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Though I had not yet thought that far ahead, in the back of my mind I had assumed that she would stay with the two eunuchs while I was gone. To take her with me would be to put her in danger, and that was the last thing I wanted to do. Bethesda had faced more than enough danger in the last months, thanks to the kidnappers who had taken her off to the Nile Delta. The separation had been painful for me; after finally getting her back I was not eager to be separated again, but to take her with me was surely not a good idea.
    Or was it?
    All three of them stared at me, and then all three began to laugh. Kettel’s chortle was low and rumbling, that of Bethesda was musical, while the laughter of Berynus had a dry, reedy sound. Combined with the sighing of the waves, their amusement made a strange kind of music.
    â€œWhat are you all laughing about? I was thinking I could leave Bethesda here. I realize it’s a bit of an imposition. She can be rather troublesome, I know, but you might get some work out of her, to make it worth your while. I can pay for her to be fed, of course…”
    I looked from face to face. They seemed not to have heard me.
    It was Bethesda who finally spoke. “Master, I have no intention of being left behind.”
    I blushed a bit, chagrined that the eunuchs should hear my slave speak to me in such a way. “Bethesda, whether you go or not is for me to decide.”
    â€œWell put, Gordianus!” said Kettel. “And of course you must decide to take her with you.”
    I shook my head. “I think not.”
    â€œThink again! Did you not just hear her? The slave speaks perfectly passable Greek, with an Alexandrian accent. No one in Ephesus will think of Rome when she opens her mouth. And if she says her master—her mute master—is a native Egyptian of Greek descent, no one will think to question that, either. As to why you might be traveling with such an interpreter … well, no one who sees Bethesda will wonder why you wish to keep her by your side.” Kettel cast a sidelong glance at Bethesda, and I was reminded that even eunuchs are not entirely immune to the allure of a voluptuous young female.
    Bethesda narrowed her eyes and gave me an inquisitive look. “Well, Master, how soon shall we leave for Ephesus?”

 
    III
    â€œYou’ll need a pseudonym.” Kettel stood in the doorway of the little room I shared with Bethesda and watched me pack. His bulk filled the passageway, making it hard for him to move his arms freely, so that as he nibbled at a handful of dates his fleshy elbows repeatedly struck the doorframe.
    â€œWhen he traveled into the Delta, looking for the Cuckoo’s Gang, the Master called himself Marcus Pecunius,” said Bethesda. She was helping me look through my small wardrobe of well-worn tunics to see which ones needed mending, if I were to be presentable on my journey.
    â€œBut that’s a Roman name,” noted Kettel. “Unsuitable for this occasion. Nor should you take a native Egyptian name, I think, for you haven’t the proper complexion. You have the nose of a Roman, that’s for sure, but still, with your dark, curly hair and olive skin you could easily pass for a young man of Greek descent.”
    â€œIt needs to be a simple name—either that, or something very unusual,” I said. “Either way, a name that’s easy for me to remember, even if I’m half-awake or caught by surprise. And a credible name—something that won’t arouse suspicion or disbelief.”
    â€œHow do you know so much about assuming a false identity?” asked Berynus, who was so thin that he somehow managed to slide past Kettel to enter the room.
    â€œI learned from my father, back in Rome,” I said. “He knows everything there is to know about using disguises and false names, not to mention poisons and antidotes, and how to pick any lock, or follow someone without being seen, or