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  My skin turned hot. My heart pounded. By reflex I steeled myself. A part of me knew it would do no good.

  The wall of water struck.

  V

  In an instant, faster than thought, the young soldier was thrown against me like a stone from a catapult, knocking the breath out of me.

  Then all was a roar of chaos and confusion. It seemed to me that I stood on a trapdoor that had suddenly opened, but instead of falling down I fell up. From behind, something circled my chest and lifted me. Somehow I was lodged against the roof of the tunnel, in a cavity of some sort, above the rushing flood, facing down on it. The darkness was not quite absolute; a single flame still flickered from somewhere.

  Just beneath me, I gazed into the dark, glittering eyes of the terrified young soldier. He clung to me as the water rushed around him and over him. I tried to grip him in return, but the rush of water and bodies and debris was too great. Something struck his head, so hard that his whole body gave a tremendous jolt. His eyes rolled up. He slipped from my grasp and vanished, lost to the foaming cataract.

  Impossibly, I seemed to hover just above the surface of the flood, like a dragonfly. In its depths I saw hands, feet, faces, glinting swords, armor and chain mail, and lumps of broken wood rush by, each glimpsed for an instant and then gone.

  The flood went on and on and on. Finally the roar quieted. The rush of water slowed and finally became still. I heard gurgling noises, the lapping of little waves, unaccountable creaks and pops and shudders and groans. Strangely changed from before-duller and deeper-I heard the distant boom! of the battering-ram against the walls of Massilia.

  And I heard another sound, so close it seemed almost a part of me. It was Davus behind me, above me, breathing into my ear like a runner whose heart might burst.

  As these events unfolded, all was chaos, inexplicable-most inexplicable of all, the fact that I was still alive. Gradually I began to realize what had happened.

  An instant before the flood reached us, Davus put one arm around me from behind. When the flood struck, our feet were knocked from under us; but Davus gripped the rafter above us, and so we pivoted upward. So much earth had been dislodged by the vibrations from the battering-ram that a cavity had opened in the roof. Davus jammed his feet and elbows against the edges of the cavity, kept hold of me, and somehow maintained his grip on his wildly flickering taper, all at once.

  Davus had exhibited great strength and extraordinary reflexes before. Still, to have acted so quickly and surely in the face of such sudden, overwhelming catastrophe seemed more than human. What god had seen fit to save me this time?

  When he managed to catch a breath, Davus whispered, "We're alive. I can't believe it."

  But for how long? I thought, staring at the dark, turbid water beneath us. "Davus, I think you can let go of me now."

  He released his grip. I slid gently into the water. My feet found the bottom. Standing on tiptoes, stretching my neck, I was able to keep my chin just above the waterline. The cavity in the roof offered the only escape from the water. In finding its equilibrium, the flood had left us this isolated pocket of air.

  Something solid but yielding bumped against my ankle. I shuddered, knowing it was human flesh.

  Davus slowly, carefully extricated himself from the cavity. The trick was to keep his taper lit and above the waterline. His feet dropped with a splash that sent water into my nostrils. I sputtered and blinked. An instant later Davus was standing beside me, holding his taper safely aloft. His helmet grazed the top of the cavity.

  As the shock of the catastrophe began to subside, and with it the thrill of having survived, I began to realize what a terrible pass we had come to. We had escaped one death only to face another, even more horrible. The men who were swept away and drowned at least died suddenly and without dread.

  I cursed myself. Why had I come? I had known it was madness when I saw the tunnel entrance before me. Why had I allowed Davus to come with me? I had made a widow of my only daughter. Massilia had already claimed Meto. Now it would claim the two of us as well.

  "The bottom of this taper is wet," said Davus. "It won't stay lit much longer."

  That would be even more dreadful: to be plunged into utter darkness, buried alive like a condemned Vestal with no hope of rescue.

  I suddenly realized that the booming of the battering-ram had ceased. Word of the inundation must have reached Trebonius. The invasion by tunnel had failed. The operation had been canceled. The siege tower with the battering-ram had been rolled back from the walls. In the world above us, the battle was over.

