Free Augustus by Allan Massie Page B

recognized you. Why haven't you brought Marcellus?'
    'Staff duties,' I said.
    'Pig.'
    'Besides,' I said, 'if you think I've changed, well, it seems to me that marriage has changed you. I don't really feel you are my sister when I see you playing his wife. That's really why I found him staff duties to-day, I'm jealous. How's Mother?'
    'Preparing the banquet.'
    'You should have stopped her. I can't eat banquet food. You know that. Anyway I haven't time.'
    'Just you try stopping her. How's our stepfather?'
    'Prosy, apprehensive and a damned bore. This time tomorrow I'll be consul. You know that, don't you? But he's still afraid we'll get our throats cut. It's incredible. Still, he's been very useful, that's got to be said.'
    'Him useful? I make a rude gesture to that.'
    'It's true, sis. You see he's invaluable in council. Nobody wants to be associated with him, so I've only to invite him to speak first, which I invariably do of course out of my respect for our relationship and his grey hairs . . .'
    'And his fat belly.'
    'Yes of course, and his fat belly - how could I forget the famous belly - well, I've only to do that to make quite certain that everyone else proposes more or less what 1 want, since
    that's bound to be the exact opposite of what old Flutter-fingers has advocated. Oh yes, I'll be able to tell Mamma her man has been invaluable.'
    'She won't care, she'll know you're mocking him and pulling her leg, but she won't care. She's really proud, you know. She keeps saying you've proved you're a true Julian.'
    I looked out into the summer sky where a hawk hovered, then dropped sheer on its prey.
    'No,' I said, 'she's wrong there. I shall never be a real Julian.'
    I couldn't avoid the banquet, though I managed to excuse myself from eating the lake fish on the grounds that it would make me bilious in the hot weather. Before I left my mother said to me: 'Remember, Brutus and Cassius live.'
    * * *
    Cicero met me at the gates of the city. There had come first a crowd of senators few of whom I knew even by sight. Most of them tried to smile; sullenness and fear showed through however. I used Philippus and Marcellus to mingle among them. 'Be affable,' I said. I plucked Salvidienus by the sleeve. 'There are some of your family here, aren't there?' 'My two brothers'; he flushed as if my question indicated distrust of his absolute loyalty. 'Do pray introduce me,' I said. He complied with an ill grace, and his brothers looked sheepish as men do who have backed the defeated side. I urged them to regard me as their friend, but I could see they were enviously counting the years between us.
    A hush fell on the assembly, broken only by a high-pitched giggle - Maecenas of course. I looked round for explanation. An ornate purple-canopied litter was emerging from the shadow of a narrow street into the full sun of the piazza. It was carried by half a dozen slaves, mountaineers from Anatolia by the look of them. It halted before the dais on which I was standing. The curtains were withdrawn to reveal Cicero.
    I have been much criticized - both at the time and later - for what happened next. I can only say it seemed the most natural thing in the world to me. I leapt from the dais and advanced towards the litter. For a moment I thought the old man was going to lie there, even extend his hand to me as if I had been a client or supplicant. I am sure the thought crossed his mind. He must however have calculated that the satisfaction to be obtained from such a gesture would be no more than momentary, for, with a visible effort and an arthritic groan he stuck out his scrawny neck, heaved his legs round, and disembarked from the litter. I resumed my advance and embraced him (he smelled of old yellow papyrus) with the words: 'Ah, the last of all my friends.' I am not ashamed of the words, which were well and deliberately chosen. If he had been more prominent and constant in friendship, this point would never have been reached. All the same, as I spoke, I