After The Ides (Caesar's Spies Thriller Book 2)

by Peter Tonkin

  ‘By way of answer, Casca called something in Greek. I suppose it was a cry for help because the other Casca, Gaius, came to his brother’s aid. For he too was very close beside Caesar. And still at his left shoulder. Caesar let go of the stabbed arm and half-turned, rising to his feet at last. The golden curule chair fell off the back of the dais. Gaius Casca pushed the little work table aside and came right up to him. And drove his dagger in under Caesar’s ribs straight up into his chest.’

  ‘That was the blow Antistius the physician said was the fatal one,’ nodded Artemidorus grimly. ‘None of the others were deadly in themselves…’

  Enobarbus nodded too, his expression grim. ‘Go on, boy. Who attacked next?’

  ‘Cassius,’ answered Adonis. ‘Caesar tore free of Publius Casca, but kept hold of Gaius Casca’s arm, almost as though he was using the murderer as a crutch to keep himself erect as they staggered together down onto the floor of the Curia itself. Even though Gaius Casca’s dagger was still buried in Caesar’s side.’

  ‘Making sure there were no more up-and-under strokes…’ suggested Artemidorus knowledgeably. ‘Especially if he was facing Cassius. He’s a real soldier. Knows his pugio dagger-work. Expert, in fact, with pugio and gladius. And Caesar would have known that. Besides, the moment Gaius’ dagger came out, so would Caesar’s blood. And he’d weaken pretty quickly after that.’

  ‘Good point,’ allowed Enobarbus grimly. ‘And Gaius Casca would have been a useful shield for his vulnerable left side as well. That’s possibly why most of the rest of the wounds were in the head, shoulder and arm on the right side. Go on, boy,’ he repeated. ‘What next?’

  ‘Still holding onto Gaius Casca, Caesar stumbled forward. Cassius was there just beyond the edge of the dais. He stepped in and he stabbed Caesar in the face. Caesar saw the blade coming and turned away. Even so, Cassius opened him up from his hairline to his chin. Cut his eyebrow open to the bone. Nose and cheek. But missed his mouth. Caesar barged past him, staggering. Dragging Gaius Casca along as he moved. Then the rest closed round him and it’s a little more difficult to be precise. Caesar was calling “Adiuva me! Help me!” and “Proditio! Treachery, treason!” In spite of the wound to his face, his voice and words were quite clear. There must have been six hundred senators there. And not one of them raised a finger. Quite the opposite. Most of them were heading for the door. In case they were next on the murderers’ list after Caesar, I suppose.’

  ‘It’s a wonder you could still see what was happening with all that panic, hustle and bustle going on,’ probed Enobarbus.

  ‘Oh, they stayed well clear of the assassins,’ explained Adonis. ‘It was as though Brutus, Cassius and the rest had some kind of plague. There was a clear area all around them and I was standing up by then of course. And all alone, as a matter of fact. The other secretaries and the men keeping the water clocks had all taken off like frightened hares. So. The next thing I saw was Senator Bucolianus, Senator Caecilius’ brother, coming round behind Caesar and stabbing him in the back. The rest closed in, stabbing him in the arm, head and shoulder. I think one or two of them wounded Gaius Casca into the bargain for Caesar was still using him as a shield. He stopped calling out for help. They were stabbing so wildly that they began to wound each other as well as Caesar and Gaius Casca. Marcus Brutus tried to join in but Cassius stabbed him right through the hand and he fell back. Minucius Basilus also missed Caesar and stabbed Rubrius Ruga in the thigh. There was blood everywhere.

  ‘Caesar, blinded by the blood from the wound in the face that Cassius had given him, did not see Marcus Brutus, though they were almost nose to nose. Still leaning on Gaius Casca, he dashed his right hand down his face and cleared his vision for a few moments, swinging round again. It was then, as I told you earlier, he recognised Decimus Brutus Albinus. He said, “You too, Brutus?” Decimus Albinus was getting ready with an answer. A sneering one judging from his face. But someone slipped in the blood and rolled across the floor, distracting him. I couldn’t see who it was too clearly, but I’m almost certain it was Minucius Basilus, still staggering back having stabbed Rubrius Ruga. I’d been watching Basilus because he looked as though he was really enjoying himself. In a sick sort of way. Even when he stabbed the wrong man.

