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"Damn these people! When I retake Brundisium, I shall burn the city to the ground. I'll sell every man, woman, and child into slavery!" He paced back and forth, gazing westward. Above the rooftops we could see the towers flanking the city gate. "Engineer Magius, has the gate been sufficiently blocked?"

Another officer stepped forward. "You know it has, Imperator. There are tons of rubble piled against it. No battering ram will budge it. The only way Caesar's men can get into the city is by climbing over the walls."

"Scribonius, will the line of archers and slingers along the parapet hold?"

"Every one's a seasoned veteran, Imperator. They'll hold."

At that moment, we heard the first sounds of battle carried across the cold air. There was only shouting at first, then the eerie echo of steel clanging against steel, and the dull boom of a battering ram.

The square below rapidly emptied. The last of the soldiers filed out in silence, heading for the ships. The forum grew dark except for glowing patches of light from open temple doors. I found myself wishing I understood Messapic. It seemed to me that the ululations from the temples had gradually changed tenor, from songs of terror and lamentation to songs of deliverance. The chants mixed with the distant sounds of battle.

There was a signal for Pompey's retinue to commence evacuation. Suddenly, everyone around me was moving down the steps. The officer called Scribonius handed Davus a torch and told him to follow as rear guard.

We headed toward the port by a different route than the one the centurion had taken earlier. This street was wider and the way more direct. I wondered that it hadn't been blockaded and said as much to Davus, who told me to wait and see. At the first intersection we came to, the engineer Magius called a brief halt. He and a few other men gripped some ropes hanging from the buildings on either side. In an instant, tons of rubble poured into the street behind us. An ingenious system of pulleys had been installed, connected to wooden sluices and caches full of debris stored in the upper floors of the buildings facing the street.

The same operation was repeated at the next intersection, and the next. Magius was blockading the street as we passed.

At other places, Magius gave a signal for caution and led the company in single file along one side of the street, keeping close to the wall. Trenches with spikes had been dug across the street and covered over. Only Magius knew exactly where they were and on which side to bypass them. The traps were impossible to see. In the darkness, the dirt spread above the wicker blinds blended imperceptibly with the rest of the street.

Now and again I heard faint, echoing sounds of battle from behind us, shouts and screams mixed with the chanting from the temples. The darkness of the narrow streets, the flickering torchlight, the man-made avalanches of rubble, the unseen traps beneath our feet, all seemed like elements from a mad dream. Images of the day flashed through my overwrought mind: arrows crisscrossing in the blue sky above my head— the cold, still water of the harbor, promising death— Fortex on the quay quivering with tension, gripping invisible oars and staring agape at the boatman Charon coming for him across the River Styx.

I seemed to be trapped in a waking nightmare. Then I chanced to look at Davus beside me. He was grinning from ear to ear. For him, it was all a grand adventure. I gripped his arm.

"Davus, when we arrive at Pompey's ship, you'll stay behind."

He furrowed his brow.

"Davus, I have the information that Pompey wanted. About Numerius. But I shall give it to him only if he agrees to leave you behind."

"Leave me behind?"

"Listen, Davus, and try to understand! I shall be going with Pompey, but you shall not. It's the only way I can make this work. We'll leave you behind on the pier. As soon as the ship casts off, you must take off all your armor. Do you understand? Keep your sword to protect yourself, but strip down to your tunic and throw everything else in the water. There must be nothing to identify you as one of Pompey's men. The townspeople are likely to kill you out of spite, if Caesar's men don't kill you first."

"Stay behind?" Davus still didn't comprehend.

"Don't you want to go back to Rome? Don't you want to see Diana and little Aulus again?"

"Of course."

"Then do as I say! For a while, the city will be in chaos. But you're a big man; no one will bother you unless they have a reason. Don't pick any fights. Try to pass as one of the townspeople, at least until you can hand yourself over to Caesar's men."

"Hand myself over? They'll kill me."

"No, they won't. Caesar is doing everything he can to appear merciful. You won't be harmed, as long as you throw down your sword and don't resist. Demand to see Meto. And if Meto should be— if for any reason you can't find Meto, ask for Marc Antony, the tribune. Tell him who you are. Ask for his protection."

