Here was Cleopatra, sister to the dead king Ptolemy. Lover to Caesar, she was now the sole ruler of Egypt. A goddess to her people. What was she doing here? the haruspex wondered.

'Abase yourselves,' cried one of the officials.

Hastily Tarquinius went down on his knees, and then, responding to a sidelong glare from the prone Aristophanes, he leaned forward and placed his forehead on the tiled floor. He had only had a few heartbeats to study Cleopatra, but that was enough to take in her assured manner. Clad in a flowing cream linen gown hemmed with silver thread, the queen's hair was tied up in braids. Long ringlets fell on either side of her pale-skinned face, and ringing her head was a uraeus crown, symbol of the Egyptian pharaohs. Made of solid gold, it was encrusted with jewels and featured a rearing cobra at the front. A string of massive pearls hung round Cleopatra's neck; gold and silver jewellery winked from her wrists and fingers. Her big mouth and hooked nose were easily compensated for by a curvaceous and attractive figure. Full breasts moved enticingly under the see-through fabric of her dress, the well-cut folds of which clung to her belly and thighs. She was a riveting sight.

The official spoke again. 'You may rise.'

Carefully averting his gaze from the nearby soldiers, Tarquinius got to his feet. He recognised no one, but there was no point tempting fate. It would only take a single challenge for him to be skewered by a pilum, or tied up like a hen for the pot and tortured. Aristophanes was now just a few steps from Cleopatra, and dared only to rise to his knees. 'Your Majesty,' he said, his voice trembling. 'You honour us with your presence.'

Cleopatra inclined her head. 'I come seeking knowledge. It is important that I find what I am looking for. Apparently this is where the relevant scrolls are to be found.' Her voice was deep and attractive, but there was no mistaking the threat within her words.

A cold sweat broke out on Aristophanes' brow. 'What type of information does Your Majesty require, exactly?' he asked.

There was a long pause, which Tarquinius used to study Cleopatra sidelong. A jolt of energy shot through him as his eyes passed across her flat belly. She is pregnant, he thought, shocked as much by this as by the sudden return of his divinatory skills. Cleopatra is going to bear Caesar a child. He glanced again. A son. The man who is set on being the sole ruler of Rome is to have an heir. Cleopatra is here to find out what the future holds for her and her offspring. Immediately he thought of Romulus. Was this the threat he'd sensed?

Cleopatra turned coy. 'Not much,' she purred. 'Just the pattern of the stars over the next year or so. The outlook for each sign of the Zodiac as well.'

Aristophanes looked aghast. 'Your Majesty, I am no expert in these matters,' he stuttered.

Cleopatra smiled. 'You only have to find the correct scrolls. These men will interpret the meanings for me.' She indicated the robed figures behind her, every one of whom now looked terrified.

Aristophanes' swallow of relief was very loud. 'Of course, Your Majesty. If you would follow me?' With a quavering arm, he pointed at the corridor behind Tarquinius.

The haruspex froze. He had anticipated none of this. All he could do was to try and remain calm. Any sudden move would bring down the most unwelcome attention.

'Lead on,' Cleopatra ordered Aristophanes.

The Egyptian guards parted at once, allowing the scribbler to scuttle away. Forming up in four files of five, with Cleopatra in the middle, they held their spears upright now. Half followed Aristophanes, then came the queen and the sweating scholars, followed by the remaining ten. The little column moved off the courtyard and on to the covered walkway where Tarquinius stood, rigid as a statue. The smell of sweat and oiled leather filled the air as they passed. Most barely gave him a second glance, just another badly dressed scholar.

Tarquinius bowed his head as Cleopatra went by, but his senses were on high alert. He felt a joyous air about her – a pride in her pregnancy. What a catch she has made for herself, he thought. No less a man than Julius Caesar. Of course her play was not that surprising. A shadow of their former selves, the Egyptian royal family had been reliant on Roman military power for some years. To first gain Caesar's affections and then become pregnant by him, Cleopatra had shown her desire to remain ruler of her country, and more. The recent battles had left her teenage brother Ptolemy dead; with her sister Arsinoe a prisoner, she now had no real rivals.

There was something else in the energy surrounding her. Tarquinius closed his eyes, using all his ability to discern what it was. The shock of it rocked him back on his heels. While Cleopatra would move to Rome for a number of years, she would not rule by Caesar's side. Their son would die young. Violently, too. Murdered by the order of… a thin young noble Tarquinius did not recognise. Why? The haruspex could see that this man loved Caesar, yet he was responsible for the killing of his son. Which meant that he would hold no love for Romulus either. Rome is at the centre of all this, the haruspex thought. Should I go back there?

'You!' demanded one of the legionaries. A dark-skinned veteran with heavy stubble covering his jaw, he glowered at Tarquinius' ragged appearance. 'What's your business here?'

Too late, the haruspex realised he'd been muttering to himself. 'I'm studying the ancient Assyrian civilisation, sir,' he answered obsequiously, proffering his scroll in evidence.

The soldier's eyes narrowed.

Tarquinius' heart stopped. Worried about Romulus and startled by the command, he had answered in fluent Latin rather than the more common Greek. Which was not a crime, but with most scholars in the library being Greek, it was a trifle unusual.

The legionary thought so too. 'Are you Italian?' he demanded, moving a few steps closer. He lowered his pilum until the pyramidal iron head pointed straight at Tarquinius' breastbone. 'Answer me!'

The haruspex had no wish to start justifying who he was and why he wasn't in the army. 'I'm from Greece,' he lied. 'But I spent some years in Italy as a tutor. Sometimes Latin seems like my native tongue.'

'A tutor?' The other's expression turned sly, and he poked his pilum tip at Tarquinius' scarred, caved-in left cheek. 'Explain those injuries then.'

'The Cilician pirates raided the town where I lived,' he replied, his mind racing. 'They tortured me before selling me as a slave on Rhodes. Eventually I escaped and made my way here, where I've made a living as a scribe since.'

The veteran considered his words for a moment. Until Pompey had crushed them twenty years before, the bloodthirsty Cilicians had been the scourge of the entire Mediterranean. Once, they had even had the gall to sack Ostia, Rome's port, thereby threatening grain supplies to the capital. The legionary had heard the tale from his father and plainly this pathetic figure was old enough to have been around then.

They heard Cleopatra's raised voice coming back down the corridor. Aristophanes had found the texts she required. The soldier's attention turned away, and Tarquinius breathed a long sigh of relief.

Surrounded by her guards, the queen emerged, her cheeks aglow with excitement. Hurrying behind came Aristophanes, his arms full of tightly rolled scrolls, which were giving off a fine cloud of dust. Last came the learned men, now looking frankly petrified. With the correct texts found, the full weight of Cleopatra's expectation would soon be on them.

On the other hand, Aristophanes was jubilant. Catching sight of Tarquinius, his face lit up. 'Guess what I also found, my Etruscan friend?' he called out in Latin. 'That text from Nineveh which you gave up looking for weeks ago.'