  ‘Senator Pontius Aquila helped Basilus up again and tried to stop him attacking Caesar once more. For it was clear by now that the poor man was dying. But Basilus tore free and went back onto the attack. Stabbing Caesar in the back once more before he went to join the others standing silently, looking on. So then, at the end, when they had all stabbed Caesar at least once and began to fall back, Marcus Brutus came forward a second time. That’s when Caesar saw him and said, “Kai su teknon? You too, my son?” He said it loudly. Angrily. He was not saddened or defeated. He was outraged. He almost shouted the words as though he wanted everyone there to hear them clearly.

  ‘And Brutus stabbed him in the groin. A low blow, curving upwards almost from his knees. There was no doubt in my mind that he was aiming for his genitals. That he was aiming to emasculate him. For Caesar had, as everyone knows, been sleeping with Brutus’ mother throughout the whole of Brutus’ life. But the word “teknon” son, seemed to hit him like a blow. And by then in any case, Gaius Casca had finally pulled himself away and Caesar was beginning to collapse. There was a great cascade of blood as Gaius tore his dagger free. And that rush of blood was enough to make Caesar stagger and begin to crumble. So Brutus’ dagger went into his hip as much as into his groin and wedged there. It tore out of Brutus’ grip as Caesar turned away, beginning to collapse at last. I think he groaned, as I have told you. But he said nothing further. He staggered a step or two as his murderers stood back, apparently overawed by what they had done. Then Caesar finally fell at the foot of Pompey’s statue. And they turned and ran like a flock of birds all taking flight at once. Caesar was writhing and twitching weakly as he finally succumbed. Trying to make sure his toga covered him properly and decently at the moment of his death.’

  ‘That’s Caesar all right,’ nodded Enobarbus. ‘Always careful of appearances.’

  ‘Right to the very end,’ Artemidorus nodded. ‘Like Leonidas and his three hundred Spartans oiling their hair at Thermopylae… Go on boy. What next?’

  ‘He stopped twitching and lay still and that was that. The Curia was empty and strangely silent. Everyone else had run away. And I thought I’d better get out of there myself. That’s when we saw each other, Centurion. Me on the way out of that slaughterhouse. You on the way in.’

  iv

  ‘So,’ said Antony sometime later. ‘Of the so-called Libertores, who are twenty-two in number, not counting their hangers-on, we now have a shortlist of twelve.’ The three men and Fulvia were in the atrium of Antony’s house. Adonis and Venus were in the culina kitchen with Ferrata and Hercules keeping an eye on them. Waiting in case Antony wanted to question them in person. Quintus was on his way back to the VIIth. Spurinna was taking auguries at the altar on the Field of Mars with Kyros in attendance, having left Puella at home. And Antistius had gone back to his villa where several patients and a good number of clients were waiting. The three men and one woman were seated around the table Antony liked to use when holding meetings and formulating plans. A large amphora of wine in a holder and a big jug of water stood in the middle of the table. The one half empty and the other untouched. Of the four green glass goblets there, only one was wet.

  ‘In the order of their involvement as detailed by our witness. Yes,’ Artemidorus answered his general. ‘There’s a group of ten or so that the boy Adonis did not see clearly enough to name individually. But we know who they are from our own observations of who went up to the Temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus Capitolinus on the Ides. Waving their daggers, showing off their bloodstained hands and boasting about their deed.’

  ‘But the boy has given us twelve names in precise order,’ Fulvia said. Her tone placing the words halfway between a statement and a question.

  ‘Blow by blow,�
� nodded Enobarbus grimly.

  Antony put down his goblet and held out his hand. Artemidorus passed him the papyrus scroll onto which Adonis had written the names of the men he had identified. In the order those names appeared in his account of the murder. As written on the wax tablets. And sealed in case it ever came to a law case. The three men discussed them as Antony read them aloud. Fulvia inserting her observations as the conference proceeded.

  ‘Decimus Albinus and Gaius Trebonius were first on my list too,’ said the general. ‘So it’s good to see them first and second here. When it eventually comes to spiking heads in the Forum, theirs will be well ahead of the others.’ He chuckled at his play on words. No one else did.

  ‘Yes, General,’ nodded Enobarbus. ‘You have made your wishes on that score clear.’

  ‘Good,’ said Antony. ‘Then who’s next?’ There was a short pause, then he continued. ‘Not that it much matters who heads up the list,’ Antony tried for a laugh again. With no success.

