "Even so, Caesar harbors no resentment against you, Gordianus. In time, he hopes that he may once again be able to count you among his friends." That was always Caesar's way, to mend breaches, to convert enemies, to draw everyone into his circle, even if later the need arose to destroy them.

"But we were talking of Cassandra," she said. "I know that her death has caused you great distress. I think Caesar would want me to reveal to you who Cassandra was, and how and why she came to Rome. What do you already know about her?"

That she was beautiful and tragic and doomed, I thought. That I fell in love with her, or thought I did, knowing nothing about her.

"That she came from Alexandria," I said. "That she performed in the mime shows there and knew Cytheris. That she suffered from seizures and falling sickness-unless that was a pretense. That she may or may not have possessed the gift of prophecy. That she used her reputation as a seeress to play a cruel joke on Antonia, at Cytheris's behest. That she may have done the same thing to a number of other powerful women in Rome who sought her out-unless she was black mailing them. Or spying on them."

Calpurnia nodded. "If I tell you that my husband has a number of agents who gather intelligence for him, I presume that will come as no surprise to you. Agents of all sorts, high and low-from street urchins and tavern keepers to centurions and senators. You never know who might overhear something of importance. It takes skill, patience, and experience to make sense of all the information that comes in, to scrutinize the sources, to disregard lies planted by the enemy, to decide between conflicting accounts. All those bits of information are like tiles in a mosaic; separately they signify nothing, but together, from the right perspective, they form a sort of picture.

"It's an intricate business, all the more complicated because it takes place in the shadows. That's what my husband calls it-the shadow war between himself and his enemies. The battles that everyone knows about take place in broad daylight between soldiers who fight with swords and spears. There are other battles that take place in the shadows, which no one sees or even knows about-but people die in those battles, nonetheless. I suppose one could think of Cassandra as a kind of Amazon, a woman warrior. It's the only way a woman can be a warrior, I suppose, fighting in the shadow war."

"Why did she fight for Caesar?"

"Why does any soldier fight for him? Because he paid her, of course. As part of the arrangement, she became a free woman, and she was very handsomely paid in regular installments that I held in trust for her. The work Cassandra did was dangerous, but she was well rewarded. She would have returned to Alexandria a wealthy woman… had she survived."

"How did Caesar recruit her?"

"As soon as Pompey was driven from Italy, Caesar set about reorganizing the Senate here in Rome and deciding whom to place in charge in his absence-Marc Antony, as it turned out. Everyone became a Caesarian overnight once Pompey was gone-but whom could Caesar really trust, and what sort of plots were being hatched against him? It was imperative that he should organize a network of agents to gather information. Some of those agents were already in place. Others had to be recruited. It was I who pointed out to him that his greatest weakness would be in obtaining information from the women of Rome-the wives and mothers and daughters and sisters who had been left behind by both allies and enemies. Such women always know more than they're given credit for, often more than they themselves realize. They know the most secret longings and most fervent loyalties of their men. A casual remark in a letter from a husband could lead to a secret hiding place or a cache of arms or a buried store of gold. But what sort of person could obtain access to so many diverse women and extract whatever valuable information they might possess?

"It was Caesar who hit upon the idea of recruiting an actress to play the part of a mad seeress. I told him that no Roman matron was that gullible and no actress that skillful. He proved me wrong on both counts. He dispatched an agent to Alexandria to find the right actress. Why Alexandria? Because the mime masters there are famous for training their players to perfection, and because it's far enough from Rome that the agent might find a suitable performer who would be unknown here. It was several months before the agent returned from Alexandria, bringing Cassandra with him. They entered the city in a covered litter, and the agent installed her, secretly, in this house.

"Only a few days later, Caesar returned to Rome after securing Spain and Massilia. As soon as he was able to take time from overseeing elections, he met with Cassandra. It was in this very room. I was with him. He said he wanted my opinion of her, but I'm sure he made up his mind before I could say a word."

"She auditioned for Caesar, like an actress auditioning for a mime show?"