  "What happened, father-in-law? The flooding, I mean."

  "I don't know. The Massilians must have known about the tunnel, or guessed. Perhaps they dug a reservoir inside the wall, an inner moat. They'd have had to pump water from the harbor to fill it, but they have engineers for that, every bit as clever as Vitruvius. When the sappers finally broke though, the water rushed in. It probably killed every man in the tunnel."

  "Except you and me."

  "Yes," I said grimly.

  "What are we going to do, father-in-law?"

  Die, I thought. Then I looked in his eyes and felt a jolt. Davus had not asked the question idly. He was looking to me for an answer. He was fearful, but not despairing. He truly expected to live because, as always, his wise old father-in-law would think of something. Davus's strength and reflexes had just saved our lives. Now it was my turn to return the favor.

  "How long can you hold your breath?" I said. "I don't know."

  "Long enough to swim from here to the end of the tunnel?"

  "We're going to swim out?"

  "We can hardly walk."

  "Back the way we came?"

  I shook my head. "Too far. The opening inside Massilia must be closer."

  "But what if it's blocked? I heard timbers breaking. If the earth gave way-"

  "If there's an obstruction, we'll simply have to get past it, won't we?"

  Davus thought about this and nodded. By the light of the wavering flame, I studied his perfectly chiseled nose, his bright eyes, and strong chin. My daughter had found him handsome despite his simple nature, and without my consent he had became the father of my grandchild. Curious, I thought, that of all the faces in the world, his should be the last I would ever see. Stranger still, that I should find myself faced with drowning in a hole beneath the earth. Drowning was the death I had always most feared, and the one I had least expected to encounter on this day, in this place.

  I was a poor swimmer. Davus might have the lungs and the strength to swim to safety, but did I?

  "When shall we try it?" he asked.

  It would be hard to abandon the safety of the cavity as long as there was light from the taper. But if we waited until the taper burned out and we were plunged into utter darkness, I might lose my nerve, along with all sense of direction. " `It's like pulling a thorn…,' I quoted.

  " `Quickly done is best done,' " said Davus, finishing the proverb. "I should go first, in case there's something blocking the way."

  "A good idea," I granted. If I went first, and my lungs and strength gave out, I would merely block Davus's way. "We should take off our armor. Too heavy. Here, I'll hold the taper while you take off yours. Turn around. I'll help you with the straps." When he was done, I handed back the taper and set to unbuckling my own armor. Keeping my head above water while reaching down to remove the greaves protecting my shins was hardest. Davus held my shoulder with one strong arm.

  "What about our swords?" he said.

  I touched the scabbard at my waist. "We might need them. To cut through something," I added. The thought terrified me. "And our helmets?" he said.

  "We should keep them on. Protect our heads. Who knows what we might swim into?"

  He nodded. The taper was growing dimmer.

  I felt a thickness in my throat. "Davus, we've been through a lot together. At Brundisium, you saved my life-"

  "I thought you saved mine!" he said, and grin
ned. Not for Davus any last-minute, sentimental farewells.

  "We'll talk about it later," I said, "after we're out of this mess. Do you think they'll still have wine at the taverns in Massilia, or will they have run out because of the blockade? I'm thirsty."

  Davus seemed not to hear. He thrust out his jaw and narrowed his eyes. "Are you ready, father-in-law?"

  I tried to draw a deep breath, but my chest was tight, as if circled by an iron band. I swallowed hard. "Ready."

  Davus handed me the taper. Our eyes met for an instant, then he turned and disappeared beneath the surface. Before I could reconsider, I sucked in a breath and tossed the taper into the water.

  There was a brief hiss, then instant and total darkness. I closed my eyes and ducked beneath the surface. I stroked with my arms, kicked with my feet. Briefly I had a terrifying illusion of propelling myself into an endless black void. Then my outstretched fingers brushed against the sides of the tunnel. I swam blindly forward, using the walls of the tunnel to guide me.

