A thunder of hooves jolted him out of his reverie, and Julius stepped off the path as the noise grew louder. He guessed who it was before he caught sight of the little figure, perched high on the back of the most powerful stallion in the stables. Julius noted the boy's balance and skill even as he forced a frown that brought Octavian to a shuddering stop in the damp leaves of the woods.

The stallion snorted and danced at being held back, tugging at the reins in a clear signal to go on. Octavian slid off his bare back with one hand buried in his mane. Julius said nothing as he approached.

“I'm sorry,” Octavian started, flushing with embarrassment. “He needed a run and the stable lads don't like to stretch him. I know I said-”

“Come with me,” Julius interrupted.

They walked in silence down the hill, a forlorn Octavian leading the stallion behind Julius. He knew a beating was likely or, worse, he could be sent back to the city and never see a horse again. His eyes filled with tears that he wiped quickly away. Julius would despise him if he saw him weeping like a baby. Octavian resolved to take his punishment without tears, even if it was to be sent away.

Julius called for the gate to be opened and marched Octavian over to the stables. Some of the horses had been sold when Tubruk raised the ransom, but the estate manager had kept the best bloodlines to let them rebuild the stock.

The sun was rising as Julius entered the shadowy stalls, bringing a blessed breath of warmth. Julius hesitated as the horses turned their heads to welcome him, sniffing the air with soft noses. Without a word of explanation, he crossed to a young stallion Tubruk had raised and trained from a foal and ran his hand over the powerful brown shoulder.

As Octavian looked on, Julius buckled the reins and chose a saddle from the rack on the stable wall. In silence, he led the gently snickering horse out into the morning sun.

“Why don't you take your pony out anymore?” he asked.

Octavian stared at him, completely at a loss. “He's too slow,” he said, patting his stallion's neck without noticing. The powerful horse towered over him, but stood calmly at the touch, showing nothing of the temper that irked the stableboys of the estate.

“You know you're kin to me, don't you?” Julius asked.

“My mother told me,” the boy replied.

Julius thought for a moment. He suspected his father would have taken a stick to his son if he had risked his best stallion galloping around the woods, but Julius didn't want to spoil the mood of optimism that had come to him. He had promised Alexandria, after all.

“Come on then, cousin. Let's see if you're as good as you think you are.”

Octavian's face lit up as Julius led the horses out together and watched as the boy leapt lightly onto his stallion's back. Julius mounted at a more sedate pace, then whooped suddenly and kicked his mount into a gallop up the hill.

Octavian watched him openmouthed for a moment, then a smile stole across his face as he pressed his heels and yelled a response, the wind making his hair fly.

When Julius came back into the house, Cornelia longed to embrace him. Flushed from the ride and with his hair made wild with dust, he looked so young and full of life that it broke her heart. She wanted to see him smile at her and feel the strength of his arms as he gathered her into them, but instead she found herself speaking angrily, the bitterness spilling uncontrollably even as part of her cried for softer words she could not find.

“How much longer do you expect me to live here as a prisoner?” she demanded. “You have your freedom, while I can't eat or walk anywhere without a group of your Primigenia bastards following me!”

“They are there to protect you!” Julius replied, shocked at the depth of her feelings.

Cornelia glared at her husband. “For how long, Julius? You know better than anyone that it could be years before your enemies cease to be a danger. Would you have me confined for the rest of my life? What about your daughter? When did you hold her last? Do you want her to grow up alone? Those soldiers even searched friends of my father's when they came to visit. They won't be back, you can be sure.”

“I have been working, Cornelia, you know that. I'll make time for her, I promise. Perhaps Primigenia has been overcautious,” Julius admitted, “but I told them to keep you safe until I have broken the threat of assassins.”

Cornelia swore, surprising him.

“All this based on what happened to Pompey's daughter! Has it occurred to you that there might not be any danger? For all we truly know, Pompey was attacked for something that had nothing to do with the Senate, yet as a result, I am forbidden even short trips into the city to break the monotony. It is too much, Julius. I cannot stand it.”

The words would not be held, though she writhed in confusion. This was not how it was meant to be. He must see her love, yet he was pulling away.

Julius looked at her, his expression hardening. “Do you want me to leave my family open to attack? I cannot. No, I will not. Already I am moving against my enemies. I broke Antonidus in full view of Cato and his supporters. They will know I am dangerous to them, and that increases the risk to you many times over. Even if their killers strike at me alone, they could stumble into you.”

Cornelia took a deep breath to slow her pounding blood. “Is it to save us, then, or to save your pride that we are prisoners in our own home?” She watched as his eyes tightened in anger, and she ached for him.

“What do you want me to say?” he snapped. “Do you want to go back to your father? Then go, but Primigenia will travel with you and make that place a fortress. Until my enemies are dead, you must be safe.”

He pressed his hands deeply into his eyes, as if to hold back the frustration that swept over him. He reached out to her and gathered her stiff body into his embrace.

“My pride has nothing to do with it, Cornelia. There is nothing more important in my life than Julia and you. The thought of someone hurting you is… unbearable. I must know you are safe.”

“That's not true though, is it?” she whispered. “You care more for the city than your own family. You care more for your reputation and the love of the people than for us.” Tears came from her and he held her tightly, resting his head on hers. Her words appalled him and he struggled with an inner voice that noted a kernel of truth in them.

“No, wife,” he said, forcing a lighter tone. “You are more than all the rest.”

She held herself away from him, looking up into his eyes. “Then come away with us, Julius. If that is true, take your gold and your family and leave this ugly dispute behind you. There are other lands to settle in, where Rome is too distant to trouble us and your daughter can grow without fear of knives in the night. She has nightmares even now, Julius. I fear more for what the confinement is doing to her than for myself. If we mean so much to you, then leave Rome.”

His eyes closed in grief. “You cannot… ask me for that,” he said, unable to meet her eyes. As he spoke, she broke his grip and stood apart from him and though his arms ached to hold her again, he could not. Her voice was harsh and loud, filling the room.

“Then don't preach to me about how much you care for us, Julius. Don't ever say that again. Your precious city keeps us in danger and you wrap yourself in lies of duty and love.” Tears of anger spilled from her red eyes once again, and she flung open the door, shoving roughly past the soldiers of Primigenia who kept station on the other side. Their faces were pale at what they had heard, but both men kept their gaze fastened on the floor as they followed Cornelia at a distance, fearful of provoking her any further.