"If you wish to put it that way. She was certainly beautiful; I could see that Caesar was duly impressed, but beauty was not the quality we were looking for. She spoke excellent Latin with only the faintest accent; she was quite a polyglot, you know. But she seemed rather nervous. That was understandable, perhaps, for a young woman meeting Caesar for the first time, but it worried me; this was the person we were counting on to keep a cool head even as she deceived some of the shrewdest women in Rome. Caesar commenced to explain what he wanted from her. She seemed distracted, and increasingly agitated. Suddenly she collapsed to the floor, writhing and foaming at the mouth. The agent had warned us that she suffered from the falling sickness. Caesar at once went to her assistance. He found a leather biting stick on her person and put it between her teeth, then held her until the spell subsided. I could see that he was moved by her suffering-Caesar himself has experienced such fits in the past-but I wondered if such a condition might rob her of her wits and cause her to fail in her mission. I was about to say as much when Cassandra suddenly sprang to her feet, laughing out loud.

"She had been acting, you see. It was all a performance-the nervousness, the fidgeting, the fit. I was furious, at first. Caesar was delighted. She won him over on the spot. If she could fool both of us, then surely she could fool anyone."

"I don't understand. Did she truly suffer from the falling sickness or not?"

"Oh, yes, she was subject to fits. She suffered more than one, staying in this house. But she had also learned to mimic those fits so convincingly that no one could tell the difference. That skill, among her others-not least her intelligence, for I don't think I've ever met a woman more intelligent than Cassandra-made her ideal for the role Caesar had in mind.

"Before he left for Greece, Caesar briefed her very closely, taking more time with her than with any of his other agents. She learned the name and family history of every important woman in Rome. More than that, she learned everything we could glean about those women's personal habits, their eccentricities and superstitions, their dreams and fears. She took copious notes on wax tablets, but kept them only long enough to memorize every detail. Then she would rub the tablets clean. She kept everything in her head.

"When Caesar was satisfied, she left this house and made her first appearances in the city. It wasn't long before people were talking about the madwoman in the Forum. I remember being at a dinner party and trying not to smile the first time I heard her mentioned. Overnight, everyone seemed to know about the mysterious woman who could see the future, even though no one had any idea who she was or where she came from. It was said that if she stared into a flame, she could induce such visions at will.

"Her method was simple. She would wait until a woman invited her home, or in some cases, practically kidnapped her. Inducements would be offered-money, food, shelter. Soon the lamp would be produced. Cassandra would oblige by staring at the flame, suffering a fit and going into a trance, then uttering cryptic but transparent prophecies based on what she knew about her hostess. Cassandra would tell each woman what that woman wanted to hear. There's no surer way to gain a person's confidence. With Cassandra, they let down their guard. They became naked before her-vulnerable, frightened, ambitious, boastful. They said things they would never have said to anyone else. Many more women consulted her than the handful who came to see her burn. Half the senators' wives in Rome have had Cassandra in their houses."

I thought of the women I had spoken to. Terentia, Tullia, and the Vestal Fabia had all accepted Cassandra's prophetic powers without question. What bits of information about Cicero and Dolabella, not to mention the inner workings of the Vestal Virgins, had they inadvertently let slip while Cassandra was in their presence?

"What about Fulvia?" I said. "Cassandra gave Fulvia specific details about Curio's death-the battle in the desert, the fact that he was beheaded. This was before anyone in Rome even knew that Curio was dead."

"Anyone but Caesar."

"What do you mean?"

"When the messenger from Africa arrived in Rome, he went directly to Caesar and to no one else. Caesar was distraught, of course. Curio was like a son to him. Caesar had had such great hopes for Curio; that was why he gave him the African command. But as Caesar says, information is like gold: one must spend it wisely. Secretly he met with Cassandra in this room and told her the details. The next morning, from informants in Fulvia's household, we learned that Fulvia intended to call on friends that day, and we determined the route she would take. Cassandra waited along that route. When Fulvia passed by in her litter, Cassandra pitched her voice to sound like a whisper, just loud enough to reach Fulvia's ears. She said-"

I remembered the words that Fulvia had quoted to me, and spoke them back to Calpurnia: " 'He's dead now. He died fighting. It was a brave death.' "

Calpurnia nodded. "Exactly. Those were the very words Caesar told her to say. Fulvia stopped, of course. She took Cassandra home with her. And when Cassandra revealed the specific details of Curio's end, which were later confirmed, it seemed like a true vision from the gods. Thus Cassandra won Fulvia's unquestioning trust, along with that of her mother, Sempronia."

"And meanwhile Caesar kept the news of Curio's death to himself?"

