The Ides of March by unknow

Author:unknow
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Suspense, FIC014000
ISBN: 9781933372990
Publisher: Europa Editions
Published: 2009-01-01T18:30:00+00:00

13

Romae, in aedibus Bruti, a.d. IV Id. Mart., hora secunda

Rome, the home of Brutus, 12 March, seven a.m.

ARTEMIDORUS’S ROOM was worthy of a master of rhetoric who thrived on literature and Stoic philosophy. His capsa was filled to the brim with scrolls, each of which was classified and labelled. They were his wealth and well-being, and he would never dream of parting with them. He sat on a wooden chair with a dark leather seat and back. On his work table were a pitcher of water and a trayful of his favourite sweets prepared by one of the girls in the kitchen, a hedonistic weakness that he would swiftly spirit away whenever anyone knocked at his door.

His relationship with the master of the house was based mainly on his imparting instruction in the technical skills required for speaking the Greek language, such as grammar and syntax, the correct pitch required for public discourse, the ability to cite the great authors with due emphasis. Brutus had never sought other knowledge from Artemidorus, had never asked for a lesson in the art of living or in philosophical meditation, and this made the Greek feel belittled, his intellectual status disparaged. Whenever he had attempted to introduce a loftier topic, Brutus had cut him off, making it clear that he didn’t consider him equal to the task. This was the true reason Artemidorus despised his student and was willing to betray him. He couldn’t stand feeling excluded, his status as a philosopher going unrecognized.

Brutus’s stoic faith ran deep; he was nearly a fanatic. His idol, as everyone knew, was the uncle who had died at Utica. Cato, the patriot – the man who had preferred to die rather than to plead for his life, to give up his freedom.

Brutus had joined Pompey’s cause before the Battle of Pharsalus and was proud of his choice. Although he held Pompey responsible for his father’s death, at that moment he was the defender of the republic, and Brutus had been ready to set personal resentment aside and fight at his side.

ARTEMIDORUS’S bedchamber communicated directly with his study and that morning, at dawn, as he was still half sleeping, he had heard noises. He went from his bed to his study and from there, standing at a slight distance from the window, he could see the little portico of the inner courtyard, where a group of people had gathered. It was almost impossible to recognize them, however, from that vantage point. He left his study, moving stealthily down a narrow corridor and into a tiny service yard. From there it was just a few steps to the latrine, which was separated from the courtyard where they’d chosen to meet by a flimsy wall that Artemidorus realized he could easily perforate with a stylus. There were areas where the urine fumes had eaten away the whitewash, leaving it paper thin. He could see, and hear, what was taking place on the other side.

He put his eye to the hole

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