‘The pack at work,’ mused Silius, ‘drawing the victim away from safety.’
He raised his eyes to the sky for a moment to watch the flight of a couple of gulls. There was no sign of the person he was waiting for. He finished eating and waited some more, ordering another glass of wine now and then.
The owner of the tavern passed by with a bowl of dormouse stew for some other customers and Silius stopped him.
‘Are you sure no one has asked for me?’
‘I’ve already told you,’ replied the man, ‘not a living soul. I know everyone around here. If a stranger showed up I would spot him immediately. Don’t you know what this bloke looks like? Tall, short, fat, thin. .’
‘No,’ said Silius, looking down. ‘I have no idea.’
The tavern owner shrugged and widened his hands as if to say, ‘So what do you want from me?’
Silius swallowed another mouthful of wine, wiped his lips with the back of his hand and made to leave. But as he was getting to his feet, he saw a person at the corner of the house on his left making an odd gesture. Could it be him?
Silius took a quick look around and, trying not to attract any attention, walked towards the individual who was beckoning to him. Now he could see the person well. It was a woman of modest appearance, probably a servant or a freedwoman, wearing work clothes, with a rope belt around her waist. She looked about forty, and had the callused hands of a woman accustomed to working in the fields.
‘Come this way,’ she called as Silius approached. ‘I’m the person you’ve been waiting for.’
‘Good. Well, then?’
‘The person who sends me says they can’t meet with you. They don’t know you well enough and can’t receive you.’
Silius was clearly irritated. ‘Damn it all! But why? Don’t they know how important this is? That it’s a matter of life or death?’
‘I know nothing,’ replied the woman. ‘I’ve never even seen the person who sent me here before. I don’t even know who it is.’
Silius grabbed her arm. ‘Listen to me! I must — whatever the cost — meet with the person who sent you. If you do as I say, I’m willing to pay you well. Say that I have very important information that directly regards the person — and that person’s son. You’re a slave, aren’t you? Am I right?’
‘You are,’ she replied.
‘Well, I promise you here and now that I’ll give you enough money to buy your freedom. Just do what I’m asking, by all the gods!’
The woman lightly touched the hand that was gripping her sleeve so Silius would let go, then responded without looking at him, ‘Do you really imagine that a woman of my condition can speak to a high-ranking person? I received an order and I learned the words I told you by heart. Tomorrow I’ll be on some farm or other tying up bundles of twigs. I’m sorry. I would have helped you willingly.’
She hurried away.
Silius leaned his elbow against the wall, his head on his arm, and didn’t move from that position for a long time, torn between anger and frustration, not knowing what to do.
A hand fell on his shoulder. Silius spun around, his fingers round the hilt of the dagger he wore in his belt. He found the innkeeper in front of him.
‘That person you were looking for came.’
‘What are you saying? I just-’
‘A tall bloke, skinny, black circles around his eyes. He left a message for you.’
Silius didn’t say another word, but followed the man back to the tavern. The people sitting at the other table were just mopping up the remains of their tasty dormouse stew with some bread. A dog waited hopefully for the bones, which were not forthcoming. The wine jug and empty glass still occupied the table where Silius had been sitting.
The owner took him to the back of the shop and handed him a small sealed scroll. Silius reached for his moneybag and handed over a couple of denariifor his trouble, which the man pocketed happily.
Silius moved away until he was safely out of sight in the shade of a portico, then opened the message:
To Silius Salvidienus, hail!
Although your words were veiled, what you are asking is sufficiently clear. I cannot meet you for reasons you can easily imagine. There’s not much I can accomplish because I’ve been kept out of everything.
A chasm lies on either side of the road that will be taken. I shall do whatever is in my power to do, however small that may be.
This letter begins without my signature. My name is in the person you met a short time ago.
Farewell.
Silius at on the base of a column and reflected upon each word of the letter he’d been given. The response to his request was thorough, but difficult to interpret. If the person writing to him had been kept out of everything, what could be done? What was this road between two chasms?
As he pondered the puzzling message, the words fell into place.
A person who was torn between two powerful, contrasting emotions.
A person who could do little but who promised to act.
The signature was there. The name lay in the messenger who had been sent: a servant.
This confirmed that the person writing to him was Servilia.
He had to conclude that she was being kept under strict surveillance, so someone must be afraid that she might reveal something. Who, if not her son? What, if not a plot against Caesar’s life?
She couldn’t say anything specific because she evidently feared, despite her precautions, that her letter might be intercepted. That was why she signed the letter so cryptically, so that only the designated receiver could identify the sender. Perfect. At this point he had sufficient evidence to warn Antistius first and then Caesar. He would force his commander to defend himself! Perhaps Publius Sextius would arrive soon and could be consulted about organizing a proper defence.
He destroyed the letter and scattered the pieces as he walked swiftly down the long stretch of road that led towards Antistius’s hospital on the Tiber Island.
He arrived as the sun was beginning to set. The legionaries of the Ninth, guarding the Fabricius Bridge, lowered their spears as a sign of respect for his rank, since they knew him well. He entered Antistius’s office. Each had important news for the other.
Antistius went first: ‘Artemidorus says he’ll collaborate. He has reason to detest Brutus.’
‘What does he know?’
‘Not much, to tell the truth. Strange meetings at odd times — in the middle of the night, just before dawn.’
‘Names?’
‘Not a single one. He couldn’t see them in the dark and they went straight to Brutus’s study. But I’ve asked him to investigate and to report back anything he learns. He’s said he will and I believe him. And you? Any news?’
‘I got a message through to Servilia. It wasn’t explicit, but she understood and answered. She can’t meet me but she says that she will do whatever she can.’
‘Can I see the letter?’ asked Antistius.
‘I destroyed it as soon as I’d read it, but I remember it very well. It wasn’t very long.’ He recited it word by word.
‘Yes,’ agreed Antistius. ‘Your interpretation is correct, I’d say.’
‘Good. I’ll go and tell Caesar.’
Antistius didn’t answer at first and Silius watched him, perplexed by his silence. Finally, the doctor said, ‘Are you sure that’s a wise decision?’
‘Of course. Without a doubt.’
‘What can you tell him that he doesn’t already know? Do you really think he hasn’t picked up on the rumours, felt conspiracy in the air, if not already in making? It’s clear to me that he doesn’t intend to quash any uprising on the basis of hearsay alone. He doesn’t want blood. Not now, at least.’