“I will take those arrows and give you both such a …”

  “Looks that way,” said Mercury.

  No one said anything for a long time, but everyone was trying to imagine Juno gazing lovingly at a couch or a chair or a floor rug.

  “Dinner smells good,” said Artemis after a moment.

  “Sure does,” said Diana.

  At that instant, a puffed-up blowfish sailed into the room and stuck in Diana’s elaborate hairdo.

  “I’ve got a fish on my head, don’t I?” she asked calmly.

  “I would have to say … yes,” Mercury said.

  “A little help? Wanna just send that back this way?” came a call from the large front room. The two messenger gods and the two goddesses of the hunt strolled out of the food-preparation room.

  “Over here?” said Poseidon, waving his arms and splashing about in his traveling tank. “Right here? Thanks! Right here?”

  “Here, please?” said Neptune, splashing Poseidon with his tail. “Right here. Thanks so much.”

  “Oh, you bet I’ll give this back,” scoffed Diana as she began to climb the stairs to the second level. “Artemis, will you help me get the fish out of my hair?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “C’mon!” said Poseidon. “We’re playing puffer-toss and I’m up three to one!”

  “Only because you cheat!” argued Neptune.

  Suddenly, there was a blinding flash and Zeus and Jupiter were standing in the middle of the room. They listened for only a moment to the commotion going on all over the insula. As they both turned to look at each other, they clapped their hands once simultaneously and, after another brilliant flash, all the immortals, Greek and Roman, stood before them, impeccably dressed.

  “We have had just about enough of all of you,” said Jupiter.

  “We have given you all free reign to do, see, mingle, and roam about as you please,” Zeus went on. “Now Jupiter and I wanted to see this new ruler among his people; this Julius Caesar who will become so powerful and do so much for Rome. We asked only that you be ready to attend one tiny little celebration and you ingrates can’t even manage to do that.”

  “What do you have to say for your miserable selves?” Jupiter spat.

  “Sorry,” someone said from the corner of the room.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “We’re sorry.”

  “Uncle Dio stole the wine …”

  “Do you still have the wine?” Dionysus whispered to Bacchus.

  “No wine,” said Zeus.

  “We were ready!” sang out Artemis and Diana.

  “Kiss ups!” someone whispered.

  “Stop!” Zeus said.

  “We’re off!” Jupiter said.

  “Wait!” Minerva cried.

  Everyone watched as she and Athena waved their hands toward the food-preparation room. Then the goddesses turned forward again.

  “Had to put out the fire under the dormice,” Athena said, as if everyone should have already known that.

  “Away!” said Jupiter and Zeus together.

  The next moment, the large room was completely empty; only a single wine bottle remained, rolling lazily in the middle of the floor.

  Chapter Five

  The Theatre of Pompey

  The throng in front of the Theatre of Pompey (one of the few monuments built by Pompey that Julius Caesar had allowed to remain after their battle) was so thick that Pandy and Alcie had climbed onto the second tier of an enormous marble fountain to get a better view and avoid being crushed. From there, Pandy was able to assess just how tightly the crowd was jammed in.

  The square in front of the curved theatre was actually large, but almost all of Rome was in attendance so it appeared quite small.

  “That is some wild building,” Alcie said, looking at the front facade: a huge, three-tiered, perfect semicircle of arches. “Although I’m not really feelin’ why Caesar decided this was the best place to slam together thousands of people.”

  “You should see it inside,” Pandy said. “Get this … it’s all based on our amphitheaters back home in Greece. The Romans sorta stole our idea, but instead of building into a hillside for support, they figured out a way to put this whole building on its own foundation. And, there aren’t supposed to be any permanent structures for plays or speeches or things like that inside the city walls, because the Senate doesn’t want the people being … how did one senator put it? Oh yeah, ‘being whipped into madness.’ So Pompey got around that here by adding a temple dedicated to Venus, I think, at the very back. Now it’s big-time sacred and stuff. Clever, huh?”

  Alcie was just staring at her.

  “And you know all this … how?”

  “This is where the Senate meets.”

