His words brought all the conversations to an end, and an expectant hush fell. Pent-up with tension, Fabiola waited. None of the nobles knew it, but she was more eager than any of them for Caesar's death.

'During our last meeting, we agreed that the best date would be the Ides of March,' Marcus Brutus began.

'The Ides? That's tomorrow,' said a portly senator, looking nervous.

'Congratulations,' replied Marcus Brutus in an acid tone. He glared around the table. 'Time has moved fast, but we've committed ourselves now.'

A titter of nervous laughter moved around the room.

Satisfied, Marcus Brutus sat back in his chair. No one was trying to back out.

'Caesar hasn't been well for the last few days,' another man chipped in. 'He might not attend the Senate tomorrow.'

'There are many important issues to be addressed before he departs for Dacia,' Longinus demurred. 'Caesar won't want to miss those debates.'

'The man is a demon for work,' agreed Trebonius. 'He'd need to be half dead not to come.'

'Why not send someone to his house first thing to make sure?' suggested Basilus.

'Good idea,' cried Marcus Brutus. 'Any volunteers?'

Before anyone could answer, a familiar voice spoke in the corridor. 'Where's Fabiola?'

Fabiola's stomach turned over.

She wasn't the only one to recognise Brutus' deep tones. Like small boys caught thieving, the nobles waited to see what would happen next.

Benignus cleared his throat uneasily. 'Sir?'

'Is she in there?' Brutus demanded. 'Answer me!'

'Yes, sir,' mumbled the huge slave, crumbling before Brutus' temper.

'Stand aside.'

Fabiola moved away from the door, which opened a heartbeat later. Brutus entered, scowling. Fabiola and he locked eyes. 'Dearest,' she said lamely, unsure what else to say. 'What a surprise.' Without answering, Brutus looked around the room. His mouth opened with astonishment at the number of men present, and their identity. Many would not meet his gaze, but Marcus Brutus, Longinus and Trebonius did.

'Well met, cousin,' said Marcus Brutus. 'We have missed your company.'

'What's all this about?' cried Brutus, looking at Fabiola.

'I think you know,' said Trebonius, intervening.

Brutus flushed. 'You're intending to murder Caesar?'

'Rid the Republic of a despot, more like,' Longinus butted in. 'And make things how they were again.'

There was a loud rumble of agreement.

Brutus scanned the nobles' faces for several heartbeats. 'I see,' he said heavily.

'Look how many men are present, cousin,' said Marcus Brutus gently. 'This is not just a collection of lunatics. All shades of opinion are represented here. What unites us is our hatred of tyranny.'

Brutus stared into his cousin's eyes. 'Tyranny?' he whispered.

The conflict in his voice made Fabiola's heart bleed. Much as she wanted him to join them, the pain he was suffering tore at her conscience.

'Yes,' Marcus Brutus replied emphatically. 'That is how Caesar rules the Republic. What is the Senate but an empty vessel? What are we now, but his puppets?'

Angry mutters met this comment.

Brutus sighed.

Mithras above, Fabiola thought. Convince him, please. She moved to her lover's side. 'You know it's true,' she said. 'All that power has gone to Caesar's head.'

'The augurs are giving bad omens for tomorrow, while on every corner the people are calling him king,' he whispered. 'King of Rome.'

'Will you join us?' asked Trebonius.

Brutus chewed his lip. Beside him, Fabiola scarcely dared breathe.

Marcus Brutus pushed back his chair and stood. 'Our ancestors rid this city of its last tyrant. Now the time has come to repeat that painful task. It is our duty to be part of it,' he declared.

There was a long silence.

Fabiola burned to say something, to persuade Brutus of their righteousness, but she held back. Much as she wanted him on board, this was his decision alone. The others knew that too – she could feel it – but would her lover's strong moral sense win out over his fierce loyalty to Caesar?

Marcus Brutus extended his right hand. 'What do you say?'

There was the slightest pause, and then Brutus took his cousin's grip. 'Count me in. For the good of the Republic.'

A combined sigh of relief filled the air. Fabiola's was loudest of all. At this late stage, the conspirators could not allow their cover to be blown. If he'd refused, Brutus would have signed his own death warrant.

'When is it to happen?' Brutus enquired.

'Tomorrow,' replied Marcus Brutus. 'Where the Senate meets.'

To his credit, Brutus barely blinked. 'I see,' he said. 'Caesar is ill, though. Are you sure he'll attend?'

'He might need some convincing,' admitted Longinus. 'We were just wondering who could visit him in the morning.'

'I'll do it,' Brutus offered.

'You're sure?'

He nodded firmly.

'Good,' said Marcus Brutus with a smile. 'The rest of us will assemble at the Senate early. We've got a good reason too – Longinus' son is to assume the toga tomorrow.'

'Should we attack him the moment he arrives?' mused Basilus.

'I think not. We don't want members of the public to see it happen,' interjected Longinus. 'Let the tyrant descend from his litter and make his way inside.'

'I'll go in close,' volunteered Cimber, a former Republican. 'Request he allow my brother back to Italy.'

'We can surround him, all pleading the same case,' added Marcus Brutus. 'Allay any suspicions he might have.'

'Then produce our weapons,' said Longinus with an evil grin. Opening the long wooden case for his stylus, he produced an ivory-handled dagger and thrust it forward viciously. 'Finish the job.'

Everyone's gaze was drawn to the oiled blade, but not one man spoke against their intended course.

'What about Antonius?' asked Brutus a moment later. 'He's not likely to stand by while Caesar is slaughtered. Should we kill him too?'

Longinus' eyes narrowed. 'Why not? He's such an arrogant bastard.'

'Good idea,' agreed Galba. 'Gods know how he'll respond if we don't.' Antonius' fierce temper was renowned throughout Italy.

Thank you Mithras, thought Fabiola, delight filling her. I will be rid of two monsters at one stroke.

'No,' declared Marcus Brutus loudly. 'We are not a band of common thieves. This is being done for the Republic. Once Caesar is dead, free elections can be held and the Senate will be able to run matters as it always has. Antonius will not argue with that.' He glanced around the room, daring anyone to challenge him. Few had the willpower to hold his gaze for long.

'If you're sure,' said Longinus, looking doubtful.

'I am,' growled Marcus Brutus. 'So we need someone to distract Antonius – detain him outside maybe.'

'I can do that too,' Brutus offered.

'You don't want to be in on the act itself?' asked Marcus Brutus.

'Killing Caesar might be the best thing to do, but that doesn't mean I actually want to stick a knife in him,' said Brutus.

'No,' his cousin agreed. 'Fair enough.'

'Hold on,' frowned Trebonius. 'You and Antonius hate each other's guts.'

'Exactly,' Brutus retorted with a smug look. 'It's time to kiss and make up.'

Longinus swore. 'Antonius will never forgive you when he discovers why you did it.'

Brutus laughed sourly. 'Do I care? He'll have to live knowing that he might have saved Caesar if I hadn't stopped him.'

Fabiola suddenly realised the damage that her dalliance with Antonius had done to her lover. He was good at hiding it, except at moments like this. She moved her hand to touch his. 'I'm sorry,' she whispered.

Brutus gave her a small nod, which eased Fabiola's pain a fraction. Expert at reading his emotions, she could see that he was still torn by his decision to join the conspirators. His anger at Antonius was in part a knee-jerk reaction to this. Things were moving too fast for him to stop and think, though.