They were frightening times. There was only one path to the Capitol Hill, so it was easy for our temple troops to defend it. The Gauls who rushed up the hill were chopped down, just as they had slaughtered the senators. The Gauls who fled back down the hill started burning and robbing the city below us in revenge. The temples stood on the edge of a cliff and no army could climb the cliff. Far below were sharp rocks–one day a priestess had been thrown on to the rocks to die–the priestess Tarpeia–so they were known as the Tarpeian Rocks. As the sun set over the sea, I gazed down on the smoking ruins of the city and the Gauls camped in the streets. When I looked at those rocks, I dreamed that one day the foul Fabia would have a little accident and end up there. Fabia slid alongside me. “What are you thinking, Brutus?” she asked. “I was thinking about Tarpeia … and worried you might end up like her. You will be careful, won’t you?” “I will,” she said quietly. She believed that I was worried about her!
