The Ides of March by Valerio Massimo Manfredi, Christine Feddersen-Manfredi Page A

our plan is to be successful we have to make arrangements for what will happen afterwards. Cicero will be fundamental in managing what comes next.’
    ‘The earth is starting to burn beneath our feet,’ shot back Casca. ‘We have to act now.’
    ‘Casca’s right,’ said Pontius Aquila. ‘I’ve heard that Caesar is setting his hounds on our tracks. All that it takes is one man letting his tongue slip, or one wayward look, to betray our plan.
    If he catches on and loses his temper, it’s all over for us. Time is against us.’
    ‘What exactly have you heard?’ demanded Brutus.
    ‘Caesar has sent his most faithful men on investigative missions to the outlying territories, so that we’ll feel safe here in the capital. It’s the old noose trick: pull it a little tighter each day until he strangles us. I’m telling you, we have to act now.’
    Their voices were muffled and difficult to hear on the floor above, just a confused muttering with a few shrill notes here and there. The woman tried to adjust her position to find the best point from which to both hear and see.
    Marcus Brutus’s voice again, scornful: ‘We’re his most faithful men, aren’t we?’
    Casca had no desire for banter. ‘Listen, if you don’t feel up to this, say so now,’ he said.
    The woman in the room upstairs started, as if she’d been hit by an unseen object.
    ‘I’ve always spoken the truth,’ replied Brutus. ‘So how dare you insinuate—’
    ‘Enough!’ shouted Casca. ‘This whole situation has become intolerable. There are already too many of us. The more there are, the greater the chance that someone will lose control, get panicky.’ He turned to Aquila. ‘What do you mean by “outlying territories”?’
    ‘What I’ve heard,’ answered the other, ‘is that Publius Sextius, the centurion who saved Caesar’s life in Gaul, has been in Modena since the end of last month and he’s going around asking strange questions. Modena, just by chance, happens to be where one of the best informers on the market is based. A man who has no qualms about selling information to just about anybody, without a thought to principle or political alliances. As long as he’s well paid.
    ‘Anyway,’ continued Aquila, ‘he’s what I mean by faithful. Publius Sextius is incorruptible. He’s not a man, he’s a rock. If Caesar has decided to use him, it means he doesn’t trust any of us. And Publius Sextius may not be the only one.’
    A leaden silence fell over the room. Pontius Aquila’s words had reminded each one of them that there were men for whom loyalty to one’s principles and one’s friends was a natural, unfailing quality. Men who were incapable of compromise, men who remained true to their convictions.
    None of them meeting here in Brutus’s home, on the other hand, had refused the favours, the help, the forgiveness of the man they were preparing to murder. And this couldn’t help but give rise to an intense, grudging sense of unease – more in some than in others – and deep shame that was becoming more and more unbearable with every day that passed. Certainly, each of them could find noble reasons for the act they were preparing to carry out: stamping out tyranny, restoring faith – that word again! – in the republic. But in reality one true reason stood above all others, like a prickly weed above the prettily mowed lawn: their resentment at owing it all to him – their lives, their salvation, their possessions – after they’d lost everything, after they’d realized that they had been playing at the wrong table.
    ‘I think it would be better to move soon. Even tomorrow. I’m ready,’ said Aquila.
    ‘So am I. The sooner the better,’ added Casca, increasingly restless.
    Brutus looked into their faces, one by one. ‘I need to know if you are speaking on your own behalf or in the name of the others as well.’
    ‘Let’s say that most of us are in agreement,’ replied Aquila.
    ‘But I’m not,’ retorted