"He swore the messenger to secrecy and told no one, not even Marc Antony-not even me-for two days. Information is gold. By spending that particular nugget of information with the utmost discipline, Caesar bought Fulvia's faith in Cassandra."

"But Curio died fighting for Caesar. Why send a spy into his widow's house?"

"Why not? We wanted to know the temper of that household and anything those two women might be secretly planning. Don't let her grieving fool you, Gordianus. Fulvia is still madly ambitious. So is Sempronia. Many a time I've told Caesar, 'We have to watch those two, especially the daughter. No matter that she's married to Curio, no matter that Marc Antony's married to his cousin-mark my words, Fulvia has her eye on our Antony, and if those two should ever join forces… beware!' "

I shook my head. "But for now, Antony remains married to Antonia. She saw through Cassandra's pretense."

"Yes. With Antonia, Cassandra made a grave miscalculation. She acted on her own initiative, outside her mission for Caesar."

"Not entirely her own initiative. It was Cytheris who put her up to making a distressing prophecy to Antonia."

"I know. Cassandra confessed as much to me when I pressed her. She said that Cytheris had known her in Alexandria, and threatened to expose her if she didn't do a favor for her. Cassandra argued that her prophecy to Antonia was only a small matter. I disagreed, and I chastised her quite severely for destroying any chance to build a bond of trust with Antonia. That was stupid of Cassandra, and certainly not a part of Caesar's plan. It was also my first indication that Cassandra seemed to be slipping out of my control."

"Only the first indication?"

"Her affair with you was another. That should never have happened. She knew from the beginning that she was not to form any such bond with any man while she was in Caesar's employ."

"Her time with me was not a part of Caesar's plan?"

Calpurnia looked at me shrewdly. "You're worried that it might have been otherwise? That perhaps Cassandra sought you out and seduced you merely to gain your confidence? No. Not in her role as Caesar's agent. She was acting on her own initiative when she formed whatever bond grew between you."

"How is it that you know about it, then?"

She smiled. "Purely by surmise. Why else would you have shown such an interest in Cassandra after her death, unless you were her lover?"

I made no reply.

She shrugged. "Who can explain the mysteries of Venus? Cassandra managed to keep your affair a secret even from me; that's why she could never bring you here, where the two of you would have been much more comfortable than in that hovel in the Subura. You were her little secret, just as she was yours." Calpurnia looked at me thoughtfully. "To be sure, even before Cassandra met you, she knew who you were from the very thorough briefings Caesar gave her. And of course, she was acquainted with your son-with Meto, I mean. Meto was present at some of those briefings. That young man has a flair for this sort of thing-playacting, secret codes, hatching plots under the rose."

"Cassandra knew Meto? She never told me."

"How could she, without giving away the fact that she was Caesar's agent? To have told you would have exposed you to the same dangers she faced. You might have shared her fate."

"Her fate." I tasted the word like wormwood on my tongue. "Do you know who killed her?" I asked, half suspecting now that it must have been Calpurnia herself.

She read the look on my face. "I had nothing to do with her death. I don't know who killed her or why. It might have been any of those women who came to see her burn. It might have been someone else. But…"

"Yes?"

She rose from her chair, strode to the painting of Alexander, and peered at it intently, though she must have seen it many times before. "When he was briefing Cassandra about various women in Rome, Caesar himself suggested specific prophecies or visions that she might use in order to gain a particular woman's confidence or frighten her or otherwise get her to speak what was on her mind. He did so in the case of Fulvia, as I've told you. But Caesar couldn't foresee every eventuality. After he left Rome, when a woman sought out Cassandra for her gift, in most cases Cassandra had to improvise, using her own skills and whatever she already knew about that woman.

"But circumstances change. Cassandra needed to be kept abreast of developments. That job fell to me whenever I met with her in this house. One such development was this business with Marcus Caelius and Milo. Even Caesar didn't foresee that Caelius would turn against him or that Milo would dare to return to Italy-and no one imagined that the two of them might join forces. Trebonius and Isauricus-what a pair of bunglers! They should have put a stop to Caelius the moment he set up his chair of state in the Forum and began to agitate the mob. Now the situation is out of control." She looked at me sharply. "Did you know that Caelius and Milo were both in the city as recently as the day Cassandra died?"

I answered carefully. "I heard a rumor in the Forum that the two of them were seen riding out together that morning, heading south."

"That rumor was true. That day was our last chance to stop Caelius and Milo from trying to raise a revolution in the south. I had hoped to do so using Cassandra."

