Agrippa caught my attention. The sober-faced senator stood near the Curia, facing the praeco. He was tall, his lean frame wrapped in a perfectly draped black toga, watching the forum like a jungle cat, cool and assessing. His gaze found me then darted away.
Koska followed me as I wove through the crowd. He remained several feet behind while I greeted Agrippa.
“Salve, Agrippa. What a welcome surprise.”
He nearly rolled his eyes, still facing the city crier. I did the same, standing next to him.
“That was the clan you and Julian had encountered, wasn’t it?”
“Yes. My grandfather told you about that?”
“A little.”
I glanced at him, knowing Grandfather had likely confided in Agrippa our theory of the Germanic warrior and his stealthy band, who had escaped us by catching many of our men in nets and setting the forest on fire.
“How much did Grandfather tell you exactly?”
“Enough to know that we won’t be able to use that horde in our own efforts.”
“Looks unlikely,” I agreed.
“Unlikely? Their leader’s head will be up on that wall within a fortnight.”
He didn’t need to clarify which wall he meant. The Wall of Victory bore over a hundred skulls mounted on spikes in various stages of rot. However, it was the Wall of Traitors that drew my eye now.
Caesar had commanded his praetorians to mount a golden spike on the wall. It was for his nephew, my dearest friend and ally. I had yet to tell Julian of this latest grotesque order by the emperor.
My gaze lingered on the familiar heads of Senators Phillius and Marcus, and I realized how close we’d all come to the same fate that night not so long ago. We also owed them our lives, as they’d obviously not revealed the other conspirators’ names under torture. The senators took them to their deaths.
“What’s the status with your son?” I asked Agrippa, coming to the fruit of this brief clandestine meeting.
“Better than we hoped.”
His son, Marcellus, had served as quartermaster and camp prefect under Legatus Ciprian. After Julian killed Ciprian to save his mate, Caesar promoted his tribune—Scippio of the Ignis House—to general, and Marcellus fortunately made the climb to tribune of his legion.
“Numbers?” I asked vaguely as a cluster of senators passed us by, leaving the Curia.
“A dozen. But half are officers.”
“He hasn’t given names, has he?”
Agrippa cut his gaze to mine. “What do you think? My son is no fool.” He faced forward again. “No. He is wary of Scippio, who emulates our emperor in all ways.” He heaved a sigh. “Details of our allies will only trickle down when we are sure of them all.”
“He needs to be absolutely sure. I need a list of names.”
There was no certainty when gathering numbers to our cause, noassurance that who we welcomed into our fold wouldn’t betray us to the emperor. That’s why we had to move slowly and test loyalties to see who would serve as a true ally, who would lay their lives down for the cause.
Agrippa nodded, still watching the crowd. “It’s being given to Koska as we speak.” He finally turned his head to me and gave a parting nod. “Burn it once you’ve read it.”
Then he sauntered off into the crowd. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched his body slave leaving the vicinity of Koska, who was tucking a missive into his belt, Agrippa’s slave following after his master.
Slowly.It was all moving too fucking slowly.
Unfortunately, our original plans evaporated into nothing when Julian killed Ciprian and flew from Rome with his woman upon his back. Not only did we lose our leader, but we also lost two senators that night. Now we needed numbers. Caesar was gathering his men close, knowing there must be other conspirators in his midst.
“Let’s get home,” I told Koska, who’d sidled up next to me.
Making our way out of the forum, we took the street toward Palatine Hill. When we rounded a corner, I stopped suddenly and pushed Koska back. We flattened ourselves against the wall, and I peered around the corner.
