Final Campaign

on as a way to buy his way out oftrouble. It was just his bad luck, or stupidity, that he had chosenthe lieutenant of Fannius Caepio in Murena to provide his defense,when Caepio was the leader of the plot to assassinate Octavian andreturn Rome to the hands of the Senate. At least, that was theidea; I had severe doubts about the motives of any of these men asfar as returning Rome to its roots as a Republic. From myviewpoint, I believe that it was more a case of wanting to be inthe position that Octavian held than it was a case of bringing backthe fine old days of the Republic. Such musings were not going tohelp me at this point, I realized, so I pushed them from my mind asI listened to Diocles provide a precise accounting of my affairs.For a brief moment, I wished I could somehow summon my fatherLucius from whatever pit of despair and pain that he was consignedto so that I could show him all that I had accomplished. Perhapsthen, I thought, he would at last be proud of me. So strong is thedesire in all sons for the approval of their fathers, I suppose.Then I dismissed it, putting it in the same compartment of my mindas my thoughts about the motivations of those above my station. Aspart of my preparations for the Tribunal, or more accurately, forthe outcome that at this point I thought most likely, I sat downand wrote, on papyrus, a series of letters that I gave to Diocles.He came closer to refusing me outright than he had ever done beforewhen I tried to hand him the series of scrolls. It was only thethreat of a beating, and the fact that I was serious, that saw himtake them, reluctantly, along with the promise that they would bedelivered to the recipients of them. Then, there was really notmuch left to do while awaiting the start of the Tribunal, exceptfor the final meeting with Piso.

"I had hoped that what I had in mind wouldwork," Piso opened the conversation at our meeting, again in myquarters.

While a part of me appreciated that he didnot delay in delivering the bad news, it did not disappoint me anyless to hear of his failure.

"I approached Lucullus, privately, and Ireminded him of a number of...less savory moments that we'veshared, and how damaging such information could be if it becameknown, especially to his potential adoptive father."

I must say that I found it a bitdisconcerting that my fate seemed to be resting on the idea of whatLucullus might have done in a night of debauching at a localwhorehouse, but I supposed that I could not be choosy. Diocles andScribonius looked no less upset at Piso's failure than I felt, yet,like me, they seemed at a loss for words.

"However," Piso continued, seeminglyoblivious to my despair, "there is still hope. During ourconversation, his affliction came back. If he did that in a privatesetting, I believe it will be relatively easy to make it show up infront of the Tribunal."

That, I thought bitterly, was a slender reedon which to cling to in hope. Glancing over at my friends, it waseasy to see they were of a similar mind. As if sensing my despairfor the first time, Piso tried to put a brave face on mysituation.

"Don't lose hope, Prefect." He tried to giveme a bright smile, but even I could see that it was forced. "Ireally am very good at provoking people."

That drew a laugh from all of us, even if itwas forced. With nothing left to discuss as far as the officialproceedings, Piso made his apologies for not staying, leaving myquarters with what seemed to be undue haste.

"I don't blame him," I remarked as the doorclosed. "I wouldn't want to be around a dead man like meeither."

Neither Scribonius nor Diocles seemed amusedat my jest, Scribonius going as far as punching me in the arm,hard.

"On another subject," Scriboniusinterjected, "I wanted to invite you to dinner, tomorrownight."

"My last as a free man," I observed, againearning a disapproving glare from both of my friends.

"It's not going to be at my brother's house,though." Scribonius ignored my continuing attempt at making lightof my situation.

Even through my distraction, I took noticeof what he was saying.

"Not your brother's house?" I asked, mycuriosity aroused.

"No," Scribonius replied, suddenlyinterested in the table, his cup, looking everywhere but at me.

"Where then?"

"It's not that far from my brother's house,"he said, still not meeting my eye.

"All right." I shrugged, understanding thatI was not going to get any more out of him, at least at thatmoment. "Where do I go?"

"We'll have dinner at Gaius Aurelias Cotta'shouse," he told me.

Where had I heard that name before? Iwondered. Then, I remembered.

"You mean Aurelia's brother's house?" Iasked him.

"Yes," he said tersely. "Come a third of awatch after dark. We'll eat then."

After a long ride, one of the longest I tookduring that time with Ocelus, I went to the baths on the Campus,feeling wonderful after enduring the ordeal of the ritual of thecaldarium, tepidarium, and frigidarium, and theskillful hands of the slaves assigned to the baths got throughkneading my muscles. Physically, at any rate, although I could notdiscard the feeling of the weight of the next day bearing down onmy shoulders like a palpable force. Dressed in fresh tunics,Diocles and I actually took the time to walk from the Campus, overto the Forum, and up the Palatine. During our walk, I took the timeto appreciate all that Octavian had done to improve the city forwhich I had marched for so many years. What had once been made ofbrick was now clad in marble, brought from the mountains of nearbyToscana to the north, and while there was much new construction,there was already a great deal that had been changed. Just in theperiod of time since my last spell spent in Rome, Octavian hadmanaged to remake the city, making its outward appearance more inaccordance with the might and power it exerts over the known world.As I walked through the Forum, I will admit that