delighted. This was clearly where Caesar would sit and to be invited to dine here was an honour of the highest kind.
‘Marcus Antonius, Titus Labienus, Caius Trebonius and Gaius Fabius, good evening.’
The quartet murmured courteous replies, but all their eyes were on Brutus’ companion.
‘May I present Fabiola, my lover? To my utter surprise, she has risked her life through the wilds of Gaul just to come and see me.’
Antonius gave Fabiola a lingering, unpleasant stare, which she ignored.
‘I’m not surprised,’ responded Labienus appreciatively. He was a thin, grey-haired man in late middle age. ‘You’re one of Caesar’s best officers. A fine catch.’
‘Don’t listen to him, my love,’ Brutus demurred. ‘Along with Caesar and Fabius, this man won the final battle. And those two’ – he pointed at Antonius and Trebonius – ‘saved our skins the night before with their cavalry.’
Antonius laughed at Brutus’ comment. ‘You did your bit,’ he drawled, rubbing a hand through his curly brown hair. ‘That’s why you’re here. Now sit.’
Brutus flushed and guided Fabiola to her seat at the end of the right-hand couch. He took the middle space, meaning they were separated by a bolster, and both faced Caesar’s couch. It had been left empty for the general to occupy alone. Having learned the importance of the different places, Fabiola knew that only Labienus and Antonius were reclining in superior positions to her lover. Pride filled her, but she was also worried by the obvious animosity between Brutus and Antonius, Caesar’s best friend: a man with a wild and dangerous reputation.
Glasses of mulsum were served at once, but Fabiola had scarcely swallowed a mouthful before loud cheering broke out. Officer after officer stood, and she realised that Caesar had entered the room.
Getting to his feet, Brutus turned to Fabiola with a smile. ‘See how they love him?’
She nodded.
‘The legionaries are the same,’ he said. ‘They would follow him to Hades and back.’
‘Why?’ she asked, trying to understand.
‘Caesar always rewards his soldiers’ bravery. For example, every single one who fought here at Alesia is to receive a slave as bounty,’ whispered Brutus. ‘But it’s not just that. Caesar is also courageous, so they greatly respect him. Whenever necessary, he leads from the front. Vercingetorix’ warriors were very close to winning yesterday, but Caesar rode out from the palisade with our cavalry reserve and smashed into their rear.’ He thumped one fist into the other. ‘All along the line our men were hard-pressed and about to break, but when they saw Caesar in his red cloak galloping up and down, they counter-attacked. The Gauls panicked and fled, and the battle was won!’
Soon the cheering and clapping had reached deafening proportions. The nearest officers parted, revealing Caesar for the first time. A lean whippet of a man, he had short, thinning hair, a narrow face with high cheekbones and an aquiline nose. While not traditionally handsome, something about him demanded attention. Fabiola could not put her finger on it. She noted that the toga Caesar was wearing had a narrow purple border. This was the mark of censors, magistrates and dictators. Few could doubt which category Caesar fell into, she thought in admiration. But was he responsible for raping her mother? A striking resemblance to Romulus provided new fuel for her suspicions.
‘Welcome, sir,’ said Antonius expansively. ‘You grace us with your presence.’
Caesar nodded at each of them in turn. He lingered most on Fabiola, who flushed and looked down at her shoes. Meeting one of the most powerful men in the Republic was intimidating.
Brutus clicked his fingers and a delicate goblet was placed in his general’s hand.
‘This must be the beautiful Fabiola,’ said Caesar. His gaze was piercing and charismatic. ‘At last we meet.’
‘Sir.’ She bowed deeply in response. ‘I am honoured to be here, at your victory feast.’
He smiled, putting Fabiola more at ease. ‘Please be seated.’
They all obeyed, and Fabiola looked on politely as the men became engrossed in a lively discussion. Naturally enough, they talked first about the battle. Fabiola’s interest was aroused and soon she was listening to every word.
Caesar led the conversation, analysing every angle of their campaign. There was much to consider. His struggle against Vercingetorix might have ended at the walled city of Alesia, but the conflict had lasted for many months. It had begun with the besieging of a number of towns loyal to the rebel chieftain, including Cenabum and Avaricum.
‘I’ve heard of Cenabum before,’ said Fabiola.
‘Probably because the townspeople massacred Roman traders who were living there,’ explained Caesar. ‘Of