A clang reverberated around the temple and Cingeto’s eyes snapped open in astonishment. Madoc had thrown down the iron and now stood before him, pain twisting his face into lines of weariness.

“Enough, little brother,” Madoc said, and almost fell.

Cingeto reached out to steady him and winced as his burns throbbed with the movement.

The priest smiled in joy as the two men turned to face him. He was already planning his addition to the history of the tribe. Eleven irons withstood by the princes of the Arverni! He could remember no more than nine and even the great Ailpein had stood only seven to become king three hundred years before. It was a good omen and he felt some of the dark worry ease from him.

“One to be king and one to be gone,” he said aloud, repeating it to the gathered families. He stepped forward to Cingeto and placed the band of gold on his brow and the torc around the straining sinews of his neck.

“No,” Cingeto said, looking at his brother. “I will not lose you after tonight, my brother. Will you stay and fight them with me? I will need you.”

The priest gaped at them in horror. “The law…” he began.

Cingeto held up a hand, struggling against pain that threatened to overwhelm him. “I need you, Madoc.

Will you follow me?”

His brother straightened, wincing as fresh blood wound trails down his chest. “I will, my brother. I will.”

“Then we must summon the tribes.”

Julia walked to the base of the old Senate house steps and shivered at the empty space that had been cleared beyond. The smell of smoke was still subtly in the air, and it was easy to imagine the rioting coming even to this place. Already, the new building was being constructed and the noise of the crowds was accompanied by hammering and shouts from the workers.

Clodia fussed at her shoulder, nervous in the great forum.

“There, you’ve seen the damage and taken a risk you shouldn’t have. The city is hardly safe for a young woman, even now.”

Julia looked at her with scorn. “You can see the soldiers, can’t you? Pompey has control now; Brutus said so. He’s busy with his meetings and speeches. He’s forgotten about me, perhaps.”

“You’re talking nonsense, girl. You can’t expect him to lurk at your window like a young man. Not in his position.”

“Still, if he hopes to bed me, he should show a little interest, don’t you think?”

Clodia looked sharply around to see if anyone in the crowd was taking an interest in their conversation.

“It’s not a fit subject! Your mother would be ashamed to hear you talk so brazenly,” she said, gripping Julia by the arm.

Julia winced and pulled her arm away, enjoying the chance to make the old woman uncomfortable.

“That’s if he’s not too old to find it. Do you think he might be?”

“Stop it, girl, or I’ll slap that smile off your face,” Clodia hissed at her.

Julia shrugged, thinking deliciously of Brutus’s skin against her. She knew better than to tell Clodia of the night in the stable, but her fear had been taken away with the first sharp pain. Brutus had been gentle with her and she had found a private hunger Pompey would enjoy when he finally made her his wife.

A voice broke into her thoughts, making her start with guilt.

“Are you lost, ladies? You look quite abandoned, standing next to the old steps.”

Before Julia could answer, she saw Clodia dip and bow her head. The sudden servility from the old woman was enough to make her take a second look at the man who had addressed them. His toga marked him as one of the nobilitas, though he carried himself with a natural confidence that would have been enough on its own. His hair shone with oiled perfection, Julia noticed. He smiled at her appraisal, allowing his eyes to drop to her breasts for a brief moment.

“We are just moving on, sir,” Clodia said quickly. “We have an appointment with friends.”

Julia frowned as her arm was taken in a firm grip once again.

“That is a pity,” the young man said, eyeing Julia’s figure. Julia blushed then, suddenly aware that she had dressed quite simply for her visit.

“If your friends do not mind waiting, I do have a small house nearby where you could wash and eat.

Walking in this city is tiring without a place to rest.”

As he spoke, the young man made a subtle gesture at his waist and Julia heard the distinct chime of coins. Clodia tried to pull her away, but she resisted, wanting to puncture the man’s easy arrogance.

“You have not introduced yourself,” she said, widening her smile.

He positively preened at the interest. “Suetonius Prandus. I am a senator, my dear, but not every afternoon is spent in work.”

“I have… heard of the name,” Julia said slowly, though it would not come to her. Suetonius nodded as if he had expected to be known. She did not see Clodia grow pale.

“Your future husband will be waiting for you, Julia,” Clodia said.

She was successful in moving her charge a few paces away, but Suetonius came with them, unwilling to let her go so easily. He put his hand over Clodia’s to bring them all to a halt.

“We are having a conversation. There is no harm in that.” Once again, he jingled his coins and Julia almost laughed aloud at the sound.

“Are you offering to buy my attention, Suetonius?” she said.

He blinked at her bluntness. Playing the game, he winked. “Would your husband not mind?” he said, leaning closer. Something about his cold eyes changed the mood in an instant, and Julia frowned at him.

“Pompey is not yet my husband, Suetonius. Perhaps he would not mind if I spent the afternoon with you; what do you think?”

For a moment, Suetonius did not understand what she had said. Then a sick awareness stole over him and his face became ugly. “I know your father, girl,” he muttered, almost to himself.

Julia raised her head slowly as the memory came back. “I thought I knew the name! Oh yes, I know you.” Without warning, she began to laugh and Suetonius flushed with impotent anger. He dared not say a word to her.

“My father tells wonderful stories about you, Suetonius. You should hear them, you really should.” She turned to Clodia, ignoring her pleading eyes. “He put you in a hole in the ground once, didn’t he? I remember him telling Clodia. It was very amusing.”

Suetonius smiled stiffly. “We were both very young. Good day to you both.”

“Are you leaving? I thought we were going to your house to eat.”

“Perhaps another time,” he replied. His eyes were bulging with anger as Julia stepped a little closer.

“Be careful as you go, Senator. Thieves will hear the coins you carry. I could myself.” She forced an earnest expression onto her face as he flushed in anger.

“You must give my regards to your mother, when you see her next,” he said suddenly, running his tongue over his lower lip. There was something deeply unpleasant in his gaze.

“She died,” Julia replied. She was beginning to wish she had never begun the conversation.

“Oh, yes. It was a terrible thing,” Suetonius said, but his words were made hollow by a flickering smile he could not control. With a stiff nod, he walked away across the forum, leaving them alone.

When she finally looked to Clodia, she raised her eyebrows. “I think we annoyed him,” she said, her amusement returning.

“You are a danger to yourself,” Clodia snapped. “The sooner you are Pompey’s wife, the better. I only hope he knows enough to beat you when you need it.”

Julia reached over and took Clodia’s face in her hand. “He wouldn’t dare. My father would skin him.”

Without warning, Clodia slapped her hard. Julia pressed her fingers against her cheek in astonishment. The old woman trembled, unrepentant.

“Life is harder than you realize, girl. It always was.”