She sat down in the shade of her doorway and the goats came up to nuzzle her. She wasn’t as brave as the other God-fearers. She was ready to bargain for her freedom and her children’s lives with the one thing of any value she still had. And Verpa would help her because there was profit in it. If she must betray her friends, she thought, where else should she turn for help but to her enemy?
She fell on her knees then and prayed to the One God to forgive her for what she-a weak and sinful daughter of Eve-was about to do. ???
The seventh day before the Kalends of Germanicus.
The eleventh hour of the day. Rome.
… I despise you. But if I must betray my friends where else shall I turn for help but to my enemy?
Verpa set the letter down, barked at a slave to bring him chilled wine, wiped his lips with a thick hand and wiped the hand on his thigh. Though the sun had sunk below the housetops, still the heat was insufferable; the fountains that leapt and splashed in his spacious garden did nothing to relieve it. He took a sip of wine and returned to the letter… I dare not write directly to the emperor. Too many eyes see his correspondence. Go to our house. Stephanus expects you and will show you where to dig. Take the horoscope that you will find under a paving stone in the garden. It predicts that my husband will sit on the imperial throne. What a cruel joke! Clemens rests with the Patriarchs now, better than any earthly throne. There was a second horoscope-I don’t know who has it, though I could guess-that predicts the date of the emperor’s death, not many weeks from now.