  ‘The heads belonging to the Casca brothers, perhaps,’ suggested Enobarbus. ‘Publius – who struck the first blow. And Gaius – who struck the fatal one.’

  ‘I’ve heard a rumour that Publius Casca contacted Cicero a while ago – a bit like Decimus Albinus,’ said Antony, giving up on witticism for the moment. ‘He wants the old windbag to put a case together distancing him from the Libertores and the murder itself. Publius apparently says he’s not guilty of anything. Because his dagger missed Caesar in the first instance. And after he was stabbed through the arm he took no further part in the attack. None of the twenty-three wounds was actually made by him. Though in my opinion, even Cicero will find it hard to make a decent defence out of that.’

  ‘Won’t stop him trying, though, if things get any worse for the so-called Libertores,’ said Enobarbus cynically. ‘Publius Casca will just be the first among many to desert when the going gets hard. And, talking of Cicero, there’s still no legal ruling on Brutus and the patricide charge is there? It’s been a while. And I hear Cicero’s left the city…’

  Everyone around the table shook their heads. Enobarbus paused for a moment, frowning, then asked, ‘Who’s next on the list?’

  ‘Cassius,’ Artemidorus answered. ‘Really and truly, he should be first in the file, General. He’s the main motivator of the whole thing. He was the one who really hated Caesar. Possibly for something as petty as being passed over for the post of praetor urbanus chief judge in the city, when Caesar gave it to Brutus. Praetor peregrinus chief judge outside the city and the promise of Proconsul of Syria were just not enough to satisfy him. And he’s a good soldier. Outstandingly good, in fact. He led ten thousand out of the slaughterhouse at Carrhae when Marcus Licinius Crassus lost seven legions, his son and his head to the Parthians.’

  ‘A defeat which Caesar should be marching to avenge even now,’ said Antony quietly, picking up his goblet. ‘We even discussed his battle plan and how he was going to do it.’

  ‘But just as Cassius – and Cicero – wanted you to be slaughtered alongside Caesar, so we need to get rid of Cassius as quickly as possible,’ said Fulvia, her voice trembling with outrage.

  Artemidorus nodded his agreement. ‘He’s the only one of them who has the ability not only to build an army but to deploy it in the field against you, General. Brutus, Trebonius and Decimus Albinus are all good. But they’re not in Cassius’ league. If it was up to me, his head would be the first one spiked in the Forum. When the time comes, as the Lady Fulvia says.’

  ‘That’s where our hands are tied for the moment,’ said Antony, with a frown of frustration. Finding his goblet empty, he reached for the amphora. He grunted with the effort of lifting it. Poured carefully. Replaced it in its stand. Glanced at the water. Looked away. Drank the thick, dark liquid neat. Then continued. ‘Any action against Cassius or Brutus would do as much damage as taking the head of Cicero himself. Which the Lady Fulvia is also keen for me to do, incidentally. But I can’t. Yet. The Senate would proscribe us all. Declare us hostis outlaws and enemies of the state. And that would mean the confiscation of all our moneys and assets. Villas. Everything. Put our families out onto the street or make them reliant on the generosity of those few friends willing to risk contamination by associating with us.’ He looked at Fulvia for several heartbeats. Then added, ‘Not to mention putting us personally at the top of everyone else’s kill list.’

  v

  ‘Better get back to our own kill list then,’ suggested Artemidorus. ‘It was more brothers next, wasn’t it? Bucolianus and Caecilius. Senators. Not really notable for anything else. Other than being friends of Cicero.’

  ‘I’ll put signs up saying who they were when I display their heads,’ said Antony. ‘But the first ones that go up must be easily recognisable. I want people to see them and say, “Look, that’s Gaius Trebonius… He took Antony aside while Caesar was being slaughtered…” Knowing whose head it is and why it’s there is the whole, entire point!’

  ‘On the other hand, we could make Cicero stand beneath them and explain who they were to passers-by,’ suggested Fulvia acrimoniously. ‘He’d make an excellent praeco town crier announcing all the news as well.’

  ‘And upcoming events,’ added Antony, matching her tone. ‘Such as his own imminent execution.’

  Artemidorus and Enobarbus exchanged glances. Under his wife’s bitter influence, the general’s mood was darkening dangerously. This was what they feared and hoped to avoid by bringing the list themselves and keeping Adonis the witness out of the picture for the moment. For Antony in one of his rages could be fatally unpredictable. Only Fulvia could control him then. Or Cleopatra. But one of them was in Alexandria and the other seemed set on making things worse instead of better.

