turn up, thought Romulus.
His heart sank, therefore, when a richly decorated litter approached through the inevitable crowd of citizens, who gathered to see the rich and famous, or to plead for their intervention in a business deal gone wrong. Borne by four strapping slaves in loincloths, it was preceded by another bearing a long stick with which to clear the way. Romulus could see no sign of guards or soldiers. Hearing the lead slave crying Caesar's name, he jumped to his feet.
'It's time,' he muttered to Mattius. 'The lictores would never let me past, but you might be able to worm your way inside. Can you manage that?'
His face filled with childish determination, Mattius nodded. 'What should I do then?'
'Don't take your eyes off Caesar for a single moment,' Romulus warned. 'At the slightest sign of trouble, call me. I'll stay as near to the entrance as I can.'
'It might be too late by then,' said the boy solemnly. 'Especially if the lictores try to stop you entering.'
'What else can I do?' asked Romulus, raising his hands in a helpless gesture.
A moment later, the haruspex appeared from the crowd. 'Fabiola is here,' he said quietly.
'Where?' Romulus demanded, simultaneously shocked and unsurprised.
Tarquinius pointed to a hooded and cloaked figure standing half concealed by a pillar near the temple's entrance. It was slight enough to be a woman.
'You're sure?' Romulus didn't want to believe his eyes.
Tarquinius' smile was mirthless. 'Do you think she'd miss this?'
Romulus' mouth filled with a harsh, dry feeling. Tarquinius' divination was about to come true. Why else would Fabiola be here? A strong urge to confront his sister took hold, and his eyes darted from her to Caesar's litter, which had stopped by the bottom of the steps. A large party of senators was waiting for the dictator, and Romulus began to panic. He saw Longinus there, and Marcus Brutus. Although Marcus Antonius, Caesar's most loyal supporter, was also present, the assassins might still strike immediately.
He wouldn't have time to run up to Fabiola and then back down before Caesar alighted. Cursing, he shouldered his way through the eager crowd, towards the dictator's litter. Mattius made to follow him, but Romulus jerked his head and the boy remembered. With a grin, he darted up the huge carved staircase, coming to a halt right beside the entrance. The guards ignored him, just another excited spectator trying to get the best view. They were doing the same themselves. Acting with casual aplomb, Mattius sloped inside and out of sight. Romulus' lips twitched with satisfaction. At least one thing was going according to plan. It remained doubtful whether anything else would. Loosening his gladius in its sheath, he muttered maybe his last prayer to Jupiter and Mithras, asking for their protection and help.
There was a loud cheer as Caesar clambered down from his litter. Despite the unhappiness of some politicians, his popularity with the ordinary citizens was huge. The dictator's piercing gaze scanned the throng and, seeing no danger, he acknowledged the acclaim with nods and smiles. Behind him, a brown-haired man emerged. To Romulus' astonishment, it was Decimus Brutus. Did this mean that Fabiola's lover was also one of the conspirators? Or, like Romulus, had he failed to persuade Caesar to stay away? He couldn't be sure. Edging to the front of the crowd, Romulus saw that the waiting senators had formed up in two lines, offering Caesar a clear path up to the shrine. Effusive greetings filled the air. He could take the tension no longer, and darted forward to the dictator's side.
'Legionary Romulus. Good to see you again.' Caesar placed his foot on the first step. 'I'll call on you shortly.'
'Thank you, sir.' Romulus saluted, before muttering from the side of his mouth, 'Please let me accompany you inside.'
Caesar smiled. 'That won't be necessary.' Raising his arms, he indicated the senators. 'I have these good men to guide me in.'
'But, sir,' Romulus objected. 'My friend said-'
'That'll be all, soldier,' Caesar said curtly.
His protest dying in his throat, Romulus stood back. He was aware of the senators giving him disapproving looks, but he didn't care. A combination of terror and sheer adrenalin was in control. Seeing no immediate threat, Romulus came to the decision that the attack would take place inside. Working his way to the side of the gathering, he pounded up the steps to the entrance. To have any chance of saving Caesar, he had to be as close as possible. Behind him, he was vaguely aware of Decimus Brutus greeting Antonius in a jovial fashion. His suspicions aroused by this, Romulus glanced back. Fabiola had told him that the two men hated each other, yet here was Brutus throwing his arm over Antonius' shoulders. The former Master of the Horse looked annoyed at first, but as Brutus kept talking, a slow smile spread over his broad, handsome face.
Caesar began to climb the staircase, leaving Antonius and Brutus behind, deep in conversation. Realisation struck Romulus like a blow from Vulcan's hammer. It was all part of the plan. The conspirators only wanted to kill Caesar, so they would delay his greatest supporter outside. Romulus wanted to scream out loud. Could no one else see it? Stay calm, he thought. All was not lost — yet. How would they kill Caesar? Togas were not the kind of garment that facilitated the concealment of weapons. Was there a secret stash inside? He discounted that theory at once. Too many other people — priests, acolytes and devotees — had access to the temple.
Then Romulus' eyes were drawn to the stylus cases in each senator's hand, and his stomach lurched. The elegant wooden boxes were just the right size to hold a knife. His mind reeled at the simplicity, and the lethality, of it. Despairing, Romulus' gaze drifted up from the ascending group. There, across the width of the steps, at his level he saw Fabiola. They locked eyes, staring at each other with an unbearable intensity. After a moment that seemed to last for ever but in reality was probably no more than several heartbeats, Fabiola's mouth opened.
Before she could speak, though, Caesar had reached them. Surrounded by the mass of senators, he was talking about Longinus' son's great day. Assuming the toga of a man was one of life's most important events. Antonius was still at the bottom of the steps talking to Decimus Brutus. Romulus felt more weary than he had in his life. He was just a helpless observer.
'I am here,' said Tarquinius from behind him.
Romulus could have almost cried with relief. 'Will you come with me?'
'Of course. That's what comrades are for,' the haruspex replied, unslinging his double-headed battleaxe.
'We might be killed,' said Romulus, eyeing the six guards, all of whose attention was on Caesar.
'How many times have I heard that?' Tarquinius smiled. 'Still doesn't mean I can leave you to go in alone.'
Romulus turned away from the crowd and drew his gladius. He shot a glance at Fabiola, but she was too busy watching the dictator. A mixture of emotions twisted her beautiful face, and Romulus thought of their mother. What if his twin was correct? he asked himself again, despairingly. His gut instinct answered at once. Even if she was, Caesar did not deserve to be killed like a sheep surrounded by a pack of starving wolves. So he wasn't going to back away now.
Romulus watched tensely as the dictator passed out of view. To his delight, four of the guards also entered, leaving only two at the doors, which remained open.
Now it was down to Mattius.
He took a couple of steps towards the entrance, and Tarquinius followed suit. Talking to each other, with half an eye on the proceedings within, neither guard noticed for a moment. Romulus slid his caligae across the stone, getting a few paces nearer.
'Romulus!'
Fabiola's shout was like the crack of a whip in a confined space.
Romulus stared at her, aware that the guards had seen him.
'What are you going to do?' she screamed.
An image of Velvinna's suffering burned every part of Romulus' mind. It was followed by one of Caesar smiling as he granted him his manumission in the arena not three hundred paces away. Torn, he glanced at Tarquinius.
'Your path is your own,' whispered the haruspex. 'Only you can decide it.'
'You two!' yelled one of the guards. 'Drop your weapons!' Calling for help, he and his comrade advanced with lowered pila.
They were stopped by an animal cry of pain from inside the temple.
