He turned then and walked out.

He wished he had a horse on which to gallop far away, to another world, over endless plains; to be carried off by the wind like a leaf dried up by the long winter. He stopped, instead, after a few steps, incapable of going on. He sat down on the Domus stair that opened up on to the Sacred Way. Not much later, he saw two people leaving the House of the Vestals on his right. People he knew well: Mark Antony and Calpurnius Piso, Caesar’s father-in-law. What were they doing at this time of day, in such a situation, at the House of the Vestals?

They stood in front of the entrance and appeared to be waiting for someone. A servant soon came up with an ass-drawn cart holding a box. They set off again all together and he lost sight of them in the darkness.

Silius realized that Antistius had come out of the Domus as well and had witnessed the scene.

Antistius said, ‘They went to get Caesar’s will, without a doubt. The Vestalis Maxima herself is responsible for holding his will and testament, and can release it only to the executor, Piso.’

‘What about Antony, then? What does Antony have to do with Caesar’s will?’

Antistius reflected a few moments before answering. ‘It’s not inheriting his worldly goods he’s interested in. It’s his political inheritance. Brutus and Cassius were deceived. Caesar demonstrated that it is possible for a single man to rule the world. No one had ever wielded such unlimited power. Others will want what he had. Many will try to take his place. The republic, in any case, is dead.’

Romae, in aedibus M. Antonii, Id. Mart, secunda vigilia

Rome, the home of Mark Antony, 15 March, second guard shift, after nine p.m.

Antony received Cassius as promised, while his sons were being held hostage on the Capitol. At the same moment Brutus was dining on the Tiber Island, at the headquarters of Marcus Aemilius Lepidus. Everything had been planned, down to the last detail.

Cassius, the victor, was even paler than usual. His gaunt face spoke of nothing but sleepless nights and dark thoughts.

The two men reclined on dining couches facing each other. Only two tables separated the triclinia,set with a simple meal: bread, eggs, cheese and beans. Antony had chosen a dense, blood-red wine and he mixed it personally in front of his guest, lingering deliberately at the task, taking care not to spill a single drop.

Antony began to speak: ‘Caesar dared too greatly and was punished. I. . understand the significance of your gesture. You did not mean to strike the friend, the benefactor, the man whose magnanimity spared your lives, but the tyrant, the man who broke the law, who reduced the republic to an insubstantial ghost. I understand you, then, and recognize that you are men of honour.’

Cassius gave a deep nod and a fleeting, enigmatic smile crossed his lips.

Antony continued, ‘But I am incapable of separating the friend from the tyrant. I’m a simple man and you must try to understand me. For me, Caesar was first and foremost a friend. Actually, now that he’s dead, lying cold and white as marble on his bier, only a friend.’

‘Each man is what he is,’ replied Cassius coldly. ‘Go on.’

‘Tomorrow the Senate will meet at the Temple of Tellus. Pompey’s Curia is still. . a bit of a mess.’

‘Go on,’ insisted Cassius, fighting his irritation.

‘Order must be restored. Everything must return to normal. I will propose an amnesty for all of you and you will be given governmental appointments in the provinces. If the Senate wishes to honour you they may do so. What do you say?’

‘These seem like reasonable proposals,’ replied Cassius.

‘I want only one thing for myself.’

Cassius stared at him suspiciously.

‘Allow me to celebrate his funeral. Allow me to bury him with honour. He made mistakes, it’s true, but he expanded the dominion of the Roman people enormously. He extended the confines of Rome to the shores of the Ocean and he was the Pontifex Maximus. What’s more. . he loved Brutus. Now he’s dead. Fine. His punishment was commensurate with his error. Let us deliver him to his final rest.’

Cassius bit his lower lip and remained silent for a considerable length of time. Antony gazed at him serenely with a questioning expression.

‘It’s not in my power to grant your request.’

‘I know, but you can convince the others. I’m sure you’ll succeed. I have done my duty and I’ve given proof of my good faith. Now you do your part. I won’t ask for anything else.’

Cassius stood, nodded in leaving and walked out of the room. The food was still on the table. He hadn’t touched a thing.

Portus Ostiae, Id. Mart., adfinem secundae vigiliae

The port of Ostia, 15 March, end of the second guard shift, midnight

Antony arrived at the port accompanied by a couple of gladiators, who remained at a distance.

A plank was lowered from the ship and he began to walk up it. The still water in the basin gave off a putrid stench and made Antony feel nauseous. The ship was about to set sail, the Queen on board, about to make her escape. The whole world was breaking up.

Cleopatra suddenly emerged from the aft cabin.

Regal even in this situation, she stood haughty, garbed in a pleated, transparent linen gown, her forehead crossed by a fine gold-leaf diadem, her arms bare, her lips red, her eyes lengthened with shadow nearly all the way to her temples.

‘Thank you for coming to bid me farewell,’ she said. She spoke softly, but in the silence of the night her voice rang out clearly nonetheless.

They were alone. There was no one else to be seen on the deck. And yet the ship was ready to set sail.

‘Where is he now?’

‘At home,’ replied Antony. ‘Watched over by his friends.’

‘Friends? Caesar had no friends.’

‘We were taken by surprise. No one could have imagined it would happen that day, in that way.’

‘But you were prudent, as I had asked.’ The Queen s voice was calm but ironic, like that of any powerful person satisfied at having corrupted a man, or brought him to his knees. ‘What will happen now?’

‘They are in trouble already. They have no plan, no design. They are dreamers and fools. I am the surviving consul. I’ve convened the Senate for tomorrow and I’ve urged them all to show up. Before his ashes are placed in the urn, they’ll be reduced to impotence. There will be a new Caesar, my queen.’

‘When that happens, come to me, Antony, and you will have everything you’ve always desired.’

Light as a dream, Cleopatra turned and vanished.

Antony went back to the shore.

The ship pulled away from the harbour and was soon swallowed up by the night. All that could be seen, for a short time, was the sail being raised at the helm, fluttering in the dark air like a ghost.

Romae, in templo Telluris, a.d. XVII Kakndas Apriles, hora secunda

Rome, the Temple of Tellus, 16 March, seven a.m.

The atmosphere at the beginning of the session, which was presided over by Mark Antony, consul in office, was tense and decidedly cold. There were plenty of drawn faces and hostile looks. Caesar’s supporters were still shaken, indignant and seething with resentment. The conspirators and their friends could not mask a certain arrogance. Cicero was among the first to take the floor. He had been absent the day of the plot but someone, in the confusion of the attack, had called out his name.

He was proud of having put down Catiline’s conspiracy in the past, so although he was not technically one of these conspirators he didn’t want to miss out on the opportunity of playing a leading role this time as well.