PROLOGUE

Rome, January 10, 49 B.C.

The house of Gaius Cassius Longinus was surrounded by a wall, as were the homes of all wealthy Romans, for the city had been growing at an alarming rate. Every day. more and more refugees arrived from the provinces. It was no longer safe to travel alone at night. The streets were choked with thieves and cutthroats who wouldn't hesitate to kill for a few measly denarii. The gatekeeper opened the heavy wooden door, admitting Marcus Brutus and his slaves, whom he had brought along for protection. Each of them was armed with a gladius, the Roman short sword, and Brutus himself wore a parazonium, the bottle-shaped, foot-long dagger that no Roman male went without these days. The times had grown perilous. He took off his cloak and handed it to the gatekeeper.

"See to it that my slaves are fed," he told the gatekeeper. "Have the others arrived yet?"

"They are dining in the peristylum, Master Brutus," said the gatekeeper.

"I was told to bid you join them as soon as you arrived."

"Thank you," Brutus said. He shivered in his toga, despite several layers of tunics that he wore beneath it. Unlike Cassius, who never seemed to feel the chill and tonic cold baths every day to inure himself to it. Brutus always felt the cold. Roman houses were never very warm in winter. They had no fireplaces or chimneys. What little heat there was came from a system of central heating called a hypocaust, which consisted of spaces underneath the floors and in the walls where smoke and heat from a roaring fire stoked in the cellar could circulate. However, the courtyards of the houses were open to the elements and the cold always managed to get in. All Romans suffered in the winter, huddling at night beneath their bedclothes of tapestries and carpets, with open charcoal braziers burning in their rooms, rendering the air smoky and oppressive.

In winter, they suffered from cold. In summer, there was the stench. Slops and sewage were simply thrown out into the streets, where their stink mingled with the smells coming from the cook shops and the bakeries, many of which kept hogs to eat their refuse and the hogs, of course, left their own. It all mingled to produce an atmosphere that choked the lungs and drove wealthy Romans out of the city, to their country estates. Winter was a time of chills; summer was a time of fevers. Brutus sometimes wondered why he bothered staying in Rome. Being governor of a province would have seemed more preferable, but then Rome was Rome and the provinces provided no society, no stimulation for the intellect. Rome was the center of the world, and these days. the center of the world was turbulent.

Brutus strolled through the atrium, with its marble columns. exquisite mosaic floors, its curtains and elegant furnishings in ivory, bronze, and rare woods. Cassius had spared no expense in the construction of his house, and every year, he refurbished a part of it. There was always some kind of construction going on in Rome. There was a shortage of housing and most of the tenements were shoddily and hastily built. There was a constant danger now from fire, or from falling buildings. But Cassius was able to employ the finest architects and builders. The atrium, a large courtyard surrounded by a series of rooms, was open to the air, with a large pool in the center that collected rainwater and which, from time to time, Cassius had stocked with carp. There were bedrooms on the second floor, but Cassius lived primarily in the second building, the peristylum. It was built around another courtyard, a meticulously landscaped garden surrounded by columns, with fruit trees, flowering shrubs, and fish ponds. In the warm months, Cassius kept an aviary. He was particularly fond of peacocks, though Brutus couldn't stand the strutting birds. They were beautiful to look at, but their ceaseless, raucous cawing was annoying in the extreme. Now, however, all the birds had died, as they did every winter, and the garden looked bleak, matching the disposition of the city.

Cassius and the others had already started their dinner. They were reclining on their stomachs or their sides on couches placed around the table, attended to by the slaves of the household. The stove was putting out some welcome heat and there were several braziers burning, as well as a number of oil lamps, with wicks of flax that could provide up to forty hours of light on a pint of oil. No candles were in sight. Candles were used only by the poor, who could not afford the oil. They used them very sparingly, since the tallow was often eaten when times grew lean.

Cassius, though lean himself, had never known lean times. He was fond of surrounding himself with luxuries. The sideboards were adorned with gold and silver cups and dishes, silver spoons and knives—though most food was eaten with the fingers—and elaborately carved drinking horns covered with gems and mounted in gold and silver. The money Cassius spent on murals, on tables of rare woods, or chairs of carved ivory could have kept an average Roman family fed for several years. And, as usual, he set an elegant table.

In the city, the staple food of the masses was wheat and corn, which most people ate boiled, as a sort of porridge. Few could afford meat. For most Romans, variety in diet was provided primarily by vegetables, sometimes fish or wild fowl. But Cassius dined like the aristocrat he was. Dinner began with salads, radishes and mushrooms. Eggs and oysters, washed down with generous amounts of mulsum, a sweet brew of warm wine mixed with honey. The main course consisted of six or seven dishes— mackerel eels or prawns, boar, venison, wild goat, suckling pig, hare, stuffed dormice, geese, ostriches, pheasants, doves and peacocks, honey-sweetened cakes and fruit, all washed down with copious amounts of Greek Chian wine that was heated and mixed with water, then served in horns and bowls so that bread could be dunked into it.

Frequently, Cassius' guests would gorge themselves until they were so full, they couldn't eat another bite. Then they would stick feathers down their throats, vomit on the floor, and, while slaves cleaned up the mess, eagerly reapply themselves to the feast spread out before them. Often, Cassius staged lavish entertainments during dinner. Musicians played while his guests ate, or perhaps some popular poet recited his latest works. Sometimes there were dancing girls—Cassius was especially fond of dancing girls—and dwarf acrobats and conjurers. But there was no entertainment on this night. The mood of the diners was grim, conspiratorial.

"Ah. Brutus!" said Cassius. greeting him with a wave. "Come in, come in, we've been waiting for you."

"It seems you have begun without me," Brutus said.

"Here, take a place by me," said Cassius, moving over on the couch.

"Don't worry, there is plenty more. Here, have some wine. You look cold."

"I am cold," said Brutus, gratefully accepting the steaming cup.

You should immerse yourself in the frigidarium," said Cassius. "I've told you time and time again, one must fight the cold with its own weapons."

"I prefer to fight it with steam, thank you," Brutus said.

"You know everyone, of course."

"Of course," said Brutus, nodding to Casca, Cimber, Ligarius, and Labeo. They were all influential citizens of Rome. Powerful and ambitious men. He sipped the wine and was gratified to feel its warmth spreading through him. A good night to get drunk, he thought.

"We were discussing Caesar” Cassius told him. He picked up a radish and popped it into his mouth, crunching on it noisily.

"What else?" said Brutus, allowing the heat of the wine cup to warm his hands. "All Rome is discussing Caesar. One hears of little else."

"The man's a dangerous rebel against the traditions of Rome," said Ligarius, a portly, balding man who always spoke as if he were uttering grave pronouncements. He was known as "the soporific of the Senate."

"Caesar's entire life has been a history of rebellion," Brutus replied wryly.

"Yes, that is true enough," said Cimber, a young man with dark, curly hair and deep-set eyes that gave him something of a haunted look. "They still talk about how, as a boy, after he was nominated to a priesthood at the temple of Jupiter, he flouted convention by breaking his engagement so that he could wed a young woman of more noble birth. And when Sulla ordered him to divorce and honor his original engagement. Caesar refused! Can you imagine refusing Sulla?"

"I can well imagine Caesar doing it," said Brutus with a smile.

"I recall that story," Labeo said as He licked his fingers and wiped them on his tunic. "He was stripped of his priesthood, his wife's dowry, and his own inheritance. Sulla was so angry with him that Caesar was forced to go into hiding."

"Yes, but Sulla pardoned him." said Brutus.

"Only because Caesar had influential friends who interceded for him." said Casca with disgust. Casca had never been a man who troubled to conceal his feelings. Wiry, dark, and foxlike, his sharply chiseled features gave him a predatory look, tie was one of Caesar's most vocal critics. Perhaps too vocal. His friends frequently cautioned him, yet he paid them no mind.

"Caesar has always had influential friends," said Brutus. "He goes to a great deal of trouble to secure them."

"I hear he sometimes secures them in the bedchamber," said Labeo with a grimace of distaste. "Be careful, you oaf!" he shouted, hurling a piece of venison at the slave who had leaned over to refill his goblet. "You almost spilled that on me!"

"I had heard that, too." said Cimber. adjusting his tunic and getting grease stains on it in the process. He wiped at them absently, spreading them still farther. "During his assignment as aide to the governor of Bithynia, weren't there rumors of a homosexual relationship between Caesar and King Nicomedes?"

"Malicious gossip." Brutus said.

"Perhaps, but where there's smoke, there's fire," Cassius said, giving them all a knowing look. "And there has always been such gossip about Caesar. He swims in a veritable ocean of scandalous rumor. When the revolt broke out following Sulla's death, did he not immediately hurry home, anxious to take opportunity of any chances to advance himself?"

"Are you speaking of the alleged conspiracy with Lepidus?" said Brutus, reaching across the table for some fruit. “The way I heard it. he chose to stay well out of it."

"Only because he knew that Lepidus would fail," said Casca. "He was afraid to take the chance of throwing in with him."

"Afraid?" said Brutus. " Caesar?" He chuckled. "The man is absolutely fearless."

"Yes, that is true enough," Cassius conceded. "He is courageous to the point of foolishness. Such as that time when he was captured by Cilician pirates while en route to Rhodes. 'They held him for ransom for over a month, during which time it's said he often told his amused captors that he would pay them back by crucifying them. They doubtless found his youthful braggadocio vastly entertaining. However, they were not quite so entertained after the ransom money had been borrowed and Caesar was released. He raised a fleet to pursue them, captured them, and did exactly

as he'd promised. Then he seized their booty as his prize and used it to raise a force so he could join the campaign against King Mithridates, for which he was voted the rank of tribune on his return to Rome. No. Brutus is right. If there is one thing you cannot say about Caesar. it is that he has ever been afraid of anything."

"Have you heard the story of when he was sent to Spain, as quaestor?" Labeo asked. "Supposedly. he saw the statue of Alexander in the Temple of Hercules and became quite upset. The thought that by the time Alexander was his age. he had already conquered the world while Caesar himself had done nothing nearly so significant caused him to quit his post and return to Rome, from where, presumably, world-conquering could be more easily accomplished."

"And there followed rumors of Caesar being involved in several conspiracies for revolution, most notably with Crassus," Cimber added. "Even then, he lusted after power."

"I've heard those rumors, too," said Brutus, "but nothing ever came of such plots. lf, indeed, they ever existed."

"Oh, they existed, you can be sure of that," said Cassius, tearing off a piece of bread and dunking it into his wine. As he chewed on it, some wine dribbled down his chin and he wiped it away with the back of his hand.

"If nothing came of those plots, it was only because the moment was not right or the other participants in the conspiracies were hesitant." said Labeo with his mouth full. "But did that stop Caesar? No, he went on angling for higher office and making a reputation for himself as a prosecutor, one who was not above bribing witnesses to bring charges against his enemies."

"He also shamelessly curried favor with the public by staging elaborate entertainments," Ligarius added between gulps of wine, "which placed him heavily in debt. Yet it paid off. Eventually, he managed to secure the office of Chief Priest. They say he bought the votes."

"What about when Catiline was brought up before the Senate on charges of conspiracy?" asked Cimber. "The entire House was in favor of the death penalty. Caesar alone argued against it. Perhaps he was mindful of his own aborted conspiracy with Crassus."

"If that isn't damning evidence, what is?" asked Casca sourly. "I heard he so incensed the Senate with his

obstinacy that the house guard went so far as to unsheath their swords. They would have killed him, too, if not for Ciecro's intercession."

Not that Cicero was ever fond of Caesar," Cassius said dryly. "He simply thought that killing someone in the Senate was bad form."

Brutus chuckled. Cicero might have phrased it exactly that way himself.

"You may laugh. Brutus. but it would have saved everyone a lot of trouble if they'd done away with him right there and then." said Casca. "I tell you, his luck is simply unbelievable."

"What about when the House voted to suspend him?" Labeo asked. His white tunic was spattered with food stains. "The people clamored for his reinstatement and the Senate buckled under. restoring him to office. Yet no sooner had they done so than his name was linked to the conspiracy of Catiline."

"The man he had so ardently defended," interjected Casca sarcastically.

"Yet he not only managed to wriggle out of that one, but he also turned the tables on his accusers and had them sent to jail. Can you believe it?"

"He always was audacious," Cassius agreed. "It was not long after that, the Senate decided to send him off to Spain. Doubtless in the hope that some obliging savage would stick a spear between his ribs. Naturally. Caesar immediately saw this as yet another opportunity to distinguish himself. However, he was worried that his creditors would seek his impeachment, so they could keep him in Rome until he could pay off his debts. Which, of course. he could not do. So what was his solution? He rushed off to Spain at once, without waiting for his appointment to be officially confirmed or even for the House to vote him the necessary

funds. After all, why should such small matters of legality bother the great Caesar"

"But you must admit that he did bring things back under control in Spain by the following summer," Brutus pointed out He held out his cup to be refilled.

"True, but then he returned to Rome without waiting to be properly relieved and demanded, demanded. to be awarded a triumph." Cassius replied scornfully. "Not only that, but at the same time, he announced his intention to run for a consulship. Now everyone knows that a commander who petitions to enter the city in triumph is supposed to wait outside the city until he receives his answer, whereas a man who wants to run for consul must be present in Rome to file his candidacy. Clearly Caesar could not legally do both, but did that dissuade him? Not Caesar! He tried to get himself exempted from the election regulations, so that his

friends could file his candidacy for him. Talk about audacity! The resulting protests in the Senate forced him to either give up running for consul or forgo the triumph. He decided that being elected consul was more important. so he gave up the triumph. entered Rome, filed his candidacy. and, running true to form, proceeded to bribe the voters."

"The way I heard it, his enemies bribed the voters themselves to cast their lot for Bibulus," Brutus said.

"With the result that both men were elected," Casca said with disgust.

"The whole thing was a farce!"

"And after his election. Caesar embarked upon still more intrigues," said Cassius. "He somehow managed to work his charm on Pompey. who was still angry with the Senate for the difficulties they had given him in pursuing the war against Mithridates. Caesar managed to patch things up between him and his old fellow coconspirator. Crassus. who was still smarting over being eclipsed by Pompey in their defeat of that rebel gladiator, what was his name? 'The surly-looking bastard with the dimple in his chin."

"Spartacus," said Brutus, popping a stuffed dormouse in his mouth.

"Yes, that's the one. Caesar brought Pompey and Crassus together and arranged for them to agree upon a pact. All three of them swore to oppose any actions of the Senate that any one of them might disapprove of."

"If you ask me, that was the turning point for him." Ligarius pronounced.

"Crassus had the money. Pompey had influence and his soldiers. After that. Caesar began to make his presence in the Senate felt with a vengeance."

"Wasn't his first act a rule that all daily proceedings of the Senate and the courts be published, insuring that the people would know about everything he said and did?" asked Cimber. He turned. "You! Yes, you. the ugly one! More wine!"

"Yes, and he quickly turned that to his advantage," Cassius said. "When he proposed some agrarian reform and his old opponent. Bibulus, took a stand against it. Caesar actually had him driven from the Forum at sword point! The idea, one supposes, was to prove to all those who would read of the proceedings that the great Caesar would stop at nothing to champion any cause that would benefit the Roman people . "

"And at the same time, demonstrate to the members of the Senate what would happen to anyone who dared oppose him." added Ligarius. He shifted his position on the couch and broke wind prodigiously.

"By the gods, Ligarius!" said Cimber with a grimace. "You could empty out the Circus with that one! Phew!"

"When was it that he married Calpurnia?" Labeo asked.

"About the same time Bibulus decided it was more prudent for him to retire from public life." said Cassius. He ate an olive and spat the pit out on the floor. A slave immediately picked it up. "Marrying Calpurnia gave him access to her father's money. At the same time. he broke his daughter's engagement so she could many Pompey. thereby cementing his relationship with the most famous general in Rome."

"You tell me that was not ambition?" Casca asked angrily. "Nor was that enough for him! He then decided that being appointed provincial governor of Gaul would present him with the most opportunities to secure wealth and triumphs. so he used his influence to make sure that he got it

"Well, that's not quite true," said Brutus. The Senate was only too glad to give it to him. No sooner had he left his office than they began an inquiry into his conduct during his term as consul. The moment Caesar left the city, his quaestor was charged with malfeasance, laying the groundwork for charges against Caesar himself. But nothing ever came of it."

"Only because Caesar had contributed generously to all of the chief magistrates and supported candidates for office who would look after his interests," Cassius said. "He has always been a corrupt intriguer. I cannot understand why you defend him. Brutus."

"It is not my intention to defend Caesar." Brutus replied. "Nor does he require my defense. Can you deny the good he did for Rome? In Gaul. he expanded his army with legions raised at his own expense. He even went so far as to recruit and train an entire legion from the province. In the nine years of his military governorship, he subjugated all of Gaul to Roman authority. His legions took over eight hundred towns, conquered three hundred states, and killed over a million enemy barbarians, taking as many prisoner. If you are going to point out the man's faults, then do not neglect his virtues."

"Virtues! What virtues?" Casca asked, raising his voice. "You speak as if Caesar gained nothing for himself! Gaul has made him rich! And he was lavish in his gifts of slaves to anyone who could be of benefit to him. Any man who looks at Caesar's history with a clear eye can come away with but one conclusion! All Caesar ever wanted was power! His ambition simply knows no bounds. I tell you, he intends to seize Rome itself! He plans to depose Pompey and make himself dictator!"

"I have seen no proof of that," said Brutus.

"No? Then why did he refuse to be relieved?" countered Casca. "The Gallic Wars are over! The province has been pacified. Why does he refuse to disband his legions? I'll tell you why! Because he still faces charges of malfeasance during his term as consul! Because he still has debts that he does not wish to pay! Because he had made wild promises that he knows he cannot keep! And most of all, because he has acquired a taste for power and he does not wish to give it up. Even his old friend, Pompey. considers him a threat!"

"Perhaps," Brutus replied, "but there are those, present company included, who have gone to great lengths to make a breach between Pompey and Caesar. And frankly. while Pompey may be a great general, as a statesman he leaves much to be desired."

Your feelings about Pompey are well known." said Casca, dismissing his comment with a wave of his hand. "He did execute your father, after all. Or was it really your father that he killed? Perhaps there is another mason for your reluctance to condemn Caesar. It is well known that your mother was once his mistress."

Brutus gave Casca a long, hard look. "Caesar is not my father," he said stiffly.

Then why does he bear so much affection for you?" Casca asked.

“Was I invited here to be called a bastard and insulted?" Brutus shouted, throwing his wine cup to the floor. The slaves hastened to mop up the spill. Brutus started to rise. but Cassius took him by the arm.

”No, no, Brutus, stay, please! It was merely the wine speaking, wasn't it, Casca? It is just that we are all inflamed with passion and concern about our future. We meant to share our feelings with you. We had believed that you were with us, but it seems that you cannot forget your father's fate at Pompey's hands and therefore lean toward Caesar. Well, that is regrettable. but we love you none the less for it."

“You judge me wrongly." Brutus said. "I despise Pompey, that is true, but neither do I favor Caesar. Politics must be dispassionate. A lesson some of us have yet to learn," he added with a pointed glance at Casca. "I may not share the vehemence of your feelings against Caesar but I do not believe that he is the man to govern Rome."

"Then you are with us'?" asked Cassius.

“If it must come to a choice between Pompey and Caesar, then for the good of the republic, I must put aside my own feelings and stand for Pompey," Brutus replied. "Caesar has accomplished great things, but I believe that Cicero is right. His chief concern is for himself, not Rome."

"Cicero is wise," said Ligarius. nodding. He belched loudly.

"The gods have spoken," Cimber said, raising his cup and draining it.

"Then why have you not invited him tonight. so that you could partake of his wisdom?" Brutus asked.

"Cicero is wise, but he is also old," Cassius replied. "It is for young men such as ourselves to plan the future."

"To plan conspiracies. you mean," said Brutus.

"Against whom do we conspire?" asked Cassius. raising his eyebrows in surprise. "Against Caesar'? He is not the power in Rome, thank the gods, yet he is a threat not to be taken lightly. All here are loyal citizens of the republic, merely expressing their concerns about the future. Is that conspiracy'?"

"Perhaps not," said Brutus. "Yet it has the flavor of one."

"Come now, Brutus," Cassius said, putting his arm around him, "you are among friends. Set aside your worries. There are many flavors here to tempt you. Such as this excellent Greek wine, for instance."

Cassius gestured for a slave to pour Brutus another cup. "Let us have no more talk about conspiracies." He winked. "At least, not for tonight."

Brutus drained the cup and held it out to be refilled. The wine was filling him with pleasant warmth. A warmth that seemed to banish the chill of an uncertain future. Yes, indeed, he thought, it was a good night to get drunk.

Capt. Jonathan Travers of the United States Temporal Army Observer Corps, alias "Lucius Septimus," personal secretary and aide to the commander of the legions, stood outside his tent and gazed out at the troops camped all around him. The legionaries were relaxing around their cook fires, but there was a tension of anticipation in the air. Each of them knew that in the morning, they would take part in a historic event that had no precedent. The camp had been situated on the slope of a hill. The entrance gates were on the downslope and the rear gates were at the crest. The legions had camped out in the open, away from wooded areas that could provide an enemy with an opportunity to make a sudden attack from concealment. The earthworks had been thrown up around the camp, the soil taken from a twelve-foot-wide ditch dug around them to a depth of nine feet. The earthen wall itself was ten feet high and six feet wide, enough room for defenders to stand on top and hurl their javelins in the event of an assault. Timber and brush had been used to reinforce the earthworks and the ramparts. When occasion demanded it, wooden towers could be placed atop the wall, but this was only a temporary camp and there was no need for them.