"What about you, father-in-law?"

"I shall take care of myself."

"I don't understand. You'll end up with Pompey over in Greece. How will you get home?"

"Don't worry about me."

"But Diana, and Bethesda—"

"Tell them not to worry. Tell them ... I love them."

"This isn't right. I should go with you, to protect you."

"No! The whole point is to get you away from Pompey and back to Rome. Don't spoil all my efforts now, Davus. Do as I tell you!"

Suddenly there was a tremendous crash ahead of us. Rubble poured into the street. For a moment I thought Pompey had been struck, but he emerged from the dust cursing and coughing. Someone had set off one of Magius's barricading devices in an attempt to ambush us.

Pompey's men immediately swarmed over the rubble, looking for the culprits. Shrieks of laughter were followed by shrill screams. The soldiers returned with their squirming prisoners: four boys. The soldiers restrained them by twisting their arms behind their backs and clutching fistfuls of hair. The oldest looked about the same age as Mopsus. The others looked even younger. I was amazed they had the strength to pull down the rubble. Their success was a testament to Magius's engineering.

For Pompey, this was the final straw. He walked up to the oldest boy and slapped him across the face. The boy's defiance crumbled. He looked terrified. Blood trickled from his nose. He started to weep. So did his companions.

Pompey snapped his fingers. "Bodyguards! Come! Executing partisans isn't a job fit for soldiers."

Davus responded at once. I gripped his arm, but he pulled free. I hissed his name. He looked back at me and shrugged, as if to say he had no choice.

"Tie their arms behind their backs and lay them on the rubble," ordered Pompey. Davus held up his torch while the other bodyguards ripped apart the boys' tunics and used the strips to bind them.

"Gag them," Pompey ordered. "I don't want to hear any screams for mercy. Then cut off their heads."

The boys' weeping abruptly turned to shrieks. More cloth was ripped, and the shrieks were abruptly muffled.

"We'll execute them on the spot and leave them as an example. Let the people of Brundisium see the price for betraying Pompey the Great. Let them think about that, while they await my return."

It happened so swiftly it seemed unreal. In seconds, the boys were stripped to their loincloths, bound and gagged and ready to be beheaded. Tiro drew back into the shadows, keeping his eyes down. Davus hung back. Pompey noticed.

"Davus! You'll cut off the head of the ringleader."

Davus swallowed hard. He glanced in my direction, but quickly lowered his eyes. He handed his torch to a soldier and slowly drew his sword. He shifted nervously from foot to foot.

"Great One, no!"

Pompey turned to see who shouted. "Finder! I should have known."

"Great One, let the boys go."

"Let them go? They very nearly killed me!"

"It was a prank. They're boys, not soldiers. I doubt they even know you were at the head of the retinue."

"All the worse. How should that have looked in Rome? Pompey the Great killed by accident, by a gang of street rats pulling a prank! They'll pay with their heads."

"But how would that look in Rome? Boys, mere children, their heads cut off and left for their parents to find. If these were barbarians in the hinterlands, yes— but this is Italy. We could as easily be in Corfinium. Or Rome."

Pompey bit his lower lip. He stared at me for what seemed a long time.

"Put away your swords," he finally said. "Leave the boys as they are, bound and gagged. Let the people see that they were captured, and spared. If Caesar can show mercy, so can I. By Hades, let's get out of this godforsaken place!"

Davus's shoulders slumped forward in relief. Pompey gave me a last furious glance, then held out his arms to his bodyguards, who helped him over the pile of rubble. Davus fell back to resume his post as rear guard. He helped me pick my way step by step over the debris. The last of the barricades and traps was behind us. We pressed on toward the port, saying not another word to each other.

•        •        •

As soon as we passed through the city gates and onto the boardwalk, one of the soldiers gathered up all the torches, ran to the quayside, and threw them into the water. The port was clearly visible to Caesar's forces ringing the harbor. Darkness was as vital as silence to the success of Pompey's operation.

The quay was lined with men waiting to board their assigned ships. We hurried past them, heading for the end of the quay.