  “And puts on plays?”

  “Gods! No, falafel-brain. The Theatre of Pompey is where the Roman Senate meets for now.”

  “Oh, this is where you and the senator work? This is where you go every day?”

  “He works. I get him water.”

  “That’s work.”

  “This building is just a temporary thing until their regular building is redone. That place, the regular one, was called the Curio Cornelia … after the last ruler, Cornelius, or something. Julius Caesar is having it completely rebuilt and named after him, so the whole Senate has to meet here until the Curio Julia is finished.”

  “Hermes’ toenails,” Alcie said, dropping her voice. “Caesar’s got an ego the size of the Parthenon. Hey! Maybe it’s a lesser evil we can capture: ginormous ego!”

  “I think we took care of that when we put Vanity in the box. But from what I’ve seen, it’s different with this guy. I hear some of the senators talk about Caesar before he became ruler; when he was leading the Roman army all over someplace called Gaul. How he was right down in the middle of the battles with his men. And everyone could tell that it was him because he was the only one wearing purple. They say both armies could see this purple speck flying from one battle to another, wherever the fighting was worst. So his men had a lot of respect for Caesar because he was hacking and slashing right alongside them. And, of course, they won. Caesar seems to really care about Rome and the people; he just wants to leave his mark, y’know?”

  “I still think tearing down a perfectly good building just to put up another perfectly good building is dumb.”

  Rufina, seeing that two house slaves, one of whom she happened to despise, had a better vantage point than she did, insisted that she wanted to stand on the platform instead and kept hitting Alcie’s legs in an effort to knock her off. At one point, Alcie kicked Rufina—not hard, but hard enough.

  “Mother!”

  “What is it?” Varinia said absently, paying no attention to her daughter.

  “That wretched slave kicked me in the head!”

  “Hmmm?” said Varinia, turning her gaze from the crowd and surveying the situation.

  “I want to stand up there and I want that one put to death!” Rufina cried, pointing to Alcie.

  Alcie pretended to be absolutely engrossed with the scene around them and looked around innocently.

  “Blessed Minerva!” Varinia said. “Stop it, Rufina! Just stop it! I am sick to death of your complaining about that girl. As if I don’t have enough to worry about with your father these days. And you cannot stand up there; it would be unseemly for someone of your status to allow people to stare at your feet, wondering about the shape of your legs and such. Children and slaves, fine; but not you.”

  Alcie grinned at Pandy, then stuck her tongue out at Rufina, who glanced up just in time to see it. Rufina said nothing, but her face became very serious before she looked away.

  “You’ve done it now,” whispered Pandy with a smile.

  “Yeah,” Alcie said. “Oogly-boogly. I’m so scared.”

  All at once, Pandy saw two figures on top of the Theatre of Pompey: the same two men she’d seen earlier on the roof of the Regia. It was Ares and Mars, she was certain.

  “Gods!”

  “What?” Alcie asked.

  “No … Gods!” Pandy gasped. “Alce … look!”

  But Alcie had spotted something else.

  “No, you look!”

  Pandy followed Alcie’s finger as she, trying to be inconspicuous, pointed into the crowd. In the middle of the crush of people, Pandy clearly saw Athena. Then she saw a woman standing right next to Athena who looked like she could be Athena’s twin. Neither of them wore their helmets nor carried their shields, but Pandy had seen Athena many times; she even carried a small carved bust of the goddess that would offer advice if Pandy got into real trouble. She knew the severe features of Athena’s face. That meant the other one had to be …

  “Minerva!” Pandy whispered.

  “No way!”

  “Way,” Pandy said. “And, I think that’s Ares and Mars on the roof over there.”

  “What are they doing here?” Alcie asked. “Is this good or bad, good or bad?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Suddenly, a blend of melodies and harmonies floated over the crowd, signaling the approach of the Vestal Virgins. Amazingly, the crowd parted, crushing everyone further, allowing the band of women to climb a short set of wooden steps onto a large dais set up in front of the theater. Pandy and Alcie forgot the immortals for a moment as they watched the line of sacred woman, their voices raised in song, moving gracefully up the stairs.

