“However this turns out,” Julia said, “I am going to write to Caesar this evening. He has to know what is going on behind his back here in Rome.”
“Probably a good idea,” I agreed. “But I have a feeling that very little goes on in Rome that Caesar doesn’t know about. I assisted him with his correspondence back at the beginning of the war, remember? He has more friends sending him news and gossip than Cicero. But do go ahead. It will at least set his mind at ease about us. I’ll send him a full report after I’ve wrapped up this business.”
“Why, Decius!” Julia said happily. “I believe this is the first time you’ve acknowledged that Caesar is the real authority in Rome.”
“It seems inevitable now,” I admitted. “I’ve seen too much of the quality of the men ranged against him. Don’t celebrate prematurely though. By the time I write that report, I’ll be praetor, or I’ll be in exile. The first prospect is the ideal one; the second is better than the third.”
“What is the third?” Callista asked.
“Third, I’ll be dead and won’t get a chance to write the report.”
For a while we discussed my best course of action. I was to go on trial in the morning and we went over my defense, the most likely attacks I would face, and my best counterattacks. Julia’s mind for this sort of political-judicial warfare was as fine as that of any professional lawyer in Rome. She lacked only the rhetorical training to be a first-rate advocate. That, and the fact that women couldn’t argue in court.
It was well past dusk when Hermes arrived.
“Where have you been?” I demanded.
“Finding people. We’ve come to escort you home.” He was quite unabashed, and I didn’t feel like berating him as he deserved. Besides, he usually knew what he was doing.
“Who is we?” I asked.
“Some friends.”
Julia and I rose. “Callista,” I said to the Alexandrian, “I cannot thank you enough. I sought an advisor and found a friend. If all goes well tomorrow and the next day, I shall be one of next year’s praetors. It may be that I will be praetor peregrinus, in charge of cases involving resident aliens. If in that office or in any other way I can be of assistance to you, please do not hesitate to call upon me.”
Julia gave her a parting embrace. “My husband is not always perfectly rational, but he means that. And please don’t wait to have some sort of problem to call on us.”
“Just knowing that I have the friendship of the two of you is more than adequate recompense for this small service, which truly was not a service but a pleasure. The thrill of intellectual accomplishment is its own recompense.”
We stepped outside into the dimness. “What a gracious lady,” Julia said. “For once I can only commend your judgment in seeking out a foreign woman.”
“That’s good of you, my sweet. Hermes, who are all these men?” I could just make out the forms of some twenty or thirty men crowding the street. One held a small torch that did not yield enough light to reveal more than that. The others brought out torches and ignited them from that one. Soon I could see an abundance of military belts and high-strapped, hobnailed military boots, and men with hard limbs and harder faces, all deeply tanned.
“Evening, Senator, my lady,” said young Burrus, decurio of the Tenth Legion.
“Hermes, I can’t have this!” I protested. “These are all Caesar’s men! I won’t have people thinking I’m taking Caesar’s side against the others, that I’m—” I mumbled the last few words because Julia placed her fingers across my lips.
“Decius,” she said, “be quiet.”
“You put him up to this!” I said, astonished.
“I didn’t have to. We discussed how to keep you from getting yourself killed with this absurd neutrality, and Hermes suggested this. I concurred.”
“The time is past for neutrality,” Hermes told me, this boy who used to carry my bath implements and run my errands. “Let people say what they will. These men are here by their own choice whether you want them or not, and they will keep you safe in spite of yourself until this business is over. Remember, in the City they aren’t Caesar’s soldiers, they are citizens and voters and they can do as they like.”
I sighed, knowing defeat when it was staring me in the face. I was as much in Caesar’s camp now as if I had been in his army in Gaul.
“Let’s go home,” I said.
13
WE LEFT MY HOUSE IN THE PEARLY light of earliest dawn. When I stepped from my gate onto the street, it was already packed with my supporters. The occasion was too serious and solemn for a cheer, but I heard a collective murmur of approbation from them.