Antonidus paced up and down the lushly furnished room, his skin mottled with anger. The only other occupant, lounging on a soft purple couch, was the corpulent figure of the senator, Cato. The eyes that watched Antonidus seemed small, lost in the fleshy expanse of the sweating face. They gleamed with intrigue as they followed the steps of Sulla’s erstwhile general, tracking up and down the marble. Cato grimaced slightly as he saw the road dust that clung to Antonidus. The man should have known better than to demand a meeting before he had even washed himself.

“I have no new information, Senator. Not a scrap of it,” Antonidus said.

Cato sighed theatrically, reaching out a pudgy hand to the arm of his couch and pulling himself upright. The fingers that gripped the wood were slick and sticky with sugary residues from the dinner Antonidus had interrupted. Idly, Cato sucked them clean as he waited for the irritable man to find calm. Sulla’s dog had never been a patient man, he knew. Even when the Dictator had been alive, Antonidus had conspired and wheedled for more authority and action where none was needed. After the rather sordid assassination, Antonidus had acted outrageously, far exceeding his authority as he searched for the killers. Cato had been forced to throw his support behind the man when his activities were discussed in Senate, or see him brought down by those he had offended. It was a fragile protection even then and Cato wondered if the pacing general knew how close he was to destruction. Antonidus had offended almost everyone that mattered in the city in the previous months, questioning even those who were above suspicion.

Cato wondered to himself how Sulla had been able to stand the grim company of his general. He soon tired of it himself.

“Have you considered that you may not find whoever ordered the assassination?” he asked.

Antonidus stopped his pacing as he spoke, spinning to face the senator.

“I will not fail in this. It has taken longer than I thought, but eventually someone will talk or some evidence will be found that will point a bloody finger, and I will have my man.”

Cato watched him carefully, noting the manic glitter of his eyes. Dangerously obsessive, he thought, considering having the man quietly removed before he caused any more trouble. The public efforts had been made, and if Sulla was not avenged, well, the city would continue regardless, whether Antonidus was successful or not.

“It could take years, you know,” Cato continued. “Or you could die without finding your culprit. It would not be so strange. If anyone was going to reveal themselves or be betrayed, I did think it would happen soon after the deed, but nothing points that bloody finger of yours and may never do so. It may be time to give up the chase, Antonidus.”