The camp was laid out in a large rectangle, divided into three roughly equal parts. These divisions were marked off by two broad "streets" that ran the width of the entire camp. The praetorium was the headquarters section. where Travers had his tent. It occupied a wide space in the exact center. Directly behind the praetorium and separated from it by the second of the two main streets, the via quintana, was the quaestorium. It was a similar space situated at the middle of the camp, where hostages, prisoners, booty, forage, and supplies were kept. The praetentura was the front section of the camp, separated from headquarters section by the first of the two main streets, the via principalis. One fourth of the cohorts were encamped there, in tents facing the wall, on either side of the via praetoria, which was the street leading from the center of the camp to the front gates. Half the cavalry was camped there too, as well as the archers and the slingers, situated so that they could quickly move out the front gate to form an advance guard in the event of an attack.

The remainder of the cohorts and the cavalry were disposed on either side of the praetorium and in the rear of the camp. Running around the entire perimeter, just inside the wall, was a broad street one hundred and twenty feet wide, meant to allow movement for the troops defending the walls and to prevent hostile missiles coming over the wall from reaching the tents. There were smaller streets running lengthwise and widthwise throughout the camp, separating each cohort from the one beside it. Everything was laid out with practiced, logical precision. There was a specific allotment of space for the tents, the pack animals. the servants, and the stacking of weapons. The plan never varied from this basic layout. The soldiers were so well drilled at setting up the camp that they had begun digging the fortifications at noon and the entire task had been completed shortly before sunset. Each man had worked for one hour before he was relieved, while other troops formed a protective front to cover the work while details of cavalry scouted the area to provide security. Everything was done with an efficiency and a precision that an elite 27th-century military unit would have envied, but then again, these were no ordinary troops. The Romans had fielded some of the finest armies in all of history and these were the finest troops ever fielded by Rome, led by the greatest general the republic had ever seen—Gaius Julius Caesar.

As a career officer in the Observer Crops, Travers would spend most of his adult life stationed in this time period, in the 1st century before the birth of Christ. Volunteers for Long Term Observer posts did not receive antiagathic treatments to retard the aging process. (Had Travers come from a family that could have afforded buying those treatments for him at an early age, he would not have qualified for L.T.O. posting. otherwise how could he explain remaining youthful while everyone around him aged normally?) The hazardous nature of his assignment meant that he could easily lose his life at any time. Few people would have volunteered for such a post. but Travers was one of a unique group of scholar adventurers who eagerly accepted such risks and hardships in return for the opportunity to spend their lives in intensive, close-up study of important historical figures—observing history as it was being made and safeguarding it. as well.

Though he would be an old man when Travers returned to the 27th century, he would not have traded this opportunity for anything. When he clocked back to Plus Time, assuming he survived to complete his tour of duty. Travers would receive his antiagathic treatments. (Though they would not then be as effective as they would have been had he received them as a younger man.) They would not return his lost youth, but they would nevertheless extend his life beyond the normal span. He would be able to retire on a government pension, with all of its attendant perks, to either teach or write about his experiences. Travers hoped to produce the definitive life of Julius Caesar as written by a man who had witnessed most of it firsthand.

The preparations for his assignment had been exhaustive. Qualification as an L.T.O. placed him among the elite of the Temporal Corps, second only to the agents of Temporal Intelligence. Only those with the very best educational backgrounds were selected and they had to be in peak physical condition, as well. (Once they graduated from the grueling training course, they were given implant conditioning, programmed through a biochip surgically implanted in the cerebral cortex with the knowledge and the behavior modification patterns that would enable them to blend in with the time period and the society within which they would have to function.) Cosmetic surgery was performed when necessary. They had to look the parts they were to play.

Travers had an outstanding classical education and a gift for languages. He was fluent in Greek and Latin. but that was not enough. He had to be conditioned not only to speak, but to think in Latin and behave as a Roman would. Being well versed in history could also be a liability. It would hardly do for him to quote Cicero in casual conversation before Cicero had actually said what he was quoting! The Time Wars had rendered the continuity of history fragile enough without endangering it further, especially now that insurgents from the parallel universe were seeking to disrupt the timestream. Not only did Travers have to pass as a Roman and survive long enough to complete his dangerous assignment, he had to be on the alert for temporal anomalies. He also had to watch his step, to make sure he did not cause any himself.

It had been necessary for him to have become an expert on the life and times of Julius Caesar. but even that was not enough. There was no escaping the Principle of Temporal Uncertainty. It was impossible to determine absolutely any degree of deviation from the original historical scenario because of the lack of total historical documentation. "there was always room for error. No one could possibly document any historical period down to the most minute detail. In any given period of time, things had occurred that history had no knowledge of. It was also possible that the mere fact of Travers' presence could affect events in some way. Every moment Travers spent in Minus Time was dangerous. Yet that was part of the intoxicating thrill. To Travers, the risk was worth it. He already knew more about Julius Caesar than anyone living in his own time period. With each moment he spent in Minus Time, he was learning more.

He found Caesar to be brilliant, innovative, an extremely versatile commander. He was completely fearless and his opponents found him totally unpredictable. A skillful swordsman and horseman, he often led his legions on foot, marching like an ordinary soldier rather than riding like a general. He lived life at a much faster pace than those around him. His tremendous powers of endurance allowed him to cover over a hundred miles a day in light carriages, traveling over the worst of roads at twice the pace of the average traveler. He often dictated letters and reports to his secretaries en route, sometimes as many as four or five simultaneously. He also composed scholarly works or poems while he traveled, or worked on his famous Commentaries. in which he dispassionately, even modestly, but clearly with a thought for history, chronicled his military campaigns in Gaul.

He possessed great personal charm and a wit that infuriated his rivals in Rome when he turned it against them. Yet, for all his gifts, he looked incredibly ordinary. He was tall and very fair, with a broad, scholar's face and melancholy dark brown eyes. He was also very vain. He kept his face and head carefully trimmed and often depilated his body hair with tweezers. He had started balding at a very early age and was in the habit of trying to disguise it by combing what little hair he had forward over his high forehead. Later, when the Senate voted him the privilege of wearing a laurel wreath on all occasions. he was almost never seen without it. he was somewhat eccentric in his dress. he had added fringed sleeves to his purple-striped senatorial tunic. an affectation that caused his enemies to refer to him as a woman behind his back and added fuel to the numerous rumors of his alleged bisexuality. He suffered from bouts of

epilepsy, but sought to fight them off with exercise and moderate diet.

His legions loved him. A naturally gifted speaker who had studied rhetoric in the school of Apollonius of Rhodes, he would often address them in the field, and always on the eve of any action. speaking to them warmly and with great emotion, man to men. He always saw to their welfare first and had forged a unique and powerful bond with his troops. They would have followed him to hell.

In the morning, when they crossed the Rubicon, they would follow Caesar where no commander had ever taken his troops before—to Rome itself. The Senate was alarmed at his successes, terrified of his legions. They were well aware of his immense popularity. He had staged gladiatorial shows for the people and sponsored lavish public banquets. He distributed grain to his troops at the slightest excuse and gifted them with Gallic slaves. He sent slaves and presents to prominent aristocrats, made loans to people who found themselves in debt. collected vast amounts of tribute from conquered territories, and sought favor with kings and allied tribes by sending them prisoners or lending them troops, all without even bothering to seek authorization from the Senate. He helped people with legal difficulties and sympathized with those he could not help. It had been reported that he told them, "What you need is a civil war."

Even his old ally, Pompey, had grown apprehensive about Caesar. The Ties between the two men had been weakened by the death of Caesar's daughter. Julia. who had been Pompey's wife, and of Crassus, who was killed in Parthia. As a newly elected consul, Pompey had become the most powerful man in Rome. He saw Caesar as a threat. His legions seemed invincible, their loyalty to him was absolute.

On his return to Rome. Caesar still faced charges of irregular conduct from when he had served as consul. He had incurred tremendous debts and made many promises that would be difficult, if not impossible. to keep. In his time as governor-general of Gaul. he had acquired a taste

for power, and nobody believed that he would easily give it up. Consequently. as "a matter of public interest." the Senate had decided that since the Gallic Wars had ended and peace had been restored. Caesar should be relieved of his post before his term expired. They had also directed him to disband his legions. Caesar's response was to march on

Rome.

Travers alone knew what would happen when Caesar crossed the Rubicon. He would wage a bloody civil war, crush Pompey's forces, and seize absolute power. bringing to an end the days of the republic. His name would become synonymous with the title that he would assume- imperator. But on the night before he was to cross the Rubicon—a phrase that would go down in history as signifying facing the greatest trial and passing the point of no return—Caesar was keyed up and nervous.

He always looked for omens and was in the habit of consulting soothsayers. Word had reached him of a local "oracle: with great spiritual powers. who was said to have the ability to see into the Future. He had sent for this oracle and was anxiously awaiting his arrival, he had grown impatient and sent a messenger to Travers. ordering him to have the oracle brought to him as soon as he arrived. And as Travers stood outside the entrance to the praetorium and waited, he saw the detachment of men that Caesar had sent out approaching down the via praetoria. With them was a tall and slender figure carrying a staff and dressed in a hooded black cloak.

Travers hurried to meet them. The centurion in charge gave him a salute.

"You are the oracle?" Travers asked the hooded figure. He could not make out the man's face.

"I am."

"The general is expecting you. He is most anxious to hear your prophecy."

As, in fact, was Travers. He hoped that he would be allowed to stay and listen. He did not really expect to hear anything surprising. Oracles and soothsayers knew what was expected of them when they were brought into the presence of a famous general and found themselves surrounded by an army. Under such circumstances, it would not be wise to read "unfavorable portents." The man would doubtless give a reassuring reading in the most general terms, promising success and power and the favor of the gods, pocket his "offering" and hurry home. However, Travers thought it might make for an interesting scene in his book.

"You've searched him, of course?" Travers said to the centurion.

"Of course, Praetor. The man was carrying no weapons."

"Good. Come with me."

Travers led the way to Caesar's tent, with the vexillum, the general's standard, a white banner inscribed with red letters giving Caesar's name and identifying his army. placed outside it. The tent was made of leather, with two upright poles and one ridge pole. When on the march. Caesar did not avail himself of any luxuries, which endeared him to his men. He lived as they did, ate as they ate. He was pacing back and forth, nervously, attired simply in his tunic and sandals. He looked up eagerly as they entered.

"Ah Septimus! You have brought the oracle?"

"This is the man. Caesar."

Travers beckoned the hooded figure forward.

"Pull back your cowl," he said.

The man pulled back his hood. He was completely bald, with a prominent, hooked nose and deep-set dark eyes that gave him a sepulchral look. His face was long, with a pointed chin and pronounced cheekbones.

"What is your name'?" asked Caesar.

"I am called Lucan, General," the man said softly.

"You know who I am?"

A brief nod.

"They tell me that you can see into the future."

"I have that gift."

"I would have you look into my future and tell me what you see."

Lucan nodded. "Please. sit down." he said.

They sat down at the table.

"Do you require an augury?" asked Caesar

"No. That is not the nature of my gift. Give me your right hand," said Lucan.

Caesar held out his right hand, palm up. Lucan took it in his own right hand and covered it with his left, then closed his eyes. Nothing terribly dramatic, so far. Travers thought. An oracle without much imagination. Caesar looked slightly disappointed.

"You are a man of great ambition." Lucan said without opening his eyes.

"You have made many enemies. Some who were once your friends."

A safe assumption to make about a famous general. thought Travers, though not the sort of flattering beginning that he had expected.

"That is true." said Caesar.

"Please," said bean. opening his eyes. "I do not wish to offend. but I must ask you to remain silent until I have finished."

Caesar nodded.

Lucan shut his eyes once more and remained silent for almost thirty seconds. He was frowning slightly.

"I see that you are about to embark upon undertaking a great risk. Old friends will become your bitter enemies. There shall be great conflict, yet you shall succeed, though not without cost."

Caesar smiled.

"But this undertaking . . . this war . . . will be only the beginning for you. I see that you aspire to greatness and you shall achieve it. as did Alexander. whom you so much admire."

Travers raised his eyebrows. The man must have been briefed by someone. Probably he had asked questions about Caesar from the men who had been sent to fetch him. Caesar's admiration of Alexander was hardly a secret.

"I see great power in your future," the oracle continued, speaking softly. "Absolute power. And your fame shall last throughout the ages. You shall have many conquests. both martial and romantic. I see that you will fall in love with a wise and ambitious foreign woman who will smite you with her beauty. A young queen who shall bear you a son."

Travers stared at the oracle intently. This was unusually specific. And also uncannily true. He was talking about Cleopatra. No, he thought, don't be ridiculous. How could he possibly know that? It was just flattery that happened to be coincidence. Caesar had several queens as mistresses at one time or another. It was not an unusual assumption to make about a famous Roman general and a provincial governor who had regular contact with local royalty.

"I also see violent death in your future," Lucan said. "There will be portents and warnings. You must not ignore them. For if you do. I see the image of your body bleeding, pierced with many wounds. You will not fall in battle, but at the hands of those you think your friends. Beware the Ides of March, Caesar. Beware the names of Casca. Brutus, Cassius, Cimber . . ." His eyes fluttered open. "I am sorry. I can see no more."

Caesar was frowning. Travers held his breath. He could scarcely believe what he had just heard. The oracle had just named Caesar's assassins!

"This violent death you see upon the Ides of March." said Caesar "It will occur soon?"

In five years' time."

Travers almost gasped. He had pinpointed the time precisely!

"And is there nothing I can do to alter this fate'?" asked Caesar.

"Perhaps. To a man who takes his fate into his own hands," said Lucan.

"nothing is impossible."

"What must I do, then, to avoid this violent death?"

"Give me your left hand," said the oracle.

Caesar held it out and Lucan took it in both of his, as he had done before. For a moment. he said nothing, concentrating. Then . . .

"There is a chance that you might be able to avoid the fate your destiny has in store for you." Lucan said. "But you must be mindful of the omens. One in particular. above all others. I have but a dim perception of it. You will know it when that which was concealed shall stand revealed."

Lucan released Caesar's hand. "I can tell you no more. Only that when you recognize that omen, you must hearken to its counsel."

"And that is all that you can tell me?" Caesar asked.

"That is all. And now. General. I must beg leave to retire. 'The sight has wearied me.-

"My men shall escort you from the camp," said Caesar. "I thank you, Lucan, for your prophecy." Caesar picked up several gold coins and gave them to the oracle. "Septimus, see to it that he is safely conducted from the camp."

His mind in a turmoil. Travers went with the soldiers to escort Lucan through the gates. Outside, it was dark and the oracle looked ghostly as he walked silently toward the gates with the hood over his head.

"How did you know those things?" asked Travers.

"I have the sight."

"But you named names, you gave an exact date!

"It was what I saw."

"But you told Caesar that it was possible for him to change his fate." said Travers. "How? How can any man alter his own destiny?"

"A man's destiny is but the result of his actions in the present and the past," said Lucan. "Those actions set his feet upon a path that will lead him to his destiny. When I look into a man's future. my sight travels along the path that man has chosen by his actions. If that man were to choose a different path, it would lead him to a different destiny. however, it is my experience that most men never change."

There is no future. Travers thought. his mind racing. There is only an infinite number of possible futures. What Lucan had just told him was an almost perfect paraphrase of the Principle of Temporal Inertia.

"Can you look into my future asked Travers.

"No," said Lucan.

"Why not?"

"Because the sight has wearied me. I need time to recover."

"Perhaps later. then'?"

"I fear not. I am leaving upon a long journey in the morning. And your general shall take you with him upon his."

They had reached the gates.

"I doubt that we shall meet again. Praetor Septimus." said Lucan. "But perhaps that is for the best. Believe me, most men are better off not knowing what their future holds in store for them. Good fortune to you."

He passed through the gate.

The oracle is right," said the centurion. -If it is my fate to die tomorrow, or soon thereafter. I would prefer not to know of it tonight." He clasped the hilt of his sword. "And I would sooner trust my fate to this than to the prophecies of oracles and soothsayers. Good night to you, Praetor Septimus."

He turned and went hack toward the tents with his soldiers.

Travers turned to the guard at the gate. "I must Speak further with that man. Let me through."

They passed him through the gates and Travers hurried after Lucan. but after running no more than a few steps. he stopped. The slope of the hill fell away from the camp, leading to a meadow. The open country was gently illuminated by the moonlight.

There was no sign of the oracle. It was as if he had simply disappeared.

1

TAC-HO. Pendleton Base, California, June 13, A.D. 2627

The penthouse of the headquarters building of the Temporal Army Command had originally been the personal quarters of the Pendleton Base commander, but since General Moses Forrester had assumed that post, as well as the directorship of the Temporal Intelligence Agency, it was hardly ever used Forrester. a bull of a man, completely bald with a face like a pugnacious bulldog and a powerful, bodybuilder's physique that belied his advanced age, lived on the floor immediately beneath it. where his offices were located. They were the same quarters he had resided in when he was the commander of the elite First Division, better known as the Time Commandos.

Forrester had spent his entire life in the service, which had entailed, as life in the service always had, a great deal of moving around. Now that he had reached a point in his career where he didn't have to move, he bloody well wasn't going to. not even if it was just upstairs. He had grown accustomed to his quarters. and even if they were not as spacious and luxurious as the penthouse. they suited his needs. He merely had to step outside his door to reach his suite of offices, the heart of TAC-HQ), and he had his secret room there, concealed behind a wall, a small private sanctum that only a few people knew about where he kept his prized and highly unauthorized mementos of the past. Occasionally. he had used the penthouse to hold parties or house visiting dignitaries, but it was now a highly restricted area.

Aside from Forrester himself, only three people were authorized access to it. Those three were Capt. Finn Delaney, Lt Andre Cross. and Col. Creed Steiger of the Temporal Intelligence Agency. And one other man, who had no official authorization, because he did not need one. Dr. Robert Darkness, the man who was faster than light.

The sole tenant of the penthouse was the reason for the maximum security. He was Col. Lucas Priest, whose name was listed on the Wall of Honor in the lobby of the building. along with the names of all the other members of the First Division. now merged with Temporal Intelligence, who had been killed in action in Minus Time. Lucas Priest was, with the possible exceptions of Lazarus and Christ. the only man in history to have come back from the dead.

He had died saving the life of Winston Churchill: but the enigmatic Dr. Darkness had interceded with his fate. The story was as complex as it was baffling. It pivoted around the mysterious, brilliant, and eccentric scientist and the nature of what he had become.

Darkness had once been an obscure research scientist working in the field of temporal physics. In the course of his work, which was centered on temporal translocation, he had invented the most devastating weapon ever devised by man—the warp grenade, a combination nuclear device and time machine. It was small enough to be carried in one hand and its built-in chronocircuitry allowed for pinpoint adjustment of its nuclear explosion. It could be “fine-tuned" to use all or any part of the tremendous energy that was released. The surplus energy was then clocked through an Einstein-Rosen Bridge. a -wormhole in the fabric of space and time, to explode harmlessly in the farthest reaches of the cosmos. Or so it was believed.

No one knew exactly what had happened. The prevailing theory was that such incredible amounts of energy clocked through Einstein-Rosen Bridges, perhaps combined with the strain already placed upon the timestream by the actions of the Time Wars. had somehow shifted the chronophysical alignment of the universe. The result was that a parallel

timeline, a mirror-image universe, had been brought into congruence with our own. Each time a warp grenade was detonated, the parallel universe was nuked. Space colonies that they had established were utterly destroyed, with catastrophic loss of life. And now the two parallel timelines were at war.

It was a "limited-war, but it was still the most dangerous war humanity had ever fought. Both sides refrained from the use of strategic weapons. because each of their time streams had become perilously unstable. Both timelines were "rippling,-intertwining like a double helix. The result was the "confluence phenomenon." At various points in space and time, the two timelines intersected and the parallel universes met. At those points, it was possible to cross over from one universe into the other. The resulting potential for the disruption of either timestream was staggering.

People simply disappeared. A man could be walking down the street. turn a corner, and suddenly find himself in another universe. And these confluence points did not necessarily correspond in space and time. That same man might turn a corner and suddenly find himself not only in another universe, but in another country, in a different time period. If he kept his head about him and was able to retrace his steps exactly. there was a chance he could get back to his own time and universe, assuming he was lucky. Confluence points were invisible. Their focal points varied in size and they were incredibly unstable. There was no telling how long they would last. The time streams would ripple and a confluence point would come into existence, a 'window" into another time and another universe. The ripple effect would move on and the confluence point would disappear. It could last for hours. days. weeks, or only seconds. It could lead to a point in the middle of an ocean or a desert in the other universe, or even to deep space. in which case death was instantaneous and horrible.

In the face of such a threat, international conflicts had become utterly meaningless. The Time Wars as they had once been fought had ceased, escalating into a far more frightening conflict. Each universe was now threatened by the very existence of the other. Each was now faced with three prime necessities.

