Steven Saylor - Last seen in Massilia

"Yes. You keep asking, and they keep sending us in circles."

"It's these winding streets. Very confusing. Do you suppose that's the house with the blue door?"

"That's not blue, it's green."

"Do you think so?"

"And I don't see an alley running alongside it."

"No, neither do I…"

Davus sucked in a sharp breath. He was justifiably exasperated, I thought, then I realized it was something more than that. "Maybe we should ask them for directions," he said.

"Ask whom?"

"Those two fellows following us."

I resisted the urge to look behind. "The same two we saw the other day?"

"I think so. I thought I got a glimpse of them not long after we left the First Timouchos's house. Now I've just seen them again. It can't be coincidence."

"Unless two other lost strangers are wandering the streets of Massilia in circles, looking for the house of Arausio. But who could have sent them? Who wants us followed? Surely not Apollonides. We slept last night under his roof. If he wanted to confine us, he could have locked us in a room. The fact that we're out on the streets today must mean that he's forgotten us, cares nothing about us."

"Unless he intentionally allowed us to leave his house and sent these men to see where we'd go," suggested Davus. "Why would he do that?"

"Maybe he knows what we're up to."

"But, Davus, even I'm not sure of that."

"Of course you are. We saw Apollonides's son-in-law murder an innocent young woman, and you're trying to find the proof. Things are going quite badly enough for Apollonides these days without the scandal of a murder to taint his household."

"You're assuming that Apollonides knows that Zeno killed Rindel-"

"Perhaps he confronted Zeno. Perhaps Zeno confessed the crime to him!"

"And you're assuming that Apollonides knows that I have some interest in the matter."

"You witnessed it. You reported what you saw directly to Apollonides. And if he kept watch on the scapegoat's house, he knows that you had a visit from Arausio. Why else would Rindel's father have come there, except to ask about her murder."

"If I grant that you're right on all counts, then why doesn't Apollonides simply lock me in a room? Or cut off my head and be done with me?"

"Because he wants to sec where you go, whom you talk to.

He wants to find out who else suspects the truth, so that he can deal with them as well." Davus tapped his head. "You know how such a man's mind works. Apollonides may be just a mullet compared to sharks like Pompey and Caesar, but he swims in the same sea. He's no less a politician than they are, and his mind works just like theirs. Always scheming, always putting out fires, trying to guess what happens next and who knows what, thinking up ways to turn it all to his advantage. It makes my head hurt, thinking about men like that."

I frowned. "You're saying I'm a hound who imagines he's out foraging on his own, but all the time Apollonides has me on a long leash?"

"Something like that." Davus wrinkled his brow. Too many metaphors had worn him out.

"Tell me, Davus, do you see our two followers now?" He discreetly glanced over his shoulder. "No."

"Good. Because this must be the house with the blue door, and that must be the alley that runs alongside it. If we disappear around the corner fast enough, we may give them the slip."

The house of Arausio was exactly where the young woman had said it would be. We seemed to have eluded our two followers. Davus kept watch as I knocked on the door, but he saw no sign of them.

Arausio himself answered the door. Meto had once told me that this, was the custom among some of the Gaulish tribes, something to do with ancient laws of hospitality, for the head of the household and not a slave to greet visitors. Arausio looked haggard and pale. It had been only two days since I had seen him in the scapegoat's house, yet even in that short space of time he seemed to have lost some vital spark. The ordeal of the siege and his own personal tragedy had worn him down.

When he recognized me, his face momentarily lit up. "Gordianus! I wondered if you were still alive! They say there's nothing left of the scapegoat's house but ashes. I thought you might have…"

"I'm perfectly well. Lucky to be alive, but alive nonetheless."

"And you've come… with news? About Rindel?"

"No news; not yet. Only questions."

The light went out in his eyes. "Come inside, then."

It was a well-ordered house, clean and neat, with a few costly ornaments to demonstrate its owner's success-a collection of silver bowls ostentatiously displayed in one corner, a few small pieces of Greek statuary placed on pedestals here and there. Arausio's taste was more refined than I would have expected.

He led us to a room where a woman sat at a loom of some sort; the device was of a Gaulish design I had never seen before, as was the pattern of the garment she was weaving. I realized I knew very little of the Gauls and their ways. Meto had spent years among them, playing his part in Caesar's conquests, learning their various languages and their tribal customs, yet we had seldom talked about such matters. Why had I not been more curious, displayed more interest in his travels? He had always been in a rush, and so had I; there had never been time enough to really talk. Now there never would be.

The woman seated at the loom stopped what she was doing and looked up at me. I drew in a sharp breath. She was beautiful, with piercing blue eyes, and wore her blond hair as Arausio had described Rindel's hair, braided like ropes of spun gold. Was it possible that the missing Rindel had returned? But no, Arausio had been anxious for news of her, and his mood, if his daughter had come back, would have been entirely different.

The woman was not Rindel then, but Rindel's mother. From ' looking at Arausio's red cheeks and drooping mustache, I had formed no clear picture of the beautiful daughter who could have tempted a youth like Zeno; but if Rindel took after her mother-indeed, if she was half as beautiful-I could well imagine how Zeno might have fallen for her.

"This is my wife," Arausio said. "Her name is Rindel, too; we named our daughter for her." He smiled wanly. "It leads to all sorts of confusion, especially as they look so much alike, and my wife looks half her age. Sometimes, when we're out among strangers, people mistake the two of them for sisters. They think I'm an old man showing off his two beautiful daughters-" His voice caught in his throat.

The woman stood and acknowledged us with a slight nod. Her lips were tightly compressed and her jaw was clenched. Her eyes brimmed with sudden tears. "My husband says that you can help us."

"Perhaps, if finding the truth is of help."

"We want to know what's become of Rindel. We need to know."

"I understand."

"My husband says that you may have seen her… at the end."

"We saw a woman on the Sacrifice Rock. Perhaps it was Rindel. When you last saw her, what was she wearing?"

She nodded. "Arausio told me that you wanted to know this, so I've thought about it and looked through her clothes. I can't be sure, but I think she must have been wearing a simple yellow gown, not her best but fairly new."

"And a cloak of some sort? With a hood?" She frowned. "I don't think so."

"The woman we saw wore such a cloak. It was dark, possibly green-"

"More blue than green," said Davus, interrupting.

The woman nodded. "Rindel owns such a cloak; I'd call the color a gray-green, myself. But I'm almost certain-wait here." She left the room for a moment, then returned, bearing a cloak over her arms. "Here it is. I found it among her clothes. She couldn't have been wearing it, then, not if you saw her…" She lowered her eyes, then raised them. "If the woman you saw was wearing such a cloak, perhaps it wasn't Rindel you saw after all!"