'I'll win him over,' Fabiola ventured, lying through her teeth. 'Caesar has to be stopped. He's becoming a monster. You know it's true.'
It was as if Brutus hadn't heard her. 'There must be another way.'
Fabiola felt the situation slipping from her grasp.
'I'll pay Caesar a visit,' he declared. 'Talk some sense into him.'
'Have you gone mad?' cried Fabiola, panicking. She didn't want to lose Brutus for a second time. 'Caesar's veiled threats to Pontius Aquila went on for days. Who knows how he'd react to the person who crosses him next?'
'True enough.' Brutus ran a hand through his short brown hair, thinking. 'I must consider the matter further. Make an offering at Mars' temple, asking for guidance.'
'There isn't much time,' Fabiola warned, frustrated by his indecision. 'He's talking about leaving Rome straight after the Ides of March.'
Brutus' expression darkened at her pressure. 'We're talking about the murder of a man here. It's not a matter to be taken lightly.'
'I know, my love,' Fabiola murmured reassuringly. 'Of course you're right.'
To her relief, he relaxed.
Fabiola considered the situation for a moment. I have enough names to go on, she realised. Euphoria filled her. While Brutus vacillated, she would press on. Invite the nobles he'd mentioned to the Lupanar one by one. Win them over, by whatever means necessary.
In time, Brutus would come to see that killing Caesar was the only option.
Even if he didn't, the information he'd let slip gave Fabiola enough to act alone. Which was what she'd do. This was too good an opportunity to miss. If she didn't act soon, there wouldn't be another chance for years.
She was prepared to wait no longer.
Whatever the risk.
Chapter XXVI: The Plot
Just over three months pass… The Capitoline Hill, Rome, spring 44 BC Romulus glanced sidelong at Tarquinius, trying to judge his mood. With Mattius in tow, they were climbing the Capitoline Hill, intent on visiting the enormous temple to Jupiter there. Numerous attempts by the haruspex to read the future in the Mithraeum had failed, frustrating them both. Something momentous was approaching, Tarquinius said over and over, but he wasn't sure what. Today, no effort would be spared. Still scarred by his own vision in Margiana, Romulus refused to consider the idea that he might try. Yet he needed to know so many things, and it felt as if time was running out. Recently, his suspicions had been roused by the knowledge that a large group of men were holding regular meetings in the Lupanar. Detailing Mattius to sit outside each day, Romulus had soon learned that scores of nobles were involved, including prominent politicians such as Marcus Brutus and Cassius Longinus. Tellingly, the urchin had not seen Decimus Brutus, Fabiola's lover, which told Romulus that he wasn't the only one to have reservations. This knowledge angered him even more.
He hadn't confronted Fabiola over it for two reasons. First was that she probably wouldn't admit any conspiracy, and secondly Romulus wasn't sure he trusted her any longer. If she actually was going through with her plan, then he was but a small obstacle in her path. Fabiola's original heavies had been replaced by brutal-looking men who looked well capable of killing their mistress's twin brother. None had been especially friendly, even when they'd known who he was, leading Romulus to conclude that he wasn't exactly flavour of the month at the Lupanar. Despite this, he felt loath to take the obvious and opposite path — that of betraying Fabiola and the other conspirators. What if he was wrong about her?
Even if he wasn't, Romulus couldn't bear the idea of his only living relation being permanently taken from him, for that would be the only fate awarded Fabiola if she were caught. Yet the consequences — Caesar's murder — were just as bad. It didn't help that Rome was awash with rumours of plans to assassinate the dictator. One moment it was Marcus Brutus, then another it was Dolabella, one of Caesar's long-term allies. Sometimes it was even purported to be Antonius, the dictator's most loyal follower. Riven by uncharacteristic indecision, Romulus had to know if the threat to Caesar was real, and if so, what he should do about it.
Then there was the thorny subject of Fabiola herself. Could he patch up his relationship with her? No matter how much Romulus wanted it, he could not see a reconciliation happening while his sister was planning to kill Caesar. This awareness further lessened his ties to Rome, but made him feel guilty as Hades. There must be a way to renew the intimacy of their childhood, when they each had only the other.
Only the gods knew the answer to this problem — if they could be persuaded to reveal it.
Romulus also burned to know if Brennus was still alive. He did not let the thrilling idea go to his head. Even if the big Gaul had beaten off the wounded elephant, there was nothing to say that he hadn't been killed immediately afterwards. The Forgotten Legion had been struggling against an overwhelming enemy force when Romulus and Tarquinius had fled, and its fate, like that of Brennus, was unknown. Since Thapsus, though, Romulus had not been able to stop wondering about the Gaul.
His desire to take part in Caesar's forthcoming campaign was fanned by the regular news which swept the city. Thousands of cavalrymen had been recruited from Gaul, Hispania and Germania, and were assembling in Brundisium, the main jumping-off point for voyages to the east. Caesar's legions were gathering too, marching from all over the Republic to the south of Italy, or taking ships there. Romulus knew that he could easily re-enlist in the Twenty-Eighth. There would be little difficulty winning Tarquinius a place either. Although he was older now, the haruspex could still fight, and his medical knowledge equalled, or exceeded, that of most army surgeons. There had been no direct statement about Parthia, but Romulus sensed a growing agitation in the haruspex. His own rootless feelings fed from this.
It made the lack of guidance from Mithras even more frustrating.
'Perhaps Tinia will be more forthcoming,' said Tarquinius.
Startled, Romulus grinned. 'Jupiter, Greatest and Best,' he replied, using the commonest title for the greatest god in Rome. As an Etruscan, the haruspex used his people's name for the deity. 'Let's hope he's in a good mood today.'
Soon after, they reached the vast temple complex that covered the top of the hill. Originally built by the Etruscans, it was the most important religious shrine in Rome. Pilgrims came from far and wide to worship here and to make their pleas of the god. In front of the gold-roofed temple, a huge statue of Jupiter gazed down over the city, looming, protecting and all-seeing.
Romulus muttered a prayer, just as he had as a boy. His daily appeal then had been to kill Gemellus. Although he had not carried through with this wish, he felt as if, aided by Orcus, the god had orchestrated his last confrontation with the cruel merchant. Today his need felt similarly urgent. What should he do about Fabiola and Caesar? Was journeying to Parthia again a good idea? Should he not resolve things with his sister first? From the corner of his eye, Romulus caught Tarquinius also muttering a request.
Both of them were in the same boat.
Shoving past the throngs of citizens, hawkers and entertainers, they climbed the steps to the entrance to the cellae, the sacred rooms which formed the main part of the shrine. There were three, one dedicated to each of the deities, Jupiter, Minerva and Juno. As the pre-eminent god in Rome, Jupiter's was the central chamber. Joining the end of the queue, the trio shuffled forward in silence. Inside, shaven-headed acolytes walked to and fro, swinging bronze vessels from long chains, and releasing the heavy scents of burning incense and myrrh.
Owing to the large numbers of devotees in the long, narrow cella, they were not afforded much time for contemplation. It was a case of bending their knees, placing their offerings — a pile of denarii, a miniature Etruscan bowl and two bronze asses from Mattius — and making a swift request from the forbidding carved stone face above the altar, before withdrawing.
Making their way outside, they blinked as their eyes adjusted to the bright sunlight. At once the cella's calm was replaced by the noise of the crowds filling the open area between the temple and the statue of Jupiter. The cries of food vendors competed with acrobats, street performers and peddlers of tat. Here a mother scolded her wayward children, and there a bevy of painted whores stood, doing their best to encourage men down the nearest
