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for?’
    Publius Sextius hesitated a moment before answering, then said, ‘For him. For Caesar.’
    ‘What is your mission? To find out if a plot exists?’
    ‘Not as such. My immediate instructions are to contact several army officers who have informers infiltrated at the court of the Parthian king. I’m to provide Caesar’s general staff with advance information regarding the routes the expedition will take, procure special maps and see that they get to Rome.’
    ‘So then what are we talking about?’
    ‘My task is twofold. I’m also to discover if there is a plot and who the conspirators are. First name, clan name, family name.’
    ‘Is it Caesar who wants to know?’
    ‘This may surprise you, but no. It’s a very high-ranking person who happens to be extremely interested in Caesar’s state of health. Add to that that I’m just as interested. I’d give my life for him.’
    ‘Fine. Even if you won’t tell me his name, the fact of this person’s “extreme interest”, as you say, is a further sign that the plot may very well be active and ready to go into effect at any moment.’
    ‘Caesar is preparing an expedition against the Parthians. It’s plausible to think that this might be the moment to act against him. If he were to win, his prestige would increase beyond measure.’
    ‘You’re right. And Decimus Brutus should be departing with him, as the second in command of the Twelfth Legion . . .’
    Publius Sextius bowed his head in a pensive gesture. The screeching of birds broke through the fog before he saw their dark shapes streaking like shadows across the heavy, humid sky.
    ‘Decimus Brutus . . . one of his best officers. One of the few friends he trusts,’ he whispered. ‘Who could have convinced him to . . .’
    Nebula drew closer and Publius Sextius could hear the sound of three or four steps on the gravel path.
    ‘His friend Cassius, probably, or his namesake Marcus Junius Brutus. Or both.’ Publius Sextius felt like turning round but stopped himself.
    ‘Why, though? Caesar has never harmed either Marcus Junius Brutus or Cassius Longinus. He spared both of their lives! Why should they want him dead?’
    Nebula didn’t answer at once, almost as if it were difficult for him to understand what Publius Sextius was getting at. A barely perceptible breath of air made the fog quiver as it rose from the ditches and the furrows in the ploughed earth.
    ‘You’re a true soldier, Publius Sextius. A politician would never ask that question. It’s precisely because he spared their lives that they may want to kill him.’
    Publius Sextius shook his head incredulously. He couldn’t deny that things were beginning to add up. Trebonius inviting Antony to take part in a conspiracy. Antony just a few days earlier offering Caesar the king’s crown in front of a vast, excited crowd who reacted badly. Decimus Brutus acting as though there were a civil war to prepare for . . . Vague signals that were now suddenly becoming very clear.
    ‘We must warn Caesar immediately,’ Publius Sextius said suddenly. ‘There’s not a moment to lose.’
    ‘It’s best he be informed as soon as possible,’ agreed Nebula. ‘Even if it’s not certain that the conspirators’ plans are close to being carried out. There are further leads I need to follow up. I’ll let you know when to make the next move.’
    ‘Help me get to the bottom of this affair and you won’t be sorry. I promise you it will be the best deal you ever made. You’ll be able to retire and live in comfort for the rest of your life.’
    There was no answer.
    ‘Nebula?’
    He turned round slowly. Nebula seemed to have melted away, leaving no trace. Or was he behind one of those trees lined up in rows, watching him? Or inside the temple, perhaps, in some hiding place only he knew about, chuckling at Publius Sextius’s astonishment at such a vanishing trick? As the centurion scanned the land all around, he noticed a leather scroll tied with a string