The Venus Throw by Steven Saylor Page B

has been busy all day packing my things . . .” I paused, surprised at how hollow my words sounded. What I said was true, and my trip had been planned for a long time. Why did I feel as if I were making excuses?
    “Then you cannot help me,” said Dio, staring at the floor.
    “If the trip were less important,” I began, and shrugged. “But it’s to see my son Meto. He’s been serving under Caesar in Gaul. I haven’t seen him for months. Now he’s at Caesar’s winter quarters in Illyria, hardly close but considerably closer than Gaul, and he may be there for only a short while. I can’t miss the chance to see him.”
    “I see,” said Dio.
    “In other circumstances, I would recommend that you pay a call on my elder son, Eco. He’s twice as clever as I ever was—but he’s coming with me to visit Meto. We’ll both be gone until at the least the end of the month, perhapslonger. The uncertainties of traveling in the winter, you understand . . .” Again, the words sounded hollow in my ears. I shifted uneasily in my chair, and the room suddenly seemed hot. “Of course, after the trip—that is, when I come back to Rome . . .”
    Dio fixed me with a gaze that pulled at the hair on the back of my neck. I had seen such a glassy stare only in the eyes of dead men, and for a moment I was so unnerved that I couldn’t speak. I cleared my throat. “When I come back to Rome, I’ll be sure to send a messenger to you at the house of Titus Coponius—”
    Dio lowered his eyes and sighed. “Come, gallus, it’s time to go. We’ve wasted our time here.”
    “Hardly wasted, if that smell is what I think it is,” said Trygonion cheerfully, as if oblivious to what had just passed between Dio and myself. A moment later a serving girl passed in the hallway carrying a tray of food, followed by two others who carried little folding tables.
    We retired to the adjoining dining room, where we each reclined upon a couch. The folding tables were placed before us. Bethesda appeared, with Diana following after her, but they did not join us. The two of them made a point of carrying in the first course and serving it themselves, ladling the first portions of the lentils with sausage onto the plates of my guests, then onto mine, and then watching while we each took a bite. Under their scrutiny, the philosopher, the gallus and I nodded and made noises of approval. Satisfied, Bethesda and Diana retired, leaving the service to the slave girls.
    Miserable and desperate as he might be, Dio was also a very hungry man. He swallowed great spoonfuls of food and called to the serving girl for more. Beside him Trygonion ate with even greater relish and an appalling lack of manners, using his thumb to push food onto his spoon and popping his fingers into his mouth. Barred from the ecstasies of sex, the galli are said to be notorious gluttons.

chapter
Five
    M idwinter night descended on Rome, cold, clear and still.
    Once my guests had eaten, they quickly departed. Telling his tale had exhausted Dio. Stuffing his yawning belly had made him sleepy. He was ready for an early bed. Smarting from a twinge of guilt, I almost relented from my earlier refusal to put him up and was ready to offer him a bed, if only for the night; but Dio with a few curt words made it quite clear that he was set on making his way back to the house of Titus Coponius. If he was sharp with me, how could I blame him? He had come to seek the help of an old acquaintance and was leaving empty-handed. Desperate men—even philosophers—do not accept rejection graciously.
    I insisted that Dio take Belbo along to see him safely home. This seemed the least I could do. Trygonion hid his long hair in his hat and adjusted his toga, Dio covered his head with the mantle; again they became impostors at Roman manhood and womanhood. Under cover of darkness they departed as they had come.
    Having dispatched my guests, I was faced with the chore of finishing my packing for the trip to Illyria to