Brutus still looked rueful, but a smile stole slowly over his face in response. “Perhaps. Look, the Senate will hear from him about you having this many men. They won't allow it. You should think about moving some out to the Primigenia barracks.”

“In a while, I will, but we need to make a few plans first. My other centuries at the estate should be brought in as well.” A thought struck Julius. “How is it that the Senate doesn't object to Primigenia in the city?”

Brutus shrugged. “They're on the legion rolls, don't forget, but the barracks are actually outside the walls on the north side, near the Quirinal gate. I have one of the best training grounds in Rome, and Renius as sword master. You should see it.”

“You've done so much, Brutus,” Julius said, gripping his shoulder. “Rome will not be the same now we're back. I'll bring my men to you as soon as I'm sure Antonidus won't try again.”

Brutus held the arm, his enthusiasm spilling over. “We do need your men. Primigenia has to grow. I won't rest until it's back to the old strength. Marius-”

“No, Brutus.” Julius dropped his arm. “You have misunderstood me. My men are sworn to me alone. They cannot be under your command.” He didn't want to be hard on his friend, but it was better to be clear from the start.

“What?” Brutus replied, surprised. “Look, they aren't part of any legion and Primigenia has less than a thousand men. All you have to do-”

Julius shook his head firmly. “I will help you with recruiting, as I promised, but not with these. I'm sorry.”

Brutus looked at him in disbelief. “But I am rebuilding Primigenia for you. I would be your sword in Rome, remember?”

“I remember,” Julius replied, taking his arm again. “Your friendship means more to me than anything except for the lives of my wife and daughter. Your blood is in my veins, do you remember that? Mine is in yours.” He paused and gripped the held arm tightly. “These men are my Wolves. They cannot be under your command. Let this go.”

Brutus pulled his arm away with a jerk, his face hardening. “All right. You keep your Wolves while I struggle for every new recruit. I will return to my barracks and my own men. See me there when you want to bring your soldiers in. Perhaps we can discuss the fees for their lodging then.”

He turned away and twisted the key in the gate to open it.

“Marcus!” Julius called to his back.

Brutus froze for a moment, then opened the gate and walked away, leaving it swinging behind him.

Even in the company of his two remaining guards, Antonidus kept his hand on the dagger in his belt as he made his way through the dark alleys. Narrow as they were, at night there were too many places for the raptores to lie in wait for him to relax. He breathed through his mouth as he walked, trying to ignore the pools of foul water that had ruined his sandals in the first few steps away from the main streets. One of his men stifled a curse as his foot skidded through a heap that was fresh enough not to be completely cold.

Daylight rarely reached this part of Rome, but at night the shadows took on a fearful aspect. There was no law there, no soldiers who could come, and no citizens who would dare answer a call. Antonidus gripped his dagger even more tightly, starting as something scrambled away from their footsteps as they passed. He didn't investigate, but stumbled on almost blind, counting the corners by feeling them out with his hands. Three corners from the entrance, then four more down to the left.

Even in the night, the alleys carried the foot traffic that the bulk of Rome would never see. There was little conversation between the people they saw, and that muted. Hurrying figures passed the three men without acknowledgment, skirting the filthy pools with their heads down. Where single torches lit the path for a few paces, the people stepped around the light, as if to fall within its scope was to invite disaster.

Only his fury made Antonidus push on and even then it was not without fear. The man he had met had told him never to come uninvited into these streets, but losing his home gave him a courage born in anger. Even that was fading in the dark and the rising discomfort.

At last he reached the point he had found before, a cross path between mildewed walls, somewhere deep in the heart of the warren. He paused to look for his man, his eyes straining in the darkness. Water dripped slowly onto stone nearby and a sudden scuffle of feet made his men spin round nervously, flourishing their own daggers before them, as if to ward off spirits.

“You were told not to seek me out until the last night of the month,” a sibilant voice said by the general's ear.

Antonidus almost fell in panic, his feet slipping on the wet stones as he jumped in horror at the closeness. His dagger cleared his belt in reaction, but his wrist was clamped in a grip that held him helpless.

The man who faced him wore a cloak and hood of dark rough cloth, his features covered, though it was hardly necessary in the inky blackness of the alleyways. Antonidus almost gagged at the strange sweet scent coming from him. It was the smell of disease, of soft corruption masked with perfumed oil, and he wondered afresh whether the cloak hid more than just identity. The dark man leaned so close as to almost touch his ear with the hidden lips.

“Why have you come clattering in here, disturbing half my watchers with your noisy fumbling?”

The voice was a hiss of anger and so close that it carried the sweetness in a rush of warm breath that made Antonidus want to gag. He shuddered in reaction as the hood touched his cheek lightly.

“I had to come. I have more work for you and I want it done quickly.”

The grip strengthened on his wrist, almost to the point of pain. Antonidus could not turn his face to look directly at the man, for fear that their faces would touch. Instead, he looked away, trying not to grimace as the sickly odor seemed to taint every breath he took.

The dark figure tutted, a series of tiny clicks. “I have not yet found a way to Crassus's wife. It is too soon for another. In haste, my brothers die. You have not paid enough for me to lose men for you, only for the service.”

“Forget Crassus. He is nothing to me now. I want you to seek out the daughter of Cinna and kill her. She must be your target now. Leave a token with Sulla's name as you did with Pompey's bitch.”

Gently, he felt his wrist guided back toward his belt and, understanding, sheathed his dagger as the pressure was released. He held himself steady as he waited, not daring to show his revulsion openly by moving away. He knew that if an insult was perceived, neither he nor his men would live to see the open streets again.

“She will be well guarded. You will have to pay for the lives of those I will lose in reaching her. Ten thousand sesterces is the price.”

Antonidus clamped his jaw shut over his intake of breath. Cato would cover the debt, he was sure. Was it not his idea to hire these men? He nodded convulsively.

“Good. It will be paid. I will have my guards bring the gold here on the day we discussed, as before.”

“You will have to find other guards. Do not come here uninvited again or the cost will be higher,” the voice whispered, moving swiftly away from him.

Quick footsteps followed and in only a moment Antonidus could feel he was alone. Gingerly, he stepped over to where his men had stood, reaching down with his hands and recoiling as he felt the wetness of their opened throats. He shuddered and walked quickly back the way he had come.