LITMIR.BIZ

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hesitated at the black glare that followed his every movement. If it came to blood, he could not beat Brutus. Even if he could steal victory, he doubted he could take that life above all others.

      Brutus brought the shining blade into first position and Julius emptied his mind with the old discipline Renius had taught. This was an enemy and he could kill him.

      Julius unsheathed his sword.

      ‘Did you pay her?’ Brutus said softly, breaking his concentration.

      Julius fought against the spiky anger that came to him then. They had both learned from the same man and he knew better than to listen. They began to circle each other.

      ‘I think I knew, but I didn’t believe it,’ Brutus began again. ‘I knew you wouldn’t shame me with her, so I didn’t worry.’

      ‘There is no shame,’ Julius replied.

      ‘Yes. There is,’ Brutus said and moved.

      Of all men, Julius knew his style better than anyone, but he barely managed to parry a blade sent straight at his heart. It was a killing blow and he could not excuse it. Anger rose in him then and he moved a little faster, his step a little firmer on the ground as his senses quickened. So be it.

      Julius darted in, ducking under a sweep of silver and forcing Brutus onto his back foot. He pulled his blade to the side to cut, but Brutus skipped away with a sneer, then answered with a rain of blows.

      They broke clear, beginning to pant slightly. Julius clenched his left hand into a fist to close a gash across his palm. The blood dripped slowly from it as he moved around, leaving spots like glossy eyes to vanish in the sand.

      ‘I love her,’ Julius said. ‘I love you. Too much for this.’ With a gesture of disgust, he threw his sword away and stood facing his friend.

      Brutus brought the point up to his throat and looked into Julius’ eyes.

      ‘They all know? Cabera, Domitius, Octavian?’

      Julius looked steadily back at him, steeling himself not to flinch.

      ‘Perhaps. We didn’t plan it, Brutus. I didn’t want you to walk in on us.’

      The sword was a still point in a moving world. Julius clenched his jaw, a vast sense of calm settling over him. He relaxed every muscle consciously and stood waiting. He did not want to die, but if it came, he would treat it with contempt.

      ‘This is no small thing, Marcus. Not for me, not for her,’ he said.

      The sword came down suddenly and the manic light died from Brutus’ eyes.

      ‘There is so much between us, Julius, but if you hurt her, I will kill you.’

      ‘Go and see her. She’s worried about you,’ Julius replied, ignoring the threat.

      Brutus held his gaze for a long moment more before walking away and leaving him alone in the training yard. Julius watched him go, then opened his hand with a wince. For a moment, anger surged again. He would have hanged any other man who dared to raise a sword against him. There could be no excuse.

      Yet they had been boys together and that counted. Perhaps enough to swallow the betrayal of a blade aimed at his heart. Julius narrowed his eyes in thought. It would be harder to trust the man a second time.

      The next six weeks were filled with almost unbearable tension. Though Brutus had spoken with his mother and given a tight-lipped blessing to the union, he walked the compound with his anger and loneliness like a cloak around him.

      Without a word of explanation, Julius began to drill the Tenth himself again. He took them out alone for days at a time and never spoke except to give his orders. For their part, the legionaries struggled through pain and exhaustion just to receive a nod from him and that seemed to be worth more than effusive praise from anyone else.

      When he was in the barracks, Julius wrote letters and orders far into the night, cutting deeply into the reserves of gold he’d built up. He sent riders back to Rome to commission new armour from Alexandria’s workshop and caravans of supplies wound their way through the mountains from Spanish cities. New mines had to be cut to supply iron ore for the swords being produced at Cavallo’s design. Forests were felled for charcoal and there was never a moment when any one of the five thousand soldiers of the Tenth did not have two or three tasks that needed doing.

      His officers were caught between the pain of being excluded and a kind of joy at seeing Julius rediscover the old energy. Long before Julius summoned his subordinates from their posts around the country, they guessed the time in Spain was coming to an end. Hispania was simply too small to contain the general of the Tenth.

      Julius chose the most able of the Spanish quaestors to take his place in the interim until Rome appointed another of her sons. He handed over the seal of his office and then threw himself back into working all day and night, sometimes going without sleep for three days in a row before collapsing in exhaustion. After a short rest, he would rise and begin again. Those in the barracks trod carefully around him and waited nervously for the result of all his labour.

      Brutus came to him in the early hours of a morning, when the camp was still and silent all around them. He knocked on the door and entered as Julius called out a muttered response.

      Julius sat at a desk strewn with maps and clay tablets, with more on the floor at his feet. He stood as he saw Brutus and for a moment, the coldness between them seemed to prohibit speech. The habit of friendship was rusty for both of them.

      Brutus swallowed painfully. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said.

      Julius remained silent, watching him. The face he presented was like a stranger’s, with nothing of the friendship Brutus missed.

      Brutus tried again. ‘I was a fool, but you’ve known me long enough to let it go,’ he said. ‘I am your friend. Your sword, remember?’

      Julius nodded, accepting him. ‘I love Servilia,’ he said softly. ‘I would have told you before anyone else, but it came too quickly between us. There are no games here, but my relationship is private. I will not answer to you for it.’

      ‘When I saw you together, I …’ Brutus began.

      Julius held up a stiff hand.

      ‘No. I don’t want to hear that again. It’s done.’

      ‘Gods, you won’t make this easy for me, will you?’ Brutus said, shaking his head.

      ‘It shouldn’t be. I care more for you than any man I’ve ever met, and you struck to kill me in the training yard. That is hard to forgive.’

      ‘What?’ Brutus replied quickly. ‘I didn’t …’

      ‘I know, Brutus.’

      Brutus slumped slightly. Without another word, he pulled up a stool. After a moment, Julius took his own seat.

      ‘Do you want me to keep apologising? I was raging. I thought you were using her like … It was a mistake, I’m sorry. What more do you want?’

      ‘I want to know I can trust you. I want all this to be forgotten,’ Julius replied.

      Brutus stood. ‘You can trust me. You know it. I gave up Primigenia for you. Let this go.’

      As they looked at each other, a smile crept onto Julius’ face.

      ‘Did you notice how I parried the stroke? I wish Renius could have seen that.’

      ‘Yes, you were very good,’ Brutus replied sarcastically. ‘Are you satisfied?’

      ‘I think I could have won,’ Julius said cheerfully.

      Brutus blinked at him. ‘Now that’s going too far.’

      The tension between them receded to a distant pressure.

      ‘I’m going to take the legion back to Rome,’ Julius said in a rush, relieved to have his friend to share

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