  “I don’t see Iole,” Pandy said, straining her eyes.

  “You don’t suppose they left her at the senator’s house because she can’t sing, do you?”

  Before Pandy could answer, Alcie gripped her arm.

  “Wait! I think I …,” Alcie said. “I … no … you’ve got to be kidding. I see her!”

  “Where?” Pandy asked, looking intently at the group of Vestals, Junior Class bringing up the rear.

  “Second row, third from the left,” Alcie answered.

  Pandy stared for a long moment.

  “No way!”

  “Way!”

  “She’s … she’s got makeup on,” Pandy said. “And her hair! She’s … beautiful!”

  “Our little girl is all grown up,” Alcie said solemnly, then she started giggling.

  Suddenly, Pandy gave a start.

  “Aphrodite!” she all but squealed.

  “Aphrodite’s what? What?”

  “There.”

  Without warning, two other women, nearly identical in every way, had joined on to the very back of the Vestal procession. One woman was singing in time with the others; the second woman, Pandy could tell, didn’t really know the words and was a beat behind everyone else.

  “Venus and Aphrodite,” Pandy said, remembering every aspect of Aphrodite’s face. Aphrodite had held her so close when Pandy had sobbed over Alcie’s death, there was no way Pandy would ever forget anything about her.

  Then, Aphrodite turned and winked at Pandy. Pandy nearly toppled off the fountain. Aphrodite nudged Venus, who also turned, still singing, and gave a little wave to Pandy and Alcie.

  “Wave back,” Pandy said, recovering herself. Alcie just stood slack-jawed. Finally, Pandy picked up Alcie’s hand and shook it for her. Then Pandy spotted Apollo and Phoebus buying small spits of meat from a street vendor. Alcie pointed to Demeter and Ceres dancing with two young sailors. Diana and Artemis were standing on the second-story balcony of a building across the square. Dionysus was sleeping on Bacchus, who was leaning against a column.

  “They’ve shrunk themselves to blend in, I think,” Pandy said.

  “This isn’t good,” Alcie squeaked out.

  “No, I think it’s very good,” Pandy said. “Why would they all be here, if not to help?”

  “To watch us all die horrible deaths?”

  Suddenly, a thought hit Pandy like a bolt of lightning.

  “Where’s Hera … and Juno?”

  Before Alcie could even try to come up with an answer, someone was shoved into Lucius, who crashed into his wife, who crashed into someone else, sending a ripple effect throughout the crowd.

  “Jupiter,” Lucius said loudly, straightening himself and his wife. “If Caesar doesn’t finish the Curio Julia soon, I’ll …”

  “You will what, noble Lucius?” came a question from close by.

  Lucius snapped his head and found himself almost face to face with Julius Caesar, on his way to the dais, who had stopped when he heard Lucius’s comment. Lucius realized that he, and everyone else, had been pushed out of the way to make room for Caesar’s entourage.

  “Please go on,” Caesar said with a smile that wasn’t really a smile. “If I don’t finish the Curio soon, you will … what?”

  “I will … continue to serve Rome and its citizens in any and every way possible,” he said. “And from whatever location Caesar decides, be it the Theatrum Pompeium or the Curio Julia, should it ever be completed, or the top of a tree.”

  “The top of a tree!” Caesar laughed. “Perhaps that can be arranged, Senator. I should like to see you legislate from amongst the leaves!”

  Those closest to Caesar laughed as Lucius fought to keep from turning red with anger and humiliation. Caesar’s entourage continued forward until at last Caesar mounted the dais and turned to face the crowd.

  “Citizens of Rome!” he began, and from the time it took the sun to move from three to four on the nearest sundial, Caesar saluted the populace, told of the glories that were in the city’s future and detailed the far reach of the Roman Empire. He made clear that Rome was and would continue to be, “until the moment Phoebus refuses to pull the sun across the sky,” the greatest city in the known world.

  “Athens,” Alcie coughed in disgust, covering her mouth.