The first was to map as many confluence points as possible. If a confluence point could be located, it could be used to cross over from one universe into another, to stage temporal disruptions in the opposite timeline. Ranger Pathfinder units whose job was to map confluences and the territory on the other side had the most hazardous duty in the entire Temporal Corps. They had no idea what they might find on the other end of the confluence and they could never be sure that they would be able to get back. If the scouts did come back, with detailed accounts of what they

had encountered in the parallel universe. further action could be contemplated. If they did not return, the worst was assumed and no one else was sent through that confluence point. In either case, the confluence was secured for its duration, to make sure no one blundered into it and that no one or nothing came through from the other side. In some cases, it was to no avail. Occasionally, something could come through that nobody could stop, as had happened at Tanguska. in Siberia. where a meteor came through a confluence point and caused incredible destruction.

The second imperative both universes were confronted with was the Time War that they waged between themselves. Each attempted to locate safe confluence points that the other had not yet managed to discover, so they could send agents through to disrupt the continuity of the opposing timeline. Apparently, temporal physicists in the parallel universe believed that a temporal disruption of a magnitude sufficient to bring about a timestream split in the opposing universe would work to overwhelm the confluence effect and separate the two timelines once and for all. Consequently, they were sending across agents and temporal strike teams from their Special Operations Group to gather intelligence and stage temporal disruptions in an attempt to split the timestream. There was a chance that their thinking was scientifically sound, however, temporal physics—or Zen physics, as it was often called—was a nebulous and elusive area of science. It was where scientific logic merged with metaphysics. Temporal relativity was never absolute. There was also a chance that a timestream split in either universe, aside from the potentially devastating consequences in the universe in which it would occur, could result in the creation of yet another timeline that would compound the confluence effect and make it even worse, with three timelines intersecting. Or, worse still, it could set off a chain reaction, with the creation of another timeline disrupting the temporal continuity of the other two, creating further timestream splits and the creation of still more timelines. with no end in sight. It could end in ultimate entropy. No one knew for sure. Yet both universes continued to wage their Time Wars, on the principle that the more the opposing universe was occupied in trying to compensate for disruptions in its own timestream, the less time, energy, and manpower it could expend in trying to disrupt the timestream of the other.

The third problem faced by each universe was safeguarding the temporal continuity of their respective timelines. The confluence phenomenon dramatically increased the chances of temporal disruption. It was necessary to clock as many Observers as possible into the past. so that history could be preserved. In order to facilitate this seemingly

impossible task. the majority of the temporal forces of all nations had been converted to Temporal Observer status, with the best and brightest assigned as L.T.O.'s, to keep watch on figures of historical significance. C.T.O.'s. or Chief Temporal Observers, functioned as field commanders. supervising the T.O. units in their respective sectors. Any sign of a disruption was immediately reported to TAC-HQ. so that a team of temporal Intelligence agents could be dispatched to Minus Time to deal with it. Yet, this task was akin to bailing a rapidly sinking rowboat with a thimble. No matter how many Observers were dispatched into the past—and thousands upon thousands were—they could not possibly cover all of human history. And the increased presence of people from the future in the past

served by itself to increase the odds of temporal disruption.

Waging the war with strategic weapons would have been too dangerous. for there was no way of telling if a nuke launched at the opposing universe would actually explode there, or if it might become caught in a confluence and cause untold destruction, and possibly a timestream split, in the universe that had launched it in the first place. So the war was fought through the means of historical disruption. But there were more than just two sides.

The conflict was complicated further by the existence of the 'temporal Underground. a loosely organized confederation of deserters from the future who had fled into the past in order to escape the madness. No one was quite certain what to do about them. Technically. they were criminals, fugitives. It was up to the Temporal Intelligence Agency to track them down and apprehend them, but the particularly the covert field section. had never seriously considered them a priority. In fact, many of the old covert field agents had maintained contacts among the members of

the Underground and sometimes called upon them for assistance in their missions. When Forrester had assumed the directorship of the agency, he had put a stop to such practices. as well as to the corruption in the T.I.A. he had discovered that many of the covert field agents, as well as their section chiefs, had been running an extensive trans-temporal black market operation to enrich themselves. The corruption went all the way up to the previous director.

Their immensely profitable and highly illegal sideline was referred to as

-the Network' and it involved such things as using time travel to manipulate the stock and commodities markets, smuggle rare coins from the past to sell in future time periods, practice piracy on the Spanish Main and sell the booty in the 19th and 20th centuries. The Network had hijacked gold and works of an from the Nazis. They were involved in the East India Company. They used time travel to scam betting operations, and the list went on and on and on. They were the ultimate soldiers of fortune. less interested in their duties as temporal agents than in their

Crosstime financial ventures. Forrester had tried to put a stop to their dangerous and illegal activities, but he had not been entirely successful. He had disbanded the covert field section and put every agent he could get his hands on, from the lowliest records clerk to section chiefs and senior administrators, through a scanning procedure in an effort to ferret out the ones who were involved in the Network. However, word got out and many of them simply disappeared, going underground in time and becoming a trans-temporal. Mafia, the ultimate organized crime family. They had put a price on Forrester's head. There had already been several attempts on his life. He had no doubt there would be more.

And what of the man who had started it all? As he walked down the corridor from his quarters to the lift tubes. Forrester thought that perhaps it was unfair to blame it all on Robert Darkness. Darkness had not started the Time Wars. The Time Wars had come about when nations had decided to use time travel to settle their conflicts by having their

troops do battle in the past, in order to protect the present from the ravages of war. There was no real evidence to support that it was the invention of the warp grenade. and not the actions of the Time Wars, that had brought about the confluence phenomenon. Yet. Darkness himself seemed to accept responsibility for what had come about.

He was not on Earth when the confluence phenomenon came into being. he had disappeared mysteriously and no one had any idea what had become of him. Forrester later learned that Darkness had established a research laboratory on some far-off, desolate planet and had gone there to perfect his process of tachyon conversion. Darkness had discovered a way to focus a tachyon beam and send it through an Einstein-Rosen Bridge, which amounted to instantaneous transmission. No time lag whatsoever. Going from Point A to Point B without having to cover the distance in between. His next step was to start working on a process whereby the human body could become converted into tachyons, which would depart at six hundred times the speed of light along the direction of the tachyon beam, through an Einstein-Rosen Bridge. His main concern had been that tachyon conversion might violate the Law of Uncertainty. The beam was focused by means of gravitational lenses, but there was no receiver, so in order to insure that what would materialize at the other end would not be some kind of a blob, he had incorporated a timing mechanism into the conversion process. which would reassemble him in the proper order, at the proper time and place, based on the temporal coordinates of transition. What he was seeking was the ultimate form of transportation, something that would surpass even the chronoplate devised by Dr. Mensinger.

Unfortunately, when Darkness tried the process on himself. he had discovered that it was ultimately restrained by a little known law of physics called the Law of Baryon Conservation. When he had arrived at his point of destination, he discovered that he could not move from the spot on which he stood. Something had happened to his subatomic structure. He took on the appearance of a hologram. He had become a ghost with substance. His body had been permanently "tachyonized." He had become faster than the speed of light. He could move from place to place. traveling through time and space at will, but only by translocating or, as he called it. "taching." He could not walk so much as one step. He could appear to "walk." after a fashion, but it was only a series of incredibly rapid translocations, having the multiple-image effect of high-speed photography.

Quite possibly, thought Forrester. the tachyonization had had an effect upon his mind as well, although with Darkness, it was difficult to tell. The man was incredibly brilliant, light-years ahead of all his peers (both figuratively and literally). They could not even begin to understand his work. His personality was, to say the least. idiosyncratic. He was a man of immense wealth, holding the controlling interest in Amalgamated Techtronics and a number of other large multinational corporations. he felt himself accountable to no one. What he had done with Lucas Priest was a perfect example.

Lucas should have died. thought Forrester, despite the fact that Col. Priest was his closest friend. He should have died and he should have stayed dead. What Darkness had done was inexcusable. Ever since he'd done it. Forrester had spent many sleepless nights. worrying about the possible consequences. As had Lucas Priest himself, on whom the strain was obvious.

It had happened in the year 1897, while Priest. Cross, and Delaney were clocked out on a mission to Afghanistan, during the Pathan revolt against the British. A strike team of the S.O.G.. from the parallel universe, had come through a confluence in the Khyber Pass and was working to change the course of history. Priest and Cross had been standing on a bluff with the British command staff, watching the fighting that was taking place below them, between the Ghazis and the Bengal Lancers. A lone Ghazi sniper who had concealed himself in the rocks had drawn a bead on the battalion surgeon, mistaking him for the British general. Priest had spotted the sniper and, without thinking about the possible consequences of his interference, had shouted out a warning. The surgeon, his instincts honed by combat, had immediately dropped to the ground, but by doing so, he had left the young Winston Churchill, who was present as a war correspondent, directly in the line of fire. Churchill was too slow to respond and Priest. in his cover as a missionary. had not been carrying a weapon. He had done the only thing that he could do—he flung himself at Churchill. knocked him out of the way, and took the bullet meant for him. Or, more accurately, meant for the surgeon with whose destiny Priest had interfered.

Lucas was killed instantly. They had even buried him. But Dr. Darkness changed all that in a manner that Forester still could not completely comprehend. During a prior mission, Darkness had implanted each of the three commandos, as well as temporal agent Steiger, with a particle-level tracer device of his own design. one that bonded itself to their molecular structure. It allowed him to find them no matter where they were in space and time. What Darkness had not revealed to them was the fact that these tracer devices were also prototypes of a new invention he was trying to perfect—a new generation warp disc. The original warp disc, the one now issued to all temporal personnel. functioned on the same principle as the warp grenade and had superseded the more cumbersome, obsolete chronoplate of Dr. Mensinger. The new model Darkness had designed

was not worn on the person, but was integrated on the particle level, actually bonding itself with the individual. Moreover, it was thought-controlled, an idea that still scared the hell out of Forester.

The prototypes had all malfunctioned. The tracer functions worked perfectly, but the bonding process had damaged the temporal transponders. rendering them useless— all except Priest's. Rather than lose his only working prototype. Darkness had elected to bring Lucas Priest back from the dead.

How he had done it was a Zen physics puzzle. The leader of the S.O.G. strike team from the opposing timeline had been Priest's twin from the parallel universe. A man whose personal history was apparently somewhat different from the Priest that Forester knew, but who was identical to him in every other respect, right down to his genetic code. After Priest had died. Finn Delaney had killed the "twin Priest." Darkness had tached through time and taken the body of the twin Priest, then tached back and, moving faster than the speed of light, had substituted it for their Lucas Priest, snatching him out of the bullet's path at the last nanosecond, pulling him into his tachyon field and taking him back to his headquarters on that unknown planet. There, he had activated the dormant, tachyon-based, thought-controlled transponder Priest had been implanted with. And now Priest had returned, to see his own name listed on the Wall of Honor, among those killed in action. There still remained the question—what had actually become of him? And what had he become'?"

Darkness had gone back into the past and changed something that had already happened. Or had he? Had he actually altered the past or had his actions in fact restored the past to the way it had originally happened? It seemed to Forrester, and to Priest as well, that there had to exist a point in time, somewhere. a moment in which Lucas Priest had actually died. Logic would seem to dictate that for Darkness to have gone back and saved him from death, he would have had to have died in the first place. otherwise there would have been no necessity for Darkness to do what he had done. However, when it came to 'Zen physics, logic

frequently broke down.

After the mission was completed, an S & R team was clocked back to retrieve Lucas Priest's remains. But had Search & Retrieve brought back his body. or that of his twin? Even if the remains had not been cremated, how would it have been possible to tell, since both were identical, right down to their DNA? Had Priest actually died, or had the corpse of his twin taken the bullet? Had Darkness merely caused a temporary "skip" in the time stream's continuity, or had what he had done in saving Priest become a temporal disruption that could have unforeseen consequences further down the timestream? Those questions plagued not only Forester, but Lucas Priest, as well. And there were still more problems that Priest had to contend with, beyond the metaphysical riddle of his own existence.

By experimenting on himself. Darkness had created an instability in his own subatomic structure, an instability that seemed to be increasing with the passage of time. Darkness believed that, eventually, his tachyonized state would decay into discorporation and he would depart at multiples of light speed in all directions of the universe. Forester shuddered at the thought as he stepped into the lift tube and punched out the restricted code for the penthouse. Knowing that something like that would inevitably happen to you had to have an effect upon your mind.

He stepped in front of the scanner and a beam of light played on his right eye, reading his retinal pattern. Then the tube started to ascend. Priest could be facing the same thing. Although the process he had been exposed to via the particle-level implant in his body was different from that which had tachyonized Darkness, it was based on similar principles. Priest had no idea whether or not it would eventually do the same thing to him. Moreover, he had to contend with the problem of having been turned into a living time machine. It had become necessary for him to learn an entirely new level of mental discipline, because now any stray thought could launch him on a trip through time. It had already happened on a number of occasions. The thoughtcontrolled temporal transponder was unable to differentiate between when he was awake and when he was asleep. Consequently, a dream could launch him on a trip through time as well. As Darkness had typically understated it. the device still "had a few bugs" in it.

The trouble was, since the transponder had become permanently bonded to Lucas, fused with his atomic structure, there was no way to remove it. Priest would simply "have to adapt." as Darkness had put it. Forrester would have dearly loved to take a swing at Darkness and lay the bastard out, then throw his ass in jail, but how could you hit someone who was faster than the speed of light, much less hope to incarcerate him?

The tube arrived at the penthouse floor and revolved to let Forrester out. Priest had called him the moment Darkness arrived. He "dropped in" from time to time to check on the progress of his living prototype. Forrester had asked Priest to prevail on Darkness to stay long enough to talk to him. but he had no idea if the man would still be there. Darkness did not wait on generals, or anybody else, for that matter. He could already have left, thought Forester, and arrived back where he had started from before he had departed.

However, when he entered the penthouse. he saw that Darkness was still there. The scientist was standing behind the bar. helping himself to Forrester's twelve-year-old Scotch. Andre Cross was there, as well, along with Finn Delaney and Creed Steiger.

Delaney, a brawny, powerfully built man with a face like an overaged delinquent's, looked, as usual, as if he'd slept in his black base fatigues. His dark red hair was uncombed, his heard scruffy, and his boots unshined. a stark contrast to Steiger, who always looked like a smartly turned-out member of a S.W.A.T. team. Col. Steiger's hair was dusty blond, he was clean-shaven and his hooked nose and cruel mouth gave him a predatory look. Andre Cross sat beside Priest. Her long, ash-blond hair fell to her shoulders and her fatigues were neatly pressed. Her movements denoted a finely honed, athletic muscular control. Her sharp features were striking and attractive. Sitting next to her. Priest looked, as always, like a model military officer. Slim, dark-haired, and handsome, he would have made a perfect model for a recruiting poster. The very vision of an officer and a gentleman.

They had all been trying to spend as much time with Priest as possible. Priest needed the support of his friends just now. he was under a great deal of strain. Forrester visited as often as he could, but the duties of command left him with little spare time.

They all got to their feet as he entered.

"As you were." he said.

Darkness glanced up at him from behind the bar. "You wanted to see me, Moses?"

He was tall and slender, a gaunt-looking man, with dark, unruly hair, deep-set eyes. a sharp, prominent nose, and a neatly trimmed moustache. He was wearing a Norfolk tweed shooting jacket in dark brown herringbone, with rustcolored suede leather elbow patches and a matching, quilted shooter's pad on the right shoulder. He had on a dark brown vest with a gold watch chain, a white Oxford shirt and maroon silk paisley ascot, dark brown tropical wool slacks and light brown calfskin jodphurs. He looked like the ghost of an English country gentleman. Forrester could see the back of the bar right through him.

"I have a few questions and I'd like some straight answers, Robert, if you don't mind," Forester said.

Everybody else called him "Doc" or "Doctor," but Forester and Darkness were on a first name basis, based upon a curious blend of mutual respect and cordial dislike.

"Ask." said Darkness, suddenly appearing about two feet in front of Forrester, holding a glass of whiskey. Instinctively, Forrester backed off a step and grimaced, annoyed with himself for doing so. Darkness smiled.

"I'll never get used to the way you pop around all over the damn place." Forester grumbled.

"You said you had some questions," Darkness said. His voice sounded cultured. vaguely Continental. There was nothing about the way he spoke that was overtly arrogant or condescending, but that effect came across just the same. He was, thought Forester, an irritating bastard.

"What's the long-term prognosis on Priest's condition?"

"We were just discussing that." said Lucas.

"Yes," said Darkness. "Unfortunately, it would appear that the long-term prognosis is not very favorable. There's been a dramatically measurable decay. It's apparently irreversible."

Forester glanced at Priest with alarm. "You mean—"

"He means his particle gizmo," Lucas said. "not me."

"Particle gizmo, indeed!" said Darkness, rolling his eyes.

"Well, whatever you want to call the damn thing," Lucas said. "It seems the good doctor hasn't quite got it figured out yet. It's failing. Looks like it's eventually going to stop working altogether." He grinned. "Ain't that a damn shame?"

"What does that mean in terms of his health?" asked Forrester.

"His health?" said Darkness. "His health is excellent and will undoubtedly continue to remain so. unless he manages to get himself in the way of another bullet. I cannot be held responsible for his propensity for foolish heroics."

"He means I'm going to be all right," said Lucas, smiling. He looked better than he had in weeks, as if an enormous burden had been lifted from him. "But the doc's going to have to go back to the drawing board. Looks like his thought-controlled transponder is a long way from being perfected.

“You needn't sound so damned smug about it," Darkness said irritably.

Forrester felt enormously relieved. "You mean there's no chance of his experiencing discorporation

"None whatsoever." Darkness replied. "There was very little chance of that to begin with. I was reasonably certain that I had the problem solved, but it seems that the transponder itself is still unstable. It simply won't hold up. I can't imagine why." He grimaced. "It's really quite annoying."

"So you mean to say he's going to be the same way that he was before?" asked Forester, his hopes rising. "Completely normal?"

"Yes, yes, yes," said Darkness with a sigh of exasperation. "Given the rate of decay. I would say within a week or two, at most. Perhaps only in a matter of days. Then he can once more revel in being the same, depressingly ordinary clod he always was."

"Thanks," said Lucas wryly.

“Don't mention it."

"That brings up my next question," said Forrester. "With the exception of the people in this room, nobody knows that Priest is still alive. Or perhaps I should say, alive again. That presents us with a problem. I should have informed Director General Vargas of what you've done, only I've done as you asked and I haven't. At least, not yet. I'm not at all sure I've done the right thing in not telling him at once, but I was more concerned about Priest's health and emotional well-being. Now that that issue seems to have been settled, there are a few things I need to know. Is there any reason why I shouldn't tell Director Vargas about what's happened?"

"I suppose not." Darkness said. "although I really can't see what purpose that would serve. They'd only bury you in official inquiries. It would cause them to start running about like chickens with their heads cut off, flying to figure out if there's been a temporal disruption."

" Has there been a temporal disruption?"

"I wouldn't concern myself with that."

"Perhaps you wouldn't. but I'm afraid I have to." Forrester replied.

"The world isn't going to end merely because Priest is sitting there, grinning like a Cheshire cat over the fact that my transponder is decaying," Darkness said.

"How can you know that for certain?" Forrester asked.

"Take my word for it," said Darkness.

“I'd like to. Robert, but how can you know that for sure?" Forester persisted. "Unless, of course, you're from the future?"

The others stared at him.

"You are, aren't you?" Forester said quietly.

Darkness regarded him with a steady gaze. "Very good. Moses. Very good, indeed. I see I've underestimated you."

"Jesus Christ." said Finn Delaney. "Now it all suddenly makes sense!"

"When did you first suspect'?" asked Darkness.

"I'm not sure when the idea first occurred to me," said Forrester. "I'm just amazed that it didn't occur ,to me sooner. I've been doing a lot of digging, trying to cheek you out. I didn't get very far. Everything about your background is classified. Even I can't get to it. It's restricted to an access code that no one seems to know."

"I know you couldn't have cracked the code," said Darkness.

"No. I wasn't able to," Forrester admitted. "But I have a feeling that if I had, I would have discovered that the records had somehow been erased. Or something like that, right? There would have been some sort of malfunction that would have rendered them inaccessible, because past a certain point, your background would either be a forgery or it would simply stop. So, frustrated in that endeavor, I decided to do the next best thing. Find out who had the clearance to access your file."

"Only you could not discover that, either," said Darkness. smiling.

"No. I couldn't. However. I'm not the sort of man to give up on a problem. So I began to trace the authorization for the file's being classified."

"And you couldn't find it." Darkness said.

"That's right." said Forrester. "I couldn't find it. Only I should have been able to find it. You see. that's the trouble with covering your tracks. Robert. Sooner or later, it becomes obvious that they were covered. And that's when I knew. You were worried that someone might get curious, find the authorization order, and clock back to the date that

it was issued to investigate. So you buried the order. If there even was an order to begin with. The whole thing was a sham. But I wanted to be absolutely certain. so I put a research team from Archives Section on the project and had them do it the hard way. They clocked back as far as we could trace you and started digging. And the trail just ran out. Past a certain point, you simply ceased to exist. That's why none of your peers in the scientific community can understand your work. It's why you've always been so far ahead of them. Because you were, quite literally, ahead of them. Years ahead." He paused.

