"Salve, Claudius." As civil as Imight have been, I could not keep the coolness from my voice.
If he noticed, he did not betray hisfeelings.
"Salve Prefect," he returned thegreeting. "And I imagine you're wondering why I'm here, under thesecircumstances."
"That I am," I agreed.
In response, he did not give a reply, butdid reach behind him, causing me to flinch as I bemoaned that I hadnot thought to wear at least my dagger. However, it was not aweapon that he produced, but a scroll, which he held out towardsme.
"I believe that you might want this," hesaid calmly. "If only to destroy it."
At first, I did not comprehend his meaning,but Scribonius clearly did, because he uttered a gasped curse, thenlaughed heartily. Nevertheless, perhaps out of reflex, I took theoffered scroll. Only when I looked down and unrolled it did Iunderstand the significance of this gift.
"This is the scroll Sulpicianus couldn'tfind," I gasped.
"Yes, it is." For the first time, Claudiusshowed a glimmer of emotion, smiling faintly.
"But how...?" I found it hard to concentrateon what I wanted to ask Claudius as my mind tried to understand thefull import of his act. Finally, I gathered enough of myself toask, "More importantly, why?"
"It was all I could think to do, given thecircumstances," the younger man replied, suddenly interested in thefloor. "When I heard Scribonius offering to give his testimony,while Sulpicianus was busy trying to overhear what you were allsaying, I just slipped the scroll into a fold of my toga." Onlythen did he look back up to meet my gaze. "As to why? Because I oweyou a debt, and I know that while this doesn't repay it fully, it'sthe best I can do."
I think that perhaps I was the only man inthe room that truly understood the price young Claudius paid formaking this statement.
"I thank you, Claudius," I told him, and Iwas being sincere.
"I just wish it was more." Claudius seemedto mean it.
"It's enough," I told him, then reached outto clasp him by the shoulder to encourage him to look me in theeye. "And I mean that it's enough, for everything."
Suddenly, Claudius' eyes began shimmering,and he blinked rapidly, while I looked over to Scribonius, sittingsilently at the table. One look at his face told me that he thoughtI had let Claudius off too cheaply, but I felt confident I wasmaking the right decision.
"Thank you, Prefect." Claudius' voice washoarse with emotion. "I can't tell you what that means to me."
"It should mean a lot," I joked. "After all,your father is trying to get me killed."
My tone was such that even Claudius had tolaugh, which was my intent. Pointing to the fourth chair at thetable, I asked him to sit.
"There may be some more help you can giveme," I said as I sat next to him.
"If I can," he agreed, but he had a cautiouslook as he glanced from me to Scribonius, who still had not said aword.
Diocles had rejoined us so that all four ofus were seated at the table, with Claudius looking from one to theother.
"Do you have any idea what's going on?" Iasked him bluntly.
"What do you mean?" Claudius looked aroundagain, but seemed to avoid my gaze in particular.
"You know what I mean." I was not willing todance about this; I had experienced enough of this already. "IsAgrippa helping me in any way he can without drawing the wrath ofAugustus?"
Claudius did not answer immediately, whichwas understandable.
Finally, he nodded his head. "Yes. At least,I think so, anyway."
"Any idea why?" Scribonius asked thisquestion.
Claudius seemed to consider his response fora moment, before answering, "I've heard rumors that relations havebecome...strained between the two. From what's being said, Agrippadoesn't agree with many of Augustus' policies, particularlyconcerning the Legions."
"Do you know anything specific?" I asked,but he shook his head in reply.
"Even if they are strained, that stilldoesn't necessarily explain why Agrippa is helping youspecifically," Diocles observed.
"Maybe," Scribonius said thoughtfully, "it'sfor a simple reason, one that we're just overlooking as we try tofigure out all the politics involved."
"Oh?" I turned to look at my friend. "Andwhat might that be?"
"Maybe," Scribonius raised his cup to me,"he's doing what's right, simply because it's the right thing todo."
I will admit that this had never occurred tome. And I have resigned myself to the reality that I never will.Perhaps when I meet Agrippa in Elysium, I can ask him.
I was accompanied the next morning byScribonius and Diocles, as again I had donned my full uniform tohear my fate. Conversation was desultory, and that is being kind,each of us immersed in our own thoughts as we retraced the sameroute we had taken the day before. Although the scenery was thesame, it seemed different to me somehow; the colors worn by thepeople hurrying about the Campus, the sounds of their chatterlouder, and the whole atmosphere pulsed with a life that I hadeither never noticed, or appreciated before. This, I am sure, wasdue to my belief that the likelihood of my being found guilty wasclose to a certainty, despite the help Agrippa had given me.Claudius had not stayed very long, but the information he imparted,while valuable, had done nothing to assuage my conviction thatOctavian's will in this matter would hold sway. What troubled methen, and still does, is why a man I believe I had servedfaithfully and well would hold enough hard feelings towards me thathe would allow Claudius' father to pursue this prosecution. Surely,I reasoned to myself, if Octavian did not at least in part wish formy downfall he would hardly be swayed by someone who was not nearlyas powerful as he was. After all, his status as Princeps, firstamong equals, was no longer in question; therefore, he hardlyneeded to appease the wishes of others for political gain. Unless,of course, he desired it to be the case as well. That was thenagging thought that refused to leave my head as we approached thePraetorium.
Just as the day before, what looked to me tobe the same men were gathered outside, with one major difference.Someone among them had convinced what those nobles inside waitingto pronounce my fate would
