Steven Saylor - A Mist of Prophecies

The slave ushered us through the forecourt, up the steps, and into the house. The guards recognized him and allowed us to pass without question.

From the buzz of excitement outside, I expected the inside of the house to be a veritable beehive, but the hall down which the slave led us was surprisingly empty and quiet. We emerged in a sunlit garden where Calpurnia, seated in a backless chair, was dictating in a low voice to a scribe. At our approach she looked up and made a sign for the scribe to withdraw. At another sign, the slave who had escorted us also vanished.

"Gordianus, you came very quickly." With a raised eyebrow she took note of my shabby tunic, and I knew I should have taken time to put on my toga, no matter what the slave had said.

"Your man indicated that the summons was urgent."

"Only because, in a few moments, all Rome shall know. Once the word is out, there's no telling how people will react. I assume that most people will be as overjoyed as I am-or will pretend to be."

"You've received good news, Calpurnia?"

She drew a breath and closed her eyes for a moment. She had not yet repeated the news often enough to have become inured to it. When she opened her eyes, they glittered with tears. Her voice trembled.

"Caesar has triumphed! There was a great battle in Thessaly, near a place called Pharsalus. Pompey's front lines gave way; then his cavalry broke and fled. It was a complete rout. Caesar himself led the charge to overrun the enemy's camp. Some of their leaders escaped, but the engagement was decisive. Almost fifteen thousand of the enemy were slain that day, and more than twenty-four thousand surrendered. Caesar's forces lost scarcely two hundred men. Victory is ours!"

"And Pompey?"

Her face darkened. "Even as Caesar was leading his men over the ramparts into the enemy's camp, Pompey fled from his tent, threw off his scarlet cape to make himself less conspicuous, mounted the first horse he could find, and escaped through the rear gate. He made his way to the coast and boarded a ship. He appears to have headed for Egypt. Caesar pursues him. That's the only bad news, that Caesar can't yet return to Rome. But that was to be expected. Caesar will have to settle Rome's affairs in Egypt and elsewhere before he can at last come home to rest."

For a long moment, I took in the momentous nature of what Calpurnia had just told me. Waves of emotion passed through me. Like her, I experienced a trembling in my throat, and tears came to my eyes. Then doubts and questions intruded on my thoughts.

Could it really be over? With a single battle, was the war truly ended? What of Pompey's naval fleet, which had always been superior to Caesar's and which was still presumably intact? Who else besides Pompey had survived, and how easily would they give up the fight? What of Rome's other enemies, such as King Juba, who had annihilated Curio and his expedition in Africa? What of Egypt, which was engaged in its own dynastic civil war? Calpurnia spoke of settling affairs there as if the job involved tools no more complicated than a broom and a dustpan, but when had anything to do with Egypt ever been that simple? Would it really be such a trivial task to track down Pompey, as if he were an escaped slave? If and when Caesar trapped him, did he intend to murder Pompey in cold blood? Or would he bring him back to Rome as a prisoner, parading him in chains behind his chariot in a triumphal procession, as he had done to Vercingetorix the Gaul? Doubts shadowed the news Calpurnia had given me, but I said nothing of them. How many of the men in her forecourt were entertaining the same questions, and how many would feign jubilation and leave their doubts unspoken-for the time being?

"Remarkable news," I finally managed to say.

"Is there nothing you wish to ask? No one you wish to ask after?"

I thought for a moment. "What of Domitius Ahenobarbus?" He was one of Caesar's fiercest enemies. At the outset of the war, he had lost the Italian city of Corfinium to Caesar, botched a suicide attempt, and been captured. Humiliated by Caesar's pardon, he made his way to Massilia-where his path crossed mine-and took command of the forces resisting Caesar's siege. When Caesar and Trebonius took Massilia, Domitius Ahenobarbus had escaped once more, to join Pompey.

"Redbeard is no more," said Calpurnia, with a glint of satisfaction in her eyes. "When the camp was overrun, Domitius fled on foot and headed up a mountainside. Antony's cavalry hunted him down like a stag in the woods. He collapsed from fear and exhaustion. His body was still warm when Antony found him. He died without a wound on him."

"Faustus Sulla?"

"Fausta's brother apparently escaped. There was a rumor he might head for Africa."

"Cato?"

"He, too, eluded capture. He may be on the way to Africa as well."

"Cicero?"

"Cicero lives. He missed the battle entirely, on account of an upset stomach. Rumor has it he's headed back to Rome. My husband is notorious for his clemency. Who knows? He may yet forgive Cicero for siding with Pompey." She stared at me for a long moment. "Why not ask what you most want to ask, Finder?"

Why not, indeed? I bowed my head and sighed. I tried to control the trembling in my voice. "What news of Meto?"

She nodded and smiled, a bit more smugly than was warranted. "Meto is well. According to my husband, he distinguished himself admirably throughout the campaign and most especially in the battle at Pharsalus. He remains at Caesar's side, traveling with him to Egypt."

I shut my eyes and held them shut, to hold back tears. "When did this battle take place?"

"Four days after the Nones of Sextilis."

I drew a breath. "The day Cassandra was buried!"

"So it was. I hadn't realized that."

On the very day Cassandra turned to ashes upon her funeral pyre, the fate of Rome was decided. I thought of all that had transpired and all I had discovered in the time it took the news from Pharsalus to reach Rome. I thought of the women who had shared with me their secrets, none of us knowing that even as we raked over the past and agonized over the future, the battle between the titans was already decided.

"Why did you summon me here, Calpurnia, and bid me come so quickly? I should think that every man out there, shuffling nervously about your forecourt, is more deserving to be kept abreast of the latest news from Caesar."

She laughed. "Let those senators and magistrates grind their teeth and swap rumors and stand on pins awhile longer. I intended to call you here today, anyway, because of a certain other event. Rupa, step forward."

He had been standing in the shadows. When he stepped into sight, the look I saw on his face was closer to chagrin than anything else. He put his hands on my shoulders and gave me a rather stiff embrace.

"So you're alive, after all," I said. "Where have you been all this time?"

He covered one hand with the other. In hiding. Who could blame him? Fausta had sent a slave to kill him. When he learned about Cassandra's death, he must have been as baffled as I was, not knowing whom to blame or whom to fear.

"He should have come straight to me, of course," said Calpurnia. "But I suppose he was afraid of me, thinking I might have had something to do with Cassandra's death. But ever since Fausta died, all sorts of rumors have been circulating about her death and her role in the insurrection, including a rumor about her poisoning Cassandra. Rupa heard it and decided to risk coming here to find out the truth. I told him of all your efforts to find his sister's killer, not to mention the care you took to see that she was properly cremated."

Rupa looked in my eyes and embraced me again, less stiffly. At that moment he looked very much like Cassandra.

"He also came here to collect Cassandra's earnings, which I kept in trust for her. It's a considerable sum. But there's a slight problem. It has to do with you, Finder."