"How many years, Robert?"

"As you people in Temporal Intelligence are so fond of saying," Darkness replied laconically, "you have no need to know."

"I think I do," said Forrester. I think we all do."

"What you think is really of no consequence." Darkness replied. It is what you do that matters. And as you should know, better than anyone else, what you do must not be affected by your knowledge of what will be done."

"Just tell me one thing. Robert. Are you a temporal agent from the future or are you doing whatever it is you're doing on your own?"

"I think I've answered enough questions." Darkness said. "You already know a great deal more than you should."

'The one thing I don't understand is, why the warp grenade?" asked Forrester. "You had to know what it would do. Didn't you? So why?"

"There is a reason for everything I've done. Moses," Darkness said. "And everything that I will do. At the proper time. That is really all that I can tell you."

"God damn it. Robert, don't you—"

Suddenly he simply wasn't there anymore.

"Jesus Christ." said Steiger.

"It's a strange feeling, isn't it?' Delaney said. "We think of ourselves as being the ones who go back into the past to adjust things and here we are, being adjusted ourselves. Sort of like the big fish eating the small fish eating the smaller fish."

"It does explain a lot." said Andre. "What do you think happened where he came from? You think it all finally fell apart and now he's trying to fix it?"

"We have, unfortunately, no way of knowing." Forester said. "And, though I don't like it. we may well be better off not knowing. However, we do know at least one thing. What we're doing, or what we will do, is significant enough from the standpoint of the future for Darkness to have taken as much time as he has to involve himself with us."

`"Swell." said Lucas. "So not only is the past messed up, but something's screwed up in the future. too. It figures. I knew it had to hit the fan one of these days. Well, at least there's a bright side to all of this. With that particle gizmo of his going on the fritz, pretty soon I won't have to guard my thoughts so carefully. No more dreaming of ancient

Rome and waking up there."

`"Funny you should say that." said Forester.

2

"We've received a report of what appears to be a temporal anomaly from one of our L.T.O.'s," said Forrester.

"That sounds serious," said Steiger. "L.T.O.'s don't generally jump to conclusions."

"No, they don't." said Forrester. "The man's name is Travers. Capt. Jonathan Travers. I've had his file pulled. He's one of our best people. He's assigned to Julius Caesar. "

Lucas exhaled heavily and shook his head. "A temporal anomaly involving Caesar could pose all sorts of problems. He didn't exactly lead an uneventful life. When did Travers make his report?"

"This morning. He clocked in with it personally. leaving Caesar's camp on the night before he crossed the Rubicon and started the civil war in Rome." Forrester said. "He clocked back out so he'd arrive just after he left, so he was only gone from Minus Time for a matter of minutes. Therefore, the risk was minimal and he felt justified in taking it. Under the circumstances. I'm inclined to agree. At first, he wasn't sure that what he had on his hands was an anomaly. Caesar, like other people of his time, was in the habit of consulting soothsayers and it seems that word had reached him of an oracle of some sort, a man named Lucan, who could see into the future. He had sent for this oracle to give him a reading on the night before he crossed the Rubicon. There's no historical record of any such event, but as we all know, that doesn't necessarily mean it didn't happen. Still, Travers found it curious, since both Caesar and his classical biographers had mentioned most of the occasions when he had received significant prophecies or omens. To receive a prophecy on the night of one of the most important events in his life would certainly seem significant. yet it was possible that history might have overlooked it.

"In any event," Forrester continued, "Travers didn't think much of it at first He thought it might make for an interesting incident in his book. He plans to write a biography of Caesar when he returns to Plus Time. He managed to be present during the reading. which turned out to be rather unusual, to say the least. The oracle told Caesar that he would be successful in his civil war, that his fame would live for generations. and that he would fall in love with a beautiful young queen. an apparent reference to Cleopatra."

"Well, with all due respect. sir." said Delaney. "that sounds more like a generalized bit of fortune-telling than an anomaly. None of those so-called predictions would seem particularly farfetched for a Roman general with Caesar's reputation. Roman military governors often became involved with royalty. There were more kings and queens back then than you could shake a stick at. And flattering a general by promising him victory and fame would only be good business sense for an enterprising soothsayer."

"This soothsayer also told Caesar the exact date when he would be assassinated and to beware of men named Cassius. Brutus, Cimber, and Casca."

"oh." said Delaney.

"Yeah, oh. What's more, he told Caesar there was a chance that he could change his fate if he paid attention to the omens, and one in particular, which he cited rather cryptically. 'That which was concealed shall stand revealed.' After the oracle went out the gates of Caesar's camp, Travers tried to follow him, only he had mysteriously disappeared."

"This was at night, wasn't it?" said Steiger. "Travers might have simply lost him in the darkness."

"The moon was out," said Forrester. "And the terrain around the camp was an unbroken slope that stretched down to a meadow, affording an unobstructed view for several miles.

"He might have gone around the camp. hugging the wall."

"Or he might have clocked out." said Andre. "I think Travers was right. It definitely sounds like a potential disruption. We can't afford to overlook it.

“That which was concealed shall stand revealed.' " said Lucas, frowning.

"What does that mean?"

"I have no idea." said Forester. -Travers is going to check back in as soon as something breaks. In the meantime. I want you all to report for mission programming and stand by to clock out on a moment's notice."

"That could pose a small problem. sir," asked Priest. "Officially, I'm still dead. If I report for mission programming, I'm liable give them one hell of a shock in Archives."

"Steiger can take care of that." said Forester. "The T.I.A.'s always maintained its own programming facility for covert field agents. He can give you the coordinates and you can clock right in from here. I'll have the facility cleared. then Steiger can access the data from Archives and run the download himself."

"What about what Darkness said?" Steiger asked.

"That stays in this room." said Forrester. "I don't know what the hell he's up to, but there's little point in trying to second-guess him. You can't effect a temporal adjustment while you're worrying about whatever he might do. Or whether you're doing the right thing from the standpoint of the future. You can't try to second-guess yourselves. either. It'll only interfere with your mission. Just go in and do what

you have to do. Forget about Darkness. There's not really anything that we can do about him. anyway.-

"I'll need a warp disc," Lucas said. "With my transponder decaying. I don't want to take a chance on not being able to clock out if I have to."

"Good point," said Forrester. I’ll see that you get one."

"I wish we'd asked Darkness one more question." said Steiger.

"What's that?"

“What happens if that decaying transponder starts malfunctioning and causes Priest to translocate without being able to control it?"

Priest glanced at him. "Oh. thanks a lot. Now you bring that up!"

“Maybe you shouldn't go out on this one." Steiger said.

"Forget it," Lucas said firmly. “I need a mission. I've been going stir crazy cooped up in here. Besides. Darkness didn't say anything about the transponder's chronocircuitry running out of control. he just said it was decaying."

"As I recall, he also thought he had all the bugs ironed out of it in the first place," Steiger said.

"Look, if it's going to happen, it'll happen whether I'm here or on the mission," Lucas replied. "Staying behind won't change a thing."

“Maybe not, but it would keep you from jeopardizing the mission by clocking out suddenly at the wrong moment."

"I'm afraid he's got a point, Lucas." Forrester said.

Priest made a tight-lipped grimace. "All right, I'll concede that, but we still don't know it's going to happen. I think Darkness would've said something if there was a chance of that."

"But the point is that we still don't know for sure." said Steiger. "It means taking a risk."

"Like you've never taken risks?" Lucas countered.

"Give me a break. Creed. Everything we do entails risk. And you've certainly taken more than your share." He turned to Forester. “Sir. if you order me to stay behind on this one. I'll understand, but I'm asking you not to do that. I need this assignment. I'll start climbing the walls if I have to stay cooped up in here much longer."

Forrester glanced at the others. "You're the ones that'll be out there," he said. "It's your call."

"Lucas and I have taken our share of risks before." Delaney said. "I'd rather go out with him than without him. I vote yes."

Andre looked at Lucas and smiled. “So do I."

Steiger shrugged. "Well, it looks like I'm outvoted.”

"If it's a problem for you. Creed, you can request to be relieved, without prejudice." said Forrester. "I don't want you going out on this mission if you haven't got complete confidence in every member of the team."

Steiger glanced at Lucas. "Priest, you understand, it's nothing personal.”

"I understand." said Lucas. suppose if our positions were reversed, I might feel exactly the same way."

"But you're still not going to withdraw?" said Steiger.

"No."

"Well, in that case, I'd like to be relieved."

For a moment, there was an uncomfortable silence.

"Very well," said Forrester, breaking the tension. "You three report for mission programming in half an hour. Steiger, you want to set up that download for Priest?"

Steiger nodded. "I'll get right on it." He started to walk out with Forrester and paused at the door, looking back. "Priest?"

"Yeah?"

"Look . . this isn't personal. No offense, huh?"

"None taken."

Steiger nodded and turned to follow Forrester out the door. The old man was waiting for him at the lift tube

"This isn't like you, Creed." he said. "You've taken bigger risks before and you've never yet turned down a mission."

"That's right, sir. And I'm not about to start now. With your permission. I'd like to go along on this one, only undercover."

Forrester sighed and nodded. "Somehow I had a feeling that's what was on your mind."

"It's what I do best. sir." Steiger said. "Those three have been working together for a long time. I've seen how they function in the field. They trust each other. Each of them has an instinct for how the others think. I'm the odd man out. I just don't fit in. I've always worked best on my own. It's what 1 was trained for."

"You're saying you want to go back on covert status?"

"Yes, sir, I do. I think I'd have much more to contribute that way."

`"We've been over this before, Creed. My decision to shut down the covert field section wasn't arbitrary. you know."

`"Yes. sir, I realize that. I know you don't approve of the methods we used in covert field section. And I know there were abuses, but that still—"

"Abuses is putting it mildly," Forrester interrupted. "The covert field section was nothing but a bunch of thrill-seeking cowboys who played fast and loose with regulations and had too much contact with the Underground. Part of our job is to apprehend those people. Steiger, not employ them as mission support. Or as functionaries in the Network."

"I understand that, sir, but it was a matter of priorities. Look, you know I was never involved with the Network. And the Underground is just as concerned as we are about temporal disruption. A disruption threatens them. too. They might be criminals from the purely legal standpoint, but they're not the real danger and they never have been. So

when it came to a choice between busting some members of the Underground or enlisting them as sub rosa operatives, or trading information with them, okay, we didn't worry about the line points of the law. There was a lot more than that at stake. I know you don't think there's a place for the way we used to do things. sir, but with all due respect, I think you're wrong."

The lift tube stopped at Forester's floor, but he made no move to get out. Steiger wondered if he'd gone too far.

"All right," said Forrester. "Prove it."

"Sir'? Does that mean you're authorizing—"

"I'm authorizing nothing, Colonel. All it means is that you're being placed on inactive status as soon as I can have the orders cut. You can consider yourself officially relieved of duty as of now. You've earned some R&R. What you do with it is entirely up to you."

"Thank you, sir. I promise you, you won't regret this."

"I hope not. Creed," said Forrester. "And I hope you won't regret it. either. Because if you fuck up. it's your ass."

Alexandria, the palace of the Ptolemys, 47 B.C.

"It is not the victory that I had hoped for," Caesar said as they rested in their apartments in the palace. And a poor, ignoble death for a brave and noble soldier."

Travers thought that Caesar was being charitable, but he did not say it. Pompey the Great might once have been a brave and noble soldier, but in the end, his leadership and courage had both failed him.

When news of Caesar's crossing of the Rubicon reached Rome. the Senate was thrown into a panic. Caesar's army moved with their usual devastating efficiency and speed, immediately taking the town of Ariminum and marching ahead without encountering any opposition whatsoever.

People from the outlying towns began flooding into Rome, fleeing front the advancing legions, not having any idea what to expect. Their contagious fear began to spread throughout the city like a wildfire. Pompey declared Rome to be in a state of anarchy and, desperate to have enough time to marshal his forces, he left the city and went east. giving orders for the entire Senate to follow him. Many did, but most senators remained behind in Rome, concerned about their homes and their possessions. With so many refugees streaming into Rome. crime had increased dramatically and there was a lot of looting.

As Caesar's army approached the city, many of Pompey's troops joined with Caesar's forces and within sixty days of crossing the Rubicon, Caesar had effectively seized power without any bloodshed. But there still remained Pompey and his loyal legions. and though he was in command of the city, it was a threat that Caesar could not disregard.

He pursued Pompey to Brundisium, but us soon as he heard that Caesar was approaching. Pompey escaped to sea. Lacking the vessels to pursue him. Caesar then returned to Rome and appeared before the Senate. With the rank of praetor. Travis was entitled to attend and he sat in the Temple of Jupiter (the Curia. which would become the permanent home of the Senate, had not yet been built) and listened as Caesar addressed the House courteously. requesting that they send word to Pompey so that negotiations could be started toward a reasonable peace. However, the senators could not agree on what to do. Their position was precarious. To appear to give support to one general could prove disastrous if the other proved victorious. so the Senate did what politicians have been doing ever since. They procrastinated to avoid taking any stand.

Caesar left the temple in disgust. He did not have the patience to wait for their deliberations. His response to the Senate's stalling was to seize the public treasury. so that he could supply himself with the necessary funds to finish what he'd started. Then he left for Spain, where he engaged the forces of Afranius and Varro, Pompey's loyal generals, and after defeating them decisively, he returned once more to Rome, where the Senate, realizing the growing futility of Pompey's position, voted Caesar the title of dictator. In the event that Pompey still somehow managed to prevail, they could always claim that Caesar forced it on them. And with Caesar holding the position of dictator, it absolved them of the responsibility of making any choices.

Travers had remained at Caesar's side throughout it all and had observed firsthand that Caesar was not only a brilliant general. capable of inspiring fanatical devotion in his men. but also a skillful diplomat. His first act was to call back all those Romans who had gone into exile. He gave them back their rights as citizens and incurred the favor of many influential aristocrats by relieving them of their debts. He then made himself look better still by resigning the dictatorship that the fearful members of the Senate had conferred on him, having held the post for only eleven days, and declaring himself consul. That done, he immediately left Rome once more, on the trail of Pompey. The two armies met at Pharsalia in the largest and bloodiest battle ever fought between Romans. Caesar proved himself the better general and the man once hailed as Pompey the Great fled the scene of haute and retired to his tent, totally demoralized. When Caesar's troops had routed his army and started storming his camp. Pompey recovered his senses long enough to escape and flee to Egypt. where his fate awaited him. he had hoped to find an ally in the young King Ptolemy, who had backed him in the civil war, but the Egyptians had decided that they'd rather back a winner. As soon as he arrived, Pompey was put to death.

The war was over. More than six thousand of Pompey's troops had died. Gracious in victory, Caesar pardoned the prisoners and took them into his own legions. Then he pursued Pompey to Egypt. only to discover that the Egyptians had finished the job for him.

"At least now our men can rest awhile and recover," Travers said, "even if the best Egypt can do for them is that unwholesome corn that Pothinus has seen fit to distribute."

Caesar tightened his jaw muscles in anger. "He adds insult to injury by telling them to be content with it. Since they are fed at another's cost. They deserve far better. Septimus, and by the gods. I shall see that they receive it! No general could hope for a more brave and loyal army."

"No army could hope for a better general than Caesar said Travers, not intending it as mere flattery, but meaning every word of it.

"Thank you, my friend." said Caesar. "Nor shall I forget you. either. You have served me well through all these many years. But our work is not yet done. Egypt is a ripe fruit ready for the plucking. Tell me. what do you think of this oily eunuch, Pothinus? He seems to hold more influence with the king than do any of his ministers."

"Pothinus does seem to be the power behind the throne," said Travers.

"The young king plainly defers to him. I have observed that the ministers take pains to ingratiate themselves with him. Or at least to avoid his displeasure."

"Yes, that is my opinion, too," said Caesar, frowning. “It is Pothinus who rules here and not Ptolemy. who is little more than a child. And the ministers all fear him. I have been told that it was Pothinus himself who assassinated Pompey."

"You have been told?" asked Travers, instantly on guard. By whom?"

Caesar smiled. "There are those here who are well disposed toward Rome, if only because they are ill disposed toward Pothinus. That crafty eunuch sees us as a threat to the power he has managed to accumulate through his manipulation of the king. We must have a care. Septimus. not to sleep too soundly so long as we remain here."

"You think that Pothinus would try to have us murdered? With our legions here?"

"He might well serve us as he did Pompey and then protest his innocence," Caesar said. "It would win him no small favor among our enemies in Rome. Although perhaps I worry needlessly. It is not yet the Ides of March." He smiled and Travers felt suddenly uneasy.

"Still," Caesar continued, "our influence in Egypt is not what it once was. Pompey has mismanaged things. I must take steps to remedy that situation. We must make the power of Rome felt here once again. Tomorrow. I will begin by demanding the tribute that is due to Rome. so that we might reward our army. And we must see to it that a more benign influence is set behind the throne. What do you know of the king's sister, the one who was exiled when Pompey was in power?"

Travers replied evasively. "Cleopatra? I fear that I know very little of her. Caesar. It is said that she is young and very beautiful. Also ambitious, which is why Pompey had banished her."

"I think perhaps we should recall her," Caesar said. "Let us arrange. through certain of these ministers who have no love for Pothinus, to send word to her to come and see me. I would like to speak with her myself and judge what manner of woman she is. Perhaps we can help her see that she would best serve her own interests by also serving Rome's. But I think it would not be wise to alert others of our plans before we have decided on a course of action. I will send word to her to come to me in secret."

Caesar smiled. In the meantime. Septimus, my friend, we shall take full advantage of this grudging hospitality and send for wine. It shall probably be sour, but no matter. We shall only pour it out. Let them believe that we dissolute Romans are drinking through the night. So long as lights burn in our chambers, stealthy assassins might hesitate to enter.* He clapped his hand to his sword hilt. "And if they do, we shall be sober and prepared for them."

Throughout the night, the palace servants brought them wine, which neither of them even tasted. 'the hours stretched toward dawn. Caesar had no need of Travers, to help him stay awake. His hyper personality kept him going. dictating letters and portions of his memoirs until Travers was exhausted, and then Caesar. seeing he was tired, apologized for working him so hard and told him amusing anecdotes and stories of his childhood. which Travers wanted desperately to write down, but couldn't both because his wrist was sore from taking dictation and it was all that he could do to keep his eyes open. At some point, he dropped off, and when he awoke, it was morning and Caesar was still up, showing no signs of being tired. He chided Travers gently for falling asleep and when Travers apologized, assured him that it was perfectly all right, that he deserved his rest. If I don't die on the battlefield. Travers thought. just trying to keep up with him will kill me.

The morning was spent with Caesar visiting his troops and seeing to their comfort. Then he presented his demands to Ptolemy for payment of the tribute. The boy king simply sat there, looking at them sullenly. while Pothinus stood at his side and spoke for him, he was. thought Travers, a decidedly unpleasant man. He was large and fat and jowly. with a shaved head and a mannered, effeminate voice. His pudgy hands had rings on every finger but the thumbs and they gestured languidly when he spoke. making Travers think of pale and bloated slugs.

"Your petition has been noted.” the eunuch replied pompously. “It would seem now. Caesar. that your business here has been concluded. The man you came here seeking has been dealt with, your soldiers have been fed and rested We have done our best to be hospitable hosts. But the time has come when you should leave Egypt and go back to Rome. There are, no doubt, affairs of greater consequence you should attend to. You should not concern yourself with minor matters such as collecting tribute. It can be sent to you in Rome."

Caesar stiffened and his cheeks flushed red. "I do not require Egyptians to be my counselors!" he snapped. "And Rome does not wait on Egypt's pleasure. The tribute will be paid in due course, and speedily, else I shall instruct my army to seize it for themselves in whatever manner they so choose! It is I who have been patient, Pothinus. But my patience has been sorely tried. I would advise you not to try it further."

He turned on his heel and stalked out of the chamber. with Travers hurrying to catch up with him.

"I will rid Egypt of this insolent eunuch if it is the last thing I ever do," stormed Caesar as they headed back to their rooms.

Afterward, several of Ptolemy's ministers came to speak with him discreetly and Travers wondered which of them would send word to Cleopatra. He was excited at the thought of actually meeting her face-to-face, a woman who was one of the most legendary beauties and seductresses in all of history.

Despite all the years he'd spent at Caesar's side, there were still times when he found himself looking at that handsome, scholarly profile and thinking, "My God, I'm actually sitting here with Julius Caesar!" At such times, it seemed almost like a dream. And at other times, the world he came from seemed unreal.

He had been born in Dallas, Texas and had acquired an interest in ancient history at a very early age, a result of a typical boyhood fascination with the glamour of the Time Wars. Childhood play had led him to the library, to look up certain historical details so that he could settle arguments among his playmates about what sort of armor was worn by medieval knights and how ancient Romans fought. He was able to point out historical flaws in the design of the toy weapons that their parents purchased for them and was soon making his own from wood in his father's workshop. He sold them to his friends, who found that they held up to rough use far better than the flimsy plastic swords they bought in stores and made a far more satisfying sound when they were stuck together.

