Fabiola studied Brutus' face intently. Was this finally her time to speak? She'd planted the first seed in his mind after the battle of Pharsalus, but had been unable to capitalise on it since. She had worried that it had withered away and died, but here was the first sign of growth.
'There's a rumour that his dictatorship is to be made permanent. So is his right to the censorship! And, as if all his titles weren't enough, he is to be called "Father of the Country". No ivory chair is good enough either – only a gold one will do now,' Brutus sneered. 'I should have known when he added the pediment and pillars to the front of his house. For Jupiter's sake! Making it look like a temple doesn't turn him into a god. Neither does creating a damn college of priests in his name.'
'Didn't men like Marius, Sulla and Pompey get honoured in this manner?' Fabiola asked, probing the depth of Brutus' anger.
Pure scorn twisted his face. 'No,' he cried. 'They were humble in comparison to Caesar! It's all thanks to the lickspittle senators whom he has appointed too. "Jump," Caesar says, and they reply, "How high?" He respects no one any longer. Having exceeded anything ever awarded to a general, he didn't even get to his feet when we came to tell him. It's not right.'
Delight filled Fabiola. He's really unhappy, she thought. Caesar's recent refusal to stand when the senators arrived to offer him the exceptional honours had offended many. As dictator, Caesar was senior to the two consuls. Technically, therefore, he was not obliged to rise, but by not doing so, he had shown contempt towards the senators in general. This was the second or third time that Brutus had mentioned the incident, and although her stomach was a nervous pool of acid, Fabiola decided to act. If she didn't make a move soon, the chance would be lost. In recent days, Caesar had been talking more and more of his intended campaign to Parthia. While the army of sixteen legions and ten thousand cavalry would take time to assemble, preparations were well in train. 'Do you remember what I said to you once?' she asked softly. 'After Pharsalus.'
Brutus gave her a quizzical look.
'Rome must beware of Caesar.'
His eyes widened as the memory returned. 'Why did you say that?'
'Because he'd won a battle that no one else could have.' Fabiola laughed. 'I had no idea! Gone much further than that, hasn't he? Egypt, Asia Minor, Africa and Spain. Now all these extra powers. Where will it stop? On the banks of the Tigris or Euphrates?'
'You said "Caesar will make himself king",' Brutus muttered.
'He already is, in all but name,' Fabiola retorted. 'We are now his humble subjects.'
His cheeks suffused with fury, and she knew that her barb had run deep. 'You are a wise woman,' he sighed.
Little do you know my reasons, thought Fabiola. I have Mithras to thank for that insight.
'What would you do about it?'
She looked at him calmly. 'There is only one thing to do. Rid Rome of the tyrant before he departs for Parthia.'
There was a long silence, during which Fabiola began to worry that she had overstepped the mark. But she had burned her bridges, so trying to calm her pounding heart, she waited.
'Tyrant? I'd never thought of him like that,' Brutus admitted. 'Yet that's what he's become. It's not as if we can just ask him to retire either. Caesar's not like Sulla: he lives for war.'
Fabiola's hopes slowly began to rise.
There was another pause before Brutus spoke again. 'I can't see any other course of action,' he said heavily. 'It needs to be done in Rome too. No one can touch Caesar in the bosom of his army, and the Parthian campaign will take three years or more.'
Thank you, Mithras, thought Fabiola exultantly. I've convinced him.
'I'll need help. Not to say that I would be scared of acting alone,' he added.
'You don't have to prove your courage to anyone,' Fabiola reassured him.
He gave her a grateful smile. 'Sadly, I already know whom to approach. Servius Galba and Lucius Basilus are both unhappy at the moment. They feel that they've been overlooked while everyone else gets rewarded for their service to Caesar. Caius Trebonius has been complaining too.'
Fabiola felt a thrill of excitement. Two of those mentioned, Galba and Trebonius, had been legates in Caesar's army during the prolonged campaign in Gaul. If they were ready to turn on their master, then it was likely that others would be too. Brutus' next words confirmed this.
'My cousin, Marcus Junius Brutus, would be interested. Not to mention Cassius Longinus.'
Fabiola's spirits soared.
'Have you told Romulus about this?'
Fabiola's mouth opened and closed. 'Yes… I mean… no,' she stuttered.
Brutus frowned. 'Which is it?'
'I might have mentioned it once, in passing,' she muttered, unable to meet his stare.
'And what did he say?' he asked, reaching out to clasp her arm. 'Tell me!'
Fabiola dragged her gaze up to his. She quailed before the look in his eyes. 'He wanted nothing to do with it,' she admitted.
'Your own brother won't get involved,' Brutus said unhappily. 'I can't do it either then. Especially after all Caesar's done for me.'
'I'll win him over,' Fabiola ventured, lying through her teeth. 'Caesar has to be stopped. He's becoming a monster. You know it's true.'
It was as if Brutus hadn't heard her. 'There must be another way.'
Fabiola felt the situation slipping from her grasp.
'I'll pay Caesar a visit,' he declared. 'Talk some sense into him.'
'Have you gone mad?' cried Fabiola, panicking. She didn't want to lose Brutus for a second time. 'Caesar's veiled threats to Pontius Aquila went on for days. Who knows how he'd react to the person who crosses him next?'
'True enough.' Brutus ran a hand through his short brown hair, thinking. 'I must consider the matter further. Make an offering at Mars' temple, asking for guidance.'
'There isn't much time,' Fabiola warned, frustrated by his indecision. 'He's talking about leaving Rome straight after the Ides of March.'
Brutus' expression darkened at her pressure. 'We're talking about the murder of a man here. It's not a matter to be taken lightly.'
'I know, my love,' Fabiola murmured reassuringly. 'Of course you're right.'
To her relief, he relaxed.
Fabiola considered the situation for a moment. I have enough names to go on, she realised. Euphoria filled her. While Brutus vacillated, she would press on. Invite the nobles he'd mentioned to the Lupanar one by one. Win them over, by whatever means necessary.
In time, Brutus would come to see that killing Caesar was the only option.
Even if he didn't, the information he'd let slip gave Fabiola enough to act alone. Which was what she'd do. This was too good an opportunity to miss. If she didn't act soon, there wouldn't be another chance for years.
She was prepared to wait no longer.
Whatever the risk.
Chapter XXVI: The Plot
Just over three months pass… The Capitoline Hill, Rome, spring 44 BC Romulus glanced sidelong at Tarquinius, trying to judge his mood. With Mattius in tow, they were climbing the Capitoline Hill, intent on visiting the enormous temple to Jupiter there. Numerous attempts by the haruspex to read the future in the Mithraeum had failed, frustrating them both. Something momentous was approaching, Tarquinius said over and over, but he wasn't sure what. Today, no effort would be spared. Still scarred by his own vision in Margiana, Romulus refused to consider the idea that he might try. Yet he needed to know so many things, and it felt as if time was running out. Recently, his suspicions had been roused by the knowledge that a large group of men were holding regular meetings in the Lupanar. Detailing Mattius to sit outside each day, Romulus had soon learned that scores of nobles were involved, including prominent politicians such as Marcus Brutus and Cassius Longinus. Tellingly, the urchin had not seen Decimus Brutus, Fabiola's lover, which told Romulus that he wasn't the only one to have reservations. This knowledge angered him even more.