  Something cold touched my face, then seemed to slither snakelike against my chest and belly. I grabbed at the thing to thrust it away, but instead became locked in a strange embrace of hard metal and yielding flesh. I was puzzled at first, then horrified. It was the body of a soldier. I recoiled, but his limbs were tangled around me. I thrashed madly until the corpse released me, then swam frantically forward.

  The way was clear. My heart boomed in my ears and my lungs felt as if they might burst, but the swimming was effortless. I stroked and kicked, and began to think that escape might be possible after all.

  Then my helmet struck something hard. I was dazed. I reached up to feel the jagged stump of a broken rafter above me, sharp as a javelin. What if the way ahead was ringed with broken timbers? I imagined Davus, bigger than I, even more vulnerable, impaled on a spike, thrashing, bleeding, helpless, blocking the way, making it impossible for me to get past him. The image was so real that for an instant I thought of turning back. But that was impossible. I could never hope to find the pocket of air again, not in absolute darkness.

  I froze, too frightened to go on, too frightened to turn back. I lost my nerve completely. Spots of light danced before my eyes and became faces in the darkness. They were the anonymous faces of the dead all around me, receding to infinity.

  Time stopped. The pressure in my lungs overwhelmed everything else, even panic. I kicked with my feet, stroked with my arms, and swam blindly, as hard as I could, heedless of the danger. I swam, so fast I caught up with Davus. His foot kicked my helmet. In desperation I imagined grabbing his leg and pulling myself past him, swimming ahead of him, breaking through to the surface.

  On the next stroke, where my fingertips should have touched the guiding walls, there was nothing. The sides of the tunnel were suddenly gone.

  I opened my eyes. Up ahead I saw a faint, watery light. Between me and the light, Davus loomed in foreshortened silhouette. I saw him stop and turn about, like wing-footed Mercury suspended in midair. He reached back. I held out my hand. Davus gripped it.

  My strength had given out. Somehow Davus knew. With one arm stroking, he pulled me up, up, up toward a growing circle of light. For an instant I saw the world of light and air as a fish might see it, peering up from a pond. Seen through the water, the men who stood at the edge peering down at us were wavering and elongated. Their bright garments flickered like multicolored flames.

  An instant later I broke the surface. The light hurt my eyes. I sucked in a long, inverted scream. Ahead of me, Davus collapsed, half in the water and half out, heaving and gasping. I crawled past him, desperate to be clear of the water completely. I rolled onto my back and shut my eyes, feeling warm sunshine on my face.

  VI

  I must have lost consciousness, but only for a moment. I slowly woke to a confusion of voices surrounding me, speaking Greek-men's voice, old men, speaking on top of each other. The babble narrowed to an argument between two voices.

  "But where in Hades did these two come from?"

  "I'm telling you, they must have tunneled through. I saw when it happened-big bubbles in the moat, then a weird sucking sound, and then a whirlpool. Look how far the water's dropped!"

  "Impossible! If a tunnel broke through, and the reservoir flooded it, how did these two swim against the current? It doesn't make sense. It's uncanny, the way they came flailing out of the water."

  "You always look for religious explanations! Next you'll be saying Artemis coughed them up. They dug under the wall, I tell you."

  "They don't look like sappers. They don't look much like soldiers, either."

  "Oh, no? They're wearing helmets, aren't they? I say, kill them!"

  "Shut up, you old coot. We'll hand them over to the soldiers when they get here."

  "Why wait? Do you imagine these two would think twice before cutting down a group of old Massilians gabbing in the market square?"

  "They look harmless."

  "Harmless? Those are swords in their scabbards, you idiot. Here, you fellows, help me take their weapons. Take their helmets, too." I felt myself jostled about on the sand and heard splashes nearby.

  "Look, the older one's coming to his senses. He's opening his eyes."

  I blinked and looked up to see a circle of old men staring down at me. Some drew back in alarm. Their consternation almost made me laugh. The simple fact of being alive made me feel giddy. "Argue all you want," I said, mustering my Greek. "Just don't throw me back."

  My Greek may have been rusty and my accent uncouth, but that hardly justified the onslaught that followed.

  The most belligerent of the old men-the one who'd argued to kill us on the spot-began to thrash me with a cane. He was a skinny, bony creature, but he had surprising strength. I covered my head with my arms. He deliberately aimed for my elbows.