He became the local "Armorer," constructing wooden swords and shields and daggers for his friends, and with practice, he became more skillful at it. Determined to be authentic at all costs, he did his research carefully and the more he read about ancient times, the more fascinated he became and the more he wanted to know. His interest in research helped him to acquire better study habits and his grades in school improved dramatically. His father, pleased with this development, as well as with his growing skill in craftsmanship, encouraged him and bought him better tools and books. While still in his early teens, Travers had graduated to working in metal. He started small, with handmade knives, but soon moved on to larger blades. By the time he was ready to enter college, he had made quite a bit of money selling replicas of Spanish swords, medieval maces. Viking blades and battle axes. Sinclair-hilted sabers, French rapiers and Scottish basket-billed claymores to collectors and would-be Time Commandos who were happy to pay hundreds of dollars for authentic, exquisitely crafted “souvenirs of campaigns in Minus time."

Travers entered Harvard on a scholarship and it was there that his area of interest narrowed to a specialization in classical times. He studied Greek and Latin and took graduate degrees in history, now certain of how he planned to spend his life. He intended to apply to the Observer Corps and be commissioned as an L.T.O., with hopes of a long-term posting in ancient Rome. His timing could not have been more perfect. He completed his Observer training at the head of his class, just as the Temporal Crisis struck and the focus of the Time Wars shifted from the settling of international disputes to dealing with the new and greater threat from the parallel universe. The majority of the world's temporal forces were being converted to Temporal Observer status, to function under the senior officers of the Observer Corps, and there was a drastic need for personnel with the sort of qualifications Travers had, especially as L.T.O.'s. They were as anxious to get Travers as Travers was to join them and he was able to write his own ticket. Without hesitation, he requested to be assigned to Gaius Julius Caesar.

`Now, the future that he came from seemed less real to him than the time in which he lived. He had become a Roman in almost all respects. except for that certain distance that he always had to keep, to remind himself of who and what he really was and what his task entailed. For over a decade, he had lived the dream. Caesar had become his friend and it was difficult for him to think that in a couple of years, he would be murdered in the Senate, beneath the statue of the very man whom he had driven out of Rome and to his death in Egypt.

He thought of Casca. striking the first blow, and Brutus, delivering the last. Travers felt the blade of the parazonium he wore at his side. Of Macedonian origin, it was the knife worn by almost every male Roman and the secondary weapon of the soldier, a lethal, bottle-shaped blade with a strong central rib, three inches wide at the hilt, narrowing slightly at the midsection and then flaring out once more and tapering to a sharp point. He had seen the horrifying wounds the foot-long blade could make and he shuddered at the thought of having something like that plunged into his body. Caesar would be stabbed a total of twenty-three times by the conspirators, from the neck down to the groin, and he would fall at the foot of Pompey's statue, which he himself had ordered put back up after the mob had torn it down. His blood would splatter on the pedestal. causing all of Rome to talk for years thereafter about the supernatural influence at work in the assassination, as if the spirit of Pompey himself

had presided over it in revenge. And part of Travers' job was to see that it happened exactly that way.

He had come to have a great deal of respect and affection for Caesar. not only as a scholar studying his subject. but as a man and as a friend. It was hard to think that he would have to stand by and watch him die, and in such an awful manner, without being able to do anything to prevent it. But that was precisely what he had to do. If necessary, he would even have to get involved himself to make sure that history wasn't changed. As much as that thought disturbed hint, the thought that forces from the parallel universe could be at work to change that disturbed him even more.

Over the next few days, Caesar grew more tense and irritable. He avoided Pothinus and the king as much as possible, which seemed to suit the two of them just fine. He took long walks in the gardens, always armed and always with Travers at his side and several soldiers close by. It was in the gardens that several of Ptolemy's ministers contrived to meet with him, or to send informers, to keep him advised of what Pothinus was doing. The longer they remained in Egypt, in the midst of palace intrigues, the more danger they were in. If Pothinus found out about Caesar's plan to reinstate Cleopatra. he would waste no time in having them removed. Travers would have felt much better staying with the army, but Caesar insisted upon staying in the palace, both to claim the treatment due Rome's emissary and to keep an eye on things.

They were dining in their chambers one evening when one of the ministers arrived, along with a servant carrying a rolled-up carpet over his shoulder.

"I have brought the additional bedclothing you requested. Caesar." said the minister, shutting the door behind him as the servant carried it in.

"Bedclothing?" said Caesar with a frown. "I did not ask for bedclothing."

"Perhaps Caesar does not recall." said the minister with a smile. "Lay it down upon the floor, Apollodorus."

Caesar got up from his chair. "What is this? I am quite certain that I asked for no—"

Apollodorus unrolled the carpet and stood back. A young woman had been rolled up inside it. She was lying on her stomach. She pushed herself up slightly from the floor and bent one lovely leg, tossed her head, getting the hair back out of her eyes, and looked up at Caesar with a smile.

"You did ask that I come to you discreetly," she said.

Caesar stood back with surprise.

"I am Cleopatra."

She stood and faced them. Travers stared at her, stunned. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Her hair was jet-black, long and straight. Her striking features were sharp and graceful. There was a proud nobility to her bearing. Her eyes were a deep brown, with a smoldering. penetrating gaze; her complexion dark: her mouth full and sensuous. Her figure was voluptuous, with large. Firm breasts that were clearly outlined in the simple, thin, white linen shift she wore, her narrow waist and flaring hips accentuated by the gold girdle encircling it. Her legs were long and shapely, her small feet gracefully shod in thin. delicate sandals. She wore no jewelry except for an amulet

around her neck. She was breathtakingly lovely.. Travers recalled that at the time of meeting Caesar, this very meeting, she was twenty-one years old.

"That which was concealed shall stand revealed." Caesar murmured. Travers glanced at him sharply.

Cleopatra cocked her head, gazing at Caesar with puzzlement.

Caesar shook his head. "I was merely recalling something someone told me once," he said. He glanced at the minister and servant. "Leave us."

They went out and shut the door behind them. Caesar gestured toward his chair. "Please. Be seated." She chose the couch rather than the chair and reclined upon it gracefully.

Caesar watched her appreciatively. "Allow me to present my friend, Praetor Lucius Septimus."

She inclined her head slightly toward Travers. Travers stood and gave her a slight bow. "I am honored, Queen Cleopatra."

"I am not a queen now, Praetor Septimus, merely an exiled princess. My brother is still king, she said.

`"For the moment," Caesar said. He smiled. "I must admit that I had not expected your arrival in so bold a manner. It was very clever of you."

"Our nights are cool," she said. "A Roman could be expected to feel the chill. No one would remark upon his asking for another coverlet."

"Had I known they made such coverlets in Egypt. I would have sent for one much sooner," Caesar replied with a smile. "I merely regret that I had to ask you to resort to stealth in order to arrive in your own palace."

"I understood the need." she said. "Pothinus would hardly welcome my arrival. Since I was sent to live in exile. he has made a breach between my younger brother and myself."

"A breach can be repaired." said Caesar. "It wants only a craftsman who knows what he's about."

Cleopatra smiled. "You do not have the look of a craftsman." she said.

"Neither have I the look of a general," Caesar replied, or at least so I am told. And yet I lead Rome's finest legions. Legions that can assure your future as the queen of Egypt."

"You plan to depose my brother?"

"Only if it should prove necessary." Caesar replied. "I have no wish to harm him. I would be satisfied to have him rule with you to guide him."

"I see," she said. "Then it is Pothinus you wish to have removed."

"Rome needs an ally, not a scheming, unctuous eunuch who looks only after his own interests."

"And you think that I will not look after my own interests?" she asked coyly, arching a graceful eyebrow.

Caesar smiled. "It is in your interest to consider mine."

"Not Rome's'?"

"I am Rome."

"So. And once I am queen, what would Rome have me do?"

"Merely be a friend to Rome," said Caesar, gazing at her steadily.

She gave him a knowing smile. "Then I am at Rome's pleasure."

3

The outskirts of Rome, April 30, 44 B.C.

The transition coordinates Travers had selected clocked them in on a wooded hillside a few miles outside of Rome. It was dark when they arrived, twothirty in the morning by local temporal reckoning. though the Romans kept time in only an approximate manner. They based it on sunrise and sunset. They divided the day into twelve hours, with the first six hours being ante meridiem (before the middle of the day) and the second six post meridiem (after the middle of the day ), but they did not divide hours into minutes, and their water clocks and sundials were never accurate in any sense of the term, so no one in Rome was ever really certain of the time.

Travers was waiting for them at the transition point, along with four other men. Travers. who had spent most of his adult life in Minus Time, did not know anything about what had happened to Lucas, so he naturally showed no surprise on seeing him. All he really knew about them was that they were an adjustment team from Temporal Intelligence. They. on the other hand, knew a great deal about Travers, having read his file, though the man who met them hardly resembled the photo they had studied. Travers had aged since that photo had been taken. The hard life he had led had taken its toll. He was a small man, well built, with dark hair that had started thinning. He was in his late forties, deeply tanned and his face had lines in it that age alone was not responsible for. He had a weather-beaten look about him. His forehead was high. his features looked Mediterranean (partly a result of cosmetic surgery), and his eyes were dark and alert. He was wearing a simple tunic and sandals, with a cloak thrown over his shoulders. A short distance behind him, they saw a covered carriage drawn by two horses. which would be their transportation to Rome. There were three horses tied up by carnage and a small fire was burning in the clearing.

"You've studied the identities that I prepared for you?" asked Travers, after they had introduced themselves.

"My cover is Marcus Septimus." said Lucas. "I'm your younger brother, from Cumae. Our parents are both dead and we have no other living relatives. It's been a long time since we've seen each other, so now that you've returned from the wars. I've come to visit with you in Rome and I've brought my wife. Antonia. with me." He nodded at Andre, then indicated Delaney. whose beard had been shaved and whose hair had been dyed black for this mission. "And this is our friend. Fabius Quintullus, also from Cumae. We all grew up together and we're very close."

Travels nodded. "Good." He introduced the four men who were with him.

"These are your slaves, whom you have brought with you from our family estate. This is Capt. Castelli. C.T.O. in this sector." Castelli. the Chief Temporal Observer, stepped forward and greeted them. He was slim and very fit, with dark brown hair and blue eyes. He looked to be in his mid-twenties, though he was actually far older. "My cover name is Demetrius," he said. "I was a Greek soldier, from Sparta. captured in the war."

"And this is Lt. Corwin." Travers said, indicating one of the other men.

"His name here is Corac."

"I'm a Gaul." said Corwin. Ile was short and stocky. with fair skin and light brown hair. "One of the many prisoners captured in the Gallic War and sent back to Rome to be sold on the block. You bought me from a slave merchant in Ostia."

"Sgt. Andell." said Travers, introducing the next man.

"Antoninus," said Andell. giving his cover name, "also a Greek. from Athens. I've been your tutor since you were children."

He was of average height and dark complected. with thick, curly black hair and a wiry, compact build. He looked older than the others, perhaps in his late forties, which meant that he was easily three times that age. a veteran soldier of the Temporal Corps. The fact that he was still only a sergeant suggested that he must have been reduced in grade a number of times during his long career. Delaney, whose own record for reductions in grade was unsurpassed. glanced at Andell with interest, he was either a maverick, a chronic screw up (which seemed unlikely, given his posting and the fact that he was still alive), or somewhere along the line, he had pissed off the wrong person and messed up his chances for promotion.

"And Cpl. Drummond." Travers finished, introducing the last Man.

"Drusus " said Drummond, the youngest of the four. blond and slim, with a boyish face and green eyes. "I'm the son of slaves, born on your family estate."

He looked about seventeen or eighteen, which meant that his actual age could be anywhere from late teens to early forties. The antiagathics made it impossible to tell with any accuracy. They were all regular T.O. Corps, which meant that unlike Travers, they had received the antiagathic treatments and were on short-term posting. A few years, at most, before they'd be turned around and transferred to another sector or another time period.

They sat down around the campfire. Lucas turned to Castelli. "What's the strength of your T.O. unit in this sector?"

"A platoon," Castelli said.

"That's all'?"

"We’re spread kind of thin." said Castelli. "but we can send for reinforcements if we run into trouble. It'll be your call."

"All right," said Lucas. turning to Travers. "What's the current situation'?"

"Well. a great deal has happened since we left Egypt and I made my last report." said Travers. "The moment Caesar laid eyes on Cleopatra. he wanted her. And I certainly can't blame him. She's enough to take your breath away. After she came to visit him secretly in his apartment. they became lovers and he kept her with him in the palace. That was too much for Pothinus and Ptolemy to bear It brought all the factions out into the open. Achillas. Ptolemy's general. raised a force against Caesar's legions and Pothinus made plans to assassinate us. Caesar got wind of it and killed Pothinus, then set out to destroy the army of Achillas. He engaged them and wiped out the entire force. Ptolemy died in the battle and Caesar set Cleopatra on the throne. By the time we left Egypt. she was pregnant with his son. Then Caesar marched against Pharnaces. son of Rome's old enemy. King Mithridates, and drove him out of Pontus in only five days. His legions rolled right over them. It was the occasion of his uttering the famous words. 'I came. I saw. I conquered. Next, he led his legions into battle against the armies of Cato and Scipio. the last of Pompey's loyalists. He defeated them in North Africa and returned to Rome to celebrate triumphs for his victories. But he wasn't finished yet Pompey's two young sons. Cnaeus and Sextus. had raised an army in Spain. intending to avenge their father. We immediately set off for Spain in order to engage them. We met their army at Munda. It was bloody. Over thirty thousand of the enemy were killed. We lost a thousand men. I had several close calls. myself. Pompey's youngest son. Sextus. managed to escape. but Cnaeus was killed and his head was brought to Caesar. That marked the end of the civil war. It was also the last war that Caesar would engage in. At least, it was the last war that he was supposed to engage in."

“What do you mean by that'?" asked Lucas.

“I'm coming to that." said Travers. "Caesar didn't want to revive the ancient Roman kingship, because the people equated that with tyranny. so the title he chose for himself was dictator, like Sulla before him. This way, he could be periodically reappointed to the post. which at least gave the semblance of senatorial control in a republican government. But recently, he's had himself made dictator for life, with the title of Imperator. That was almost the same thing as naming himself king. A lot of people didn't take it well.

"Back when we first returned to Rome and he celebrated a triumph honoring his victory over Pompey's sons, it made him more than a few enemies." continued Travers as they warmed themselves around the fire. It's one thing to celebrate victory over barbarians or foreign kings, but when you destroy the children of one of the greatest men of Rome and honor it with a triumph, you're going to upset a few people. He realized that and tried to make up for it by ordering Pompey's statues put back up after some of the pro-Caesar mobs, mostly comprised of Caesar's soldiers, tore them down. He held public feasts, distributed corn to the masses, and staged chariot races and gladiatorial combats. His old bread and circuses routine, playing to the masses. It worked for him before and it worked for him again. The only difference was, now he could afford it.

"He established a number of new colonies, in Italy as well as in Carthage and in Corinth. He settled thousands of the soldiers who'd served with him during all those years. rewarding them with land in their retirement, as well as many of the city's unemployed. Which means that if he ever has to raise an army quickly, all he needs to do is call on the

colonies. Men who once had nothing but are now landowners, thanks to him, will remain unquestioningly loyal. He gave out consulships and praetorships left and right and increased the Senate rolls from six hundred to nine hundred. installing his supporters so now he virtually controls the Senate. He even pardoned some of his enemies. notably Brutus and Cassius. He gave them praetorships, despite their opposition to him in the civil war. He told me he did it so he could keep an eye on them. After all, the oracle told him to beware of them. The way he said it. I couldn't tell if he was joking or if he was serious. He tends to have mood swings and he can be hard to read sometimes. He's also used some of the wealth he acquired from the wars to construct the Basilica Julia and the Julian Forum, as well as the Temple of Venus Genetrix. the goddess of his family. And beside the statue of Venus. he's set up a gilded bronze statue of Cleopatra. which has raised more than a few eyebrows. She's in Rome now, with her son, Caesarian. He's set her up in her own house, complete with slaves and all the luxuries. He visits her every day. He's talking about

divorcing Calpurnia and marrying her."

"But I thought Caesar never married Cleopatra," Andre said.

"No. he didn't," Travers replied. "But he's mentioned it to me several times now and I think he's serious. The people will overlook his keeping her as his mistress, but if he divorces a woman of a wealthy and influential Roman family in order to many a foreigner. they'll turn against him. But Caesar doesn't seem to care. Cleopatra exerts a powerful influence on him. She's the one who was behind a lot of the autocratic changes that he's made and she caters to his ego, feeding it and his ambition. Why not surpass Alexander? Why not become a monarch, the ruler of the world? Busts of Caesar are being distributed all over Rome and throughout the provinces. He's had coins struck with his own image on them and the slogan. 'DICT. PERPETUO'—perpetual dictator—the first time the portrait of a living Roman has ever appeared on the coinage. And now he's talking about raising legions once again to invade Parthia and avenge Crassus, then pressing on into the Orient. as Alexander did."

"Only he was assassinated before he could accomplish all that," said Delaney.

"Yes," Travers replied somberly, as if the thought disturbed him. "He was. History says that he grew careless and disregarded all the signs. Some historians have even ventured the opinion that he actually wanted to die, because his health was failing and he couldn't bear the thought of growing old. But I've lived with him for years now and I know that man as well as I know myself. he suffers periodic fits of epilepsy. but he's lived with that for years. He doesn't want to die. He wants to be immortal. He's fifty-six years old and he wants one last hurrah. The only reason he ignored the rumors of conspiracies against his life was because his ego simply wouldn't allow him to believe that anyone would seriously want to kill him. he had restored peace and prosperity to Rome and introduced a stable government. Without him, he was convinced that it would all fall apart As he once said to Cleopatra, 'I am Rome.' And so he didn't take proper precautions. Only now, all that is changing. And Cleopatra is responsible."

"How?" asked Lucas.

"In about two weeks, it will be the Ides of March and Caesar is supposed to be assassinated," Travers said. "According to history, a soothsayer was supposed to have warned him to 'Beware the Ides of March,' but Caesar never took him seriously. But now, all he talks about is Lucan's prophecy. He's well aware that the fateful day is drawing near. He told Cleopatra about what Lucan said to him. 'That which was concealed shall stand revealed.' He believes that statement referred to Cleopatra. She was concealed in a roll of carpet that they use for bedding when she was smuggled into his apartment at the palace. and when her slave Apollodorus unrolled it, she stood revealed. Caesar told her that he knew she was his 'guiding omen' the moment he saw her, and she's done nothing to disabuse him of that notion. Not only has she been encouraging him in his plans for new conquests and greater glory, she's prevailed upon him to employ a bodyguard, as well. An Egyptian bodyguard, made up of soldiers she's brought with her. because the oracle had told him that he would die at the hands of those he thought his friends. Caesar had once employed a personal guard of Spaniards. but he dismissed them because he thought it wasn't good for appearances to have a bodyguard, much less one made up of foreigners. Now he's got an Egyptian one. That's an anomaly. They don't belong in this scenario. And there's something very strange about those Egyptians."

You think they might be agents from the parallel universe'?" asked Delaney.

Travers shook his head. '1 don't know. Either they are, or she is."

" Cleopatra?" said Lucas.

"I think it's possible." said Travers, gazing at them seriously. "She has a tremendous amount of influence over Caesar. I've been giving it a lot of thought. What if she's my counterpart from the parallel universe? A sort of L.T.O., a mole infiltrated into this timeline with the specific purpose of creating a temporal disruption. Her mission could have been to seduce Caesar and bear his son. Maybe Caesarian isn't even his son. She might have been already impregnated with a male fetus when she met Caesar. Possibly one that's been genetically tailored. What would happen if Caesar didn't die? What would happen if he added to Rome's conquests and dramatically increased its territories? What would happen if Cleopatra prevailed on him to name Caesarian instead of Octavian as his heir? And Caesarian was someone the S.O.G. could control? It would completely change the course of history. Octavian would never become Caesar Augustus. Tiberius would never become Emperor, nor would Caligula or Claudius or

Nero. It could change the entire course of civilization!"

“o you have anything solid to base your suspicions on or is this just a hunch?" asked Delaney.

Travers shook his head. "I tell you. I don't know, but something is very definitely wrong. Those Egyptians simply don't belong here. And their presence has not been taken well. Caesar even brings them into the Senate with him. It's increased the animosity toward him, which on one hand is all to the good, I suppose, but on the other hand, he's become more cautious, more aloof, and more determined than ever to do things his way, come hell or high water. "

"You're concerned about him, aren't you?" Andre said.

Travers glanced at her and grimaced. "Yes. I suppose I am. Funny, isn't it?"

"You got too close," said Delaney. "You allowed yourself to get involved."

"Listen, you study a man for half your life and then live with him, go through several wars with him. especially a charismatic man like Caesar. and you try not to get involved," said Travers. "The man's become my friend. You understand that? I've made him the subject of my life's work and I've gotten to know him as well as anybody knows him. It's hard not to like a man like Caesar Yes, he's ambitious and he's arrogant. but great men always are. He's also capable of kindness, and loyalty, and devotion. It's not for nothing that his legions idolize him. He's larger than life. Intelligent. incredibly courageous, inspirational. One of the greatest men who ever lived-And I have to make sure that he gets murdered."

Travers took out his Roman dagger and stared at the foot-long, lethal blade. "Can you imagine what it's like to be stabbed with something like this?

