He thought of going back to the estate. He knew Renius and Tubruk would welcome him without judging his failure, but hadn't he planned the meeting all the way from Greece? It would be ridiculous to turn back with the grand building in sight.

He took a deep breath and checked his armor one last time for imperfections. The leather laces were tied and there was not a blemish to be seen. It would do.

The crowd parted around him without jostling as he moved forward. Up close, the gate brought back memories of Marius's house on the other side of the city. He had barely reached it before it was swung open before him, a slave bowing and waving him in.

“This way, sir,” the slave said, fastening the gate closed and walking before him down a narrow corridor. Brutus followed, his heart thumping. Was he expected?

He was taken into a room that was as lavish as any he had ever seen. Marble columns supported the ceiling and were gilded at the head and foot. White statues lined the walls, and couches were gathered around a pool in the center, where he caught a glimpse of heavy fish swimming almost motionlessly in the cool depths. His armor seemed clumsy and loud in the stillness, and Brutus wished he had unlaced the greave to have a good scratch before coming in.

The slave vanished through a doorway and he was alone with only the soft rippling of the water to distract him. It was peaceful enough, and after a moment's thought he removed his helmet and ran his hands through his damp hair.

He felt the air move as another door opened behind him, and then stood abruptly in surprise as a beautiful woman walked toward him. She was painted like a doll and about his age, he judged. Her dress was of some fabric he had never seen, and through it he could see the outline of her breasts and nipples. Her skin was perfectly pale and the only ornament she wore was a heavy chain of gold that ran around her throat.

“Do sit,” she said. “You should be comfortable.” As she spoke she sat down on the couch he had leapt from and crossed her legs delicately, making the dress move and reveal enough to bring a flush to his cheeks. He sat down beside her, trying to find a scrap of the resolution he had summoned before.

“Do I please you?” she said softly.

“You are beautiful, but I am looking for… a woman I used to know.”

She pouted and he wanted to kiss her with a terrible ache, to gather her into his arms and make her gasp. The image of it made his senses reel, and he realized the air had filled with a perfume that made him dizzy. Her hand reached out and touched him just at the top of the greave, where inches of his bare brown leg were revealed. He shivered slightly and then came to his senses in shock. He rose to his feet in a sudden movement.

“Are you expecting payment from me?”

The girl looked confused and younger than he had first thought. “I don't do it for love,” she said, a good deal of the softness in her voice suddenly missing.

“Is Servilia here? She will want to see me.”

The girl slumped into the couch, her flirtatious manner gone in an instant. “She doesn't see centurions, you know. You have to be a consul to have a go with her.”

Brutus stared at her in horror.

“Servilia!” he shouted, striding past the pool to the other side of the room. “Where are you?”

He heard a clatter of running feet approaching behind one door, so he quickly opened another and slipped through, closing it on the laughter of the girl on the couch. He found himself in a long corridor with a gaping slave looking at him, bearing a tray of drinks.

“You can't come through here!” the slave shouted, but Brutus pushed him aside, sending the drinks flying. The slave bolted away, then two men blocked the corridor at the end. Both held clubs and together they filled the narrow walkway, their shoulders brushing the walls as they strode toward him.

“Had a bit too much to drink, have you?” one of them grated as they closed.

Brutus drew his gladius in one smooth movement. It glittered, the blade etched like the greave with swirling designs that caught the light. Both men paused, suddenly uncertain.

“Servilia!” Brutus yelled at the top of his voice, keeping the sword leveled at the men. They drew daggers from their belt sheaths and advanced slowly.

“You cocky little bugger!” one said, waving his blade. “Think you can come in here and do what you like? I never got the chance to kill an officer before, but I'm going to enjoy this.”

Brutus stiffened. “Stand to attention, you ignorant bastards,” he snapped at them. “If I see a blade pointing my way, I will have you hanged.”

The two men hesitated as he glared at them, responding to the tone almost as a reflex. Brutus took a furious step toward them.

“You tell me how men of your age have left their legion to guard a whorehouse. Deserters?”

“No… sir. We served with Primigenia.”

Brutus held his face stiff to mask his surprise and delight. “Under Marius?” he demanded.

The older of the pair nodded. By now they were standing erect before him, and Brutus looked them up and down as if it were an inspection.

“If I had time, I would show you the letter he wrote to send me to my century in Greece. I marched with him to the steps of the Senate house to demand his Triumph. Do not shame his memory.”

The two men blinked in discomfort as Brutus spoke. He let the silence stretch for a moment.

“Now, I have business with a woman named Servilia. You can fetch her to me, or take me to her, but you will act like soldiers while I'm here, understood?”

As the two men nodded, a door slammed open at the end of the corridor and a female voice snapped out.

“Stand away from him and give me a clear line of sight.”

The two guards didn't move, their eyes locked on the young centurion. The tension showed in their shoulders, but they remained still.

Brutus spoke clearly to them. “Is this the one?”

The older man was sweating with strain. “She is the lady of the house,” he confirmed.

“Then do as she tells you, gentlemen.”

Without another word, the two guards stepped aside to reveal a woman sighting down the length of an arrow at Brutus.

“Are you Servilia?” he said, noting the slight shake of her arms as they began to tire.

“The name you have been yelling like a street brat selling fish? I own this house.”

“I am no danger to you,” Brutus replied. “And I'd ease off on that bow before you shoot someone by accident.”

Servilia glanced at her guards and seemed to find comfort in their presence. With a release of breath, she unbent the bow, though Brutus saw she held it so it could be quickly drawn and fired if he rushed at her. She had known the threats of soldiers before, he guessed.

The woman Brutus saw there was nothing like the one from the room of statues. She was as tall and slim as he was, with long dark hair that hung loose about her shoulders. Her skin glowed with sun and health and her face was not beautiful, in fact was almost ugly, but the wide mouth and dark eyes had a knowing sensuality that he thought would ensnare many men. Her hands were wide and strong on the bow, and gold bangles chimed on her wrists as she moved.

He took in every detail of her and felt pain as he recognized a touch of himself in the line of her perfect throat.

“You don't know me,” he said quietly.

“What did you say?” she said, coming closer. “You disrupt my home and carry a blade into my rooms. I should have you whipped raw, and do not think your pretty rank will save you.”

She walked superbly, he thought. He had seen that sort of sexual confidence in a woman only once before, at the temple of Vesta, where the virgins moved with insolence in every stride, knowing it was death to any man who touched them. She had something of that and he felt himself becoming aroused, sickened by it, but not knowing how to feel like a son. Blood rushed into his face and neck and she smiled sensually, showing sharp white teeth.