As they reached the grand facade of the temple of Cybele, Philopater nodded to his companion and then veered off to the right, past the temple and back toward the forum. The second man continued on down the slope toward the Circus and Paetus was briefly torn between the need to follow the Egyptian and find out what else he was up to, or to see how events played out down below.
The first race was still over an hour away and the illustrious family names of Marcus Falerius Fronto and Marcus Caelius Rufus would guarantee them a good spot, even if they arrived late. The small group were making for a tavern at the foot of the path, where it met the main road that led down to the Aemilian bridge across the Tiber. The figure ahead picked up speed. The streets down there were crowded enough that a clever man could inflict damage and escape unnoticed; especially when they had a distraction…
Paetus looked behind Fronto’s group and spotted the dozen thugs moving through the crowd behind them, carrying heavy lengths of wood. Fronto, as always, was out ahead with his friends, letting the hired help bumble along behind, largely unprotected.
‘No help this time, Fronto. When Clodius’ thugs leap on your own, you’ll fall foul of a well-placed blade.’
Though he was bright enough not to voice his thoughts aloud, Paetus found himself hurrying. He would have to do something. Not only was Fronto just about the only man that had proved to be sympathetic to Paetus’ plight, he was also apparently involved in a plan to cause Clodius trouble. The situation was good for Paetus, so long as this killer didn’t get his knife in Fronto or Caelius.
Paetus frowned as he descended. Everything he did these days was prepared far in advance, but now he found himself in a corner with no time to plan; just to choose a path and take it. To help Fronto could possibly lead to him being noticed, but to not do so was to likely condemn the man to an assassin’s knife.
The killer was already reaching the stretch where the path levelled out, Paetus still several dozen steps behind him. He watched in anger as the man reached up under his tunic and drew the knife ready to act. The thugs had all but caught up with the back end of the small group. No time left. Decide!
Paetus clenched his teeth and shook his head. He couldn’t attack the man; it would be too ridiculously obvious. Reaching down to the side of the path, he picked up a weighty stone. Was his throw good enough? He
A scream below announced that the action had begun. The group of thugs sent by Clodius had jumped on Fronto’s men and had taken the first two down with the initial blow. Already they had erupted into a confused tussle. The hairy Gaul behind the noblemen turned instantly and leapt into the fray among the hired help. Paetus clearly heard Fronto’s shout, tuned to it as he was from years of campaigning with the man.
“Priscus and Crispus? Get Caelius away to safety!”
Paetus faltered for a moment. Fronto was turning back to join the Gaul in attacking the thugs. Priscus and the legate of the Eleventh grasped Caelius and propelled him from the action, to somewhere presumed safe. Paetus watched as the killer bore down directly on the three approaching men.
With a sigh, he hefted the rock.
“Apollo guide my hand.”
Ignoring the strange looks he received from the various others on the path, he drew back his arm and cast the stone with as much force as he could while maintaining a level of accuracy.
Priscus was looking back at the gang fight going on behind him and Crispus was looking at the nobleman he was helping along the street. The assassin whipped the freed blade from beneath his tunic and, brandishing it, pushed a startled woman out of the way, already lunging with a swipe aimed straight for Caelius’ neck.
It would have been an instant kill, had the thrown rock not connected with the man’s head and thrown him back into the crowd. The knife leapt, glittering, into the air before descending in an arc down to the ground.
Biting his lip, Paetus turned and began to hurry back up the sloping path, trying to appear as unremarkable as possible. Perhaps he still had time to catch up with Philopater before he became lost in the crowd at the forum.
As the figure of Paetus disappeared up the slope, the fight was already under control and swinging back in favour of Fronto’s men. Priscus and Crispus had pushed Caelius beneath the arch of the tavern doorway before Priscus lurched back through the crowd, grunting at the pain his crippled leg gave him, only to find the would-be assassin had vanished. He turned to locate Fronto, irritation gnawing at him, only to see the legate staring up at the Scalae Caci leading up to the Palatine with a curious look on his face.
“What’s up with you?”
“I honestly don’t know. Must be seeing things!”
“Well let’s get back to the house. I think we can safely say my appetite for violent sports is sated for the day!”
Fronto nodded and turned to gather his hirelings, finding it hard to tear his gaze away from the slope.
“No. Couldn’t have been.”
Fronto blinked. Cicero he had been expecting, but his companion? The elder Crassus carried with him a gravitas that instinctively made one want to bow. It was no wonder this man had held such pivotal roles in Roman government for the last fifteen years; no wonder that Caesar seemed to be bending over backwards to keep Crassus sweet. The man’s heavy brow and serious gaze turned back from conversation with Cicero and settled on Caelius Rufus and the small group accompanying him at the bottom of the steps.
“The date for the trial has been set” Cicero announced, as he left the staircase of the curia and alighted in the forum once more. “We have been most fortunate, not the least because of the political weight that our friend here carries.”
Caelius, between Fronto and Crispus, nodded with a mix of eagerness and fear. He had succumbed recently to bouts of mad depression, contemplating the seriousness of his situation, and Fronto was starting to worry about the man.
Crassus nodded toward his companion.
“Cicero is too generous with his praise. The Clodii pushed for as early a trial as the senate would allow, since their evidence is vague and tenebrous at best. Far better would it be for them to push the accusations before we have a chance to put together a solid defence.”
“We?” Caelius frowned.
“Yes” Cicero smiled. “Crassus here has agreed to stand as co-advocate for your trial. The good news is that we have persuaded the senate that an early trial would likely lead to misrepresentation and false information. We have managed not only to get the date set back to the beginning of Aprilis, giving us over a month to put your case together, but also to have the proceedings moved to the privacy of the Basilica Aemilia which will be closed for the session, rather than a public trial.”
Fronto frowned and cast his gaze around the square casually, heaving a sigh of relief as he spotted Galronus, arms folded, leaning on the inscribed panel above the lacus Curtius, three of the hired hands close by. Priscus stood on the steps of the temple of Concord, his eyes continually strafing the forum for anything out of the ordinary, a small party of men at his shoulders.
“You’d best make the case tighter than a Greek’s arse” he stated emphatically. “Someone is very definitely out to remove Caelius from the picture. We’ve stopped half a dozen attempts on his life in the past two weeks. Another month? His chances diminish with each week, so make that time count.”
Crassus nodded in a vague recognition to Fronto. The legate couldn’t remember when he’d met the man before, but clearly Crassus recognised him.
“Keep him safe. The continued situation here appears to be driving a wedge between Clodius and his sister, and a disorganised opposition is always to be commended.” The statesman narrowed his eyes at Fronto. “Do you have any idea when Caesar plans to return to Rome or what his plans are?”
Fronto paused for just a moment, contemplating whether it would be prudent to disseminate such information.
“The general should be here in weeks at the latest. I’ve no idea what his plans are from there, but campaigning season’s almost here and knowing the old bas… knowing the general, he’ll have engineered some incursion by ice monsters from the north or some such for us to go and fight for the glory of… Rome.”
Crassus gave him a curious lop-sided smile.
“Caesar