Twenty-three times. Twenty-three times, they're going to plunge daggers like this into his body. And not only am I helpless to do anything about it. I've got to make certain it gets done."

"No. Travers." Lucas said. " We've got to make certain it gets done."

"Evening. John."

John Marshall froze as he entered the dark bedroom of his house near the east bank of the Tiber. The voice had spoken in English and it sounded vaguely familiar. He lifted the oil lamp he carried in his hand. He was able to make out a dark figure sitting on his bed.

"Who are you?" he asked tensely, coming closer. He did not recognize the man.

"Someone who once saved your ass from the Spanish Inquisition."

"My God. Steiger?"

"Long time no see, John. Sorry if I ruined your evening. I sent the girl away. Told her I was an old friend of yours and wanted to surprise you. Little young for you, wasn't she?"

"Jesus. What the hell are you doing here? I never would've recognized you. You changed your face."

Steiger's hair was dark now and cosmetic surgery had dramatically altered his appearance. Not even his own mother would have recognized him. “Yes. I got tired of the old one. Actually, the situation called for a different look.

"You're on the lam? I don't believe it. You tied up with the Network?"

“You know about the Network?"

"Of course I know about the Network. But I never thought you'd get yourself involved with them."

"I didn't. I'm still with the agency."

"You're on assignment? But I thought the covert field section was disbanded."

"For someone who's several thousand years out-of-date, you manage to keep up pretty well."

"Come on. We've got our channels, you know that."

"Yes. I know. That's how I found you. You've done pretty well for yourself since I last saw you. Nice place you've got here."

"What do you want. Steiger'? You here to bust me, is that It?"

"Now is that any way to talk after all the years we've known each other?"

"Yeah. but like you said, it's been a long time and things change. Stop rattling my chain, Creed. What do you want?"

"I need your help, John. Just like old times. remember?"

“I'm out of it now, Creed. I turned my back on all that.

"You can never turn your back on it. John. You know that.

"Damn you. I'm just trying to live a quiet. peaceful life."

"Peaceful? Staging gladiator fights, beast baiting, and chariot races in the arena? But I guess that doesn't count. huh? What the hell, it's only show business, right? I gather it pays well. Lets the noble Marcian buy young teenage girls like the one I just sent out of here."

"Where the hell do you get oil, judging me? Especially after some of the shit you've pulled."

Steiger held up his hands. "Okay. Forget it. So my hands aren't exactly clean, either. I guess I'm still sore about you going over to the Underground. You were a damn good agent, John. We can't afford to lose people like you."

"Yeah, and I can't afford to die. either," Marshall said, setting down the lamp on a small table and sitting down in a chair next to it. "I was getting pressure from the Network. Either you're with us or against us. And you know what happened to people who tried to buck the Network."

"I bucked 'em and I'm still around."

"Yeah, well, you always were a cowboy. You and Carnehan. The super spooks. Me. I got old and tired. I got slow. So I took early retirement.”

He pressed something on the table and a hidden drawer popped out. Steiger instantly had a laser pistol in his hand.

"Hold it, John."

"Take it easy, for God's sake!"

"Whatever's in there, take it out slowly."

Marshall produced a pack of cigarettes. "Satisfied'?"

Steiger grinned and lowered the pistol.

"You want one?"

"Don't mind if I do. What happens if one of your slaves comes in and catches us smoking?"

Marshall lit one up and tossed the pack to Creed. "My slaves know what's expected of them. They don't come up here unless they're told to. I'm still a careful man. Creed."

"Yeah, but you're slipping. I got in here with no sweat."

"How the hell did you get in'?"

"Came down from the roof."

"You see? I told you I'm getting slow."

He held out the lamp for Creed to light his cigarette.

"So. You going to tell me what you're doing here?"

"I'm on a covert mission. We may have a potential temporal disruption on our hands."

"You part of an adjustment team?"

"No, but there's been one clocked back here. Delaney. Priest, and Cross. You know them?"

"I've heard of them. I also heard that Priest bought it in Afghanistan."

Not exactly," Steiger said. "But that's a long story."

"So they sent in the first string, huh? Must be pretty big. Where do you fit in?"

"Sort of unofficial backup. Undercover."

"Meaning they don't know you're here." Marshall grinned. "You haven't changed. Still the same old cowboy. What's going down?"

"I'm not exactly sure. but it has to do with Caesar."

Marshall exhaled heavily. That is big. What've you got?"

Steiger briefly told him what he knew. Marshall listened silently. not saying anything till he was finished.

"And this L.T.0.. Travis?"

"Travers."

"Right. He thinks it's going to center around Caesar's assassination?"

"That's my guess."

"What do you mean, it's your guess?"

"I mean I haven't spoken to the man. All I've got is the first report he made of a possible anomaly involving Caesar."

"You mean the oracle.

"That's right. Travers sent up the balloon and the team went out. but I've had no contact with him, so I don't really know what the latest intelligence is. Caesar's supposed to die in about two weeks. That's got to be the focus of the disruption."

"You think the S.O.G. is going to try to prevent the assassination.”

"It would make for a hell of a disruption." Steiger said. "It would probably bring about a timestream split. I think this is going to be a rough one. The old man didn't approve of contacts between the agency and the Underground, but I've been trying to convince him he was wrong about that. We're going to need all the help we can get from now on."

"What made Forrester change his mind?"

"He hasn't. At least, not yet "

"So what are you telling me? Ile doesn't know about what you're doing here'?"

"Not officially. I'm supposed to be on R & R. He knows what I’m doing, but no one else does."

“I get it. You fall down on this one, your ass is wide open and his is covered."

"Something like that.

"And you wonder why I decided to get out."

What can you tell me about Caesar?"

"That you don't already know? Probably nothing."

"What do you mean, probably nothing?"

"Just what I said. What do you think. I'm on his dinner invitation list?"

"But you're the local impresario around here," Steiger said. “Hasn't he been staging chariot races and fights?"

"Well, yeah, but you don't think I deal with the man directly. do you?

he's the Emperor. for Christ's sake."

"Who do you deal with?"

"Lately, it's been mostly Antony."

"Marc Antony?"

"That's right." said Marshall. "It’s not always him in person, though. Most of the time. I work through intermediaries. He's an important man."

"Can you get me an introduction'?"

Marshall sighed. "I guess I could try. Damn it. I thought I was through with all of that. Why the hell couldn't you leave me alone? You're going to get me killed, you know that?"

"I'll try to keep you out of it as much as possible." said Steiger. “All I need is a connection. And a base of operations."

" Here?"

"Partly. but I'd also like to arrange a safe house. What would you recommend?"

"I own some apartments in a tenement block in the Argiletum. a shopping district near the Subura district. Not exactly your luxury accommodations, but I could set you up in one of those."

“Oh. so you're a slumlord, too?"

"Give me a break. Steiger. I'm trying to cooperate because I owe you."

"What, not for old tunes' sake?"

“Well. maybe that. too And I've also got a life-style to protect here. I don't want a temporal disruption any more than you do."

"Okay. An apartment will do fine."

"You'll need money, I suppose."

"I've got some, but a little more can't hurt."

Marshall nodded. "All right. Anything you need, just say the word But there's one condition. This is strictly between you and me. I don't want that adjustment team involved. I don't want them knowing about me. Otherwise, all bets are off.”

"That goes without saying. John."

"Okay. I just wanted to make sure we understand each other. What about your cover?"

"What would make me interesting to Antony?"

"He likes chariot racing."

"A betting man?"

"Obsessive."

"Good. Why not say I'm a breeder of racing horses? And I've trained charioteers. You've bought strings from me in the past. Where should I be from'?"

Marshall thought a moment. "Ilerda. in Nearer Spain. That would make you a provincial and no one would be likely to ask you any detailed questions about where you're from. You could always say you've never ventured very far from your farm out in the country, by the Ebro."

"So what brings me to Rome? A business deal?"

"Let's say I'm contemplating purchasing your entire operation, leaving you run it. of course. and I've invited you here in order to discuss it."

"That would work." Steiger grinned. "Almost like old times, isn't it?"

"Too much like old times, if you ask me." Marshall replied sourly.

"When's the next race coming up'?"

"As a matter of fact. I've got several teams entered in one tomorrow. -

"Will Antony be there?"

"He never misses a race if he can help it."

"Good. What are the chances of putting in a fix?"

"You want me to fix a chariot race?" said Marshall with disbelief. You realize I could get the death penalty for that'?"

"Only if you got caught," said Steiger.

Marshall sighed. "Hell. I suppose it could be arranged."

Steiger smiled. "You haven't changed much, either, have you?"

"A man does what he can. You're planning to take Antony?"

"For a bundle." Steiger said. "What better way to get to know a man than to have him owe you money?"

4

"I hadn't expected it to look so beautiful," said Andre as they approached the city. Andell drove the coach, while Castelli rode ahead of them, with Corwin and Drummond mounted on their horses, bringing up the rear. Travers had clocked back to his villa in the city, to await their arrival

"It looks better from a distance. First time in Rome. eh?" Andell said.

"I've served a hitch in Rome before," said Lucas, 'but for Finn and Andre. I think it's the first time. Still. Rome was very different then."

"Oh. yeah? When did you pull a tour here?"

"Second Punic War." said Lucas. "I was with Scipio in the war against Hannibal."

"No shit. really? The old arbitration wars. I was there. too."

"You're kidding," Lucas said. "Which cohort?" "Wrong army," Andell said with a grin. "I was with Hannibal."

Lucas frowned. You were with Hannibal? How can that be? The U.S. Temporal Corps contingent was infiltrated into Roman forces during that Time War."

"I wasn't with the U.S. Temporal Corps," Andell said. "I was fighting for the Nippon Conglomerate Empire back then. Freelance mercenary."

"That explains it." said Delaney. "I was wondering why someone your age was still a sergeant. “

"Yeah. Big black mark on my record." Andell said. "Ex-mercenaries are scum of the earth, far as TAC-HQ is concerned.”

"But you're American. aren't you?" said Lucas. "So you had to start out regular Corps before you went merc. What happened?"

"I caught a real bad tour that made me want out in a big way," said Andell. "I served a hitch in the War Between the States. I was with the Union troops at Shiloh."

Delaney whistled. "That must've been a rough one."

"Tell me about it. It made the Punic Wars seem like a cakewalk. I got shot up pretty had and wound up just lying there on the damn battlefield, wondering if I was going to die or if the damn hogs were going to get to me first. There was a bunch of 'em rutting around the corpses. And some of them weren't even corpses yet. Not too far off from me, this huge pig was chewing on a guy's exposed intestines and he was still alive. I can still hear the poor bastard screaming.

"My God." said Andre.

"It gets worse," Andell said. "Somehow, I. got the strength up to crawl away and get into the woods. Packed my wounds with mud and then started trying to limp back to our lines. Only a rebel patrol found me first. I wound up in Andersonville."

"Jesus." said Delaney.

"Yeah Maybe the worst prison in American history. But there was a Union doctor there and he managed to get me patched back up, sort of, and I eventually managed to escape with a small group of men. We made our way to Sherman's troops and then, boy. we sure got even. Eventually, S & R found me and clocked me back. I spent some time in the hospital and then took my discharge. I figured I'd had enough. Only a funny thing happened."

You couldn't hack civilian life," said Lucas.

Andell nodded. "You know about it. huh?"

"Yeah. I quit once, too. But there was just no going back. It was either reenlist or go crazy."

"Then you understand," Andell said. "War does funny things to some people. I don't know, maybe it's that after you've danced on the edge of the sword blade, you can just never go back to ordinary life. Lot of people do. but me . he shook his head. "I never would've figured it. I thought I'd never want to go back in the military again, but civilian life just drove me around the bend. I started drinking. Got into drugs. Got busted a few times."

"That's why you couldn't reenlist," said Delaney.

"Yeah, they don't take convicted felons in the service. So I wound up going merc. Ran into a corporate recruiter in Miami. Next thing I knew, I was on a shuttle to Tokyo. They processed me, put me through detox, then clocked me out to Spain with a merc: unit they were using and we joined up with Hannibal there."

"So you were in on the crossing of the Alps?" said Lucas.

"That's right. Not exactly your average day hike. But I'll tell you something . . . you'll probably think I'm crazy, but I loved every minute of it."

"How'd you wind up with the Observers?" Andre asked.

"I re-upped after I completed my hitch for Nippon and got assigned to the T.O. Corps."

"But what about your record?" Andre said, puzzled.

"They didn't know I had a record."

"I don't understand," said Andre, frowning.

"The Nippon Conglomerate gave him a new identity." Delaney explained.

"Some countries do that for mercs. It's sort of a recruiting inducement. Do a good job for them. complete your tour without getting yourself killed, and they'll give you a brand-new identity, fully documented. You get to start off with a clean slate."

"So Andell's not your real name?" asked Andre.

It is now."

"Aren't you taking a chance on telling us all this?" she asked.

“No, not really. Even if you turned me in, which I don’t think you would, HQ wouldn't really care. They're kind of pressed for manpower these days. As long as my official record's clean, they're not going to care about who or what I was before."

"But they're not going to promote you. either," said Delaney.

"No, that's for sure. I'll never make it past sergeant. But that's okay. I never much liked officers, anyway." He grinned. No offense."

"None taken," said Delaney. "I know exactly how you feel."

"You're talking to the man who actually holds the record for the most reductions in grade in the entire Temporal Corps," said Lucas, smiling.

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"And you still made captain?" Andell shook his head. "You must be a real hotshot. Sir,"

"I just don't understand it," said Delaney. "I keep taking the damn bars off and they keep slapping them back on

Andell grinned. They were entering the outskirts of the city. "So, you want the orientation lecture or you just going to let the programming kick in?"

"No, go ahead" said Lucas. "We can always use the perspective of someone who's been in the field for a while."

"Well, like I said, the city looks better from a distance. Once you actually get in the city itself, as you'll notice in a little while, there are still a lot of truly beautiful buildings, especially the temples and the villas of some of the aristocrats, but the streets are choked with what are essentially your basic slum tenements. This time of year. it's not too bad, but in the summer, you wouldn't believe the stink. They just throw their garbage out into the streets. Lot of people die from fever in the summer.

At this point, we're actually entering the city," he continued.

"Passing through the gates of Rome has become sort of a misnomer. Rome has outgrown its walls and gates. The streets and houses are spread out well beyond them

The citizens of the republic are so secure these days that they feel they have no need of protective walls. Except around the better houses in the city, to keep the riffraff out."

"What road is this we're on?" asked Lucas.

"The Via Flaminia," said Andell. "You'll notice that it's paved, but it's got two dirt roads running along on either side, like shoulders. The Roman method of building roads is to first excavate a ditch with sloping walls, then fill it with layers of gravel, stone, and mortar. After the ditch is built up in this fashion, the top layer of stones is laid and the road is crowned slightly so water runs off to the sides. The dirt roads running along either side are for the unimportant traffic, your farm carts, peasants, and slaves. The legions have the right of way over everybody else.

"The outlying areas of the city we just passed through are primarily farms, olive orchards and vineyards, with several roadside inns along the way. Right now, we're in the suburbs, which will get denser as we come closer to the old city walls built in the 4th century B.C.

"Here comes your basic geography lesson. Rome itself is built on seven hills: the Capitoline. the Palatine, the Caelian, the Esquiline. the Viminal, and the Quirinal. which ring a small valley that was probably once a swamp. The seventh hill, the Aventine, is slightly to our south. The River Tiber flows along the western borders of the city and beyond its opposite bank is a range of hills called the Janiculum.

"As for culture, the wars with Greece and the conquest of Sicily in the First Punic War brought Romans into contact with Greek architecture, which they've been copying ever since. The first statues in Rome were of Greek origin, brought to the city as spoils of war. Around the middle of the 2nd century B.C., the discovery of a new type of limestone called travertine allowed them to build larger and more solid buildings, as well as their famous arches."

He turned back toward Lucas. "You probably won't recognize the city from when you were here before. There's been lots more construction and they're always building or repairing something. They use a type of lime-mortar that sets up so hard, it can easily be mistaken for modern concrete. Over there is the first aqueduct to bring water to the city, the Marcian, constructed in 144

B.C'. And the first stone bridge across the Tiber was built about two years later."

"How do they build the arches?" Andre asked, consulting her programmed

"submemory" and not coming up with an answer. 'file mission programming was never totally complete. There were inevitable gaps.

"They're constructed on wooden scaffolding frames that function as forms on which the stones are laid and mortared," Andell explained. "Then when the mortar has set, the forms and scaffolding are taken down. Simple, but effective. The roads and paths in the city itself were originally gravel, but they've been relaid with stone and volcanic lava from the Alban Hills. The socalled 'Golden Age' of Rome won't really begin until the time of the Nerva and Trajan. around 96 A.D., when there's going to be a tremendous boom in some really impressive construction. However. Caesar's already started a lot of new projects. some of which won't be completed until the time of Augustus. He's bought up all the land on the north side of the Forum, which we'll be passing shortly, and pulled down

all the houses to start construction of a new square and market, which will be called the Forum Augusti when it's completed. To the southwest, you'll probably be able to smell it in a few minutes, is the forum boarium, the cattle market. Right next to it is the forum holitorium, the main market for oil, fruit, and vegetables. So you can get your produce in an atmosphere scented with manure."

"Is that the Forum?" asked Delaney, pointing.

"That's it," Andell said. "The Forum Romano, the most famous city square in all of history. That black stone building over there is the tomb of Romulus. And there's the Sanctuary of Venus the Purifier. Across from the Basilica over there is the Temple of Castor and Pollux, the twin gods. And over there, the Temple of Saturn. You can't see it from here, but right next to it is the Golden Milestone, from which all miles on roads leading to Rome are measured. And there's the Rostra, where they conduct trials and, on occasion, the Senate meets there, as well, when it's warm enough. Otherwise, until they build the permanent Senate House, the Curia Julia, they usually meet in the Temple of Jupiter, which is just to the east of here. On a nice day. you can stand in the Forum and hear someone like Cicero speak. lithe wind is right, you can also smell the fish market. So much for historical glamour."

They passed the Forum and entered a residential area.

“A lot of the buildings are more run-down than I expected," Andre said.

"It's a bit like towns and cities in medieval times."

"Yeah. there's a similarity." said Andell. "Few Romans except wealthy aristocrats and merchants can afford to live in a townhouse or a villa. The majority of the city's population lives in blocks of tenements like this, no more than three or four stories high."

"The streets are narrower than I expected, too," said Andre.

"They won't be widened until Nero's time," Andell replied. "Most streets in the city, neighbors across the street from one another can reach out from their balconies and shake hands. When Augustus comes in, he'll put a height limit of seventy feet on houses because of the poor

construction. Sometimes the tenements just collapse all of a sudden, so be careful when you walk the streets. The average apartments are made up of small rooms over street-level shops, with shuttered windows looking out over the street or out into an interior courtyard. Tenants can buy a room outright, so you've got your original condos, but most people can't afford it. so they rent. You can make a good income as a landlord. The rents in Rome are about four times higher than in the country, anywhere from two thousand to thirty thousand sesterces. For that kind of money, you can buy a small house within sixty miles of Rome. Water's available from lead pipes coming from the aqueducts, but it's a luxury only the wealthy can afford. They pay for it according to the size of their pipes. Most tenants have no water pipes and they have to bring water from a public fountain or a bath. They also have to go to commercial bake and cook shops for their food, because most apartments don't have kitchen facilities. So Romans tend to eat out a lot."

“I don't see many carts or wagons," Lucas said.

"Just coaches and light carriages during the day." Andell said. "That's something new. By Caesar's order, the heavy wheeled traffic is only allowed in the city at night so nights in the city can get noisy, especially in the business districts. It's like trying to get a good night's sleep in New York, with sirens and shit going off all the time. Same thing. Carts and wagons going by all night. drivers shouting, cracking whips, oxen bellowing . . . not the best idea in the world. if you ask me, but it does cut down on traffic during the day."

The buildings look like a real fire hazard," Andre said.

"That they are. Fires are real common, especially this time of year. when people leave open braziers burning all night to keep warm. They don't have anything like an organized fire department. at least they won't until Augustus' time, when he'll form a sort of combination police and fire brigade called the Cohortes Vigilum. recruited from freedmen who'll get full citizenship after six years' service. But right now, a lot of people die in fires. They usually just let the damn things burn, then knock down what's left and start all over. You get maps of the city in your programming?"

"Yes," said Lucas.

"Good. You'll need 'em. You'll notice that there aren't any street signs and the houses aren't numbered. It can be hard to find your way around."

They swung down another street. heading back toward the Tiber."Travers has himself a villa by the river," Andell said, "so you won't be staying in one of those rattraps. Being buddies with the imperator has its perks. It's still early, but in a few hours, things'll really start picking up. They're holding chariot races in the Circus today. Maybe some gladiator combat, too. Eventually, that'll all move to the Colisseum, but it won't be built for years yet. If you want to get a good feel for what's going on, the place to go is the baths. You can meet everyone from senators down to the tinker, the baker, and the candlestick maker. One quadrans gets you in for the whole day, but don't look for soap. And most of the baths are for men only. I'm afraid," he said, glancing at Andre.

"So I'll stink," she said.

"I don't think you'll have to do that," Andell said with a grin. "Travers has a small bath at his villa. That's a big-time status symbol these days. Just make sure you don't bathe yourself. Have the slaves do it, even if you don't like the idea. It's expected."

