Cassius greeted Brutus with relief in his eyes. It had been too long since he had spoken with his brother in law, and he was feeling somewhat anxious as to what Brutus' feelings toward him might currently be. Guilt ate at his heart as he searched his brother's face for some sign of hurt or anger or worry that might indicate that the seeds of doubt which Cassius sowed had taken root. But Brutus appeared uncommonly relaxed and happy.

Cassius' eyes swept downwards to stare unseeingly at the floor. So, in the end, love does conquer all. But why should it be her love, he thought petulantly, and not mine?

"Do please come into my library, Brutus," he said softly. "It is the only room fit for polite company."

Brutus followed him into the large, airy chamber and sat down on one of the backless chairs. Cassius himself reclined on a couch. A scroll of the Illiad lay open on a table. Cassius picked it up idly, and glanced over the page. Achilles the great warrior spoke to his friend Patrocles:

"O, would to God, father Zeus, Athena and lord Apollo,
Not one of all these Trojans could escape his death, not one,
No Argrive either, but we could stride from the slaughter,
So we could bring Troy's hallowed crown of towers
Toppling down around us- - you and I alone!"

Cassius dropped the paper as if burned. It would be simpler, brother, if the world contained but us two, he thought. But for now I would settle for the removal of just one person: lady Porcia Catones.

"What have you come to see me about, brother?" He asked aloud.

A shadow of a frown passed over Brutus' face. "I have spoken to the lady Porcia about your meeting with her in the agora," he said, his tone a little clipped.

Cassius bit his lip and directed his attention, once more, towards the ground. Brutus went on:

"She says she had had no prior wish to slight you, and would not have done so at the time had she not felt herself to be goaded by insults and implications on your part. This news grives me sorely, Cassius." His tone was not angry, but rather puzzled, gently surprised. A tone of reprimend, but a reprimend spoken as if he still half wished to believe it wasn't deserved. Each word fell heavily upon Cassius' heart until it was ready to break under a load of guilt. As Lucretius wrote, he thought, continual dropping wears away a stone. Even a stone would weep to hear you talk, my brother. He very suddenly couldn't bear it any longer.

The story spilled out in a jumble of appologies and unsatisfactory explanations. Everything was confessed at once: the notes, the harsh words, his attempts to sway Servilia and to enlist the help of Cicero's eloquence. Brutus' face grew stonier and stonier as he went on. Cassius finally stopped to catch his breath and abruptly found himself unable to speak another word. Any further attempts at explanation could only widen the painful breach that had already opened between them.

"I am sorry," he managed weakly, and dropped his head into his hands. He waited, hoping against hope for his brother's reply.