Last seen in Massilia rsr-8

by Steven Saylor

  "We'll never be able to fill the gap sufficiently," Zeno said, "not with material strong enough to keep out a battering ram. It can't be done. If Trebonius mounts a full-scale assault-"

  "He won't!" snapped Apollonides. "Not as long as we fly the white flag. He's held back so far."

  "Why should he hurry? He can mount his assault tomorrow or the next day. That breach isn't going away."

  "It's a breach, yes, but only a narrow one; narrow enough to be… defensible." Apollonides spoke through gritted teeth and kept his eyes on the activity by the wall, refusing to look at Zeno. "Even if Trebonius lined up his entire army to rush the breach, he'd never push enough men through to take the gate. Our archers would pick them off one by one until Roman corpses filled the gap. Any of them who did get through the breach and over the hurdle of debris would be trapped in that lake of mud, like flies in honey, made into even easier targets for our archers."

  "And if the breach becomes wider?"

  "It won't!"

  "Why not? Some of those overhanging blocks on either side look ready to fall at any moment."

  "The engineers will shore up the damage. They know what they're doing."

  "Just as they knew what they were doing when they filled the moat?"

  Apollonides gritted his teeth and made no answer.

  Zeno pressed him. "And what happens if Trebonius brings up a battering-ram? The broken edges of the walls on either side will crumble like chalk."

  "He won't. I won't let him!"

  Zeno laughed derisively. "And how do you intend to stop him?"

  Apollonides at last turned to meet his gaze. "You'll see, son-in-law."

  "What do you mean?"

  Apollonides smiled. He licked a finger and held it aloft. "There's a stiff wind rising-from the south, thank Artemis! We shall use it to our advantage."

  "How?"

  "Wind carries fire. Fire burns wood. And what are the Romans' ramparts and siege towers and battering-rams made of, but wood?"

  Zeno gasped. "What are you planning?"

  "Why should I tell you, son-in-law? If it was up to you, we'd have surrendered and thrown the gates open hours ago. I half suspect you of being a spy for the Romans, the way you're always advising me to give up the city to Caesar."

  "How dare you! I've fought the Romans as bravely as any Massilian. From the battlements, on the sea-"

  "And yet you did manage to come back alive yesterday, when so many did not."

  Zeno turned livid with rage. I thought he might strike his father-in-law, but he kept his fists clenched tightly at his sides. "We're flying a white flag of parley. Trebonius has respected it; he's held back from assaulting the breach. As long as you fly that flag, you can't send out men to burn the Romans' siegeworks. Caesar will never forgive such treachery."

  Beside me, Davus huffed and whispered, "He's got some nerve, to talk about treachery!"

  "Why do you think I've called up every archer to man the battlements?" said Apollonides. "To protect the engineers repairing the breach from a Roman attack, of course; but they'll also provide covering fire to our soldiers when they make their foray against the siegeworks."

  "This is madness, father-in-law! The wall is breached. The siege is over. Caesar himself will arrive any day now-"

  I pricked up my ears. This was new information.

  "We don't know that for a fact," said Apollonides. "A mere rumor-"

  "It was Lucius Nasidius who told me so, aboard his ship yesterday. The commander of the Pompeian fleet-"

  "A fleet that sailed away without sustaining a single casualty! A fleet of cowards, with a coward for commander!"

  "Even so, Nasidius told me that Caesar is said to be already on his way back from Spain. He heard the news from our own soldiers manning the garrison at Taurois, where the Pompeian ships had anchored for the night. Caesar has defeated Pompey's legions in Spain and taken die survivors into his own army. He's heading back to Massilia at great speed with a huge force of men. He may arrive any day now-tomorrow, even! We can't possibly resist him. It's over, father-in-law."

  "Shut up! Do you want the common rabble to overhear you and go spreading these mad rumors?" Apollonides looked over his shoulder, past the cordon of soldiers. His eyes, scanning the crowd, fell on me. For a moment his face went blank, then he yelled at the soldiers nearest to him and pointed at us. "Bring me those two men!"