"Male slaves or female slaves?" asked Andre.

Andell shrugged. "That's up to you. I guess."

She grinned. "This mission might not be so bad, after all." "How long have you been on this tour, Andell?" asked Delaney.

"About seven years now," Andell replied.

”All in Rome?"

"First four in Rome, last three in Alexandria. We're not liable to run into anyone who knows me or any of the others, if that's what you're concerned about. Nobody pays much attention to slaves, for one thing, and we've all kept a pretty low profile. Except for Travers, of course, but his case is different. He moves in more interesting circles and he gets to live in a nice villa, instead of the rattraps we've been living in."

"But then you didn't have to go to the Gallic Wars, either," Andre said.

"I wouldn't have minded that one bit. I reenlisted to be a soldier, not a damn Observer. I'm due for a transfer in another year and I'm looking forward to it. I'm hoping I can pull a combat assignment. And I miss wearing pants."

"Watch they transfer you to Scotland," said Delaney.

"If you spent three years in Alexandria, you know about Cleopatra," Lucas said.

"We didn't exactly do dinner and dancing, you know," Andell said.

"L.T.O.'s are the ones who get to rub elbows with the rich and famous. But I know about her, yeah."

"What do you think of Travers theory?"

"I don't know. I think it's possible. The S.O.G. might've pulled a switch while she was in exile. And she didn't have a great deal of contact with her brother. Ptolemy, after she came back. If there was any change in her, her becoming a queen could easily explain it. People in Egypt aren't exactly in the habit of questioning their monarchs. In any case. she's in Rome now, where nobody knew her from before. If it was me and I was going to pull a substitution. I would've done it while she was in exile, just before she met up with Caesar. There's only one thing about it I can't understand."

"What's that?" asked Lucas.

"Caesar's Egyptian guard. I mean, like that's a real obvious anomaly. It's a documental fact that Caesar made a point of refusing to have a bodyguard around him at this time. It stands to reason that the S.O.G. would figure we'd have Observers back here and that's like running up a flag. Again. if it was me. I wouldn't give my play away like that. That thought's occurred to Travers, too. It really bothers him. He just can't figure it."

"Unless, in their universe. Caesar did have a bodyguard." said Delaney.

"You think so?"

"It's possible. We know their history is different from ours in some respects. That's why the confluence phenomenon is so dangerous. They infiltrated Archives Section and managed to learn a lot about our history through other means. but their knowledge could be spotty."

"Maybe," Andell agreed. "But Rome is a reasonably well-documented period. They could have infiltrated agents into any future temporal scenario and picked up the works of Suetonius or Plutarch or Tacitus or any number of the more modern classical historians. It would be standard mission preparation and not that hard to do. Stands to reason, doesn't it?"

"Yes, it does," said Lucas,. frowning. "It doesn't seem to make sense."

"Not unless they figure there's nothing we can do about it," Andell said.

"And there really isn't, when it comes to that. I mean, what are you going to do, walk up to Caesar and say. 'Excuse me, you know you're not supposed to have a bodyguard? Better get rid of them or you might not get killed?' Now that they're there. the only ones who can get rid of them are Caesar and Cleopatra."

"It could also be a way of drawing attention to what they're doing." said Delaney.

"Why would they want to do that?"

"To smoke us out," Delaney said.

Andell nodded. "That's an idea. If you try to do anything about the Egyptians, you're liable to give yourself away. And if you don't do anything about them and they're still with Caesar on the Ides of March, the conspirators may not have a chance to kill him. What happens then?"

"Then we may have to kill him." Lucas said. "Even if it means getting killed ourselves."

They drove the rest of the way to Travers' villa in silence.

People had started arriving at the Circus Maximus before dawn, so the tiered stands were almost completely filled by the time Steiger and Marshall arrived. However, unlike the plebeians. their places were assured. They sat in the front rows, which were reserved for senators, aristocrats, and Vestal Virgins. Steiger decided that he didn't quite fit into any of those categories.

The sight of the Circus itself was awe-inspiring. Shaped like a long rectangle rounded off at one end in a semicircle, the Circus Maximus was six hundred yards long and two hundred yards wide, built to hold a quarter of a million spectators. Caesar had rebuilt it. making it even grander than it was before. He had surrounded the arena with a moat, the better to separate the animals from the spectators during shows that involved wild beasts. Marshall explained that Pompey had used an iron fence, but the bars had buckled under the weight of elephants that had been pitted against some hapless prisoners and the spectators had been somewhat upset when the pachyderms decided that they wanted out.

The spina. the built-up "spine" dividing the center of the arena between the turning posts (three on each end). had been adorned with gilt bronze statues of the gods looking down upon the games. It also held the septem ova, seven large wooden eggs that were moved to count the laps. Later, during the time of Augustus, seven bronze dolphins would be added to the eggs as lap counters. The triple-tiered stands facing each other across the arena were monstrous. The lowest tiers were made of marble, the second tiers had seats of wood, and the third offered standing room only. They were completely packed and the crowd was still streaming in.

Outside, beggars, wine merchants, pastry cooks, astrologers, and prostitutes vied for the attention of the crowd. The courts had all been closed. Marshall explained that no business would be transacted in the city while the games were on. Indeed, it seemed to Steiger as if all of Rome had packed itself into the Circus. The spectators were a sea of white togas. As they approached their seats. Marshall pointed out a handsome. dark-haired man with a high forehead, an aquiline nose, and a full beard.

"That's Antony." said Marshall.

"What's with the sword?" asked Steiger.

"Antony always wears his sword whenever he appears in public," Marshall replied. "It's part of the image. His family claims to be descended from Hercules. by his son. Anton. and Antony likes to play the part to the hilt. The big macho warrior. Come on, I'll introduce you."

"Ah. Martian!" Antony said boisterously as they approached. "Come! Sit with us! Who is your friend?"

"Greetings. Marc Antony." said Marshall. "Allow me to present Creon Sabinus, who has come to visit me from Ilerda. I've bought many fine strings of horses from him over the years."

"Indeed?" said Antony, turning to Steiger with interest. "And what brings you to Rome from the provinces, Sabinus?"

"A little business and a little pleasure," Steiger replied. "Marcian has decided that I've been charging him too dearly for the horses that he buys from me. so he proposes to purchase my entire farm, so that he can sell them more cheaply to himself."

That sounds like our Marcian." Antony laughed. "Always counting his fortune and finding it wanting. Take care that you do not sell your farm to him too cheaply, Sabinus."

"He needs no advice from you. Antony," groused Marshall. "The price that he has named amounts to a king's ransom."

"Come now, Marcian. it is a fair price and you know it." Steiger protested.

"Fair? You've been cheating me for years. you scoundrel. As you have doubtless cheated others." He turned to Antony. "He knows that if I buy his farm. I must retain him on a salary as breeder, so it is all to his advantage. He has, I'm afraid, less need for my money than I have for his horses. I've brought him to the races in the hope that I can induce him to lose some of it. Perhaps then he will become more reasonable."

"What, you plan to bet against him?" Antony asked, surprised. "Marcian, I have never seen you wager so much as a denarius!"

"No, not I," said Marshall. "I have already lost enough money to this brigand through our business dealings. I will not risk losing more. However. knowing you to be a shrewd judge of horseflesh and charioteers, I thought perhaps you would be good enough to fleece him for me. I would appreciate it if you would take as much of his money as possible. he's been most insufferable."

Antony threw back his head and laughed. "Did you hear my friends? Marcian brings me a sacrifice of a provincial!”

They all laughed.

Steiger stiffened, as if with affront.

"No, no, do not look so, Sabinus," said Flaminus, clapping him on the shoulder. "I assure you, Antony meant it merely as a joke."

"Yes, doubtless we provincials, being so backward and naive, provide you Romans with much amusement." Steiger said.

"Come now, Sabinus. I meant no offense," Antony said placatingly. "And to prove it, and as much to please my good friend. Marcian. I will offer you a small. friendly wager, if you like. Not so much as you can't afford to lose."

"Indeed? And what makes you think that I will lose?" asked Steiger.

"Oho!" said Antony. "You hear Trebonius? It seems that we have pricked his pride!"

"Have a care. Antony." Trebonius said in mock warning. "He is a breeder and must know his horses well."

"Perhaps. but does he know his charioteers?" asked Antony. "It takes more than a good team to win a race."

"That is true enough," said Steiger. "But I have had an opportunity to watch them exercise and have formed a few opinions as to the skill of the various drivers. Perhaps they are not as educated as your own, Marc Antony. but I have observed enough to guide my wager."

"Very well, then." Antony said with a grin. "We shall see. Shall we make a wager on the first race?"

"If you like."

"How much would you care to risk?"

“I do not know what is customary," said Steiger. "Would ten thousand sesterces be appropriate?"

"Ten thousand sesterces!" Trebonius said.

"See here, Sabinus." said Antony condescendingly, “pride can be a costly thing. Despite what Marcian said. and I am certain he was only joking. I have no wish to see you lose so much.”

"It is a sum that I could easily stand to lose," said Steiger. "However, if you could not. I would certainly understand."

Antony raised his eyebrows. "I could stand to lose a great deal more than that. my friend," he said with a smile. "Very well. then. Ten thousand it is."

The sound of trumpets rang out through the arena and the crowd cheered as the presiding consul entered in his chariot, followed by his lictors and attendants. After them in the procession came the legionaries and the cavalry, followed by the teams of chariots. The drivers were all attired in colored tunics that denoted their teams. They had the reins

wrapped around their chests, leaving one hand free to manipulate them and the other to use the whip. Driving a chariot took great strength and dexterity, as well as skill. and by wrapping the reins around their chests, the charioteers were able to add their full body weight to the task. a, well as using it to balance the light chariots. It made the driving very dangerous. because in the event of a spill. the charioteer had to draw a sharp dagger and quickly cut the reins, otherwise he would be dragged along behind his horses. Even if he could cut himself loose in time, there was, still the danger of being trampled or crushed by the wheels of the following chariots.

After the chariots came the singers. followed by the priests and the incense-hearers. 'Then came the images of the gods carried on biers. The crowd cheered and applauded as they made their circuit of the arena to the pounding of the drums and the blaring of the trumpets, then the cheering grew still louder as the Emperor appeared in his box, just a short distance from where Steiger and Marshall sat with Antony and his friends.

Steiger turned to look at Julius Caesar. He stood in the imperial box, wearing a laurel wreath and a purple-trimmed toga with fringes on the sleeves, holding his arms out to the crowd.

"Is that your first sight of the Emperor?" asked Trebonius, raising his voice to he heard over the cheering of the crowd around them.

"Yes." Steiger replied. “I must admit, he looks different than I had expected. More like a philosopher than a conquering general.”

"Do not be deceived by his appearance," Antony said. "He is the finest general that Rome has ever seen. And I am proud to have served with him in the campaigns.

"A singular honor," Steiger said.

Antony smiled. "Perhaps later, I will introduce you to him. To ease the pain of your loss."

"It would indeed be a great privilege to meet the Emperor." said Steiger.

"But I have not lost yet.”

Antony grinned. "We shall see. That first rank of chariots will compete in the first race. And the second rank will race after them, and so forth. As a breeder of fine horses, which team do you fancy?"

Steiger considered the teams as they rode by in the procession. "Of the first rank, I think I like the greens," he said. "The brown trigae."

He pointed to the team of three dark brown horses drawing a light chariot driven by a man in a green tunic.

"A good choice," said Antony, nodding. "You do know your horses. But I think the whites will take the first race."

“Perhaps," said Steiger. "However, I will stand by my choice."

"And be the poorer for it," Antony replied with a grin. "But who knows, fortune may smile upon you."

After the procession completed its circuit of the track, the chariots for the first race lined up at the far end of the arena. The horses were restive. pawing at the ground. The charioteers held them back, easing them into position. The presiding consul gave the signal for the trumpets to sound. He stood above the chariots, dressed in a scarlet tunic, an embroidered toga, and a heavy gold wreath. In one hand, he held out a white cloth. In his other hand, he held aloft an ivory baton with a bronze eagle on it. the symbol of his office.

The charioteers had previously drawn lots for their positions at the start of the race. The tails of the horses were bound tightly, their manes decorated with pearls and gems. their breastplates adorned with gold and silver and trimmed with jewels. Each horse wore a ribbon with the color of its team. The drivers stood in their chariots, some wearing leather helmets, others wearing metal ones, their thighs and calves beneath their brief tunics wrapped in leather leggings. Most of them were low born and some had once been slaves, but as charioteers, they could rise far above their stations. Winning charioteers often received substantial gifts from magistrates and aristocrats, sometimes even from the Emperor himself, and they were paid generous salaries by the owners of their teams, as well. They were the star athletes of Rome, often wined and dined by their rich patrons. and some of them were able to become quite wealthy in their own right. A hush fell over the crowd as the consul waited to give the starting signal. Steiger's brown trigae had drawn a position third from the inside. Antony's whites were on the pole. The consul dropped the white cloth and the crowd cheered as the race began.

The blue team took an early lead as the horses thundered down the straightaway, heading counterclockwise around the track, toward the first turn. The greens ran second. the whites a close third. The drivers lashed the horses with their whips as they passed the stands where Steiger and Antony sat, coming up to the first turn.

"The first turn is always crucial." Antony said loudly, speaking close to Steiger to be heard above the crowd. "And Tibulus, who races for the whites, always rides close upon the leader as they close for the turn. Watch now!"

The blue driver took the turn a little wide, anxious to give himself plenty of room so as not to be caught between the posts and the press of the other chariots closing in. Tibulus, the charioteer for the whites, hung close on the heels of the blues, slightly to the inside. The greens were right behind him, swinging wider. The driver of the red team suddenly swung for the inside. trying to ace the greens out of position. but as they rounded the turn, the whites also swung sharply to the inside, toward the post, cutting off the reds. Having nowhere else to go, the red driver had to swing in closer still and the wheels of his chariot caught the post as they went around.

The crowd gasped collectively as his chariot struck and bounced up into the air, teetering precariously on one wheel for an instant, and then crashing back down again, dislodging the driver. He drew his knife and slashed the reins, cutting himself free, then rolled wildly to avoid being trampled by the team behind him. He didn't make it. The crowd roared as the horses of the green team trampled him and the chariot jounced over his body. As soon as the chariots had all passed, attendants ran out with a litter to pick up the fallen driver, who was writhing on the ground with pain.

Meanwhile, the whites had taken the lead on the inside of the turn. As they thundered down the opposite straightaway, they were all out of sight behind the spew, but in moments, they were coming around the far turn and Steiger saw that the whites had increased their lead, while the greens were close behind them. It remained that way for the first two laps as the chariots gradually spread out along the track. By the third lap. the greens had closed the distance. By the fourth, they were almost neck and neck with the whites, but Tibulus was clearly the better driver and he gained an increased lead once more going round the turn. By the fifth lap, the greens had once more closed the distance, but the

whites kept gaining on the turns. practically shaving the posts.

"Your greens arc putting up a game fight," said Antony. "Demos drives well, but he won't catch Tibulus! Watch as he gives them full head on the last turn!"

Indeed, Tibulus took the last turn at what seemed a very reckless speed, his chariot sliding around almost completely sideways, but the maneuver gained him even more ground and as they raced for the finish, the whites came in well ahead of the greens.

“I fear that you have lost your wager. Sabinus," said Antony. "I told you that the whites would win. You see, it takes more than a good eye for horses to judge who will be the winner. A good charioteer makes all the difference."

"It would seem so." Steiger agreed. "I congratulate you. But you must give me an opportunity to win back my money. Would you care to wager on the next race?"

Antony laughed. "Marcian, your friend seems determined to give away his money! It seems your plan was sound. Perhaps I should demand a fee for helping you conclude your business with him!"

"You have already won ten thousand sesterces," Marshall said. "Let that be your fee. Antony."

"Done!" laughed Antony.

"Shall we say another ten thousand on the second race?" asked Steiger.

"If you think you can afford it." Antony replied dubiously

"Marcian will vouchsafe my credit.-

"Sabinus may be unscrupulous in business," Marshall said. "but you may take him at his word."

"I never questioned it." said Antony magnanimously. "Another ten thousand it is."

Steiger lost the second race. too. And the third, as well. Trebonius won the fourth. with both Steiger and Antony losing. but Antony recouped his loses to Trebonius on the fifth race, which Steiger also lost.

"I think perhaps we should cease to wager now." Antony told Steiger after the fifth race. "You already owe me fifty thousand sesterces and I have no wish to ruin you completely."

"You cannot keep winning all the time," said Steiger.

"I rarely lose, my friend."

"Then you will not give me one more chance to make good my losses?"

Antony shook his head. "I have already won more than enough from you, Sabinus," he said. "You would be wise to stop now."

"One hundred thousand sesterces on the final race." said Steiger.

"By the gods" said Flaminus.

"Marcian. I fear your friend is being dangerously reckless." said Antony.

Is it your concern for me that causes you to hesitate or does the prospect of losing so much make you nervous?" Steiger asked.

"Creon, perhaps you'd better reconsider," Marshall said.

"One hundred thousand is my wager," Steiger repeated firmly, looking straight at Antony. "Do you dare accept it? Or are you afraid to lose to a backward provincial?"

Antony stared at him. "Your friend Marcian will have to buy your farm from me.” he said. “Because after this last race, I fear that I will own it."

"Then you accept?"

"Choose your team."

"I'll take the blues. The black stallions second from the post." There were four factions—the whites, the reds. The blues, and the greens, but for this race, the teams were paired, so that there were two charioteers driving for each faction, a total of eight teams of four horses each.

"The blues?" said Antony. He chuckled. "Alas, you have made a poor choice. Sabinus. Young Cassinus drives that team. He has the least experience of any of the charioteers! He has never before driven a quadrigae!"

"Nevertheless. I choose the blues," repeated Steiger. "I watched him exercise the other day. He seems to have a natural ability with the quadrigae. And the blacks he's driving are fine horses. I am confident of my choice."

"I will not quarrel with the quality of the team," said Antony. "But are you so confident of your choice that you will risk your utter ruin?"

"I am confident that you cannot continue to win all the time." Steiger countered stubbornly. "Do you accept the wager? Or is it too rich for your blood?"

"Creon . . ." Marshall said, taking Steiger's arm.

"Stay out of it. Marcian." snapped Steiger. shaking him off. "I await your answer, Antony."

Antony sighed and shook his head sadly. "So be it. One hundred thousand sesterces on the bays driven by Clocillus, for the reds."

"I will take thirty thousand of that wager. if you have not overextended yourself, Sabinus," said Trebonius.

"And I will venture twenty," said Flaminus.

"Done," said Steiger.

"Creon, are you mad?" asked Marshall.

"Antony is not the only one who can judge a charioteer," Steiger replied.

"Cassinus seemed most promising when I watched him practice."

"You did not watch him against Clocillus," Antony said with a smile.

"Clocillus has no need of practice. He is the finest charioteer in Rome." The trumpet sounded once again.

"They are about to start!" Trebonius said.

The white cloth fluttered to the ground and the chariots were off. Clocillus took an early lead going into the first turn. Cassinus was sixth, well behind him, but the crush of the first turn took out two of the other chariots, one white, one green. They crashed into each other as they went around the post. and though the drivers managed to retain control by reining in, they slowed up two other chariots behind them and caused another to swing wide around them as they skidded toward the outside of the turn. Cassinus took the opportunity to get inside them and move up.

"A good move on his part." Antony conceded. "But he was merely fortunate. Clocillus still holds a commanding lead."

Going into the second lap. Cassinus was running third, but Clocillus and one of the chariots driving for the greens were still well ahead of him. They maintained that distance for another lap, but as they swung around for the third time. Cassinus slowly began to close the gap. By the fourth lap. the second green team was hard on his heels, with the

second driver for the blues running just behind them. Clocillus was still in a comfortable lead. On the fifth lap, as they went around the post. the green team that was closing in on Cassinus took the turn too wide and Cassinus'

teammate cut sharply to the inside, getting ahead of the greens and cutting them off as they went down the straightaway. Cassinus continued to close the distance between himself and the two leaders, while the green team that was just behind him couldn't get around the blue team that had passed it. They maintained that position going into the sixth lap when the team that was running second tried to cut in on the inside of Clocillus and ran out of room. The chariot overturned and they could see the driver sawing frantically at the reins as the horses dragged him along behind them. He managed to cut himself free just as they reached the outside of the turn and he rolled safely out of harm's way. Cassinus was now running second.

On the last lap. Cassinus started closing the distance between himself and the red team driven by Clocillus, gaining rapidly. The crowd was on its feet, cheering the underdog. In moments, they were neck and neck.

"Come on. Clocillus!" shouted Antony. "Use your whip!"

Side by side, the two chariots careened toward the finish, but Cassinus started to edge ahead. Antony and his friends were shouting and shaking their fists. Clocillus started to close, but they crossed the finish line with Cassinus barely a nose ahead of him. The crowd went wild.

"Well,

deducting my earlier losses to you," Steiger said to Antony, "that makes fifty thousand sesterces that you owe me. Plus the thirty thousand from Trebonius, and twenty from Flaminus, that brings my winnings to a total of one hundred thousand sesterces. I have both made good my losses and turned a tidy profit.'