The uncanny quiet was suddenly broken by cheering that began ahead of us and spread down the length of the quay. I thought at first that Pompey's arrival had been noticed, and the cheer was for him. Then I heard a shout: "They're through! They've made it!" The first of the transport ships to cast off had passed safely beyond the breakwaters at the harbor entrance and had reached the sea.

Masts creaked and sails billowed, and more ships cast off. As we neared the end of the quay I had a clear view of the harbor entrance. The breakwaters were as dark as the quay, horizontal smudges that seemed to rise barely above the waterline. A captain without keen night vision might easily run aground, trying to pass between them. I felt more out of my element than ever, plunged into a shadowy world ruled by the likes of Pompey and Caesar, where men manufactured avalanches, moved mountains of earth, built atop water, and made even darkness their weapon.

At the end of the quay, Pompey's ship waited. It was a smaller, sleeker, faster vessel than the big transport ships. A boarding plank was quickly laid in place. Pompey headed straight for it. I summoned my nerve and quickened my pace to catch up with him.

"Great One!"

He abruptly halted and turned about. Without torchlight, it was hard to read his expression. I saw only deep shadows where his eyes should be. The hard line of his mouth turned down sharply at the corners. "Hades take you, Finder! What do you want now?"

"Great One, my son-in-law— I want you to release him from your service. Leave him behind."

"Why?"

"It's the price for what I have to tell you. 'Not here, not now,' you said. On board your ship then, when time allows. I'll go with you. But you must leave Davus here."

Pompey was silent. He seemed to be staring at me, but I couldn't see his eyes. Finally he gestured for the rest of the party to commence boarding, then turned back to me. "Finder, why do I have the feeling that this is a trick of some sort— a ruse to trade places with your boneheaded son-in-law? I spared those street rats for trifling with me. I won't do the same for you."

"It's not a trick, Great One. I know who killed your kinsman, and why."

"Then tell me now."

I glanced at Davus, who stood awkwardly by while the others boarded. Tiro also hung back, waiting to see what would happen. "No. I'll tell you after we cast off."

"After Davus is out of my reach, you mean. Don't you trust me, Finder?"

"We must trust one another, Great One."

He cocked his head. "What a peculiar fellow you are, Finder, to dare to talk to me this way. Go on, then, board the ship." He turned about. "You too, Tiro. Stop gawking! As for you, Davus, I'm done with you. Off! Away! To Hades with you!"

Davus looked to me. I stepped forward, reached into my tunic, and pressed my moneybag into his hands. He looked down at the pouch and frowned. It was heavy with silver. Thanks to Tiro's largesse I had spent almost nothing during the journey. There was more than enough to see him safely home.

"But father-in-law," he whispered, "you can't give me all this! You'll need it."

"Just take it, Davus, and go!"

He looked into my eyes, then at his pouch in his hands, then into my eyes again. His shoulders rose and fell as he drew a deep breath. Finally he turned, but still hesitated.

"Go, Davus. Now!"

Without looking back he began walking down the quay, back toward the city.

Tiro boarded the ship. I waited for Pompey, but he gestured that I should go first. He followed after me. The boarding plank was withdrawn.

Orders were given in hushed voices. The sails snapped and billowed. The deck moved under me and the quay wheeled away.

I peered back the way we had come, and saw a figure I thought must be Davus, standing alone at the far end of the quay, framed by the gateway into the city. Then the ship turned and I lost sight of him.

I quickly lost sight of both Tiro and Pompey on the dark, crowded deck. No one questioned my presence. No one seemed to take any notice of me at all.

The soldiers were ordered into battle formation, but there was considerable confusion, with frantic movements back and forth and a great deal of arguing and cursing. After all Pompey's careful planning and what had appeared to be a perfect evacuation, I thought how ironic it would be if all his ships should escape except his own, for want of adequate naval drills among his hand-picked elite.

But the confusion was only temporary. Catapults and ballistic machines were rolled into position and clamped in place, then loaded and cocked by means of large wheels with ratchets. Infantrymen sheathed their swords, took up spears, and formed a tight cordon along the rail, their shields creating an unbroken barricade. At elevated positions behind them, archers took their places. Other soldiers attended the archers, standing by to shield them and supply them with arrows.