while Cicero turned, making his way past the temple of Castor and along the Via Nova. Unnoticed behind them, their stalkers also split, three of their number following the senators toward the river, the other two climbing the hill after Cicero .
Balbus fumed for a moment, his head snapping back and forth between the two streets and finally settled on Cicero as the more important of the two groups. Stepping into the shadow of the great temple, Balbus attempted to melt into the background – no mean feat for an overweight ex-soldier with a gleaming pate and a pristine white toga. As the shadowing soldiers crested the first rise, following their prey with little subtlety, Balbus moved like a panther along the side of the quiet road.
Ahead, Cicero paused in the street and, adjusting his toga, strode toward a large townhouse at the southern edge, a bakery built into its frontage. Balbus nodded to himself in confirmation as he spotted the name of the bakery: ‘Pistrinum Ciceronia’. The orator had simply returned home from his deliberations. As Cicero disappeared into the house’s interior, the door clicking shut behind him, Balbus stepped back into an angle between two buildings and watched as the two men following him huddled together in deep conversation and then broke up and hurried away along the street.
Again, Balbus dithered, torn between following the men, returning to the corner to see if the other senators were still in sight, and heading back to the forum to try and meet up with his young informant and the ladies.
Wishing he’d not started all of this, the ageing ex-officer strolled on along the street after the two men who had previously been shadowing Cicero . Given their clandestine nature, the men seemed to be somewhat lax in their awareness, only occasionally glancing around and not paying even enough attention to spot the portly man lurking in the shadows.
Up the Via Nova they strode, calmly, unaware of anyone following them, turning right and climbing the slopes of the Palatine, passing through the ruined piers of the Mugonian gate and cresting the hill to the area of the city occupied by the spacious houses and villas of the city’s wealthier and more important folk.
Balbus frowned at their presence in such a rich area, and followed them with deepening interest and suspicion as they passed across an open square, turning down an alley to the right and disappearing through a small gate in the back wall of a sizeable property.
Balbus stood for a moment, still frowning, and then strode across to a low bench beneath an apple tree at the far side of the square, where he could just see the closed gate and high wall of the expensive residence into which the dubious men had passed.
For three minutes he sat, contemplating what to do next, starting suddenly as a click resounded just behind him. Craning his head around urgently, he saw a middle aged and well-to-do matron and her house slave leaving a gate just such as the one he watched. The woman looked at him with something between surprise and suspicion but, taking in his age, weight, and togate attire, her brain labelled him equestrian class at the least and therefore unlikely a threat to house and person. Nodding a greeting, she turned to head for the forum.
Balbus narrowed his eyes and cleared his throat.
“Excuse me, good lady?”
The woman paused and turned with an elegantly sculpted eyebrow raised.
“Sir?”
Balbus gestured toward the gate in the wall that he faced.
“Do you happen to know who resides at that villa?”
The woman’s face took on a look dark and disapproving enough that Balbus wondered whether he should apologise for asking.
“That, sir, is the house of Atia Balba Prima, daughter of…” she actually looked as though she might spit as her mouth formed a name with distaste, “Julia Caesaris.”
Without further ado, the woman gathered her stola around her and strode off toward the forum, her slave at her heel, leaving Balbus
Balbus fumed for a moment, his head snapping back and forth between the two streets and finally settled on Cicero as the more important of the two groups. Stepping into the shadow of the great temple, Balbus attempted to melt into the background – no mean feat for an overweight ex-soldier with a gleaming pate and a pristine white toga. As the shadowing soldiers crested the first rise, following their prey with little subtlety, Balbus moved like a panther along the side of the quiet road.
Ahead, Cicero paused in the street and, adjusting his toga, strode toward a large townhouse at the southern edge, a bakery built into its frontage. Balbus nodded to himself in confirmation as he spotted the name of the bakery: ‘Pistrinum Ciceronia’. The orator had simply returned home from his deliberations. As Cicero disappeared into the house’s interior, the door clicking shut behind him, Balbus stepped back into an angle between two buildings and watched as the two men following him huddled together in deep conversation and then broke up and hurried away along the street.
Again, Balbus dithered, torn between following the men, returning to the corner to see if the other senators were still in sight, and heading back to the forum to try and meet up with his young informant and the ladies.
Wishing he’d not started all of this, the ageing ex-officer strolled on along the street after the two men who had previously been shadowing Cicero . Given their clandestine nature, the men seemed to be somewhat lax in their awareness, only occasionally glancing around and not paying even enough attention to spot the portly man lurking in the shadows.
Up the Via Nova they strode, calmly, unaware of anyone following them, turning right and climbing the slopes of the Palatine, passing through the ruined piers of the Mugonian gate and cresting the hill to the area of the city occupied by the spacious houses and villas of the city’s wealthier and more important folk.
Balbus frowned at their presence in such a rich area, and followed them with deepening interest and suspicion as they passed across an open square, turning down an alley to the right and disappearing through a small gate in the back wall of a sizeable property.
Balbus stood for a moment, still frowning, and then strode across to a low bench beneath an apple tree at the far side of the square, where he could just see the closed gate and high wall of the expensive residence into which the dubious men had passed.
For three minutes he sat, contemplating what to do next, starting suddenly as a click resounded just behind him. Craning his head around urgently, he saw a middle aged and well-to-do matron and her house slave leaving a gate just such as the one he watched. The woman looked at him with something between surprise and suspicion but, taking in his age, weight, and togate attire, her brain labelled him equestrian class at the least and therefore unlikely a threat to house and person. Nodding a greeting, she turned to head for the forum.
Balbus narrowed his eyes and cleared his throat.
“Excuse me, good lady?”
The woman paused and turned with an elegantly sculpted eyebrow raised.
“Sir?”
Balbus gestured toward the gate in the wall that he faced.
“Do you happen to know who resides at that villa?”
The woman’s face took on a look dark and disapproving enough that Balbus wondered whether he should apologise for asking.
“That, sir, is the house of Atia Balba Prima, daughter of…” she actually looked as though she might spit as her mouth formed a name with distaste, “Julia Caesaris.”
Without further ado, the woman gathered her stola around her and strode off toward the forum, her slave at her heel, leaving Balbus
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