LITMIR.BIZ

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‘though I wanted the task myself. Pompey doesn’t dream, Servilia. There are whole new lands rich with pearls and gold, but he rests and organises games for the people. They starve in the fields while he builds new temples for them to pray for wealth.’

      ‘You would do more?’ she asked, taking his arm. The touch was warm and his thoughts fled before the onslaught of a sudden passion that surprised him. He wondered if his thoughts showed, as he stammered a reply.

      ‘I would do more. There is gold enough to raise the least of Rome and the chance is there for us, if we can grasp it. There is nothing in the world like our city. They say Egypt is richer, but we are still young enough to fill our hands. Pompey is asleep if he thinks the borders will remain safe with the legions we have. We need to raise more, and pay for them with new lands and gold.’

      She let her hand drop, feeling a shiver of desire raise the soft hairs of her skin. There was such a force in him, when it was not shuttered in grief and despair. She saw the darkness cast away with both awe and pleasure. The man who aroused her with a touch was not the one who had met her first at the gates of the fort and she wondered what would come of the reawakening.

      When she felt herself longing for him, it had shocked her, almost frightened her. That was not how it was meant to be. The men who loved her never touched more than the skin they craved. They could spend themselves in her without more than a tremble of real response. Yet this strange young man threw her into confusion whenever his blue eyes caught hers. Such strange eyes, with the dark pupil that hurt him in bright light. It seemed to see all her artifice for what it was, breaking through the smoothness of her ways to the privacy of her.

      She sighed as they walked on. She was being foolish. This was no time in her life to be moonstruck by a man her son’s age. She ran her hand along the line of her bound hair unconsciously. Not that her years showed, at all. She oiled her body every night and ate well and carefully. A man could take her for thirty, she had been told, rather than the year shy of forty to which she admitted. Forty-two. Sometimes she felt older than that, especially in the city, when Crassus came to her. Sometimes she would weep for no reason at all, the mood vanishing as quickly as it had come. She knew the young man at her side could have any of the young girls of the city. He would not want one who carried so many marks on her, which no one else could see.

      She crossed her arms, almost crushing the circlet of bound flowers. She didn’t doubt she could rouse him to passion if she wanted. He was young and innocent compared to her. It would be easy, and she realised that part of her wanted it, would welcome his hands on her in the long grasses of the meadow. She shook her head slightly. Stupid girl. Should never have kissed him.

      She spoke quickly to cover the pause, wondering if he had noticed her distraction, or the flush that had come to her cheeks.

      ‘You haven’t seen Rome recently, Julius. There are so many poor now. The slave army left almost no one to work the fields and the beggars are like flies. At least Pompey gives them a taste of glory, even when their bellies are empty. The Senate wouldn’t dare to hold him back in anything, in case the mobs rise and consume them all. It was a fragile peace when I left and I doubt anything has improved since then. You couldn’t know how close they are to chaos. The Senate lives in fear of another uprising to rival the battles with Spartacus. Everyone who can afford them has guards and the poor kill each other in the streets with nothing done about it. They are not easy times, Julius.’

      ‘Perhaps I should return then. I haven’t seen my daughter in four years and Pompey owes me a great deal. Perhaps it is time to call in a few of my debts and make sure I am a part of the work again.’

      For a moment, his face lit with a passion that made her heart lift as she saw the image of the man she’d watched at the trial, holding the Senate rapt as he took justice from his enemies. Then, just as quickly, it was gone and he blew air through his lips in exasperation.

      ‘I had a wife to share it with before all this. I had Tubruk, who was more like a father to me than a friend; my home. The future was rushing on me with a kind of … joy. Now, I’ve nothing but new swords and mines and it seems pointless. I would give anything to have Tubruk come back for one hour to share a drink with me, or the chance to see Cornelia just for a while, long enough to say sorry for breaking my promises to her.’

      He rubbed his eyes with his hand before walking on. Servilia almost reached for him then, knowing her touch could bring him comfort. She resisted with an enormous effort of will. The touch would lead to more and though she ached to be held herself, she had the strength not to play the game she knew so well, that she had known all her life. A younger woman might have gathered him in without shame at the moment of his weakness, but Servilia knew too much to try. There would be other days.

      Then he turned to her and held her tightly enough to hurt, his mouth pressing her lips to open for him. She gave way to it, unable to help herself.

      Brutus slid neatly from the saddle as he passed under the gates of the fort. The Tenth had staged complex manoeuvres out in the hills and Octavian had done well, using the force he had been given to flank Domitius in a skilful display. Brutus didn’t hesitate as he ran into the buildings. The dark moods that had cast a cloud over them all were already a memory and he knew Julius would be pleased to hear how well his young relative was doing. Octavian had the shoulders to command, as Marius used to say.

      The guard at the base of the steps was out of position, standing well back from his post. Brutus heard him shout as he clattered up the stairs, but only grinned.

      Julius was lying on a couch with Servilia, their faces flushed in panic at the sudden, noisy arrival of Brutus into the room. Julius leapt naked to his feet and faced his friend in rage.

      ‘Get out!’ he roared.

      Brutus froze in disbelief, then his face twisted and he spun around, slamming the door shut behind him.

      Julius turned slowly to meet Servilia’s eyes, already regretting his anger. He pulled his clothes on roughly, sitting back on the long couch. Her perfume was heavy in his nostrils and he knew he smelled of her. As he stood, the warmth of the cloth was left behind and he drew away, thinking of what he had to do.

      ‘I’ll go out to him,’ she said, standing.

      Wrapped in bitterness, Julius barely noticed her nudity. It had been madness to fall asleep where they could be found, but there was no point in regretting what was past. He shook his head as he tied his sandals.

      ‘You have less of an apology to make. Let me find him first,’ he said.

      Her eyes hardened for a moment. ‘You won’t apologise … for me?’ she said, her voice deceptively calm.

      Julius stood and faced her. ‘Not for a moment of you,’ he said, softly.

      She came into his arms then and he found there was something indescribably erotic in holding a naked woman while fully clothed. He broke away with a grin despite his worry for Brutus.

      ‘He’ll be all right when he’s calmed down a little,’ he said to reassure her, wishing he believed it. With steady hands, he buckled his gladius to his waist. Servilia looked suddenly afraid.

      ‘I don’t want you to fight him, Julius. You must not.’

      Julius forced a laugh that seemed to echo in his empty stomach.

      ‘He’d never hurt me,’ he said as he left.

      Outside the door, Julius’ expression settled into a grim mask as he came down the stairs. Domitius and Cabera were there with Ciro, and he imagined their eyes accused him.

      ‘Where is he?’ Julius snapped.

      ‘Training yard,’ Domitius said. ‘I’d leave him for a while if I were you, General. His blood’s running hot and it’ll do no good to have it out now.’

      Julius hesitated, then his old recklessness swept through him. He had brought it about and the price was his to pay.

      ‘Stay here,’ he said curtly. ‘He’s my oldest friend and this is private.’

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