  ‘Minucius Basilus is next,’ said the spy grimly. ‘He’s top of my personal hit list. He tortured my friend Telos to death and turned Cyanea into a double agent by threatening to torture her as well. He enjoys making people scream and suffer. It’s something I’d like to see if he enjoyed himself. Screaming and suffering…’

  ‘I’d heard Trebonius likes the sound of suffering too,’ said Antony, distracted. ‘And the sight of it apparently arouses him.’

  ‘If you want details of that, all you have to do is ask Venus and Adonis,’ said Artemidorus. ‘I’m sure they’d be happy to describe all his little predilections.’

  Antony gave a grunt. ‘Who’s next?’ he scanned the list. ‘Pontius Aquila! Now he and Caesar did have some history. Do you remember when Pontius refused to stand as Caesar went by at… oh which of the triumphs was it?… And for weeks afterwards, every decision Caesar made was capped with the words, if Pontius Aquila will allow me…’ His chuckles grew deeper. His mood was lightening. ‘Made a laughing stock of the pompous little nothus bastard. Well, that only leaves one name on your secretary’s list,’ he said.

  ‘Marcus Junius Brutus,’ nodded Artemidorus.

  ‘Brutus has the respect of the populous,’ emphasised Fulvia shortly. ‘He’s dangerously popular. Men like that should be among the first to die! Him and Cassius.’

  ‘And, as we keep saying, General, Cassius is one of the few men able to raise an army and bring it to the field against you. There is no end to how dangerous he is.’

  ‘But as long as he stands with Brutus, he has the love of the plebs and the protection of the Senate. I cannot proscribe him. I cannot have him killed by my secret agents and assassins. Even if he was struck down by the gods themselves, his death would be laid at my door. No. We need to watch. Watch and wait. For Cicero’s ruling if for nothing else…’

  ‘Where are Brutus and Cassius now?’ demanded Fulvia suddenly. ‘I know their villas in the city are closed. But they must be somewhere…’

  Enobarbus glanced at Artemidorus. ‘Septem?’

  ‘The most recent intelligence we have,’ said the spy, ‘is that they are both staying at Cassius’ villa in Antium. It’s a big place by all accounts. Plenty of room for the two of them, their families and s
laves. Overlooking the sea. Thirty military miles or so due south of here. A day’s march. Straight down the Via Appia.’

  ‘Have you got eyes on all of them?’ Fulvia demanded.

  ‘Not all of them,’ answered Artemidorus. ‘Only the important ones. The ones with disaffected or bribeable slaves. The ones that are the subject of gossip in the Forum. Decimus Albinus is still in his city villa, surrounded by his gladiators – in spite of the message you sent him, General. Cicero is in Puetoli. I guess he plans to stay for a while. Maybe until Ludi Megaleses are over in mid Aprilis. He doesn’t approve of the riotous games that are part of the festival. He’ll likely head back here from Puetoli then. That’s a three-day journey. Still straight along the Via Appia. Minucius Basilus is down there too. But on the far side of Neapolis and Monte Vesuvio. He has a big place in Pompeii.’

  ‘Now that’s a town I’d like to visit,’ said Antony, apparently oblivious to the glare Fulvia shot at him. ‘No end of a good time to be had in Pompeii I hear. Wall-to-wall women and all of them wild and willing…’

  We’ve lost sight of Trebonius, however,’ concluded Artemidorus. ‘But I’m fairly certain Venus or Adonis will have a good idea where he’s headed. I just haven’t asked them yet.’

  vi

  ‘Pompeii,’ purred Venus. Her tone was calm. Measured. Her gaze level and steady. If she was nervous being questioned by the most powerful man in the world she did not show it. Not even Fulvia’s steely glances seemed to discomfit her. She was clearly used to being looked at. In a range of ways. Artemidorus was impressed. And a little disturbed. This was a woman who liked to live dangerously. She reminded him of Cyanea.

  ‘Pompeii again,’ said Antony thoughtfully, swirling the thick dark wine in his goblet. ‘Does Gaius Trebonius own property there, girl?’

  ‘No, Lord Antony. He is staying with Minucius Basilus. Basilus owns a large villa in Pompeii. I believe it looks out over the bay beside Neapolis. My master often visits there.’