  Davus and I were roughly seized, dragged inside the cordon, and thrust before Apollonides.

  "Gordianus! What are you doing, loitering there? Eavesdropping? You are a spy, aren't you? In league with my spying son-in-law, no doubt."

  Zeno shook with fury.

  "An eavesdropper perhaps, First Timouchos, but not a spy," I said, rearranging my tunic where the soldiers had gripped me. "I should have you and your son-in-law beheaded on the spot, like those looters at the scapegoat's house. Yes, and then catapult your heads over the walls to Trebonius!"

  "Don't be stupid, father-in-law!" protested Zeno. "This man is a Roman citizen, acquainted with Caesar himself-and Caesar's mercy is the only hope we have left! Even if this man is a spy, you'd be a fool to kill him now and flaunt his death. You'll only offend Caesar."

  "To Hades with Caesar! Look, here comes the assault force." Marching into the market square, pushing back the crowd with their presence, came a large body of soldiers clad in battle gear, armed with swords and pikes, but also carrying torches and bundles of pitch. The flames of their torches snapped and whipped in the rising wind.

  Zeno shook his head. "Father-in-law, don't do this. Not while we're flying a flag of parley. Not before Trebonius can send an officer to negotiate-"

  "There is nothing to be negotiated!" snapped Apollonides.

  He stepped away from us in order to address the assault force, which now filled the market square in ranked assembly. His voice was ringing, his presence riveting as he strode back and forth with his blue cape snapping in the wind. I could see how he had risen to make himself first among the Timouchoi.

  "Brave men of Massilia! For long months we've endured the humiliations and deprivations of a siege unjustly laid against this proud city by a Roman upstart, a criminal renegade. Against his own people he accomplished what even Hannibal could not: He conquered the city of Rome and drove the Senate into exile. And then, compounding his crimes, he dared to replace that ancient body with his own handpicked impostors, so that this false Senate could carry out the shoddy pretense of voting upon his actions and declaring them legal. So long as he prevails, all freedom is dead in Rome-and if he can, he will take away our freedom as well! But he will not prevail. With the true Senate of Rome and all the eastern provinces unified against him, he cannot possibly hope to win in the long run. We in Massilia merely had the misfortune to be the first victims, after the unfortunate citizens of Rome itself, to lie in the path of his insane ambitions.

  "Before you, you see a breach in the walls-walls that have never been breached before, that have protected Massilia for hundreds of years. Some look upon this breach as a catastrophe. I look upon it as an opportunity. Because now we finally have the chance to strike back. The breach is not an opening for our attackers but for us! We shall rush out upon them and catch them unawares. We shall burn and destroy their siegeworks. Their battering-rams shall be reduced to firewood. Their ramparts shall become bridges of flame. Their towers shall become bonfire beacons, a warning to their renegade leader to keep his distance!

  "The archers on the walls will protect you. But more than that, the righteousness of your cause will shield you. What you do today, you do for Massilia; for your ancestors who founded this proud city over five hundred years ago; for those who kept it, generation after generation, free and strong and independent against the Gauls, against Carthage, against Rome itself; for xoanon Artemis, who descended from the heavens and crossed the seas with our forefathers, who watches all that transpires in this city. She watches you today. Her bow is slung on your behalf. Her brother Ares shields you in battle
. Those who fall, she scoops up in her loving arms. Those who proudly remain standing, she showers with glory.

  "Now go! Go, and do not return until every scrap of wood outside these walls is swallowed up with flames!"

  The men let out a great cheer. Even the desolate crowd of spectators seemed to rally and take heart. Beside us, Zeno hung his head.

  The engineers stepped back from the breach. Planks had been laid to facilitate the passage of the assault force over the morass of mud and debris. The soldiers disappeared into the breach, yelling battle cries and whipping their torches through the air.

  As night fell, the sky beyond the wall became not darker but brighter. A fiery glow emanated from the burning siegeworks outside the city. From the battlements, archers fired their bows nonstop, notching arrow after arrow, pulling back their strings and letting them fly. The buzzing, of their shafts mixed with the clattering din of battle from beyond the walls, and the occasional shudder and boom, followed by screams, as some burning structure collapsed upon itself.

