It was not the reception hall of a queen; those I had seen in Egypt, bright with gold and dripping with ornaments, their dazzle intended to intimidate all who entered. And yet, in fact if not in name, Calpurnia was now the queen of Rome; and Caesar, having defeated every rival, was its king, though for now he preferred the venerable title of dictator, the office our ancestors created so that a strong man could rule the state in times of emergency. But if rumors were true-that Caesar intended to make the Senate declare him dictator for life-how was he any different from the kings of olden days, before Rome became a proud republic?

"Caesar is in danger," Calpurnia said abruptly. She clasped her hands tightly in her lap. Her face was taut. "Great danger. That's why I've called you here."

The statement struck me as so peculiar that I laughed out loud, then checked myself when I saw the look on her face. If the most powerful man on earth, the victorious survivor of a brutal civil war that had wreaked havoc across the whole world, was in danger, what could Gordianus the Finder do to protect him?

"I'm sure that Caesar can look after himself," I said. "Or if he wants my help, then he can ask me-"

"No!" Her voice rose sharply. This was not the dispassionate, coldly calculating Calpurnia I knew but a woman touched by genuine fear. "Caesar doesn't realize the danger. Caesar is… distracted."

"Distracted?"

"He's too busy preparing for his upcoming triumphs."

I nodded. There were to be four triumphal processions in the days to come. The first, to celebrate Caesar's conquest of Gaul, would take place three days hence.

"Caesar is consumed with the planning and arrangements," she said. "He intends to give the people a series of spectacles such as they've never seen before. Small things fall below his notice. But small things can grow to be great things. They say the Nile crocodile begins life as a creature hardly bigger than my little finger."