Despite his grim mood, Romulus grinned. 'No flies on you,' he admitted.
'I knew it!' Mattius crowed. There was a short pause. 'Is it just you and me?'
Romulus heard the tremor in his voice and looked down. Despite his obvious fear, Mattius was clutching a rusty kitchen knife, which must have been hidden under his tunic. His heart filled at the boy's courage. It did not matter to him who ruled Rome, or whether Caesar lived or died. He was here for one reason: to show solidarity with his friend. Romulus stopped in his tracks. 'You've got real guts, lad, but you won't have to do any fighting,' he said, patting Mattius' bony shoulder. 'The veterans are coming along. Tarquinius too.'
'Good,' Mattius replied, relieved. 'I'll be ready just in case.'
Thinking of himself as a youngster, Romulus hid his smile.
A short time later, they reached Caesar's current domus, a palatial affair on the Palatine Hill. The sun was rising now, revealing the construction of a new high-pointed exterior intended to make it resemble a temple. Building had only just started, so almost the entire front of the building was obscured by scaffolding, which concealed the pair until they had reached the entrance.
'Halt!' shouted one of four soldiers before the massive iron-studded doors. 'Declare yourselves.'
'Romulus, veteran legionary of the Twenty-Eighth, and Mattius, a boy from the Caelian Hill,' Romulus answered, stepping out of the shadows.
The sentry's lip curled. 'Your business?'
Romulus half turned, so his phalerae glittered in the torchlight. He was pleased to see the soldiers' eyes widen. Few men earned two gold medals. 'I seek an audience with Caesar,' he said.
'Now?' scoffed a second guard. 'It's not even hora prima.'
'It's very urgent.'
'I don't give a toss,' replied the first man. 'On your way. Come back this afternoon, and you might be lucky.'
'I can't wait that long.'
The sentries exchanged an incredulous look before the first lowered his pilum to point at Romulus' chest. 'I suggest you and your little friend fuck off,' he growled. 'Now.'
Romulus didn't move a step. 'Tell Caesar that it's the slave who killed the Ethiopian bull. The one he granted manumission to.'
Romulus' extraordinary calm and outlandish claim were off-putting, and more than ordinary soldiers were used to dealing with. Scowling, the first guard went inside to confer with his optio. The junior officer emerged a moment later, pulling on his helmet. Bleary-eyed and irritable, he listened to Romulus' request in silence. 'And your purpose?' he demanded.
'That's for Caesar's ears only, sir,' Romulus answered, careful to keep his voice neutral. If he didn't play this just right, his mission would fail, and he couldn't let that happen.
The optio looked at him long and hard. 'Where did you win those?' He pointed at Romulus' phalerae.
'One at Ruspina, the other at Thapsus, sir.'
'What for?'
Romulus briefly described his efforts, and the officer's face soon changed. 'Stay put,' he ordered, disappearing inside.
Ignoring the legionaries' glowers, Romulus leaned against the scaffolding. Mattius stayed close, more intimidated than his big friend. They waited for perhaps half an hour before the optio reappeared.
'Caesar will see you,' he said. 'Leave your weapons here.'
The guards goggled at this unexpected outcome.
Bending his head to conceal his grin, Romulus unbuckled his belt and handed it to Mattius. 'I'll be back shortly,' he said. 'Don't say a word to these fools,' he added under his breath.
The boy nodded, delighted with the responsibility.
Following the optio, Romulus entered the atrium. Few torches were burning, but there was sufficient light to see that the house was decorated in opulent fashion. Richly patterned, well-laid mosaic covered the floors, and the stuccoed walls were painted with striking scenes. Beautiful Greek statues filled every alcove, and through the open doors of the tablinum Romulus heard the patter of water from a fountain in the garden.
The optio led him to one of the many rooms around the central courtyard. Compared to the rest of the house, this was decorated in Spartan fashion. Apart from a striking bust of Caesar, the only other furniture was a crowded desk, a leather-backed chair and a pair of tables groaning under rolls of parchment and papyrus. A young slave was placing oil lamps here and there, lending the chamber a warm golden glow.
Indicating that Romulus should stand before the desk, the optio retreated to the door. They waited in silence for some moments, and Romulus began to wonder what Fabiola was doing at that exact instant. Making her last preparations, no doubt. Would she be present at the Senate later? Sudden panic overtook him at the thought of defending Caesar from his sister. Jupiter, don't let that happen, Romulus prayed. That would be too much to bear. How would you react? his inner voice asked.
'Legionary Romulus,' said a voice from behind him. 'You rise early.'
He spun around. Wearing a plain white toga, Caesar stood framed in the doorway. Beside him, the optio had snapped to rigid attention. Romulus did likewise. 'My apologies, sir,' he said.
Rubbing a hand through his thinning hair, Caesar walked to the desk and sat down. 'I hope your reason's good,' he said drily. 'Dawn is only just breaking.'
Romulus flushed, but did not apologise. 'It is, sir.' Studying the dictator with a new interest, he was startled by the strong resemblance Caesar's features bore to his own. Coincidence, Romulus told himself. It had to be coincidence.
'Well, get on with it, man,' said Caesar, staring at him. Lines of exhaustion had drawn grey bags under his eyes. Covering his mouth with his hand, he began to cough. 'This damn chest of mine. Tell me.'
Romulus looked pointedly at the optio, and the slave, who was now tidying the tables. 'I'd rather you were the only one to hear it, sir.'
'Would you, by Jupiter?' Caesar rubbed his chin, considering. 'Very well,' he said. 'Leave us.' He jerked his head.
The slave obeyed at once, but the optio started forward. 'Don't trust him, sir!'
Caesar laughed. 'My enemies are many, but I don't think they include this man. I freed him from slavery for killing an Ethiopian bull, optio, and have twice decorated him on the field of battle since. A more loyal soldier doesn't exist in the Republic. Go, and shut the door behind you.'
With a beetroot face, the officer did as he was told.
'He's steadfast, but suspicious,' said Caesar. 'I should be grateful, I suppose.'
'Sir.' Romulus didn't dare agree or disagree.
To his surprise, the dictator didn't launch straight into a barrage of questions about his reasons for being here. 'How's life treating you since your discharge?'
'Very well, thank you, sir.'
'Your farm satisfactory?'
'Yes, sir,' said Romulus with as much enthusiasm as he could muster.
Eagle-eyed, Caesar chuckled. 'Tilling the fields isn't quite so exciting as standing in a shield wall, is it?'
Romulus grinned. 'No, sir.'
'A healthier occupation, though, if you can stick it,' said Caesar.
'Funny you should say so, sir,' Romulus blurted. 'I was thinking of volunteering for your new campaign.'
'Soldiers like you are always welcome,' Caesar replied, clearly pleased. A thoughtful look crossed his long, thin face. 'Didn't you serve at Carrhae?'
'Yes, sir,' Romulus answered, vivid memories filling his brain. 'I wouldn't mind another lick at the Parthians either.'
'That's the spirit. Why don't you come along to the Senate this morning,' Caesar suggested brightly. 'The senators would benefit from hearing what it's like to face them in battle.'
'I'd be honoured, sir,' said Romulus. 'Except I'm here to ask you not to attend the debates today.'
'My wife has been unhappy too.' Caesar frowned. 'Why shouldn't I go?'
'It's too dangerous, sir,' Romulus cried. 'There's a plot to kill you!'
The dictator grew very calm. 'Where did you hear about this?'
