The Venus Throw by Steven Saylor

we arrived in Rome, his agents have snuffed us out one by one.”
    I shook my head. “You admit that you have no proof of your allegations against King Ptolemy, Dio. Do you have proof of what you say against Pompey?”
    He glared at me and was quiet for a long time. “A few nights ago, in the house of Lucius Lucceius, someone tried to poison me. Do you want proof of that? My slave died horribly, writhing and gasping on the floor, only moments after tasting a portion of soup that was served to me in my private room!”
    “Yes, but—”
    “And my host, Lucius Lucceius, despite his knowledge of philosophy, despite the disdain he espouses for King Ptolemy, is Pompey’s friend.”
    “Do you know where the poison came from?”
    “Earlier that day, a certain Publius Asicius paid a call on Lucceius. A handsome young man—I happened to see him as he was leaving the house, and I asked Lucceius his name.That night, my slave was poisoned. The next morning, after I fled from Lucceius’s house, I made some inquiries about his visitor. They say this Publius Asicius is a young man of easy morals who indulges in poetry and wine and dabbles in politics with no fixed agenda, willing to do anything to curry the favor of anyone who can advance his career.”
    I sighed. “You have just described a whole generation of young Romans, Teacher. ‘Many of them may be capable of murder, including, quite possibly, this Publius Asicius. But mere proximity to the scene of a crime is not—”
    “Asicius is also said to be in debt to Pompey, for some very large loans which the general made to him.”
    “Still . . .”
    “You see, you have no rejoinder for that, Gordianus. The chain goes back to Pompey and thence to King Ptolemy.”
    “Your host, Lucceius—did you confront him with your suspicions?”
    “Even as my taster lay writhing on the floor! I insisted that Lucceius come and witness the atrocity himself. I demanded that he find out how the soup had been poisoned.”
    “What was his response?”
    “He pretended to be appalled, of course. He said that he would interrogate each of his household claves himself, and torture them if necessary. Perhaps he did, or perhaps not. I left the next morning, desperate to be away from the place. I told Lucceius that I would be staying at the house of Titus Coponius, but he has made no effort to contact me.”
    Trygonion, who had been silent for a while, cleared his throat. “Having escaped alive from the man’s house, perhaps you would have been wiser not to tell Lucceius where you were headed next.” The gallus made a wry face and seemed to be in a mood to cause trouble again, but what he said made sense.
    “Am I then to behave like a fugitive or a criminal?” demanded Dio. “Skulking from shadow to shadow, hoping no one sees me, praying that the world will simply forgetmy existence? Already I put on this absurd disguise to go out during the day—is that not shame enough? I refuse to vanish altogether. To do so would give King Ptolemy unconditional victory. Don’t you understand? I am all that remains of the delegation of one hundred who came to speak for the people of Alexandria and their new queen. If I allow fear to turn me invisible and mute, then I might as well never have come to Rome. I might as well be dead!”
    With that, Dio gave another shudder and began to weep again. I watched him fight back the tears and struggle to compose himself. Over the last months he had endured much misery and seen unspeakable tragedy, and for all his travails he had nothing to show but bitterness and shame. I was awed by his perseverance.
    “Teacher,” I said, “what is it that you want from me? I can’t force the Senate to hear your demands. I can’t make Pompey waver in his support of King Ptolemy. I can’t resurrect the dead, or redeem those who betrayed you.”
    I waited for Dio to answer, but he had not yet composed himself, so I went on. “Perhaps you wish for me to ferret out the truth,