Imperium

“Cicero can simply deny any knowledge of what you were doing,” said Caelius-unhelpfully, I thought, from my point of view. “Besides, everyone knows that evidence obtained under torture is unreliable.”

“I am begi

“Compose yourself, Tiro,” said Cicero, who had become increasingly excited the more he heard. “There would be no torture and no trial. I would make sure of that. If you were detected, I would negotiate your release, and I would pay any price to see that you were unharmed.” He took both my hands in that sincere double grip of his and looked deep into my eyes. “You are more my second brother than my slave, Tiro, and have been ever since we sat and learned philosophy together in Athens all those years ago-do you remember? I should have discussed your freedom with you before now, but somehow there has always seemed to be some fresh crisis to distract me. So let me tell you now, with Caelius here as my witness, that it is my intention to give you your liberty-yes, and that simple life in the country you have long desired so much. And I see a day when I shall ride over from my place to your little farm, and sit in your garden, and as we watch the sun go down over some distant, dusty olive grove or vineyard, we shall discuss the great adventures we have had together.” He let go of my hands, and this rustic vision trembled on the warm dusky air an instant longer, then faded. “Now,” he said briskly, “this offer of mine is not conditional in any way on your undertaking this mission-let me make that clear: you have earned it many times over already. I would never order you to put yourself in danger. You know how badly my cause stands tonight. You must do whatever you think best.”

Those were very nearly his exact words: how could I forget them?