  "Stop this! Stop at once!" The voice was a new one, a man's. It came from a short distance away. "Slaves, restrain that horrible old man."

  My attacker backed away, slashing his cane to fend off two half-naked giants who suddenly loomed over me. The old man was furious. "Damn you to Hades, Scapegoat! If your slaves lay a finger on me, I'll report you to the Timouchoi."

  "Oh, really? You forget, old man, I'm untouchable." The voice was high-pitched, harsh, and grating.

  "For now, maybe. But what about later? Eh, Scapegoat? When the time comes to put an end to you, I swear I'll kick you off the Sacrifice Rock myself."

  There were gasps from the circle of old men. "Calamitos, you've gone too far!" said the one who'd been arguing with him. "The goddess-"

  "Artemis has abandoned Massilia, in case you haven't noticed-as well she might, given the impiousness of this wretched city. Caesar pinches us in a vise, and what solution do the Timouchoi come up with? A scapegoat to take on the city's sins! So now we starving citizens shrivel to scarecrows while that scarecrow grows fatter every day." The old man threw his cane against the ground so hard it broke in two. He stalked off in a fury.

  "Blessed Artemis! The old coot can't help being ugly and bad mannered, but there's no need to be blasphemous as well." I strained my neck and saw that the voice of my rescuer came from a nearby litter attended by a retinue of bearers. "Slaves! Pick up those two fellows and put them here in the litter with me.

  The slaves looked down at me dubiously. One of them shrugged. "Master, I'm not sure the bearers can carry all three of you in the litter. The big one looks awfully heavy. I'm not even sure he's alive."

  I rolled toward Davus, alarmed. He lay motionless on his back, his eyes shut, his face pale. A moment later, to my relief, he coughed and his eyelids fluttered.

  "If the burden's too much, then you'll simply have to run home and fetch more slaves to carry us," said my mysterious protector, his grating voice made more grating by exasperation.

  "Wait, Scapegoat!" The cooler-headed of the two old men who had been arguing over me stepped forward. "You can't simply run off with these men. They've come from outside the city. That one spoke Gre
ek with a Roman accent. Despite his blasphemy, Calamitos was right about one thing-they might be dangerous. For all we know, they're assassins, or spies. We must hand them over to the soldiers."

  "Nonsense. Am I not the scapegoat, duly chosen by the priests of Artemis and invested by the Timouchoi? For the duration of the crisis, all godsends are mine, to dispose of as I see fit. That includes fish washed up on the shores of Massilia-and I hereby claim these two stranded fish. No doubt they were cast upon this man-made beach by Artemis herself. The big one looks like a beached whale."

  "The fellow's mad!" muttered one of the old men.

  "But legally he may be right," said another. "Godsends do belong to the scapegoat…"

  While the old men argued among themselves, strong arms scooped me up and swung me around. I was in no condition either to resist or assist. They carried me like dead weight. In glimpses I took in my surroundings. We were in a corner of the city. Looming over us were the high walls of Massilia, very different when seen from within, for they were lined with platforms and crisscrossed with stairways, and at their foot was the half-drained reservoir from which we had emerged. A little ways off, twin towers flanked the massive bronze gate that was the main entrance into the city. Past the gate the wall bent sharply back and fronted the harbor, for beyond that stretch of wall I saw the tops of ships' masts.

  I was carried toward a litter, which sat alone in the middle of the large square that opened off the main gate. All the buildings facing the square appeared empty. Windows were shuttered; shops were closed. Except for the litter bearers, there was hardly a person in sight.

  The green curtains of the litter parted. I was gently placed upon a bed of' green cushions. Opposite me, reclining among more cushions, was my rescuer. He was dressed in a green chiton that matched the cushions and the curtains of the litter; so much green was confusing. His gangly limbs seemed too long for the space; he had to bend his knees up sharply to accommodate me. He was thick in the middle, but his face was gaunt. The hair on his head was pale and thin. A narrow strip of wispy beard outlined his sharp chin.