Steven Saylor - The Triumph Of Caesar

I sighed. "I'm no closer to being able to tell you who killed Hieronymus, and why. As I told you from the outset, that is my real purpose for pursuing this matter."

"When will you know something?"

"It's impossible to say. And yet…"

All three of them leaned toward me.

"Go on!" said Porsenna.

"Over the years, I seem to have developed a certain instinct. As others can smell rain before it comes, so I can smell the truth approaching."

"And?"

"My nose has begun to twitch."

"What is that supposed to mean?" snapped Uncle Gnaeus.

"I sense that I'm drawing closer to the truth, though I don't yet have an inkling of what that truth is or where or how the revelation will come. It's like the first whiff of a scent. You know you recognize it, even though you can't put a name to it. At least, not yet… but soon…"

"You sound as mystical as Porsenna!" said Calpurnia. "I thought you relied on logic and deduction, like a Greek philosopher."

"I do. But sometimes I seem to skip a step or two in the chain of reasoning. I arrive at the truth by a kind of shortcut. Does it matter how I get there?"

"It matters when you get there," she said. "In time to save Caesar!"

I took a deep breath. "I'll do what I can."

I returned home. Once again I set to studying Hieronymus's reports and his personal journal. Though the hour was early, the day was already hot. No breeze stirred the baking heat of the garden.

I found nothing new to pique my interest, but I did come across a passage I had not read before, concerning the doorkeeper at Hieronymus's building, the slave called Agapios. In passing, Hieronymus noted, "What a flirt the boy is! Today he actually winked at me. To be sure, Cytheris served wine of Chios last night, and that vintage is said to restore the allure of the drinker's lost youth."

"Hieronymus, Hieronymus!" I muttered. "What a vain old fellow you were, and how easily you were flattered." In fact, I felt a bit put out by the passage. Agapios had flirted with me as well, but obviously the young man did so promiscuously and without the least sincerity. Some slaves acquire a habit of flirting with their superiors; they ingratiate themselves by reflex.

Diana brought me a cup of water. She surveyed the scrolls and scattered bits of parchment all around me. She seemed to hesitate, then spoke.

"Papa, do you think you've given sufficient weight to the note Hieronymus left for whomever might find his private writings? I mean the part where he says, 'Look all around! The truth is not found in the words-' "

"Daughter! Have you been looking through these documents behind my back?"

"You never forbade me to read them, Papa."

"But I never asked you to do so." I scowled at her. The heat was making me irritable.

"Hieronymus was my friend, too," she said quietly.

"Yes. Of course he was." I sipped the water.

"I want to know what happened to him, just as you do," she added. "And since you think it unseemly that I should go about asking questions of strangers, as you do, what else can I do but read his reports and try to imagine which of those people wanted to kill him?"

"I'll grant that you have the advantage of younger, stronger eyes. How much have you read?"

"Only bits and pieces. Some of his Greek I can't follow, and sometimes his handwriting is very hard to make out."

"As I know only too well! But what were you saying earlier, about something I've overlooked?"

"I don't know that you've overlooked it, Papa. But it strikes me that it might be significant. It's this part here." She reached for a scrap of parchment and read aloud. " 'I dare not write my supposition even here; what if this journal were to be discovered? Must keep it hidden. But what if I am silenced? To any seeker who finds these words and would unlock the truth, I shall leave a key. Look all around! The truth is not found in the words, but the words may be found in the truth.' "

I nodded. "Yes, yes, I noticed that passage at once when I discovered his private writings. There was no literal key, or at least none that I could find. As for looking all around, I did so. I scoured every corner of his rooms."

"Was Rupa with you?"

"No, this was before your mother issued her proclamation that I should never venture out alone. Why do you ask?"

"Another pair of eyes might have seen something you overlooked."

"Do you think I should go back and look again, and take Rupa with me?"

"No, I think you should take me with you."

"Diana, you know how I feel about your interest in this sort of-"

"But, Papa, you just admitted that my eyes are younger and stronger. Might I not see something that you overlooked? Four eyes are better than two."

"An aphorism worthy of Publilius Syrus!"

"So you will take me with you to Hieronymus's apartment?"

"I never said that!"

But that was what I did.

An hour later, three of us arrived at the building in the Subura: Rupa, Diana, and myself. Agapios the door slave was nowhere to be seen, but we did not need him; I had the key to Hieronymus's rooms. As we made our way up the stairs, Diana bounded ahead of me. I could see she was very excited to be accompanying her father in the performance of his work.

But her excitement gradually faded as we conducted our examination of the rooms. Together, we searched the furniture, looked for hidden compartments in the walls and the floor, and sorted though Hieronymus's few possessions. We looked through the various scrolls that remained in the bookcase, searching for any scraps of parchment with Hieronymus's handwriting. We circled the rooftop terrace, searching for hidden compartments in the exterior walls.

We discovered nothing of interest.

At length, Diana sighed. "I was so sure we'd find something."

I nodded. "I know that feeling."

"And yet, I was wrong."

"I know that feeling, too. There's a great deal of frustration and disappointment in this sort of work. But when there's nothing to see, four eyes are no better than two."

"I suppose you're right. But I'd be even more frustrated if I hadn't been able to take a look for myself. Thank you, Papa."

As we made our way down the stairs, I heard voices from the vestibule below. We came upon young Agapios in conversation with Gnaeus Calpurnius. The old priest looked surprised to see me, and even more surprised at the sight of Rupa and Diana.

"What are these people doing here?"

The usually cheerful Agapios seemed completely cowed by Uncle Gnaeus, who was no doubt immune to his powers of flirtation. "The one called Gordianus has the key to the rooftop apartment," he explained.

"How did he acquire that?"

"He took it from me. He showed me the mistress's seal-"

Uncle Gnaeus boxed his ear. "A fine job you've done, looking after this property. I should send you to the salt mines." No sooner had Agapios recovered himself than Gnaeus struck him again.

"Stop!" I said. "It's as the slave says. I took the key by Calpurnia's authority. What business is it of yours?"

"My niece delegated the running of this property to me months ago. She's much too busy to deal with evicting tenants or collecting rents. The slave should never have given you a key to this building without my authority."

"Gnaeus Calpurnius, I think you know the importance your niece attaches to my work, whether you respect it or not. Would you have denied me the key? I think not. For Numa's sake, leave the boy alone!"

"How dare you invoke the name of my ancestor on behalf of a slave, Finder!"

"Here, take back the key. I don't need it anymore." I tossed it at his feet, but it was Agapios who scrambled to retrieve it. The groveling slave offered it to Gnaeus Calpurnius, who gave him a kick.

I hurried out, with Diana and Rupa behind me.