Page 49 of Agrippa

– And never forget I am your friend. If ever you need advice or support in confidence, you can always count on me.

He spurred his horse and rode on ahead to talk to Caesar, no doubt to relay what I had just said.

Because we were obliged to halt in the forums of most of the main towns so that Caesar could receive the acclamation of their grateful citizens, it took us nearly a month to reach Rome.

He wished to triumph and was keen to demonstrate his respect for the traditional law that a victorious general must wait outside the walls to be summoned. He therefore did not enter the city straight away, but retired to his uncle’s old estate on the Tiber to rest and make his preparations.

He had been awarded three triumphs by the Senate, to be staged on successive days, for his victories at Actium and in Egypt, and for our earlier campaign in Illyricum. Before these, he proposed to attend the annual elections, which would be held in time-honoured fashion outside the city gates on the Field of Mars.

I sent a message ahead to Caecilia, telling her I wished to speak to her about a matter of importance.

I dreaded the encounter.

She had already guessed what I was coming to tell her. The house was quiet. She had made sure the girls were not at home. She received me formally, and I recounted my conversation with Caesar.

I did everything I could to soften the blow. I told her that of course I would return her dowry, that she was still young and attractive and independently wealthy, that she would surely remarry, that she could keep the house for as long as she needed it, that we would see one another often and that the girls would continue to live with her.

Throughout my speech, she looked at the floor. When I had run out of things to say, she spoke quietly.

– I always knew that if it came to a choice between me and Caesar, you would choose him. That is the way it has been since the start.

Her tone was resigned. It would have been easier for me if she had been angry.

She asked if Claudia Marcella had been informed of the arrangement.

I said that I believed Caesar had written to her mother, Octavia.

– You have not spoken to her yourself?

– I have not seen her for years, not since she was a child.

– I see her often. She is twenty now, or thereabouts. Given her family connections, I was surprised she had never married. I often wondered if Caesar might be saving her for you. Now I know he was.

Her words took me aback. It offended my pride to think that he might have been secretly nursing this scheme for years, until the time was right to move me like a token in one of his board games. For a moment I almost resolved to confront him. But ambition and fear held me back.

When I said goodbye to Caecilia, she wished me well. Having arrived full of pity for her, I left with the uneasy feeling that it was she who pitied me.

The elections took place a few days later.

In the end, Caesar decided not to show himself to the people before he entered the city in triumph. He felt it would lessen the impact of his first public appearance in Rome for several years. He therefore stayed closeted on his estate and sent me to represent us both.

I stood beside the sheep pens on the Field of Mars, surrounded by soldiers in case of trouble, and watched the thousands of citizens file past, arranged in their centuries, to cast their votes for the city’s magistrates, as their ancestors had done for half a millennium.

It was a moving sight, even though the results for the consulship at least were preordained. Ours were the only names on the ballot.

I returned to Caesar to tell him he had been elected consul for the sixth time, and I for the second. He smiled to himself but did not look up from his correspondence.

– Now there’s a surprise.

The following week was devoted to his triumphs.

On the first morning, we assembled outside the city walls with two full legions drawn up in marching order, and at a signal from Caesar we moved towards the gate. As we approached, I could hear a noise emanating from beyond it, like the buzzing of a hornets’ nest.

He knew his triumphs would be keenly observed for clues as to how he intended to rule. He had therefore designed them carefully, as a public display of the ranking of his family.

Riding beside him in his chariot were his daughter, Julia, now a month short of her tenth birthday, together with Livia’s younger son, Drusus, who was nearly the same age. On the left trace-horse drawing his chariot he put his stepson Tiberius, and on the right – generally reckoned the place of honour – Octavia’s son, his nephew Marcellus. He positioned me directly behind, on foot.

I studied Marcellus with particular interest. Even at twelve, my future brother-in-law had an easy grace, and I reckoned then he must be the favourite to succeed Caesar, rather than the grim-faced Tiberius. I knew Livia would not approve, and there could be trouble, and remembering the scene on election day, I felt a stab of nostalgia for the old Republic of my youth, which for all its faults was designed to prevent exactly this – the emergence of a royal family, with its inevitable intrigues.