The soldier cleared his throat. "Well, citizen Gordianus, the first thing to do is to have that son-in-law of yours put his weapon away."

I nodded to Davus, who grudgingly sheathed his sword. "He didn't draw it against you," I said. I glanced over my shoulder at the thing on the pedestal. In the greater light from the doorway, its shape was more defined, but still puzzling.

"Oh, her!" said the soldier. "Never fear, it's only Artemis."

I frowned and studied the thing. "Artemis is the goddess of the hunt and of wild places. She carries a bow and runs with a stag. She's beautiful."

"Then the Massilians have a strange idea of beauty," said the soldier, "because this is the Temple of Artemis, and that… whatever it is… on the pedestal is the goddess herself. Would you believe they brought that thing all the way from Ionia when they migrated here five hundred years ago? That was even before Romulus and Remus suckled the she-wolf, or so the Massilians claim."

"Are you saying a Greek sculpted this? I can hardly believe that."

"Sculpt? Did I say sculpt? Nobody made that thing. It fell from the sky, trailing fire and smoke-so the Massilians say. Their priests declared it was Artemis. Well, if you look at it from a certain angle you can sort of see…" He shook his head. "Anyway, Artemis is who the Massilians worship above all the other gods. And this is the Artemis that belongs to them alone. They carve wooden copies of that thing, miniatures, and keep them in their houses, just like a Roman might keep a statue of Hermes or Apollo."

Peering at the thing on the pedestal, tilting my head, I discerned a form that might possibly be perceived as female. I could see pendulous breasts-several more than two-and a swollen belly. There was no refinement, no artifice. The image was crude, basic, primal. "How do you know all this?" I asked.