He grinned at Antony. "It seems that I am not exactly ruined."

I cannot believe it!" said Trebonius. "Clocillus never loses!"

"And I was tempted to wager thirty thousand, but I did not wish to take advantage of a reckless provincial," Flaminus said, shaking his head.

Your charity has saved you ten thousand sesterces," Steiger said.

"Now I'll be forced to meet his price," said Marshall gloomily. "Antony. what happened? You were supposed to win!"

"I would never have thought that Cassinus could beat Clocillus," Antony said. "But . . . perhaps he is indeed more suited to the quadrigae. Whether by luck or by skill or a combination of the two, he did it. And you, Sabinus. are a wealthier man because of your sound judgment. I congratulate you.'

"And I you. on your grace in losing," Steiger said. You must grant me the honor of entertaining you and your friends."

"What, with our own money?" Antony said. He chuckled and clapped Steiger on the back. "Very well. then. I accept."

"Wait till Caesar hears that you have lost more in one day than you have won in the entire year!" said Trebonius.

"I expect he will be much amused," said Antony wryly. "And he will doubtless wish to meet the man who humbled me. Come, Sabinus. Would you like to meet the Emperor?"

5

That last race was close," Lucas said. "Almost a photo finish." He smiled. "Or it might have been, if they had cameras in ancient Rome."

"It's the first time I've ever seen Clocillus lose." said Travers. “The young driver who beat him just made his reputation. Clocillus is the best charioteer in Rome."

He also threw the race," said Andre.

Travers glanced at her sharply. “What?"

“I said, he threw the race." she repeated. “It was fixed."

“Are you serious? How can you possibly tell?"

"If anyone can tell, she can." said Delaney.

They were seated in the stands within less than a hundred feet of where Steiger sat with Antony. though they had no idea he was there. With his new face, they wouldn't have recognized him anyway. They spoke in low voices, holding their heads close so that no one could overhear them.

"Andre grew up in medieval England." Lucas explained. "For most of her life, she passed as a male and was a mercenary knight, what they called a

'free companion.' The first time we met. it was in the lists at the tournament of Ashby."

"You mean you were temporally displaced?" asked 'Travers, stunned.

"It's a long story." she said. "I inadvertently became part of a temporal disruption and wound up being taken into the future by a member of the Underground."

We first encountered Andre on a mission to 12th century England." said Delaney. "so you can imagine our surprise when we saw her again in 17thcentury France. It's quite a story. She was instrumental in helping us effect a temporal adjustment and since she had already been displaced from her own time, we took her back to Plus Time with us so her case could be reviewed, to make sure it didn't result in any temporal contamination. Once the Referees were satisfied, she joined the First Division and we've been a team ever since?

“Incredible!" Travers said. "You must tell me the entire story later, but right now, I'm curious as to how you knew the race was fixed."

"I learned how to observe horsemanship from jousting tournaments," she said. "In a situation where your life often depended on knowing your opponents. you learned to watch for the slightest indication of any weak points. After a while, you'd get to where you'd easily spot subtle things that most people would miss. The charioteer for the red team held back slightly on the final stretch. As you said, he's an outstanding driver. Even a keen observer might have missed it, but I was watching very closely. out of habit. I suppose, and I noticed that on the last two laps. he was taking his turns just a little wider than he had on all the previous ones."

"I never would have spotted that." said Travers. “Clocillus always takes the turns so tightly, he's almost. right up against the post.-

"That's why he got away with it," she said. "He takes a much tighter line through the turns than the other driven, so when he went just a little wider, it still looked like he was taking them pretty close. But he went a little wider every time coming out of the turns and he held back a little going into the turns, allowing the blue team to catch up. Aside

from that, when those two chariots collided in the first turn. It was done on purpose. I saw both drivers brace themselves for the impact as they went into the turn. They were prepared for it. before they should have known that it was going to happen. And the driver whose chariot overturned in the last lap? That was purposely done, as well. He was standing a little lower in his chariot going into the turn because he had his knees flexed, ready to spring clear. He timed it just right, so that he'd be at the apex of the turn. where the inertia would carry him to the outside of the track, well away front the chariots behind him, who knew that he was going down and were prepared. He was already reaching for his dagger an instant before he went over. Not that it still wasn't pretty dangerous, but with everybody knowing what was going to happen, the risks were considerably reduced."

"But that would mean that every one of the charioteers were bribed!" exclaimed Travers with astonishment.

"That would seem to be the obvious explanation," Andre replied.

"That's an incredibly serious offense," said Travers. "They could all lose their lives for that. You're absolutely sure'? There's no chance you could be mistaken'?"

"If Andre says that's the way it happened. Travers, you can take it to the bank," Delaney said.

"Find out who was the big winner at the track today and you'll probably find your fixer," Andre said.

"There's only one man I can think of, short of the Emperor himself, who could have gotten all the charioteers to work together in order to throw the race: said Travers

"And that would be Marcian. But I simply can't imagine him doing something like that."

"Who's Marcian'?" asked Lucas.

"He's the aedile who oversees the administration of the games." said Travers. "He's also an extremely wealthy merchant who provides most of the horses and wild beasts for the shows in the Circus. he also stages gladiatorial combats, sort of a private entertainment contractor. But he never bets on any of the races. For a man in his position. It wouldn't look good."

"Maybe somebody got to him." Delaney said.

"That's hard to believe." said Travers. "Marcian is one of the richest men in Rome. I can't imagine what anyone could offer him to make him take such a risk."

"Political power?" Lucas asked.

"Possible. I suppose. but unlikely. His post carries a nominal senatorial rank. yet Marcian has always steered clear of politics. He has the reputation of being a very prudent man."

"In any case. it probably doesn't concern us," Andre said. "Not unless It might have anything to do with Caesar Is Marcian a friend of his?"

"No. not really. but he is a friend of Marc Antony's, who is Caesar's right-hand man."

"Maybe we should meet him." Lucas said.

"That wouldn't be difficult to arrange," said Travers. "You think he might he involved somehow?"

"I don't know." said Lucas. "Is he a native Roman?"

"No, as a matter of fact, he isn't. He arrived in Rome about nine years ago. I think from Baiae, but I'm not sure. In any case, he was already quite wealthy when he got here. which helped him make connections quickly. The post of aedile is an elective office and word is he bought enough votes to put himself over. He built a palatial villa on the banks of the Tiber near the Aventine and he's prospered considerably since."

"Interesting," said Delaney. "You know him well'?"

"We've met on several occasions. but I can't say I really know him well."

"Can we arrange to meet him socially?"

"Yes, I suppose so. I could hold a dinner party in my home and invite him, but since we're not exactly friends, it would help if I had a particular reason."

"Why not invite him so he can bring along some of the charioteers who raced today'?" asked Andre.

"Yes. that wouldn't be unusual. Aristocrats enjoy rubbing elbows with the charioteers. It makes them feel adventurous."

"Good," said Lucas. "Set it up as soon as possible. We haven't got much time. There's only two weeks until the Ides of March."

"Yes, I know," said Travers grimly. He glanced down at the arena. "The gladiators are starting to come in. If it's all the same with you. I'd rather not stay around to watch this. I've seen quite enough of death."

They left the Circus and went outside to their carriage. where their

"slaves" were waiting for them.

"Can we take a look at Cleopatra's house asked Lucas.

"Certainly." said Travers. "It's not very far from mine."

The streets were practically deserted as they drove back toward the Tiber.

"What did you make of Caesar's Egyptian guard?" asked Andell as he drove their carriage.

"We couldn't get a very good look at them," Delaney said. "I counted a dozen."

Andell nodded. "They go everywhere with him. Quite impressive, aren't they?"

"They looked very fit and capable." said Lucas.

"What do you think?" asked Travers.

Lucas shook his head. 1 don't know. I wish we had more to go on. Do they stay with him in the palace?"

"Yes," said Travers. They have rooms in the same wing as his:

"They're going to present a problem." Lucas said. "regardless of whether they're S.O.G. troops or actually what they seem to be. In either case, they're an anomaly and we're going to have to get rid of them somehow. The question is, how?"

"You're close to Caesar," said Delaney. "Couldn't you convince him that it's bad P.R. to have them around?"

"It is, in fact," said Travers. "There's been talk about them ever since Caesar took them on. He knows it and he doesn't like it. He used to have a bodyguard of Spaniards. a tough and surly-looking bunch, but he dismissed them for the sake of appearances. And those Egyptians haven't exactly improved matters. He knows it makes him look as if he's being protected by his mistress. I'm not really sure if he's going along with it just to please Cleopatra or because he's getting nervous now that the Ides is approaching. If he is. he'll never admit it. He's far too proud."

"Could you work on him without making your position difficult?" asked Delaney.

"I could try," Travers replied. "We've gone through a great deal together. I could probably get away with more than most people could when it comes to Caesar. But you can only press him so far. Plus I'd undoubtedly alienate Cleopatra and she has a lot of influence with him."

"More than a comrade in arms from the wars?" asked Andre.

Travers snorted. "You haven't seen her."

"How does Caesar's wife react to his relationship with her'?" she asked.

"Calpurnia? She doesn't say anything about it. And no one dares mention it in her presence. I don't really know what she thinks about it. She doesn't reveal her feelings much."

"She can't be very happy about it."

"Maybe not, but this is ancient Rome. And Rome is very much a man's world. It is not uncommon for Roman men to keep mistresses. Most wives accept it, though it's not as if they have a choice. And Caesar is no ordinary Roman. Calpurnia seems very devoted to him, but then I've spent more time with Caesar than she has. If you're thinking about using her to discourage Caesar in any way, I'd recommend that you forget about it. There's only one woman who ever wielded any effective power in Rome and

that was—or will be—Livia, the wife of Augustus. However, everything she did was done behind the scenes, through ruthless political manipulation and even murder. Compared to her, Caterina Sforza and Lucretia Borgia were Girl Scouts. Calpurnia is not the type to go in for that sort of thing. She's rather self-effacing and I doubt there's a devious bone in her body."

"Well, then perhaps we'd better consider people. Who are devious." said Lucas.

"You mean the conspirators?" said Travers.

"yes? said Lucas. "If we're going to make sure that Caesar gets assassinated on schedule, it would behoove us to keep tabs on his assassins. They might need some encouragement."

"Not very much, I should think," said Travers wryly.

"What can you tell us about them? Personally, I mean?"

"I've met most of the chief conspirators at one time or another, since they're all active in politics," said Travers. "I can't say it was a very pleasurable experience, knowing what they're going to do. Or perhaps I should say what we hope they'll do." He paused and shook his head. "Why do I feel like a traitor when I say that'?"

"Because you're not a cold-blooded bastard, that's why," said Delaney.

"We've all done things we wished we hadn't had to do, things we haven't exactly been proud of. But they were things that had to be done, because so much depended on them being done."

"In a sense, Travers, they were things that had already happened." Lucas said. "I know it's sometimes hard to realize it, especially for someone like you, who's spent so much of his life in Minus Time, but all of this has already happened. From our perspective, and yours too, it happened almost three thousand years ago. We've simply come back here to make sure that no one tries to change that."

"I know," said Travers. "Intellectually, I realize all that, of course, but emotionally, it's still hard to accept. The man's a friend of mine. Perhaps the closest friend I've ever had. And he's much more than that. He's someone I spent much of my life studying and admiring. Meeting him was like meeting a boyhood idol. After all the years we've spent together. fought together . . . hell, he's even saved my life on several occasions . . ." His voice trailed off.

"It must be very difficult for you," said Andre sympathetically.

"More than you could know," Travers replied. "Until that night before we crossed the Rubicon together, Plus Time seemed almost like a dream. Like another life, a life I'd left behind. Then I had to clock back and make my report and reality was like a hard slap in the face. I've been speaking and even thinking like a Roman for so long that even now, English seems like a foreign language. Would you believe I'm a good ole boy from Dallas, Texas?

Crazy, isn't it?"

"No. it isn't crazy," Lucas said. "Believe me. I can understand exactly how you feel. But you were going to tell us about the conspirators."

"Yes, I'm sorry, I got sidetracked for a minute there. According to classical historians such as Suetonius and Plutarch, there were supposed to be some sixty men involved in the conspiracy. but most of their names aren't known to history. Some were apparently soldiers who had fought with Pompey. Others were people who had private grievances against Caesar. still others, such as Brutus, were politically motivated, meaning that they believed they were acting in the interests of the republic. The core group was composed of Gaius Cassius Longinus, known as Cassius: his brother-in-law, Marcus Brutus; Decimus Brutus Albinus, one of Caesar's officers; Gaius Trebonius, a friend of Marc Antony's; Tillius Cimber: and the Casca brothers, Publius and Servilius. Cassius was the number one conspirator, the leader. Of them all, he is the most dangerous. He's shrewd and quick-witted, a calculating type. As Caesar himself has said, he has a 'lean and hungry look.' Not much gets past him and he's a keen judge and observer of human nature. Trebonius seems much more shallow. He likes to gamble a great deal and he's useful to the conspiracy because he's close to Antony. I don't know him very well, but he seems to be more of a follower than a leader. Albinus I know pretty well. He served with us in Gaul."

Travers paused a moment, his jaw muscles tightening. "I found it difficult to get along with him," he continued, "knowing what he would eventually do. Caesar was always good to him, as he was to most of his officers. He gave him a provincial command and later made him a consul. I have no idea what made him join the conspiracy. Perhaps he really believed, like Brutus, that it was for the good of Rome, an end to autocratic rule. Which is ironic, when you consider the men who followed Caesar. The days of the republic arc finished, though the conspirators don't know it. I always found Albinus very hard to read. He's not someone you'd want to turn your back on. Cimber I don't know very well at all. he seems ambitious, but other than that, I can't tell you much about him. As a close friend of Caesar's, I'm hardly someone they'd admit into their inner circle. As for the Casca brothers. Servilius I know only superficially and I don't think he's as deeply involved as his brother. Publius. who is someone to watch out for. There's a real hard edge to him. He's violent and he's got a mean temper. Next to Cassius, he's probably the most significant. Brutus is also part of the inner circle, or soon will be, and he is the most interesting. Also the most likable, strangely enough."

"Why do you say that?" asked Delaney.

"Just that it's strange for me to find one of Caesar's assassins likable. Supposedly, he's the one who agonized the most about it. There have been rumors that he's the illegitimate son of Caesar, but there's nothing to support that. Except that according to Suetonius. when Brutus was about to strike his blow, Caesar said to him. 'You. too, my child?' But there's no way of knowing in what sense he meant that. Or even if it 's exactly what he said. So I suppose the rumors could be true. It's a fascinating possibility. because Caesar did once have an affair with Brutus' mother, Servilia. Caesar pardoned Brutus for allying himself with Pompey in the civil war, but then he also pardoned Lamius and many others. It's one of the few things I've never been able to find out for certain. Brutus is sensitive on the subject and flatly denies it. Caesar simply won't discuss it. The one time I broached the subject with him, he became angry at me for listening to rumors and idle gossip.”

“So you think that Brutus would be the most approachable?" asked Lucas.

“Yes, he'd probably be the easiest to get to know, but if you're planning to infiltrate the conspiracy. Cassius and Casca are the ones you'll need to convince. That won't be easy. They don't know you. You're only a visitor in Rome and your cover identity as my brother will practically guarantee that he won't trust you. Of course, we could still

pass you off as someone else."

"No. you've already told Caesar about me and it could complicate things if we changed our story. Besides. I wasn't thinking of myself." said Lucas. "I was thinking of Delaney. True, we all supposedly grew up together, but he hasn't seen you in years and people grow apart. We could easily stage a public confrontation of some sort between you, an argument about Caesar's autocracy or something."

"Yes. I suppose that could work." said Travers.

"If possible. I'd also like to figure out some way to get Andre next to Cleopatra," Lucas said. "What do you think the chances of that are?"

Travers pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Probably much better than your chances of infiltrating the conspiracy. Cleopatra hasn't exactly been embraced by Roman society. She acts as if she doesn't seem to care, but I'm not sure if I buy that. It's not that anyone would actively speak out against her, because of Caesar. but she's been widely blamed for Caesar's autocratic tendencies. She's a daughter of the pharaohs. after all, and as such, she doesn't share the republican sensibilities of most Romans. She's a Ptolemy and she can't understand or appreciate the freedoms most Romans enjoy. Nor has she made any secret of her opinions on the subject."

"What's she like?" asked Andre.

"Well, the most obvious thing about her is her beauty," Travers said. Then he corrected himself. "No, that isn't really true. The most obvious thing about her is her sex appeal She practically radiates sexuality. She knows the effect she has on men and she certainly uses it to her best advantage. She lives in relative isolation in the house that Caesar gave her, along with her son, whom she claims is Caesar's. She was married to young Ptolemy XIII when they ruled together, then after his death, she married his brother Ptolemy XIV. Hardly what I'd call a loving family. They all hated one another. Ptolemy XIV was supposedly poisoned on her orders."

"Nice lady," said Delaney wryly.

"Merely a product of her time, her culture, and her position." Travers said. "She's a compelling woman. Sharp, intelligent, and very willful. Which is only to be expected from the Queen of Egypt. That's her house right there.”

They slowly passed an elegant, white-faced villa behind a high stone wall. There were Roman guards stationed outside it and several Egyptians watched them carefully from just inside the gates as they drove by.

"The problem is how to arrange a meeting with her.' Travers said. "I couldn't exactly invite her over for dinner.”

"I'll figure something out.-said Andre.

Be careful: Travers cautioned her.”Once inside those walls, you might as well be in Egypt. And though she seems very personable. Cleopatra could have you killed instantly, merely on a whim."

"I'll keep that in mind," said Andre.

"All right. then." Lucas said, "for now, that'll be our plan of action. We'll try to get Delaney in with the conspirators. Andre's assignment will be Cleopatra. As your brother whom you haven't seen in years. I'll be introduced to Caesar and see if I can't make myself fascinating enough for him to want to socialize with me. How much have you told him about your imaginary brother'?"

"Not very much, really." Travers said.”I wanted to leave room for you to improvise. All I've told him is that we were always very close and that you stayed behind to run the estate when I went off to the wars.”

"So I was never a soldier?"

"No. Why?"

"Just thinking. Did you write to me regularly'?"

"Yes, as part of my own cover and to give me an excuse for making extensive notes on the campaigns. Castelli actually received the letters and he's been keeping them for me, for my use when I clock back to Plus Time and start working on my book."

"Good," said Lucas.”I think I've just figured out how to make myself interesting to Caesar."

"What do you have in mind?"

"Let's say that your brother. Marcus. always had a scholarly bent. An interest in philosophy and so forth. I'll be an armchair strategist. Well say that I became so fascinated with your detailed letters about the wars that I've decided to write a study of military strategy, using Caesar's campaigns for my model."

“But you've never read those letters." Travers said. 'I've got them at the villa now, but I doubt there's enough time for you to go through all of them."

"I won't have to," Lucas said with a smile. "I can skim them quickly, but I've been a student of military history for years. One of my favorite books was Caesar's Commentaries. I've read it several times and I took an implant download on it before we left Plus Time, so I'll be able to discuss the Gallic Wars with Caesar from his own observations."

"My apologies." said Travers. "I should have known you'd come prepared."

"One can never prepare too well for an adjustment mission.” Lucas said.

"The only trouble is, more often than not, all the preparation in the world simply isn't enough. Those Egyptians worry me. If, as you suspect. they're undercover S.O.G. commandos, we're really going to have our hands full. And if they're not, it still won't be easy getting them out of the way. I hope you can convince Caesar to get rid of them.

"What if I can't?"

"Then we may have no other choice but to get rid of them ourselves. In order for Caesar to be assassinated, we might just have to assassinate his bodyguards."

"All twelve of them?"

"All twelve. That means timing will be absolutely crucial. If we take them out too soon, it will give the conspiracy away and Caesar will probably surround himself with legionaries. If we take them out too late . . ." He took a deep breath and exhaled heavily. "Either way, it's going to be real tricky."

"But if there are sixty conspirators," said Andre, "couldn't they simply overwhelm the bodyguard?"

"One would think so," Travers said, "except there weren't sixty men involved in the assassination itself. Only a handful of them did the actual killing. Besides, it's one thing to attack a single unarmed man, hut it's something else entirely to go up against a dozen armed and well-trained soldiers. Even if the conspirators could get through them, the bodyguard would probably slow them down long enough for the Senate House Guard to intervene. What made the assassination possible was the speed with which it was accomplished. In the confusion that followed, the assassins were able to escape, though they were all condemned afterward and some took their own lives with the same daggers they had used to murder Caesar."

"Here's a thought," said Delaney. "What would happen if there was an attempt on Cleopatra's life? Wouldn't Caesar be concerned enough to insist that she take the bodyguard for herself?"

"He might," said Lucas. "On the other hand, he might simply assign Roman legionaries to protect her.”

Wouldn't it make more sense for her to be protected by her own people'?" Delaney persisted. "I don't know, but from everything I've heard about Caesar. it makes sense that he'd want her to take them back, to guard her in the house, and maybe assign additional troops to protect the grounds. It would seem that she'd want her own people around her, rather than a hunch of Roman soldiers who wouldn't know how to treat her properly."

"Only what if Cleopatra isn't really Cleopatra?" Travers asked.

"The way she reacts to an attempt on her life might tell us whether she is or not," Delaney said.