‘Something of the sort. What else?’

‘Who will the new governor be?’

‘Decimus Brutus.’

‘Almighty gods!’

‘Decimus Brutus is, at this moment, assistant praetor and therefore, as I’ve said, has already been designated to take the office of governor next year. So why would he need to build up local support or reinforce the walls of Modena unless he knows that Caesar will no longer be around?’

Publius Sextius snorted and a burst of steam issued from his nose. It was still quite cold for the season.

‘Sorry, but I’m still not convinced of what you’re saying. Couldn’t the work on the walls just be ordinary maintenance?’

‘There’s more,’ continued Nebula.

‘All right. Now we’re getting somewhere. Let’s hear.’

‘This is information that will cost you.’

‘I don’t have much money with me, but I do have this,’ said Publius Sextius, his hands flexing the cane that was a symbol of his rank.

‘What do you suppose I care about that?’ shot back Nebula. ‘Don’t think you can intimidate me. I’ve been doing this for a long time.’

‘I’m not leaving here until you tell me what I need to know. I was assured that I would be getting important information from you and get it I will. You decide how.’

Nebula fell silent for a long moment, weighing his options. When he began to speak again, it was in a different voice, as if he were another person. ‘Give me whatever you can, please. I need money. I spent a fortune to get this information and risked my neck as well. I’ve had to take out a loan and if I don’t pay them back they’ll slaughter me.’

‘How much do you need?’

‘Eight thousand.’

Publius Sextius opened one of the bags hanging from his horse’s rump and handed over a satchel. ‘Five thousand. It’s all I have for now, but if you give me the information I need you’ll get twice that.’

‘Publius Sextius is known as a man of his word,’ said Nebula.

‘That’s the truth,’ replied the centurion.

‘Six months ago, at Narbonne, after the Battle of Munda, while Caesar was still in Spain, someone was working on a plot to murder him.’

‘I’ve heard the rumours.’

‘We all have. But I have proof not only that the plot was put into effect but also that it may still be active.’

‘Names.’

‘Caius Trebonius.’

‘I know him. And?’

‘Cassius Longinus and Publius Casca, and maybe his brother. Those are the names I’m sure of. I also believe that Caesar himself knows something, or at least suspects something, though he’s not letting on. But there’s one name he doesn’t know and this is the true shocker. At Narbonne, Trebonius asked Mark Antony if he wanted to join the party.’

‘Watch out, Nebula. Words are stones.’

‘Or daggers. In any case, Antony refused the invitation and has never made any further mention of it.’

‘How can you be certain?’

‘If Antony had spoken, do you suppose Trebonius would still be around?’

‘All right. But how much can we conclude from that? What I’m interested in is knowing whether this plot is still active. I want proof. The rumour is out and it’s impossible that Caesar hasn’t heard of it. What you’ve told me regarding Antony disturbs me. Did you hear about what happened at the Lupercalia?’

Nebula nodded. ‘Everyone knows about it.’

‘Fine. In the light of what you’ve just told me, Antony’s behaviour is suspect. He offered Caesar the king’s crown in front of the people of Rome. I would call that provocation, or, worse, a trap. Caesar’s reaction confirms it. Antony is no fool. He wouldn’t have done such a thing without a reason. One thing is certain: if Caesar had known what Antony was planning before it happened, he would have stopped him.’

‘I could learn more, but I need time.’

‘There’s no saying we’ve got the time. The situation might come to a head at any moment.’

‘You may be right about that.’

‘Well, then?’

‘There is a solution. Don’t wait here any longer. You leave now for Rome, taking a route that will allow me to reach you with messages and information.’

‘That’s unlikely. I’ll be moving fast.’

‘I have ways and means.’

‘As you wish.’

‘In the meantime, I’ll look for more proof.’

‘Do you have something specific in mind?’

‘Yes. But it’s still entirely hypothetical. In any case, before I take action of any sort, there’s something very important that I need to know.’

‘What’s that?’

‘Who sent you here? Who are you working for?’

Publius Sextius hesitated a moment before answering, then said, ‘For him. For Caesar.’

‘What is your mission? To find out if a plot exists?’

‘Not as such. My immediate instructions are to contact several army officers who have informers infiltrated at the court of the Parthian king. I’m to provide Caesar’s general staff with advance information regarding the routes the expedition will take, procure special maps and see that they get to Rome.’

‘So then what are we talking about?’

‘My task is twofold. I’m also to discover if there is a plot and who the conspirators are. First name, clan name, family name.’

‘Is it Caesar who wants to know?’

‘This may surprise you, but no. It’s a very high-ranking person who happens to be extremely interested in Caesar’s state of health. Add to that that I’m just as interested. I’d give my life for him.’

‘Fine. Even if you won’t tell me his name, the fact of this person’s “extreme interest”, as you say, is a further sign that the plot may very well be active and ready to go into effect at any moment.’

‘Caesar is preparing an expedition against the Parthians. It’s plausible to think that this might be the moment to act against him. If he were to win, his prestige would increase beyond measure.’

‘You’re right. And Decimus Brutus should be departing with him, as the second in command of the Twelfth Legion. .’

Publius Sextius bowed his head in a pensive gesture. The screeching of birds broke through the fog before he saw their dark shapes streaking like shadows across the heavy, humid sky.

‘Decimus Brutus. . one of his best officers. One of the few friends he trusts,’ he whispered. ‘Who could have convinced him to. .’

Nebula drew closer and Publius Sextius could hear the sound of three or four steps on the gravel path.

‘His friend Cassius, probably, or his namesake Marcus Junius Brutus. Or both.’

Publius Sextius felt like turning round but stopped himself.

‘Why, though? Caesar has never harmed either Marcus Junius Brutus or Cassius Longinus. He spared both of their lives! Why should they want him dead?’

Nebula didn’t answer at once, almost as if it were difficult for him to understand what Publius Sextius was getting at. A barely perceptible breath of air made the fog quiver as it rose from the ditches and the furrows in the ploughed earth.

‘You’re a true soldier, Publius Sextius. A politician would never ask that question. It’s precisely because he spared their lives that they may want to kill him.’

Publius Sextius shook his head incredulously. He couldn’t deny that things were beginning to add up. Trebonius inviting Antony to take part in a conspiracy. Antony just a few days earlier offering Caesar the king’s crown in front of a vast, excited crowd who reacted badly. Decimus Brutus acting as though there were a civil war to prepare for. . Vague signals that were now suddenly becoming very clear.

‘We must warn Caesar immediately,’ Publius Sextius said suddenly. ‘There’s not a moment to lose.’

‘It’s best he be informed as soon as possible,’ agreed Nebula. ‘Even if it’s not certain that the conspirators’ plans are close to being carried out. There are further leads I need to follow up. I’ll let you know when to make the next move.’

‘Help me get to the bottom of this affair and you won’t be sorry. I promise you it will be the best deal you ever made. You’ll be able to retire and live in comfort for the rest of your life.’