Cicero’s silence made him glance round. The orator was coldly angry, his words clipped. “We were to be a government in exile, young man, not held at a distance from every decision. Without us, Pompey has no right to wage war in the name of Rome. No more legitimacy than Caesar and perhaps even less.”

He leaned forward and glared from under bushy eyebrows.

“We have endured a year in this place, Suetonius, far from comfort and respect. Our families clamor to be taken home, but we tell them to endure until the lawful order is reestablished. Did you think we would not be a part of the campaign?” He nodded to the bustle in the hall. “You will find men here who understand the most rarefied subtleties of civilization, those ideals most easily broken under a soldier’s sandals. Amongst them are writers of law and mathematics, the very ablest of the great families. Minds to have working for you when you face an opponent like Caesar, don’t you think?”

Suetonius did not want to be drawn, but he knew if the choice had been his, he would have left the Senate behind without a backward glance. He took a deep breath, unable to meet Cicero’s sharp anger.

“Perhaps the decisions would be better left to Pompey now, sir. He is an able general.”

Cicero barked a laugh that made Suetonius jump. “There is more to this than sending in the flank! Caesar commands Roman legions. He has assumed authority over a new Senate. You may think of nothing more than the flags and horns, but there will be political decisions to be made before the end, you may count on it. Pompey will need advisers, whether he knows it or not.”

“Maybe, maybe,” Suetonius said, nodding, trying to placate him.

Cicero was not so easily put off. “Is your contempt so strong that you will not even trouble to argue?” he demanded. “What do you think will happen if Caesar wins? Who will govern then, do you suppose?”

Suetonius stiffened and shook his head. “He cannot win, sir. We have—” He broke off as Cicero snorted.