Steven Saylor - Last seen in Massilia

They recoiled as if struck, gazed up at the eagle, and then averted their eyes, as if ashamed to have brought a blasphemer into its presence. "You've suffered much, Gordianus," said Publicius through gritted teeth. "We acknowledge your sacrifice. Still, there can be no excuse for such impiety."

"Impiety? You bring me into this… into such a"-I could not think of a word to describe the house of Gaius Verres-"and you accuse me of impiety! I want to see my son. Where is he?"

"We don't know," said Minucius meekly. "He comes to us at the time and place of his own choosing. Just as Catilina does-"

"What?"

"Oh, yes, we see Catilina quite often here in the streets of Massilia." Minucius shook his head. "You say he's in Hades, but you're wrong. His lemur has never rested, never left the earth

since the battle of Pistoria. As he planned to come here in life, so his lemur journeyed here in death. He sometimes affects the guise of a soothsayer, hiding himself in a cloak and cowl so that no one can see his face or the scar of the wound that separated his head from his shoulders…"

I remembered the soothsayer who appeared out of nowhere at the temple of the xoanon Artemis and rode with us as far as the ruined forest outside Massilia, the one whom the Roman soldiers jokingly called Rabidus. The cowled figure had said to me: Nothing in this place is what it appears to be. Nothing! And later, to the soldiers: I know why the Roman has come here. He's come to look for his son. Tell the Roman to go home. He has no business here. There's nothing he can do to help his son…

The vault was suddenly as cold as a tomb. I shuddered and clenched my teeth to stop them from chattering.

"Meto comes to you, then-" There was a thickness in my throat that made it hard to speak. "Meto comes to you as a lemur. Like Catilina?"

Publicius shrugged. His voice was quiet now, no longer angry. "Who can say? What does it matter? Meto played his role in the story of the eagle standard, as did Catilina before him; as yet may you, Gordianus. Why else did the gods send you here to Massilia?"

"Why, indeed?" I muttered. I felt hollow, as I had felt in my lowest hours at the scapegoat's house, drained of anger, of hope, even of the disdain I felt for these simpering disciples and their strange cult. I looked past them to Verres, who gazed back at me with a sardonic expression, barely able to contain his amusement. I could not even muster the energy to feel disgust for him. I felt nothing.

"Take me away from here, Davus," I whispered. "I need air." We stepped out of the room, but Verres held the lamp, and without it the passage was pitch-black. I was reminded of the flooded tunnel and felt dizzy. We waited while Verres locked the bronze door, then pressed ourselves against the wall while he awkwardly squeezed ahead of us to lead the way out. The forced contact with his corpulent body repulsed me. The smell of his perfume, mixed with his sweat and the smoke from the lamp, was nauseating.

We ascended the stairs, emerged into the house, and proceeded to the garden, then to the foyer, without a word. At the door, the Catilinarians hesitated. If they had more to say, I was in no mood to hear it.

"You needn't escort me back to Hieronymus's house," I said. "Davus and I can find the way."

"Then we shall leave you now," said Minucius.

They each clasped one of my hands and looked into my eyes. "Have strength, Gordianus," said Publicius. "The moment of our deliverance is coming very soon. All questions will be answered." Then the two of them departed.

I swayed, feeling a bit dizzy. Davus held my arm.

Behind me, Verres laughed. "They're both completely mad, of course," he said. "And they're not the only two. There are quite a few of those fanatics here in Massilia, clinging to Catilina and his so-called dream. Can you believe it? Completely mad, every one of them."

I turned to face him. "And you, Gaius Verres? What word would you use to describe yourself?"

He shrugged. "Acquisitive, I suppose. And shrewd-I hope. Ten years ago, when one of my contacts in Italy offered to sell me that eagle standard, I thought it might be a good investment-a unique acquisition, certainly-but I had no idea it might someday purchase my return to Rome."

"What are you talking about?"

"Mad our two friends may be, but they're right about one thing: Caesar does want the eagle standard. Oh, not for some mystical purpose. And not for political reasons, either; all the old Marian supporters have already rallied to his side. No, he wants it for sentimental reasons. Marius was his mentor, after all, and a kinsman; and Catilina was his friend. I've always suspected that Caesar would have openly supported Catilina, if the moment had been right."

"Those two think that Caesar headed straight for Massilia to claim the thing."

Verres laughed. "Anyone who can read a map knows why Caesar made a detour to this spot: Massilia happens to be on the way to Spain, where Caesar must first dispose of Pompey's troops before he can make any further moves. Nonetheless, he wants the eagle standard-and I happen to own it. Surely such a prize will be worth the redemption of a single harmless exile such as myself."

"You expect Caesar to restore your citizenship in return for the eagle?"

"A fair bargain, I should think."

"You're merely using the Catilinarians, then?"

"As they hope to use me. They disgust me. I suppose I disgust them. But we have one thing in common: We're all homesick. We want to go back to Rome. We want to go home."

"So do I, Gaius Verres," I whispered. "So do I"

Davus and I headed back toward the scapegoat's house. My mind was in a tumult. The Catilinarians, casually claiming to have seen Meto since his fall into the sea, had cruelly raised my hopes, then dashed them. They were mad, as Verres had said. And yet… a part of me clutched at even this tattered shred of hope that Meto might somehow be alive. Was it because I hadn't seen his dead body with my own eyes that I couldn't accept the hard fact of his death? Uncertainty allowed for doubt, and doubt allowed for hope; but false hope was surely crueler than the grief of certain knowledge.

What was I to make of the two acolytes' reference to visitations from a hooded figure they claimed to be the restless lemur of Catilina, whose appearance sounded strangely similar to the hooded soothsayer the Roman guards had called Rabidus? Could it truly have been the spirit of Catilina I met in the wilderness outside Massilia? Had Catilina himself tried to warn me away from the city, knowing that my son was already dead?

Over and over I imagined the sight of Meto plummeting from the high wall into the sea. The image became confused with my memory of the woman we had watched as she scrambled up the rock face and then vanished, either because she was pushed, or jumped, or fell…

I walked through the streets of Massilia in a daze, hardly aware of my surroundings, letting Davus lead the way. When he touched my arm and whispered in my ear, I gave a start.

"I'm not sure, father-in-law, but I think we're being followed."

I blinked and looked around, for the first time taking notice of others in the street. There were more people about than I had realized. Life in Massilia went on despite the siege. "Followed? Why do say that?"

"There are two fellows who seem always to be about a hundred paces behind us. We've just completed a circuit of the block around Verres's house, and they're still there."

I turned and saw that we stood once again before the door to Verres's house. My wits were so dulled, I hadn't even noticed that Davus had just led me in a circle.

"Are they closing on us?"

"No, they seem to be keeping their distance. And I think…"

"Yes?"

"I think they may have followed us earlier, when we left the scapegoat's house. I wasn't sure, then. But it must be the same two."