  Apollonides ascended to the battlements to watch the progress of the foray. He paced back and forth with has arms crossed. From time to time he nodded his head approvingly or pointed to something below and issued a command to a subordinate.

  Zeno stayed on the ground. He, too, paced back and forth, but said nothing. From time to time he stared at the breach, or up at the battlements, or at the restless, milling crowd in the square. He crossed his hands behind his back and brooded.

  Both of them seemed to have forgotten Davus and me, and we were allowed to remain within the military cordon.

  At last Apollonides descended from the battlements and headed back toward us. His carriage was proud and erect. I looked up and saw that the moon had risen. The sky toward the sea was black and spangled with faint stars. The sky above the breached wall was fiery orange. The foray had apparently been a great success.

  Who could say what might transpire in the hours to come? Apollonides seemed capable of anything, including the beheading of two hapless Romans, despite the bold defense Zeno had made on my behalf. Why had Zeno done such a thing? Was he really a spy for Caesar, as Apollonides had sneeringly suggested, or merely a pragmatist already preparing for the inevitability of Caesar's conquest? And how had Zeno known that I was acquainted with Caesar? I had spoken to him only once, the night before, and at that time he seemed to have no idea, or pretended to have no idea, of whom I might be…

  In the midst of such uncertainty, I might not have another chance to confront Zeno. I pulled out the ring and stepped toward him.

  Zeno turned and saw the thing in my hand. He was puzzled for a moment, then gave a start, as he had the night before. He saw his father-in-law approaching. "Put that thing away!"

  "Then you do know this ring?"

  "For Artemis's sake, put it away-before Apollonides sees it!"

  "Why should it matter if he does?" I asked-and in that instant, gazing into Zeno's wide-open eyes, I knew the answer. It seemed to me that I must have known all along.

  But it was too late. Apollonides had already seen that I held something in my hand and had noticed Zeno's reaction to it. As he approached, he looked from Zeno to the ring. He seemed at first mildly curious, then surprised, then confused. "What is the meaning of this, Gordianus?" he said. "What are you doing with my daughter's ring?"

  The wind cut through my thin tunic. I felt a chill, despite the fiery glow in the night sky. Now I understood everything. Or so I thought.

  XXI

  "I'll ask you again, Finder. What are you doing with Cydimache's ring?"

  "Your daughter's ring…?"

  "Yes, of course! Zeno gave it to her on their wedding day. It never leaves her finger."

  I made no answer. Apollonides turned to Zeno, who averted his eyes. "Explain this, Zeno. Did you give him the ring? Why? As payment to a spy? As bribery? But Cydimache would never allow-"

  "Your son-in-law did not give me this ring, First Timouchos. I found it."

  "Found it? Found it?" There was a note of hysteria in Apollonides's voice. I think, by a leap of intuition, he, too, had begun to realize the truth. At our first meeting on the rooftop terrace of the scapegoat's house, when I told him what I had witnessed on the Sacrifice Rock, he had paid only grudging attention, had accused me of lying. The woman who fell from the precipice was of no concern to him. At that moment, how could he have known, how could he have imagined the truth of the matter? "First Timouchos, I think I can explain; but not here, not in this place. In your house. In the presence of… certain others." I expected more anger and bombast, but instead his voice became quite small. "Others? What others?" All the color drained from his face. In the flickering, reflected glow from the fires outside the city walls, his features looked like those of a lifeless effigy made of wax. His jaw gaped and his brows turned upward until he resembled those heads mounted on spikes in the ruins of the scapegoat's house.

  We had no need of torches to light our way as we traversed the city to Apollonides's house. The sullen glow of the burning siegeworks lit up the sky and cast a fitful illumination over Massilia, drenching her open spaces in blood-red light, casting deep, black shadows into her hidden corners and recesses.

