To defend her, either he had to persuade Caesar to forget about her, or he had to remove Caesar, which effectively meant, leading a revolt. What did organizing a revolt mean? In the first place, it meant turning his back on the prophecy, for he was supposed to be loyal, and not return to Rome until it was in ruins. That last bit was ridiculous, so the prophecy was ridiculous. This was getting him nowhere. Suppose there were a revolt?
The mathematics were reasonably simple. For a revolt to be successful, at least eight legions had to be behind it, and at least half of the rest sympathetic. The sympathetic criterion might be met, for the legions in the East knew him, but the fact of the matter was, in a matter such as this he might not even command is own legion. Caesar's plan of moving commanders around had a lot of sense. Stories of Gaius Caesar's cruelty and arrogance were rife, while the stories of random arrests and executions had many senior commanders worried, but on the other hand, as far as he could tell, many of these stories were just that: stories. The little he had heard from ordinary citizens in Rome was that Gaius Caesar was extremely popular, and when you looked closely at the number of executions, and took out those ordered by the Senate, the actual number of executions ordered by Caesar was remarkably small.
The problem appeared to be localized within the senatorial class. One of the most remarkable things about modern Rome was that few of the commanders wanted to return to Rome to advance their careers. The further you were away, the better, and while it was quite likely that all the commanders would privately be pleased to see the end of Gaius Caesar, individually they were helpless. There was no way to get the Legates together without appearing to be plotting, and that meant a return to Rome for execution.
There was a further point. Legions fought for their commander when the commander had been brilliantly successful. Julius Caesar crossed the Rubicon with battle-hardened legions filled with men who owed their very prosperity to Caesar, and who owed their lives to Caesar's brilliance in command. Sulla was effectively in the same position. Gaius Caesar was safe because there were no such successful commanders. Since the Varus disaster, Roman expansion had stopped. There was, however, the possibility that Gaius Caesar did not realize that.
A thought then struck him. The situation must be extraordinarily bad when he, a member of one of Rome's most privileged families, a man with a most promising future and with everything to lose, was contemplating a revolt. Not only that, but personal ambition had absolutely nothing to do with it. He knew he was ordinarily ridiculed, behind his back, for his loyalty to Gaius Caesar, and in the usual sense he was loyal. The problem was, Little Boots was so arrogant, and he was ruining Rome. Why should any woman have to be summoned? For what? He knew what Vipsania feared, but was that true? And what about Vipsania? Would he stand back, a spineless coward, and let all this happen? But what could he do, against a man with infinite power?
Timothy came into his quarters, shook the snow off his coat, and began standing in front of a log fire. Timothy was about to say something, then saw Gaius' dark expression, and flinched back.
"Timothy, my friend," Gaius said wearily, "I think you might find me unsuitable as a companion, and maybe you might wish to go some other way. I promise you, I understand."
"Gaius, what's wrong?"
"What's wrong?" Gaius asked bleakly. "What's wrong is quite simple. There is something very wrong about to happen, and I have to do something to stop it, or at least try. I probably will not survive, and neither will those around me."
"Then I shall stay with you," Timothy smiled, "although," he added, "logic tells me I should have my bags packed for a fast escape."
Gaius gave a wan smile and said, "It sounds as if logic offers wise counsel."
Chapter 10
There was nothing for it but to go back. He could not leave her that way, and fortunately he had an excuse. In two days time the feast of Saturnalia was to commence, and in return for the invitation to Timothy and him to join their family in the celebrations, he had promised to take some supplies. Being eager to please him, the Iazyges had been very willing to sell him some fresh venison, in addition to what they wished to have delivered to their hostage family members. Now was as good a time as any to deliver it, so he loaded the animals onto the back of a cart and set off. It was only when he was half way there he realized the incongruity of what he was doing: people of senatorial class got somebody else to drive around on carts filled with carcasses.
It was only when he arrived that he realized that men of senatorial class do not bang on the servants' door, but neither does a load of carcasses turn up at the main entrance. He smiled a little as he eased the cart around to the rear of the building, and then he realized he was unsure of where exactly to go. He was saved by a young man who ran out, seemingly to get firewood, and who almost collided with the cart. He swore, muttered something about idiots begat of dogs who did not know where they were going or where carts went, then saw Gaius. He fell to his knees, fearfully.
"For goodness sake, get up," Gaius said calmly. "You'll freeze doing that."
"I I'm s sorry. ."
"Forget it!" Gaius said calmly, "but you can do me a favour."
"Sir?"
"Take this venison to the kitchen, would you, and let the cook know it's from me for the Saturnalia."
"Yes sir," the young slave said, and glanced fearfully around.
Gaius understood. The slave had other instructions. "Do this first," he said, "and if anyone questions you, say I ordered it. Anyone who beats you will answer to me, I promise."
"Yes sir." The man was a little more comfortable, but only a little, as Gaius got down from the cart.
"Here's a little something for you," Gaius said, feeling in his pouch. He handed the young man a couple of denarii, and shrugged as he said, "It's a bit early, I suppose, but, well, Io, Saturnalia!"
"Io, Saturnalia!" came the bemused reply. However, the young man was glad. Two denarii were very much better than a beating.
Gaius then walked around toward the main entrance. Unfortunately he was somewhat preoccupied, and he forgot that running away from the corner of the house was a small raised stone fence, now buried in the snow. He was wondering what he could say to Vipsania when his foot caught the fence, he slipped, then began rolling down the slope to end in a snowdrift where the flat garden began. He picked himself up, shook himself, then walked towards the door.
The slave who opened the door gasped at the snow-covered apparition, then called her mistress. A rather foul-mooded Vipsania came to the door to see what was going on, saw Gaius, and laughed, albeit briefly.
"You'd better come in," she said, "at least after you shake off the snow."
"I thought you might like to come for a walk," Gaius said, somewhat stiffly.
"Looking at you, that doesn't seem to be much of an offer," she retorted.
"Please?"
"Then shake off that snow, and wait a little," she said. "If I'm going to go outside with a snowman, I might as well have a coat and boots on."
Eventually she emerged, well wrapped up with furs. He led her down the path, and put his arm around her waste. They walked in silence, until Gaius finally said, "I wanted to talk privately."
"Well?"
"It's about Little Boots. I've thought about this a bit, and. ."
"Gaius! There's no point!" she said, and broke away. "There's nothing even you can do!"
"Maybe not," he replied, "but we can try."
"And what's this plan of yours?"
He held her eyes, shrugged, and said, "Little Boots seemingly wants a virgin. Simply tell him he's too late! You're no longer one."