The Forum was thronged with citizens, and foreigners gaped at the splendid temples and public buildings to be seen in every direction. The weather was fine, so courts were being held outdoors. Trials are a favorite spectator sport for Romans, and every last street-sweeper fancies himself a connoisseur of the finer points of law. They cheer a clever defense and hurl decaying vegetables at a clumsy one.

As at the bath, I saw many people I knew and smugly accepted their congratulations on my new, exalted status. I received numerous dinner invitations, some of which I accepted, consoled a young kinsman who had been elected quaestor only to be assigned to the treasury, and generally comported myself as if I had achieved some importance. My only sorrow was that no meeting of the Senate had been called for that day, so I could not attend my first session as a full member and strut among my new peers.

When even this new amusement palled, I betook myself to the house of Metellus Celer. He was one of the most distinguished men of the day, and I was unsure what duties he could require of me in his pursuit of the Consulship, which the senior members of my family regarded as all but their birthright. The province he had just governed was one ordinarily assigned to ex-Consuls, but so prestigious was Metellus Celer that it had been assigned to him upon his leaving the office of praetor, at which time he had taken me along to get out of Rome, where I was, as usual, in trouble.

I presented myself at the gate of his town house and was shown to the atrium, where a good many callers idled about, some of them Senators of great seniority. Among them was the last man I expected to see: Caius Julius Caesar. He had held a praetorship the previous year and had been assigned the province of Further Spain to govern. So why was he still in Rome? The extravagance of Caesar's debts was the wonder of the Roman world, and the only hope he had of extricating himself from them was to get to Spain and start looting. He caught my eye and came toward me with hand outstretched, just as if he were standing for office.

"Decius Caecilius, how good to see you back in Rome! And please accept my congratulations for your enrollment among the Senators." He was followed by a band of his toadies, who smiled at me as if my elevation were their own.

"I thank you, Caius Julius," I said. "But I am surprised to see you here. I thought surely you would be in Spain by now."

He waved a hand as if it were a trifling matter. "Oh, certain duties detain me here, most of them of a religious nature." By the most astonishing acts of bribery and corruption, Caesar had got himself elected Pontifex Maximus a few years previously and was in charge of all aspects of state religious practice. That reminded me of a question that had bothered me for some time.

"There may be fighting in Spain, may there not?" I asked.

"There is always a chance of that," Caesar said. "I've had disgracefully little experience in military command, but I think I'll be equal to the task."

"I've no doubt at all," I assured him. "But tell me, how will the realities of battle square with the strictures of your pontificate?" The Pontifix Maximus may not look upon human blood.

Caesar spoke gravely. "I have consulted the holy books deeply, and I have found that the various strictures of my religious office are binding only within Rome itself, and need not hinder my actions once I am outside the walls."

How convenient for you, I thought. Our religious books were written in such archaic language that they were mostly gibberish anyway.

"Well," I said, "if the supreme pontiff doesn't know about these things, who does? I am sure you will come home from Spain covered with glory." Covered with gold at any rate, I thought.

"I thank you for your good wishes," he said. He might have meant this sincerely. With Caius Julius you could never tell. At that moment Celer appeared in the atrium and began greeting his callers. He started with the most distinguished but quickly came over to me.

"Good to see you back, Decius. Was it an easy voyage?"

"Safe, but not easy," I told him. "I sacrificed to Neptune many times each day." This was the landlubber's wry expression for seasickness.

"The sea is for Greeks," he said. Celer was a squat man with a froglike face, but there was nothing buffoonish about him. He had vast experience in every aspect of public life and was one of the richest men in Rome, although he had acquired it all decently, through inheritance or loot. "Your new tunic suits you well. Wait here while I attend to my guests. I need to speak with you privately."

I waited, trading gossip with the others, until the atrium was empty of visitors. Then I followed Celer into the garden. It was rather bare for that time of year, but beautifully laid out and maintained.

"Have you sacrificed to Jupiter for your safe return?" Celer asked as we walked.

"No, but I did make a real sacrifice to Neptune at the temple in Ostia," I told him.

"Sacrifice to Jupiter," he advised. "You are coming up in the state service, and you should be seen to be pious. Romans like to know that their statesmen are punctilious in religious matters."

"Consider it done. My father tells me you wish me to serve you in your campaign for the Consulship. You know I will be happy to be of any help I may."

"Excellent. I expect to win, but I don't want any nasty surprises. You know that winning the office is only half of it. It's no good if you have a colleague you can't work with."

"I see. Who is your choice for colleague?"

"I haven't decided yet. There's a great field of them this year, all busy canvassing the Centuriate Assembly, some of them trying to bribe me. It's generally agreed that I'll be one of next year's Consuls, and most think that the man I choose to support will be my colleague. I am not so sure of that. When I pick my man, I want you to work on his behalf."

"Done," I said. "Have you decided how to divide the office?" In our ancient, unwieldy consular system there were a number of ways the authority of the Consulship could be divided, as agreed before the Consuls took office. Pompey and Crassus, who detested each other and neither of whom would yield an inch, had chosen the most archaic and awkward way: by presiding on alternate days. Others might give the elder colleague senior authority, or one might handle affairs within Rome and the other external matters.

"I'll decide that when I know who my colleague is to be. Honestly, I can't see that it makes much difference. The Consulship no longer has the power it used to have."

This was true. Over the centuries, the praetors had usurped all the judicial powers of the Consuls. As for the military commands, our empire had grown too large for that, and the great generalships went to the men who had already held the highest offices. More and more, the armies were led by men who, like Pompey, had made a virtual lifetime career of soldiering. The last time serving Consuls had led an army had been against Spartacus, and that had ended in disaster.

"Has your father spoken to you of your duties in the Senate?" Celer asked.

"He put me firmly in my place on that score," I assured him.

"You work for years to get into the Senate, and once you're in, you start at the bottom all over again. That's how it always is. Power comes with seniority."

"What business occupies the Senate these days?" asked.

"First and foremost, Pompey. The aristocratic party hates and fears him, and it has blocked permission for his triumph. Worse yet, it continues to fight the land grants for his legions."

"If you will forgive me," I said, "I thought we were part of the aristocratic party."

"You know that our family has always eschewed the extremes. The aristocratic faction has been in power since Sulla, and it grows increasingly divorced from political reality." I listened attentively. This was inside power politics from a man who knew the subject intimately. "Whatever you think of Pompey, he has earned that triumph. It is foolish and ungrateful of the state to withhold it. And if we deny those legions the land they have been promised and fought hard for, then Italy will be full of thousands of professional killers organized, armed and hating us. I don't want to see a repeat of the last civil war, when contending armies fought within the very streets of Rome."