"She really heated Julius’ blood. He invited the beautiful pharaoh to Rome just to lavish gift after gift on her. Pretty soon she was pregnant and she named the baby Caesar." Slower, she whispered, "The child looked just like Julius."

"No," I said, still munching on my lettuce.

"Yes." The pile of golden curls on top of Clio’s head fluttered as she nodded.

"I know his wife’s name was Cornelia.

"Oh, yes. When he was young, he married Cornelia, the daughter of L. Cornelius Cinna, one of Sulla’s greatest foes, which marked Julius as Sulla’s enemy. So when Sulla overthrew the Marian party in 81 BC, his next move was to kill all his enemies, including Julius. Disguised, Julius went into hiding outside Rome. The College of Vestal Virgins persuaded Sulla not to kill him. And Julius decided it was a good time get out of Rome."

"Where did he go?" I shoved another juicy, square bit of chicken into my mouth.

"At the age of twenty, he joined the governor's staff to fight in the eastern campaigns. Julius was rewarded for bravery in battle with the highest military decoration Rome could bestow on a soldier.

His warfare experience shaped him into a military leader. But something else happened as well, which made him the butt of many a bad joke. While serving in Asia, the governor of the province sent him to Bithynia to fetch a fleet. Caesar dawdled so long at the court of Nicomedes that he was suspected of improper relations with the king. If you know what I mean. People joked about that for years. Once Octavius, a man known for a loose tongue, saluted Pompey as King then immediately greeted Caesar as Queen."

"How rude." I stirred and tossed my salad with my plastic fork.

"Terribly rude." Clio tilted her head to the side.

"No mater what people say about him, Caesar was truly a great man." Her eyebrows arched. "Maybe a little too great."

"You mean because he declared himself Emperor?" I licked a bit of dressing off my lip.

"Indeed. Julius stretched the boundaries of Rome by conquering Gaul and invading Britannia. But he gained even more power by defeating his best friend and biggest rival, Pompey, at the Battle of Pharsalus. Julius held power, which traditionally belonged to the senate. The senators felt threatened and conspired against him."

"That’s when Brutus, (the son of his true love, Servilia) betrayed him."

"So true." Clio rubbed her dainty chin. "Let’s begin with astrology. The Romans viewed the casting of horoscopes as an exact science. All the nobles had horoscope charts. Caesar’s astrologer, Spurinna, told him take care on the Ides of March and no harm would come to him."

"Beware the Ides of March." I shook the ice around in my cup until it rattled.

"Yes. And Caesar was going to stay safely in his bedchamber on the 15th of March, until Brutus convinced him the astrologer was wrong. So Julius headed off to the Senate on the 15th of March. On his way, he ran into his astrologer. Caesar told him "The Ides of March are come." Spurinna said, "Yes, they are come, but they are not past." Later that day, Caesar's enemies stabbed him to death in the Pompey Theater, at the foot of Pompey's statue.

"Poor Julius Caesar. But though he’s dead, he’s not forgotten."

"No, he’s not. Even in 2005, you celebrate his name by the month, you call July."

As I wiped my mouth with the small paper napkin she pointed to the empty plastic bowl. "And you eat salad in his honor."

I nodded my head in agreement. Don’t tell Clio that I’m not eating the salad because of Caesar; I’m eating it because I’m hungry. Why do they call it Caesar salad anyway? Bingo, my fork caught a cheese coated lettuce leaf and a chunk of chicken.

Clio peaked over my shoulder. "May I have some?"

I handed her a crouton.

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Guest Columnist Cornelia Amiri