  Apollonides dispatched soldiers ahead of us to fetch those I had asked him to summon, and ordered more soldiers to form a cordon around us, and after that he said no more. Zeno, too, was silent. Once or twice Davus tried to whisper a question in my ear, but I shook my head and drew away. Our little retinue made its grim way up the winding streets until we arrived at the house of the First Timouchos.

  Inside the house, the soldiers who had been dispatched ahead of us stood guard before Zeno and Cydimache's quarters. Outside the room, Arausio and his wife, Rindel, stood huddled together in confusion.

  "First Timouchos!" Arausio's voice quavered, "what is the meaning of this? Your soldiers rousted us from our home and brought us here without a word of explanation. Are we under arrest? I see you have the Finder with you. Does he accuse me of slandering you and your son-in-law? It's not true, First Timouchos! Don't listen to Roman treachery! Have mercy on my wife, at least-"

  "Be quiet, merchant!" said Apollonides. He spoke to Zeno without looking at him. "Son-in-law, open the door to this room."

  "Open it yourself," said Zeno dully.

  "I will not! This is the room where my daughter grew up. My daughter, who from the first time she saw herself in a mirror wished me never to enter her presence unannounced, who wished me never to see her unclothed or unveiled-who wished for even her slaves never to see her unveiled-whose privacy I have always scrupulously respected. When you married her, this became the room she shared with you and you alone. Only once or twice since Cydimache was a child have I stepped foot inside. I certainly have never forced my way in. I have never even touched the door. I won't do so now. You will open the door."

  Zeno stared at the floor, glanced furtively at Arausio and his wife, bit his lip, then expelled a mirthless laugh. His eyes glittered feverishly. He shook his head and glared at me scornfully, but also as if he pitied me. "Remember, Finder, this was your doing. It was you and no one else who brought this about!"

  He opened the door to the chamber he shared with his wife. One by one, we stepped inside-Zeno first, then Apollonides, then Davus and myself. Last of all came Arausio and his wife. Their expressions were dumbfounded; for what possible reason had they had been summoned to the bedchamber shared by the man who had betrayed their daughter and the monster for whom he had betrayed her?

  The furnishings were luxurious, as I would have expected. Every surface seemed to be draped with rich fabric. The walls were covered with sumptuous hangings, the lamps strung with baubles. The impression was a riot of textures and patterns, as if the room itself was swathed in layer upon layer of veils.

  At the far end of the room, a startled figure turned toward us, covered with a cowled cloak and heavily veiled as on the previous night at the grim banquet in Apollonides's garden. No won
der, I thought, that Zeno had not wanted her to see the ring of Cydimache when I confronted him in the little courtyard!

  For a long moment, no one moved or spoke. "First Timouchos," I said quietly, "do you wish to-"

  "No! You do it, Finder. Unveil her." His voice was hoarse, hardly more than a whisper. I felt a sudden, piercing sympathy for him. He had worked out the truth, as I had. He knew what must have happened on the Sacrifice Rock that day; but what father can accept the fact of his child's death without proof, absolute proof, however painful? So it had been for me, unable, finally and without doubt, to accept Meto's death. Without proof, there must always be a glimmer of hope. For a few moments longer, Apollonides could cling to that hope. Once the veil was drawn aside, all doubt would vanish. I saw him steel himself for the moment, a look of utter misery on his face.

  I slowly crossed the room. The veiled, hunchbacked figure swayed slightly back and forth as I approached, as if contemplating escape; but escape was impossible. I drew closer and closer, until I was close enough to hear the sound of heavy breathing behind the veil. I raised my hand.

  The figure likewise raised a hand and seized my wrist, to stop me from lifting the veil.

  I found myself staring, befuddled, at the hand that gripped my wrist. Something was wrong-entirely and completely, terribly wrong. This was not-could not possibly be-the hand of the woman I expected to find behind the veil. Hers would be a smooth, delicate hand, the skin fair and unblemished, even lovelier than that of her mother, who stood trembling with confusion beside her husband at the other end of the room. This hand was coarse, and dark, and bristled with black hairs across the back. This could not possibly be the hand of Rindel, the daughter of Arausio, Zeno's lover!