Caesar's Women by Mccullough Colleen

Author:Mccullough, Colleen [Mccullough, Colleen]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Romance, Historical, Classic, Military, Epic, Politics
ISBN: 9780099460428
Google: -NKzFJdU15AC
Amazon: 0061582425
Goodreads: 3417
Publisher: Avon
Published: 1980-01-02T00:00:00+00:00

The praetor Lucius Roscius Otho had been a tribune of the plebs in the service of Catulus and the boni, and had earned the dislike of nearly all Roman men by returning the fourteen rows of theater seats just behind the senatorial seats to the knights of the Eighteen. But his affection had been given to Cicero on the day when a theater full of people had whistled and booed him viciously for reserving those delectable seats at law, and Cicero had talked the angry crowd of lesser beings around.

Praetor responsible for foreign litigation, Otho was in the lower Forum when he saw that savage-looking fellow Titus Labienus stride up to Metellus Celer’s tribunal and start talking very insistently. Curiosity piqued, Otho strolled over in time to hear the last part of Labienus’s demand that Gaius Rabirius be tried for high treason according to the law during the reign of King Tullus Hostilius. When Celer produced Caesar’s fat dissertation on ancient laws and started checking the validity of Labienus’s contentions, Otho decided it was time he repaid a part of his debt to Cicero by informing him what was going on.

As it happened Cicero had slept late, for on the night after the execution of the conspirators he had not been able to sleep at all; then yesterday’s day had been stuffed full of people calling round to compliment him, a kind of excitement more conducive to sleep by far.

Thus he had not emerged from his sleeping cubicle when Otho came banging on his front door, though he came quickly enough into the atrium when he heard the racket—such a small house!

“Otho, my dear fellow, I’m so sorry!” Cicero cried, beaming at the praetor while he ran his hands through his tousled hair to smooth it. “Blame the events of the past few days—last night I finally had a really good rest.” His bubbling sense of well-being began to fade a little when he took in Otho’s perturbed expression. “Is Catilina on his way? Has there been a battle? Have our armies been defeated?”

“No, no, nothing to do with Catilina,” said Otho, shaking his head. “It’s Titus Labienus.”

“What about Titus Labienus?’’

“He’s down in the Forum at Metellus Celer’s tribunal asking that he be allowed to prosecute old Gaius Rabirius perduellionis for the murders of Saturninus and Quintus Labienus.”

“He’s what!”

Otho repeated his statement.

Cicero’s mouth went dry; he could feel the blood drain from his face, feel his heart begin to trip and stammer while his chest emptied of air. One hand went out, grasped Otho by the arm. “I don’t believe it!”

“You had better, because it’s happening, and Metellus Celer was looking as if he was going to approve the case. I wish I could say I understood what exactly was going on, but I didn’t. Labienus kept quoting King Tullus Hostilius, something about an ancient trial process, and Metellus Celer got busy poring over a huge scroll he said was something to do with ancient laws. I don’t quite know why my left thumb started to prick, but it did.

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