Calpurnia put down the letter. "I'm not sure about that last bit-her loyalty, I mean. She did conspire with Fausta to induce Milo to raise arms against the state. One might argue that she was a traitor in the end, and that I would be entirely justified to seize all her assets-including the money I was holding in trust for her. But I ask myself: What would Caesar do? And the answer is obvious, for no leader of the Roman state has ever shown as great an inclination to clemency as Caesar. Cassandra cannot be made to suffer any more for her collusion with Fausta; she paid for that mistake with her life. I see no reason why Rupa should also suffer, and I have no wish to take from you, Gordianus, the money that Cassandra wished for you to have. You did me a great favor when you uncovered Fausta's perfidy, and while I suspect you don't wish to be paid for that effort-that would make you my agent, wouldn't it?-I do hope that this audience and its outcome may mark the first step toward a complete reconciliation between you and my husband, as well as those who serve my husband… including young Meto."
I stared at her, not sure how to answer. "What is the sum you hold in trust for Cassandra?" I asked.
She named it. The amount so surprised me that I asked her to repeat it.
I looked at Rupa warily. "Do you understand the amount of money that your sister earned?"
He nodded.
"Yet you accept the terms she laid out in her letter? That you should receive none of that money, and instead should become my son by adoption?"
He nodded again and would have embraced me a third time had I not stepped back. I looked at Calpurnia. "Perhaps it would be fairer if Rupa and I were to split the amount," I suggested.
She shrugged. "Once you receive the money from me, Gordianus, you can do with it whatever you wish. But you'll receive it only if you agree to adopt Rupa, as Cassandra requested. You appear to be a bit taken aback by her generosity, but I think she showed great wisdom in making such an arrangement. Rupa is a strong young man, probably an excellent bodyguard, and able to take care of himself in a fight-he certainly got the better of that gladiator Fausta sent to kill him. But in many ways he's not fit to look after himself. Cassandra was the one who always took care of him. Now that she's gone, it was her wish that you should do so. And why not? Haven't you a propensity for taking strays into your house-the two sons you adopted and that pair of rowdy slave boys you acquired from Fulvia? It was also Cassandra's wish that the money she earned should buy you out of the hole you've dug yourself into. I understand your debts are considerable. Even so, given the amount she's left you, there should be a tidy sum left over-enough to look after Rupa and the rest of your family for quite a while."
I thought about this and took a deep breath. I looked over my shoulder at Davus, who had followed the entire exchange in silence. He looked back at me with a furrowed brow, and I realized that I would face no easy task when it came to explaining to Bethesda and Diana how I had come into such a fortune, and why I was coming home with a new mouth to feed.
But why should I worry about explaining myself? Was I not a Roman paterfamilias, the supreme head of my own household, granted by law the power of life and death over everyone in that household? A paterfamilias had no need to justify himself. So tradition dictated, although real life never seemed to adhere very strictly to the model. If my wife or daughter pestered me with uncomfortable questions about Cassandra or Rupa or my sudden windfall or the abrupt vanishing of my debts, I could always fall back on my privileges as paterfamilias and simply refuse to answer them… for a while, anyway.
"Do you accept Cassandra's terms?" asked Calpurnia, suddenly impatient for the audience to end.
"Yes."
"Good. I'll have the money delivered to you this afternoon. Take Rupa with you as you go. Stay in the forecourt for a while if you wish to hear the formal announcement." She made a wave of dismissal. Guards appeared from the shadows to see us out.
We lingered for only a few moments in the forecourt before Calpurnia appeared on the steps. Every voice fell silent as all eyes looked to her.
"Citizens, I stand before you with wonderful news. Caesar has triumphed! There was a great battle in Thessaly, near a place called Pharsalus…"
She repeated the news just as she had given it to me, word for word. When she was done, the forecourt was oddly silent as those present absorbed the enormity of the news. Isauricus and Trebonius were the first to cheer. Others joined them, until the forecourt rang with acclamations for Caesar and cries of "Venus for victory!"
And so I made my way home with not one but two stout young men to act as my bodyguards-and a good thing that was, for the streets of the Palatine were suddenly thronged with people cheering and weeping and kissing one another and madly jumping up and down. Some appeared quietly pleased, some genuinely ecstatic. How many were simply experiencing a rush of emotion at the tremendous release of the tension that had been building in everyone for months? And how many were not happy at all, but were doing their best to laugh and shout and blend in with the rest?
As we slowly made our way through the crowd, I was startled to see, some distance off, a familiar face amid the throng. It was old Volcatius, Pompey's most vociferous partisan among the chin-waggers. His hands were in the air; his head was thrown back, his mouth open. Amid the din I could hear his reedy voice, shouting, "Hurrah for Caesar! Venus for victory! Hurrah for Caesar!"
"We are all Caesarians now," I muttered under my breath.