  Fortunately no one had heard except Pandy, and Pandy dug her fingernails into Alcie’s wrist when she saw Alcie was about to say it again. Caesar went on to tell how he was going to urge the Senate to allow the building of permanent structures for sporting games, chariot races and theatrical productions.

  “I envision a Colosseum, a hippodrome, a Circus Maximus. And I believe that you, the people of Rome, will not be incited to riot at the sight of the spectacles of skill and daring to be held in these places. We witnessed such a spectacle today …”

  At this, he motioned into the crowd and Homer, flanked by two men, walked nervously onto the dais.

  “… and you did not tear down the scaffolding at the sight of the mercy shown to this noble youth! I believe, and the Senate will know, that you are above such behavior!”

  The crowd cheered loudly. It was Alcie’s turn to grip Pandy at the sight of Homer.

  “Easy,” she said to Alcie. “Easy, we can’t get to him yet.”

  Pandy looked about, seeing senators she knew shaking their heads slightly and pursing their lips in subtle disagreement at Caesar’s edict.

  “I shall also, as one of my first acts, declare that one of our immortals—someone who deserves a higher place in the pantheon of the gods—be given her rightful status!”

  The crowd hushed.

  “I shall completely redesign, rebuild, and reroute the sewer system and, at various points, erect temples to one of our most important but often overlooked deities: Cloacina, Goddess of the Sewers!”

  At this, the crowd nearly did riot—with joy. Rome had an advanced sewer system, but of late it had fallen into disrepair—which was evident if one took a deep breath.

  “I only hope that I live long enough to see the completion of such wonders.”

  “Hail Caesar!”

  “Long live Caesar!”

  “You, the citizens of this great Empire,” he continued, smiling at the adulation, “may well ask how shall we accomplish these undertakings. How, because we are a generous people, shall we spread this great culture—our knowledge, our wisdom, our art, and our perfect government—from land to land? Well, one way is to conquer anyone who might oppose us and claim the land in the name of ROME!”

  The crowd went wild.

  “For, as I have shown, no one may defeat our armies!”

  Again, the crowd cheered madly. Caesar smiled and held out his hands, signaling for quiet. Then he gave another signal and a second young man was escorted onto the dais.

  “But then, we must keep it,” he said. “And to that end, I have created …”

  As if he were a conjurer, Caesar held his hand up high, his fingers closed tight around something small.

  “… this!”

  With amazing dexterity, he tossed a shiny object into the air and caught it with only his thumb and forefinger. It was a single gold coin.

  “I give you … the aureus. This will be the coin of the realm and will from this day forth always bear the likeness of your ruler. Since the gods above have seen fit to bestow that title upon this humble servant, let us hope it is my profile which graces this simple golden disc for many years to come.”

  “Hail Caesar!”

  All of a sudden, Pandy saw Lucius Valerius’s head stretch a little longer on his neck. He craned his head over the crown, his eyes focused like a hawk’s on the coin. He was much, much more than merely interested. In that moment, something buried deep within her—something she hadn’t experienced or even thought of in many days—began to bubble.

  Her curiosity.

  Her insatiable curiosity was boiling up and telling her that something was happening. Something she’d seen for a while but had been too distracted to pay any attention to: Lucius Valerius was obsessively concerned with this gold coin. Could it be the source of Greed? Perhaps even Greed itself? Caesar had been discussing the size, weight, and purity of the aureus for days with his most private counselors in the Senate; Lucius had been one of them, until he violently disagreed on some point or other and had been excused from further conversations in the “inner circle.” She’d been there when, having been dismissed, he’d sat down in disgrace and ordered her to fetch more water. But, her curiosity questioned, why was he the only one possessed? She couldn’t remember anyone else being affected to such an extent. Did it have something, anything to do with the Theatre of Pompey? His seat, perhaps? No, no that was silly.

  “I wish to acknowledge the artist who has so deftly engraved my Roman nose for all to see,” Caesar said loudly, motioning for the new youth on the dais to step to his side. “His very name means creativity. I give you Varius!”