Proconsul Krystus Domitius told Druscilla he’d be back as soon as he knocked some manners into the distinguished orator Marcus Tullius Cicero. Apparently the aged man had sent a squad of runners to get Krystus’ attention, and the Proconsul did not enjoy being pursued to all corners of the city. Cicero had done it once or twice before, each time to discuss some trivial vote before the Senate that only seemed important because he was its author.

Krystus had once held great respect for Cicero, born mainly out of an incident between him and Metellus Nepos. As the orator was addressing the Senate, Metellus interrupted him to say, “who was your father, Cicero?” It was an obvious attempt to discredit the old man by shining a light on his humble equestrian origins, but Cicero shot right back by saying, “I am afraid in your case, your mother made it harder for you to answer the same question.” That brief interaction shut Metellus right up and perfectly illustrated Cicero’s character. The old man had little in the way of money or tact, but he was a force to be reckoned with.

The Proconsul enjoyed Cicero and during his days as Consul counted him as an ally, but over the last couple years their relations had soured. Cicero had bounced around the various political camps siding with the Republicans at one point and switching over to Caesar the next. When Caesar offered to forgive the orator for his past indiscretions, the old man jumped at the chance and soon the two were once again the closest of friends. Krystus couldn’t stand Cicero’s self-serving attempts at saving himself before the Republic. He couldn’t understand how a distinguished man of his age could so easily forget his duties and only care about himself.

“Proconsul,” said the messenger as the two men entered the humble atrium of Cicero’s domus. “If you’d be so kind as to wait in the library, I shall fetch master Cicero and some wine.”

Krystus nodded and stepped on through to the library. He didn’t even bother to look over the various scrolls stacked amid the shelves. Krystus was sure that they were all Cicero’s writing. The old man had done nothing else till he was forced out of the main stage of the Senate. Again, due mainly to Cicero’s own sense of invulnerability and bloated ego.

The Proconsul paced the room and glanced out a nearby window. If he knew Cicero as well as he thought he did, the old man wanted to meet in the hopes of gauging the Republican position and dig one foot, but only one, firmly in league with the conspirators. Cicero was interested in survival, but also firmly establishing his power in all camps. He’d probably walk into the room, appearing to be shaken by Caesar’s death, playing on Krystus’ own feelings for the fallen would-be king, and then try and angel his way into his confidence. Cicero was good at playing the odds.

“Krystus Domitius Crux,” came the trained voice of Cicero as the old man popped into the library. “My old friend, how have you been on this wonderful day? How have you celebrated the news of Caesar’s death? How have you held up?”

Okay, this was a bit unexpected. The main reason why Cicero was not included into the plans of assassination was because his friendship to Caesar seemed a bit too genuine. But here he stood with an actual grin across his face.

“You seem pleased,” offered Krystus a bit unnerved.

Cicero smiled even more broadly and taking a step toward his writing chair said, “more than you could know my friend, more than you could know.” He sat down happily and added, “are the rumors true? Are you indeed one of the new heroes of the Republic? Oh how I wish I were there. How I wish I could have seen Caesar falling to the ground clutching at the air for life. He must have been surprised. Was he? Was he?”

Krystus was taken aback and put his hand against the wall for support, just as Cicero’s servant brought in an amphora of wine and two cups.

“Here, here,” said Cicero as he shooed the servant away, “grab a cup dear Krystus, we must toast to these happy days. We must celebrate the return of our Republic.” He poured two cups and glancing up at Krystus saying, “don’t look so damned pale Domitius, were you expecting a widow in mourning?”

“No,” replied Krystus as he leaned forward and took a cup, “but I certainly wasn’t expecting a celebration.”

Cicero shrugged and gestured to a seat. “We have much to plan Domitius, much to plan,” he said as Krystus dumbly fell into the chair. “I wish you’d managed to kill off that box headed Antony as well, but we can’t have everything. No, we can’t have everything, but we need to make due with current circumstances.”

“Why are you so happy Cicero?” asked the Proconsul as he leaned forward in his seat. “This isn’t like you at all. Weren’t you and Caesar friends?”

“Weren’t you?” he countered. “Wasn’t Brutus one of his greatest comrades? Come, come Domitius, let’s be a bit more realistic. All this shock is unlike you. This is Rome, the greatest city in the entire world where fortunes are made when you least expect it. Caesar was a threat to everyone’s survival. Yes, he was a good man and the people liked him, blah, blah, blah. I was his friend, just as you were, but if he continued on his course then who knows where we’d end up.”

“So your happy that he’s dead?”

“Let’s not dwell on the past Domitius,” replied Cicero with a grand hand gesture, “we must plan for the days to come. We must pick our alliances carefully if we are to see Rome through to the future.”

“Look,” said the Proconsul, feeling more on track, “if you’ve summoned me here so that I would talk to Brutus and Cassius on your behalf, then you’ve picked the wrong man. I did not do what I did for them and I have no interest in-“

“Cassius and Brutus?” interrupted Cicero. “Cassius and Brutus will be exiled from Rome before the spring is past, I have no wish to join them. I asked you here to discuss our future.”

Krystus leaned back in his chair, it seemed that he still had a thing or two to learn from the old man after all.

“Now listen here,” said Cicero calmly, “I hear from the talk in the street that that fool Antony has already found Caesar’s will and discovered that Octavian is the heir to the throne. I’m sure Antony did not like the news that a sickly boy is to take Julius Caesar’s name and office. Further more I’m sure that Antony is at this very moment organizing his affairs, bribing his supporters and trying to put himself into a position to take control of Rome. We cannot allow Antony to play dictator or he will be as large of a threat as Caesar with only half the brain.”

“Wait,” said Krystus placing his cup of wine down on the table, “what does this have to do with me.”

Cicero smiled and said, “we are good friends Domitius, but more than that we still have a lot of sway in the halls of power, and I am telling you that we are in a position to shape the future of Rome. Yes, there are rumors that you were involved in the conspiracy, but I can easily denounce any such claims as an attempt by Cassius and Brutus to discredit a loyal friend to Caesar. Your name could be cleared within days and then the two of us can get rid of Antony and restore the Republic.”

“How?” asked Krystus skeptically. “How do you expect to accomplish any of it?”

“For starters,” replied the old man, “you were smart enough to not broadcast your deeds to the mobs and stay as quiet as possible during the night. A man of your stature would surely have more than idle rumors circling around if the populace of Rome truly believed that you were involved. Clearing your name would be quick and easy.” He took a sip of wine and continued. “Once Proconsul Krystus Domitius Crux and the great orator Marcus Tullius Cicero have been found clean of any wrong doing, we can denounce the conspirators and side with Octavian against Antony.”

“Side with Octavian?”

“The Consul is not the only one who can manipulate a mere boy to do his bidding,” said Cicero excitedly. “We throw our support in behind Octavian and use him as a counter balance to Antony. If we use all of our political support in just right way we can muster enough power behind Octavian that Antony will be forced to flee or fight a hopeless battle. Once Antony is gone, I am sure that Octavian will restore the Roman Republic.”

Krystus smiled and said, “how sure are you?”

Cicero took a breath and said, “I’ve never been more certain of anything. Besides, even if he doesn’t, we will have built up enough support to force the issue and we will do it in Caesar’s name.”

Krystus picked up his cup of wine and took a sip. Cicero was as cool and manipulative as ever, but the Proconsul suspected that Cicero needed an ally as he had no real support of his own. Nonetheless, Krystus had to admit that the old man’s proposition was interesting.