“Tonight will be the most difficult, gentlemen. If we get through that, order will slowly be restored.

Eventually, I will levy a tax on all citizens in Roman lands to rebuild the city.”

He still saw numb fear on many of the faces before him, but others showed the first glimmerings of hope at his words. He called for responses and many of them rose to query the details of the new administration. Pompey relaxed as he began to work his way through the questions. Already, the stunned look was fading from their faces as they fell into the routines of the old Senate house. It gave him hope for them all.

CHAPTER 37

Brutus eased himself down onto the stump of the old oak he had cut down with Tubruk, laying his stick next to him. In the green woods, it was easy to remember the old gladiator’s smile as he had welcomed him home.

Wincing, Brutus stretched his leg out and scratched the purple line that ran from just above his knee almost to his groin. A similar line of stitching on his collarbone showed how close he had come to being killed in his frenzy. Both wounds had been dirty and he didn’t remember much of the first week back at the estate. Clodia said he was lucky not to have lost the leg, but the lips of the gash had knitted at last, though the stitches itched abominably. Vague images of being bathed with wet cloths came back to him, and he grimaced with embarrassment. Julia had grown into a young woman with more than a touch of her mother’s beauty. He thought Alexandria must have taken her aside for a private word about his care.

Certainly, there had been a few days when Julia hadn’t come near him, and when he saw her, her eyes had flashed like Cornelia’s used to when she was angry. After that, only Alexandria had bathed away his sweat and grime.

Brutus smiled ruefully. Alexandria treated him as if he were a sick horse and rubbed him down with a rough detachment that left him glowing. It had been a relief to be finally strong enough to make his own way down to the bathing rooms and wash in privacy. She would have had the skin off him if he had dawdled in bed much longer.

It was peaceful in the woods. A bird sang in the trees nearby, and in the meandering line of the path, his mind’s eye could see two young boys sprinting through the bushes on their way to growing into men.

Friendship had been a simple thing then, something he and Julius took for granted. Brutus remembered how they had pressed their bloody hands together as if the whole of life could be reduced to simple vows and actions. It was strange to look back on those days when so much had happened. There were times when he was proud of the man he had become and others when he would have given anything to be the boy again, with all his choices still before him. There were so many things he would change if he could.

They had been immortal in those long summers. They had known Tubruk would always be there to protect them, and the future was simply a chance to carry on their friendship over years and other lands.

Nothing would ever come between them, even if Rome herself should crumble.

Taking a knife from his belt, Brutus levered it under the first stitch and snapped the thread. With great care, he tugged the broken end through his skin, working his way down to the final knot. He was silent with concentration, though he was sweating by the time he finished and tossed the sticky cord away into the bushes. A thin trickle of blood worked its way down through the light hairs on his thigh and he wiped it into a smear with his thumb.

He stood slowly and felt light-headed and weak. He decided to leave the stitches on his neck alone for the time being, though they too itched abominably.

“I thought I’d find you here,” Julia said.

He turned to her and smiled at the awkward way she stood. He wondered how long she had been watching. How old was she, sixteen? Long-legged and beautiful. Alexandria would not be pleased to hear they had been talking in the woods together, so he resolved not to tell her.

“I thought I’d try walking a little way. The leg is getting stronger, though it will be a while before I can trust it,” he said.

“When it’s healed, you will go back to my father,” she said.

It was not a question, but he nodded. “In a few weeks at most. The city is calm enough now Pompey is Dictator. We’ll all be leaving you in peace then. This old place will be quiet again.”

“I don’t mind it,” she said hurriedly. “I like having people here, even the children.”

They shared a look of understanding and Brutus chuckled. Despite the best efforts of Tabbic and his sister, the young ones had been running wild around the estate after only a few days, enthralled by the woods and the river. Clodia had saved one from drowning on three occasions in the deep pool. It was strange how quickly the young had recovered from the nightmare of their trip out of the city. Brutus guessed that when they looked back on that strange year of their lives, they would not remember seeing men killed, or if they did, it would be nothing to their first ride on a horse around the yard, with Tabbic holding them in the saddle. Children were a strange breed.

Julia had inherited some of her mother’s grace, he could see. Her hair was long and bound with a strip of cloth at the nape of her neck. She seemed to focus on his face with a peculiar intensity whenever he spoke, as if every word was valuable. He wondered what her childhood had been like, growing up on that estate. He had always had Julius, but apart from her tutors and Clodia, it must have been lonely for his daughter.

“Tell me about my father,” she said, coming closer.

Brutus felt an ache begin in his leg, and before the muscles could spasm, he took his stick and levered himself back onto the stump. He looked into the rooms of memory and smiled.

“He and I used to climb this tree when we were young,” he said. “Julius was convinced he could climb anything and he used to spend hours in the lower branches trying to work out a way of going higher. If I was with him, he could step into my cupped hands, but even then the next branch was too far to reach without jumping. He knew if he missed he’d come down on his head, perhaps bringing me with him.” He broke off to chuckle as the memories returned.

Julia came to sit next to him on the farthest edge of the wide stump. Even from there, he could smell the flower oil she used in bathing. He didn’t know the bloom, but the scent reminded him of summer. He breathed deeply, and just for a moment he let his mind play with a picture of kissing the cool skin of her neck.

“Did he fall?” she said.

Brutus snorted. “Twice. The second time, he pulled me out of the tree and I sprained my hand. He had a great bruise on the side of his face like he’d been slapped, but we still went up one last time and he reached that branch.” He sighed to himself. “I don’t think he ever climbed the old oak again. For him, there was nothing more to do.”

“I wish I had known you then,” she murmured, and he looked at her, shaking his head.

“No you don’t. We were a difficult pair, your father and I. The surprising thing is that we survived at all.”

“He’s lucky to have you as a friend,” she said, blushing slightly.

Brutus thought suddenly of how Alexandria would view the scene if she wandered into the woods. The girl was far too attractive for him to be playing the game of the dashing young soldier, back from the wars.

In a moment or two, he’d be asking for her arm to steady him on the trip back to the house and stealing a kiss or two on the way. The scent of flowers filled his lungs and he took a grip on his wayward thoughts.

“I think I’ll be getting back, Julia. You must be cold.”

Completely without his conscious control, his gaze swept over her neck and the swell of her breasts. He knew she had seen and was furious with himself. He looked away into the woods as he stood up.