Oracle of the Dead(61)

“Have you learned anything?” I asked Hermes.

“I took the arrow to a fletcher and he said that it was locally made, but it’s a common type used for hunting. I borrowed some huntsmen and their dogs and took them back to where you were shot, but you’ll recall that it was raining that day and it rained hard that night. They were able to find where he crouched in the brush to shoot, but that was all.”

“He must have followed us. Do you remember who was near us on the road?”

“There was a good deal of traffic but most was on foot. Whoever followed us must have been on horseback.”

“He might have been in front of us and doubled back when we stopped.”

“If it was a huntsman hired for the job,” Hermes said, “he could have been keeping up with us on foot but off in the fields somewhere. We were just ambling along at no great speed.”

“As usual,” Julia said, “there are too many possibilities.”

“This has not been a case distinguished by good luck,” I noted.

When word got around that I had returned to the land of the living, I got a lot of visitors. All the head men of the towns showed up, as did the major landholders. Pompey dropped by to see how I was getting along and told me I should have taken the hot iron treatment, that it would make me heal faster. I didn’t ask him if he’d ever tried it personally. Sabinilla visited, this time wearing a black wig. Porcia showed up with an armload of medicinal herbs from her own garden and she gave Julia careful instructions on how to prepare and administer them. I thanked her for her thoughtfulness, but I seemed to be healing well enough and didn’t take them. Medical concoctions always taste vile.

Within ten days I was up and walking around and could breathe almost normally. By great good fortune the infection had been mild and had cleared up early. I had feared that infection would bring on months of convalescence. Not to mention death.

As soon as my chest and shoulder could bear the weight, I took to wearing armor beneath my clothes when I went out. It was a reasonable precaution and Julia insisted on it. My men now accompanied me armed at all times. I was nervous any time I walked past a clump of bushes. Indeed, I was as jumpy as a dog with piles. I had been attacked many times, but I’d always felt that I was a match for the situation, blade to blade. Yet there is something profoundly unsettling about being shot from a distance, by an enemy you don’t even see.

Once I was well enough recovered, the physician prescribed a regimen of exercise. The villa had every sort of facility, and a gymnasium was among them, but I was a serving praetor and a man in public life is not supposed to shut himself away from the people, so I elected to use a public facility. Near Baiae there was a large, Greek-style palaestra that was used by the inhabitants of several neighboring towns. It had all the usual provisions for running, wrestling, boxing, and so forth, and this being Italy it had a field for arms training complete with practice weapons and shields, and targets for javelins and arrows. I vowed to keep an eye on those people with bows.

Since exercise was the order of the day, we did not ride there but walked and ran alternately. Some of my men insisted on carrying shields to either side of me. I thought this was a bit excessive and lacking in dignity, but then I thought of how that arrow had felt and indulged them. As we drew near the gymnasium, though, I had them fall in behind me. Couldn’t have the people thinking the Roman praetor was scared, after all.

Because of the Greek influence, the Campanians are passionately fond of athletics, and the place was well attended with men and boys sweating mightily as they heaved balls, lifted stone or bronze weights, swung wooden clubs, jumped, sprinted, and otherwise exerted themselves. They went silent at sight of my heavily armed little troupe. “Hey!” some local wag shouted. “This is the palaestra. The ludus is down the road there!” This sally raised a general laugh and I acknowledged it with a wave.

I was already tired from the trek, but I gritted my teeth, doffed my toga and armor, and stripped to a subligaculum. I wasn’t about to work out stark naked like a Greek. My multitude of scars drew whistles of admiration, especially the fresh, still-red one on my upper chest.

I began to run around the outdoor track, followed by my men like so many hunting dogs. I didn’t last long, but at least I didn’t disgrace myself either. When I’d had enough of that, I went to the target range and threw javelins for a while. I had always excelled at this art, but I found that I’d lost range and aim. Well, I was still recovering from a serious wound. I vowed to keep at it until I had my old strength and skill back. We sparred with wooden swords and wicker shields for a while. Hermes took great delight in whipping the other men one after another, but he took it easy on me. The ludus had taught him how to be a good trainer as well as a fighter.