I descended from the quiet calm of the Palatine to the hubbub of the Forum. Senators and magistrates attired in togas swept by me, followed by their retinues of scribes and sycophants, looking like little Caesars with their noses in the air, their posture and gait projecting an attitude that the world would come to an end if anyone dared to prevent them from reaching whatever meeting they were headed for. Their self-importance seemed all the more absurd, considering that Caesar's victory had rendered them irrelevant. The Senate had reconvened, but everyone knew that all power flowed from Caesar. His approval was needed for all important decisions. He held the key to the Treasury. He had bypassed elections to personally appoint the magistrates. He had parceled out the provincial governorships to his friends and supporters, and was busily filling the scores of vacancies in the Senate with creatures of his choosing. Some of these new senators, to the shock of old-timers like myself, were not even Romans but Gauls, men who had betrayed their own people to join Caesar and who were now receiving their rewards.

Yet the business of the Forum carried on as if the civil war had never occurred. Or at least it appeared to be so; for the Forum was suffering from the same invisible malady that plagued the populace of Rome. On the surface, everything seemed to be back to normal. Priests made sacrifices on temple steps, Vestals tended the eternal hearth fire, and ordinary citizens sought redress from the magistrates. But below the surface, everything was askew. People were simply going through the motions, knowing that nothing was quite right, and might never be so again.

I listened to snatches of conversation from men passing by. Everyone was talking about Caesar:

"… may yet step down. That's the rumor I heard."

"Return to private life, as Sulla did? Never! His supporters wouldn't allow it."