'It is agreed then. My cousin will persuade Caesar to attend the Senate, and then he'll also distract Antonius,' said Marcus Brutus, pressing on. 'When the tyrant enters, Cimber will approach him first, imploring clemency for his brother. The rest of us will close in, adding to the clamour.'

'What signal should we use for it to begin?' asked Longinus. 'A special word, perhaps?'

'I'll pull his toga off his shoulder,' announced Casca, a stout man with a red face. 'To give us more of a target.'

Growls of approval left the nobles' throats. Euphoric that her long-held dream was about to be realised, Fabiola closed her eyes and thanked Mithras and Jupiter from the bottom of her heart. Mother will be avenged. Tomorrow.

What of Romulus, her inner voice suddenly asked. What if he's right and you're not?

Ruthlessly, Fabiola shoved the thought away. She would countenance only one possibility: Caesar was the guilty one, and tomorrow he would pay.

Chapter XXVII: The Ides of March

At first Romulus thought he would go straight to the Lupanar to have it out with Fabiola. After his initial shock had abated, a cold fury had swept his soul at her boldness. He had to admit that it was unsurprising that his sister had the courage to carry on with her plan. Their mother had to have been immensely strong to survive the life of torment she'd led, and her blood flowed in Fabiola's veins just as it did in his. Velvinna had been trying to do her best for them, and Romulus doubted that he could have endured what she had. Yet his twin had done so for years by constantly having sex with men against her will. Fabiola had eventually done well from prostitution, but that didn't mean that it hadn't caused her irreparable damage. Maybe that was where her ruthless streak came from. Plotting her revenge must have been the only way Fabiola had managed to survive, Romulus concluded.

In his mind, it still didn't excuse planning to murder the Republic's leader. Without Caesar admitting to Velvinna's rape, how could Fabiola really know? She couldn't, and Romulus simply wasn't prepared to murder a man on a hunch, especially when it was the person who had granted him manumission. If at all possible, he wasn't going to let his sister and a gang of disgruntled nobles do so either.

Romulus decided that it was too risky approaching Fabiola at this late stage. If she was prepared to take the final step of killing Caesar, then she wouldn't let him stop her. The heavies outside the Lupanar didn't give a damn who he was. He didn't want to end up with his throat slit. Damping down his anger, Romulus resolved to take Tarquinius' advice and visit Caesar's palatial domus early the next morning. He would make no mention of Fabiola. Romulus didn't want his twin executed. He would deal with her later himself.

Returning to the veterans' residence, he went looking for Secundus. The one-armed ex-soldier was the Pater of the Mithraeum, which meant that he was the leader of more than fifty hardbitten men who'd served in the legions for many years. In his brief time there, Romulus had come to like the pensive, middle-aged figure who often listened rather than spoke. When Secundus did open his mouth, his words were invariably wise, which reminded him of Tarquinius. Romulus had not been surprised to find that the two knew each other from the past. He found Secundus in the large courtyard, enjoying the watery spring sunshine.

'Well met.' Secundus smiled. 'Is Tarquinius with you?'

'No,' Romulus replied awkwardly. 'I left him at the temple on the Capitoline.'

Secundus raised an eyebrow.

Romulus let it all out. Seeing the hen's blood and feathers moving east, but learning little else from it. The kid he'd bought. Tarquinius' alarm at what he saw in its liver.

Secundus sat bolt upright. 'The danger to Caesar is real?'

'Tarquinius thinks so. It is to happen at the Senate tomorrow,' Romulus muttered. 'I'm not going to stand by and let it happen. Caesar has to be warned.'

'He needs protection too,' growled Secundus. 'What was he thinking to disband those Spanish bodyguards?'

'That's why I came to you,' said Romulus. 'I thought perhaps your men could help.'

'Of course.'

Greatly relieved, Romulus sat for some time, discussing with Secundus the best ways to deploy the ex-soldiers the next morning. Finally they decided that surrounding the dictator's litter the moment he arrived would be the safest option. Their mere presence and determination would unsettle, or even put off, the conspirators. If they attacked regardless, they would pay a bloody price with little chance of success. Politicians could not fight army veterans.

Tarquinius returned some time later, prompting Romulus to wonder if he'd seen anything else in the kid's organs. A monumental wave of shame struck him as he thought of Brennus, whom he'd forgotten during the drama. A muttered conversation with the haruspex revealed that he had discerned no more of interest. This did little to ease Romulus' guilt about neglecting to ask about the big Gaul, but he had to put it aside. What was going to happen tomorrow outweighed all else.

'Are you all right?' Tarquinius' scarred face was concerned.

Romulus didn't want to talk. 'I need a good night's sleep, that's all.'

'You're still going to warn Caesar?'

'Of course,' he snapped. 'Wouldn't you?'

Tarquinius shook his head. 'It is not for me to interfere with another's destiny. Besides, Rome did too many terrible things to my people for me to help it now.'

'That was hundreds of years ago.'

'I have a direct link with the past,' said Tarquinius sadly. 'It is thanks to the Romans that I am the last haruspex.'

'Of course. I apologise,' Romulus muttered, his understanding of his friend's hatred of Rome deepening. Yet, despite his strong feelings, the haruspex was making no effort to stop him warning Caesar, which proved he was staying true to his beliefs. In turn, this strengthened Romulus' desire to do the same. Thinking of Caesar, Fabiola and his relationship with them both, he was startled by Tarquinius' next words.

'You could use your own powers to divine the matter.'

'No,' said Romulus, hating the fact that his refusal would cause Tarquinius pain. 'I'm sorry. Predicting the future is not for me.'

Tarquinius smiled in acceptance. 'A man can only be what he is meant to be. Kind. Loyal and courageous. A true soldier. That is more than enough.'

Embarrassed but proud, Romulus threw him a grateful look. He would follow his heart then. Tomorrow he would warn Caesar, and prevent his murder. Then he would have it out with Fabiola. Despite her actions, Romulus did not want the bad blood between them to continue.

What if she's right, though, his inner voice asked. If Caesar raped your mother, does he not deserve to die?

He didn't do it, thought Romulus fiercely. He's not that type of man.

Keeping this uppermost in his mind, he took his leave of Tarquinius and Secundus. Finding Mattius outside the door of the domus like a faithful puppy, Romulus asked him to return at dawn the next day. The urchin clearly knew nothing of what the haruspex had seen, so Romulus glossed over the matter, saying that he had left because he was feeling unwell. The revelation needed to remain top secret, and while Mattius was loyal, he was still only a boy.

After a brief and uneventful visit to the Mithraeum, Romulus retired to his small room. Afternoon had passed, and night was falling. It was time to get what rest he could before the morning.

The Ides of March. Romulus' dreams were vivid and disquieting. Caesar, Fabiola and Tarquinius featured in a variety of violent and distorted sequences that had him tossing and turning all night. Drenched in sweat when he awoke, Romulus could not remember a single detail, just the identities of those he'd encountered. Normally, he would have asked Tarquinius about the nightmares, but not today. Thoroughly unsettled, he went outside to see what time it was. It was still dark, but the cobbled courtyard was already full of Secundus' men, readying themselves for combat. Wearing mail for protection under their cloaks, they had discarded their bronze-bowl crested helmets and heavy scuta in favour of remaining inconspicuous.