‘Does this walk have something to do with the message I brought you?’
‘Yes.’
Caesar said nothing else and Silius asked no further questions.
He walked to the temple, immersed in thought. He reached the sanctuary, entered the silent, empty building through a side door and went to sit on a bench set against the perimeter wall to the left of the statue of the goddess. It wasn’t long before the silhouette of a female figure with her head veiled appeared in the entrance. The woman walked straight to the image of Diana: a lovely Greek marble statue that portrayed the goddess in a short tunic, carrying a bow and quiver. The woman placed a few grains of incense in the perfume brazier.
Caesar emerged from the shadows and stood behind a column.
‘Servilia. .’
The woman uncovered her head. She was still stunning, even though she was nearly fifty. Her hips swelled below her high-waisted gown and its low neckline revealed firm, full breasts. Only her face revealed the signs of all the emotions of a troubled life.
‘Who but me?’ she replied. ‘It’s been so long. . I wanted to see you.’
‘Is there something you have to tell me?’
They drew nearer until their faces were so close that their breath mingled.
Servilia hesitated before answering. ‘I wanted to say goodbye, because I didn’t know if I’d see you again. Rumour has it that you’ve drawn up your forces for your expedition to the East. I didn’t know whether I’d see you before you left. You have so many responsibilities. . so many duties, pressing upon you. . so your old friend just wanted to see you, to say farewell.’
Caesar took her hand and stood that way for long moments, as if unwilling to let go. Then he raised his eyes to hers.
‘I’ve stayed away for a long time before and you never felt the need to say goodbye. Why now?’
‘I don’t know. This huge enterprise that you’re taking on, it may keep you away from Rome for many years. Who knows? I’m no longer a young girl. I might not be here when you come back.’
‘Servilia. . why say such a thing? It’s much more likely that something will happen to me than to you. I try to look to the future with serenity, but I’m tormented by such frightful visions. . I feel cold. . and I’m afraid sometimes.’
Servilia drew so close that he could feel her nipples touching his chest.
‘I would like so much to warm you, as I used to do, when you loved me, when you couldn’t stand to be without me, when I was. . your obsession. I’m worried to hear that you’re afraid of leaving for the war. You’ve never felt that way before.’
‘I’m not afraid of leaving. . I’m afraid of not leaving.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘Don’t you, truly?’
Servilia dropped her gaze and fell silent. Caesar’s fingers brushed the big black pearl set between her breasts. A fabulously precious gift that he had given her, worn proudly whenever she was in public, like a soldier flaunting his decorations. He had sent it to her the day he married Calpurnia, to let her know that his passion for her was as strong as ever.
‘I want to go, to leave this city. Rome is against me. She is my enemy.’
Servilia’s eyes were bright with the promise of tears.
‘The greater your power, the more you are envied. The greater your courage, the more you are hated. It’s inevitable. You’ve always won through, Caesar. You’ll win through this time as well.’
She brushed his lips with a kiss and walked towards the door.
‘Wait. .’ The word seemed to escape his lips.
Servilia turned.
‘Is there nothing else you want to tell me?’ asked Caesar.
‘Yes, that I love you. As I always have and as I always will. Good luck, Caesar.’
As she walked away, he leaned his head against a column and let out a deep sigh.
Servilia crossed the threshold into the bright sunlight, tinted golden in the doorway. Her figure was about to dissolve in the rosy glow of the setting sun but she stopped, without turning.
‘Heed the warnings of the gods. Do not ignore them. That’s all I can tell you. Farewell.’
She vanished.
Caesar stood pondering over those words, which sounded so mysterious on Servilia’s lips. She knew how little stock he placed in the gods and in their warnings. What was she trying to tell him?
He left the temple as he had come in, through the side door, and walked towards the Tiber. Servilia had disappeared completely. He couldn’t catch sight of her anywhere. A couple of beggars asked for alms without recognizing him. A dog chased after him for a little while, wagging its tail, then stopped, panting, weak from hunger.
Further up the road on the right, near the banks of the Tiber, stood a sacellum, an old shrine displaying the image of an Etruscan demon, worn with age. As if by magic, as Caesar was approaching a man cloaked in grey emerged from behind the little shrine. He was neither young nor old, his hair was straggly and matted, his sandals unstitched. Jangling metallic discs hung from the cane he held tight in his hand. Caesar recognized him. He was an Etruscan augur, from an ancient, noble family, the Spurinna line. He led a lowly life, scraping by thanks to the offerings of the faithful and those who came to him to learn what the future would bring. Caesar had often seen him attending the ceremonies at which he officiated, when the augur had sometimes been allowed to examine the entrails of the animals killed in sacrifice and to interpret the will of the gods.
He meant to approach him and to greet him, but the man stopped short. He stared at Caesar, his eyes rolling, and hissed, ‘Beware the Ides of March!’
Caesar blurted out, ‘What on earth. .’ but he never finished his question, for Titus Spurinna had already vanished, like a ghost.
Upset by the soothsayer’s words, Caesar wandered the city streets for some time, seeking to understand their meaning, while Silius, troubled by his long absence, was at the Domus Publica, preparing a search party. If anything had happened to Caesar he could never forgive himself.
When he was close to the Tiber Island, Caesar was startled by the blast of a bugle that called him back to the real world: the signal that the first shift was mounting guard at Ninth Legion headquarters. He quickened his pace and soon met up with Silius at the Temple of Saturn, just as his adjutant was about to unleash a thousand men to turn the city upside down.
Calpurnia, who had been told of his return, ran towards him weeping.
Caesar looked around in amazement. ‘What is happening here?’ he said with a tinge of irritation.
‘We feared for your life, commander,’ replied Silius. ‘You were gone too long.’
Caesar did not answer.
In via Flaminia Minore, Caupona ad sandalum Herculis, a.d. IV Id. Mart., ad initium tertiae vigiliae
The Via Flaminia Minor, the Hercules’s Sandal tavern, 12 March, start of the third guard shift, after midnight
The horseman rode up at a brisk pace from the snowy road. He was numb with the cold. There was a vast clearing at the side of the road where a stone house stood, covered with slate roof tiles. A squared-off stone wall enclosed the courtyard and a wooden shed with a lean-to on the right offered shelter for horses and pack animals, on a nice bed of straw. A sign hung over the main entrance with a drawing of the sandal that gave the inn its name. The place seemed deserted. The man dismounted and passed under the torch that lit the entrance, revealing the gaunt face and prickly beard of Publius Sextius, ‘the Cane’. He strained his ears and heard the faint sound of voices and other noises coming from the courtyard.
He tied his horse to an iron ring hanging from the wall and knocked three times on the door with the hilt of his sword. There was no answer, but the door swung open and inside he could see a knot of people gathered around something near the stable. As he got closer he noticed a trickle of clotted blood at their feet, staining the snow that covered the ground.