"How could Cassandra have stopped them?"

"By using her gift, of course."

"Why would either of them have listened to Cassandra?"

"Caelius might not have taken her seriously, but according to my sources, Milo might very well have heeded her. I'm told that he's grown increasingly superstitious in recent years. He looks for omens and portents everywhere. If Milo could have been convinced by Cassandra to abandon this mad enterprise, Caelius might well have abandoned it as well."

"But even if Caelius and Milo were secretly in the city for a while, how could Cassandra possibly have gained access to either of them?"

"The building in the Subura where she stayed was one of Caelius's strongholds in the city. That's why I placed her there, thinking it might eventually lead to some way for her to spy on Caelius. Certainly it made her accessible to him should he ever wish to call on her. And Cassandra might also have reached either Milo or Caelius through the two women closest to them-Fausta and Clodia."

I shook my head. "Fausta may still be Milo's wife, but she despises him. She wishes him dead. She told me so. Would Milo even bother to contact Fausta while he was in the city? As for Clodia, surely there's no one she hates more than Caelius-unless it's Milo! Clodia and Caelius may once have been lovers, but I can't imagine that she's even spoken to him since the prosecution she mounted against him."

"You might think these things, Gordianus, but you would be wrong. According to my sources, Milo almost certainly contacted Fausta while he was in Rome. As for Clodia, she's been receiving Caelius at her house on the Palatine and at her horti on the Tiber for months, ever since he returned from Spain with Caesar."

"I don't believe it!"

"Do believe it, Gordianus. My sources for that fact are quite reliable."

"Are you suggesting that Clodia and Caelius renewed their love affair, after all these years, despite the bitterness between them? Impossible!"

"Is it? It seems to me exactly what one might expect from a woman as weak as Clodia, who allows herself to be dominated by whims and emotions. We Romans believe that a man must be the master of his appetites or he's no man at all, but we forgive such a defect in a woman. It wasn't so in the days of our ancestors. A woman like Clodia, enslaved by her neediness, would have been despised by everyone. Nowadays people call such a creature fascinating, and men as weak as she is make poems about her." She made an expression of disgust. It occurred to me that no one would ever make a poem about Calpurnia.

"As for Caelius," she said, "perhaps he never stopped loving Clodia, despite their falling out and her attempt to destroy him. Or perhaps, always the pragmatist, he simply saw some use for her in this scheme of his to win over the rabble and seize power. Who knows what drives such a man? The fellow's like quick silver."

I shook my head, trying to make sense of this. "If Cassandra, at your bidding, was supposed to dissuade Caelius and Milo from staging an armed insurrection, then she obviously failed," I said.

"I'm not sure what happened. The last time I spoke to Cassandra, which was several days before her death, she told me that she had made the acquaintance of both Clodia and Fausta. Fausta had told her that Milo was aware of her existence-it wasn't clear whether he was in Rome at the time or not-and that he wanted to seek her out for a prophecy. As I said, Cassandra was living in a building that I knew to be one of Caelius's strongholds in the city. I told her to stay there, where Caelius and Milo could find her if they wished. If that should happen, she was to stall the two of them as best she could. 'Put them off, keep them in the city, and send Rupa to me at once;' I told her. 'If you must give them a prophecy, then tell them that their plans for a revolution are doomed and their only hope is to give themselves up and throw themselves upon the bountiful mercy of Caesar.' That was the last time I saw Cassandra. Several days later, I learned that Caelius and Milo had come and gone, and Cassandra was dead. So far as I can reconstruct the sequence of events, she died only a few hours after they rode out of Rome together."

"And Rupa?"

"He was here with Cassandra when I last spoke to her. After that, I never saw him again. I don't know whether he's alive or dead."

"But you believe there was some connection between Caelius and Milo, and Cassandra's death?"

"It seems very likely. Exactly what that connection may have been, I don't know. Right now, all my efforts are bent toward containing this insurrection Milo and Caelius are trying to raise in the south, and making sure that the next time they arrive in Rome, it's with their heads on sticks. Cassandra's dead. She's of no further use to me. I don't have time to be concerned with who killed her or why. I leave that to you. I understand you have a nose for that sort of thing. If you do manage to sniff out the truth, come tell me. If she died in Caesar's service, then whoever killed her shall answer to Caesar's justice."