Last Seen in Massilia Read Online Free PDF Page A

at least.”
    “Perhaps Meto drowned and his body was lost. Perhaps he died by—” In my imagination I pictured flames and blanched at the thought. “Don’t you think I’ve gone over this a thousand times in my own mind, Trebonius? It’s the first thing I think of when I wake, the last thing I think of before I sleep. Who sent this message, why, from where, and is it true or not? What’s become of my son?” I stared at Trebonius, letting the misery show on my face. Surely, if he knew whether Meto was alive or dead, he would tell me at least that much to alleviate a father’s suffering. But his grim countenance was as changeless as a statue’s.
    “I see your dilemma,” he said. “A nasty business—uncertainty. I sympathize. But I can’t help you. On the one hand, if Meto is alive and in Massilia, he’s cast his lot with Domitius and become a traitor to Caesar. You can’t get into the city to see him, and I wouldn’t allow it if you could. You’ll have to wait until the Massilians surrender, or untilwe pull the walls down. Then, if we find Meto…do you really want to be here when that happens, to witness his fate as a traitor? On the other hand, if Meto is already dead, there’s still no way you can get into Massilia and find out how it happened or who sent that message. Look, I’ll promise you this: When we take Massilia, if there’s news of Meto, I’ll let you know what I find out. If Meto himself is taken, I’ll let you know what Caesar decides to do with him. I can promise no more than that. There, your task is accomplished. You can go back to Rome now, knowing that you’ve done all that any father could. I’ll see that you have a place to sleep tonight. You’ll leave in the morning.” These last words had the unmistakable ring of an order.
    He studied the fleshless bone in his fist. “But where are my manners? You must be starving, Gordianus. Go, join your son-in-law in the officers’ mess. The stew’s not as bad as it looks, really.”
    I left the tent and followed my nose to the mess. Despite the growling in my belly, I had lost my appetite.

III
    We were given cots in an officers’ tent not far from the commander’s own. If Trebonius truly believed Meto to be a traitor, he was a generous man to give such hospitality to a traitor’s father. More likely, he preferred to keep me close at hand so that he could be sure I left camp the next day.
    Long after the others in the tent were sleeping, with Davus gently snoring nearby, I remained awake. I may have dozed once or twice, but it was hard to tell whether the images in my head were dreams or waking fantasies. I saw the canyon where we had lost our way that afternoon, the fence made of bones, the dark temple and the squat, primeval skystone of Artemis, the razed forest, the soothsayer who knew my reason for coming….
    What sort of place had I come to? The next day, if Trebonius had his way, we would be off again before I had a chance to find out.
    Finally I threw off my coverlet and quietly stepped out of the tent. The full moon had begun to set, casting long, black shadows. The torches that lit the pathways between tents burned low. I paced aimlessly, moving gradually uphill, until I found myself in a clearing close by Trebonius’s tent. This was the crest of the hill, with a view of the city.
    In the darkness, I imagined Massilia to be a great dorsal-finned behemoth that had pulled herself out of the sea and collapsed face down, then been ringed about by walls of limestone. The jagged crest along her spine was a ridge of hills. The encircling walls gleamed bluein the moonlight. Impenetrable shadows lurked in the bends of the towers. Torches, mere dots of orange flame, flickered at regular intervals along the battlements. On either side of the city, outside her walls, two bays opened into the sea beyond; the larger inlet on the left was the main harbor. The still face of the water was black, except where moonlight burnished it silver.