It had been a long year, Mark Antony thought to himself as he walked up the hill. Longer than any other in Roman history. The new calendar had set the city in an uproar of misunderstandings and chaos. Julius had declared that it would last for 445 days, before his new months could begin. The freak summer that had hit so late seemed just a symptom of the confusion, as if the seasons themselves had been upset. With a smile, Mark Antony remembered Cicero's complaint that even the planets and stars had to run to Caesar's order.

In older days, the city would have employed astronomers from all over the world to test the notions Julius had brought back from Egypt. Instead, the Senate had vied with each other to acclaim the new system and have their names reach Caesar's ears.

Mark Antony sighed as he reached the street gate to the old Marius property. The general he had known in Gaul would have scorned the attitude that had infected the august Senate. He would have allowed them their dignity, to honor the traditions if for no other reason.

Mark Antony took a deep breath and gripped the bridge of his nose in hard fingers. The man he had known would resurface, he hoped. Of course Julius had gone a little wild on his return. He had been drunk with the success of a civil war and a new son. He had been plunged from a life of struggle into a great city that hailed him as a god. It had turned his head, but Mark Antony remembered Julius when Gaul was a cauldron of war, and he still looked for a sign that the worst was over.

Julius was waiting for him inside as Mark Antony passed through the gardens. He left his lictors on the street rather than bring armed men into the presence of the Dictator of Rome.

Julius embraced him and ordered iced drinks and food to be brought over his protests. Mark Antony saw that Julius seemed unusually nervous and his hand shook slightly as he held out a cup of wine.

"My last Triumph is almost ready," Julius said, after both men had made themselves comfortable. "I have a favor to ask of you."

Brutus lay on his stomach and groaned at the stiff fingers that worked themselves into old scars and muscles. The evening was cool and quiet and his mother's house still employed the very best of girls. It was his habit to come and go as he pleased and his moods were well known to the women Servilia employed. The girl who used her elbows to work at a knot of muscle had not said a word since he stripped naked and lay down on the long bench, his dangling arms grazing the floor. Brutus had felt the unspoken invitation as she let her oiled hands linger, but he had not responded. His mind was too filled with despair and anger to find release in her practiced embrace.

He opened his eyes as he heard light footsteps tap across the floor of the room. Servilia was there, wearing a sardonic expression as she viewed the naked flesh of her son.

"Thank you, Talia, you may leave us," she said.

Brutus frowned at the interruption. Without embarrassment, he pushed himself up and sat on the bench as the girl scurried out. His mother did not speak until the door had closed and Brutus raised an eyebrow in interest. She too knew his moods and allowed him privacy when he came to the house. To have broken the routine meant something else was in the wind.

Her hair was a cloud gray, almost white now that she had abandoned her dyes and colors. It no longer hung loose, but was tied back with pinned severity. She still stood with the erect posture that had drawn men's eyes in her youth, but age had melted the flesh from her, so that she was lean and hard. Brutus supposed he loved her, for her dignity and refusal to be broken in the life of Rome.

She had been there in the forum when Julius held up his son, but when Brutus had come to the house that first evening, she had shown him a cool reserve that demanded respect. He might have believed it if there had not been moments when fire flashed in her eyes at the mention of Julius's name. Then she would raise her hand to touch the great pearl that was always around her neck and look into distances too far for Brutus to follow.

"You should dress yourself, my son. You have visitors waiting for you," she said. The toga he had worn lay folded and Servilia brought it to him as he stood. "You go naked under this?" she asked, before he could speak.

Brutus shrugged. "When it is hot. What visitors do you mean? No one knows I am here."

"No names, Brutus, not yet," she said as she draped the long cloth around his shoulders. "I asked them here."

Brutus regarded his mother in irritation. His gaze flickered to his dagger where it lay on a stool. "I do not share my movements with the city, Servilia. Are the men armed?"

She tucked and tweaked at the robe until it was ready to be clasped. "They are no danger to you. I told them you would listen to what they have to say. Then they will leave and Talia can finish her work, or you can join me for a meal in my rooms."

"What are you doing, Mother?" Brutus asked, his voice growing hard. "I don't like games or mysteries, or secrets."

"See these men. Listen to them," she said as if he had not spoken. "That is all." She watched in silence as he tucked his dagger away and then she stood back to look at him. "You look strong, Brutus. Age has given you more than scars. I will send them in."

She left and moments later the door swung open to admit two men of the Senate. Brutus knew them instantly and he narrowed his eyes in suspicion. Suetonius and Cassius were stiff with tension as they closed the door behind them and approached.

"What is so important that you must come to my mother's house?" Brutus said. He crossed his arms carefully, leaving his right hand near the hilt of his dagger under the cloth.

Cassius spoke first. "Where else is private, in Rome?" he said.

Brutus could see the sinews standing out in the man's neck. The senator was clearly under an enormous strain and Brutus disliked being so close to him.

"I will hear what you have to say," Brutus said slowly.

He gestured to the bench and watched closely as both men sat down. He did not join them, preferring to remain able to move quickly if the need arose. Every instinct warned him to caution, but he showed them nothing. The hilt of his knife was comforting under his fingers.

"We will have no names, here," Cassius said. "It is dark outside and we have not been seen. We have never met, in fact." His taut features stretched into an unpleasant smile.

"Go on," Brutus said, sharply, anger surfacing. "My mother has bought you a few moments. If you can say nothing of use, then leave."

The two men exchanged glances and Cassius swallowed nervously.

Suetonius cleared his throat. "There are some in the city who have not forgotten the Republic," he said. "There are some who do not enjoy the Senate being treated as servants."

Brutus took in a sharp breath as he began to understand. "Go on," he said.

"Those who love Rome may be dissatisfied with too much power in one man's hands," Suetonius continued. A fat bead of sweat worked its way down his cheek from his hairline. "They do not want a line of kings built on a corruption of foreign blood."

The words hung in the air between them and Brutus stared, his thoughts whirling. How much had his mother guessed of their intentions? All their lives were in danger if even a single one of her girls listened at the walls.

"Wait here," he said, striding to the door.

The sudden movement brought Cassius and Suetonius almost to panic. Brutus flung open the door and saw his mother seated down the corridor. She rose to her feet and walked to him.

"Are you part of this?" he said, his voice low.

Her eyes glittered. "I have brought you together. The rest is up to you."

Brutus looked at his mother and saw her coldness was a mask.