Julius looked proudly round at the men who had assembled at his order. As well as the seven generals, he had called his most senior centurions and military tribunes to hear the final arrangements for leaving Rome behind them. More than three hundred men were packed into the seats and at times the discussion had been as noisy and jocular as a full Senate debate.

Though he was weary, Julius was content with the preparations for war. The fleet was waiting to sail at Ostia and he had the men to fill them, now that three more of his legions had come south and set up tents in the Campus Martius. Mark Antony was steady in his role as consul and every soldier in the room knew the main plans for the first landings in Greece, if not the final date.

"One more month," Julius murmured to Domitius at his side, "then we will be free to go to war again."

"One more throw for the whole game," Domitius replied, echoing a conversation on the Rubicon months before.

Julius laughed at the reference. "It seems that whenever I think I have mastered a game, I find I have been playing blind on a greater board. I send Caecilius to Greece to be captured, but instead we receive detailed reports every month that are more valuable than gold. The man is a fox, it seems, and the gods have a strange sense of humor."

Domitius nodded, feeling the same sense of satisfaction that showed in Julius's face. The reports from Caecilius were a vital part of their preparations, and those who knew he had been sent simply to sow mistrust of Brutus were privately pleased that stratagem had failed, at least so far. Even then, the war to come was only half the task that faced them. Julius was obsessed with leaving the city safe and they had worked for months to prepare Rome to be handed over to Mark Antony.

The new magistrates had taken to heart the single instruction Julius had given them: "Work faster and take no bribes." Backed by their awe of the man, it had been enough to tackle some of the backlog of cases that had grown in the months preceding Pompey's departure. Few of the officials had fallen back into corruption and those who did were at the mercy of their victims, now that complaints were taken seriously.

The city was working again, despite the upheavals. The people had been asked for their trust and had given it, at least for the present. Mark Antony would inherit a great deal of goodwill when the legions left. Julius had kept the promise he had made in the forum and provided ten full cohorts to keep the peace while he was gone. Leavened with more-experienced officers, the road guards from Corfinium had been perfect for that task and Julius had been happy to confirm Ahenobarbus as their general.

At that thought, Julius raised his cup to Ahenobarbus in a private salute. He did not regret sparing him, and the man's stolid lack of imagination was well suited to the duties of keeping peace in Rome. Julius could see his pride as he returned the toast.

A soldier entered the chamber, one of those Julius had left guarding the bronze doors outside. Julius rose stiffly to his feet as he saw Servilia walked with him. With a clatter, the rest of his officers followed his example and in the silence they all heard the metallic whine of a plate as it spun on the marble floor before someone put his foot on it.

Servilia did not smile as she greeted him and it was with a sinking feeling that Julius regarded her.

"What brings you here?" he said.

Her glance took in the solid ranks of his officers and he understood she was reluctant to speak in public.

"Come to my house, on the Quirinal," he said. "I will dismiss the men."

"Not there, Consul," she said, hesitating.

Julius lost his patience and took her by the arm, walking outside to the steps that led down to the forum. They could both see right across it and the clean air helped to settle his mind after the long hours of breathing the oil fumes of torches.

"I take no pleasure in this," she began, "but I had a man watch your house last night."

Julius glared at her, his thoughts jumping immediately to suspicion. "We will discuss your right to do so another time. Tell me what he saw," he said.

She passed on the details that Belas had witnessed and watched him grow colder and angrier as she spoke. For a long time, he was silent, gazing out over the expanse of the forum. A few moments before he had wanted nothing more than sleep, but his light mood had been torn away by her words.

He clenched a fist unconsciously, before he forced himself to speak again. "I will have the truth of this from her."

Pompeia's eyes were red with weeping as Julius came storming in. He had left his soldiers in the street rather than have them witness this most private of meetings. One glance at her guilty expression and his humiliation was complete.

"I am sorry," she said as she saw him, and before he could speak she began to sob like a child.

The question simmered in him like stomach acid, but the words had to be spoken aloud. "It's true then?"

She could not look at him as she nodded, burying her face in a tearstained cloth. He stood in front of her, his hands opening and closing as he struggled to find a response.

"He came last night? Was it rape?" he said at last, knowing it was impossible. Attempting a rape on the Bona Dea would be tantamount to suicide. His thoughts had wrapped themselves so tightly that he could barely think at all. Shock was making him foolish, some small part of him noted, and he knew that when the anger finally came it would be terrible.

"No, not that. I can't… I was drunk…"

Her sniveling began to grind at his stunned calm. Visions of the brutal punishments he could exact flashed into his mind, tempting him. His men would not dare to come into the house, even if he strangled her. His hands clutched convulsively, but he did not move closer.

Raised voices in the street made him turn, almost with relief at the distraction. He heard a strange voice shouting and when he glanced back at Pompeia he saw she had gone as pale as milk.

"Oh no…" she whispered. "Please don't hurt him. He's a fool." She stood and reached for Julius.

He stepped back as if from a snake, his face twisting in rage. "He's here?" he demanded. "He's come back to my house?"

Julius strode to the front gate where his soldiers had pinned a bawling figure to the cobbled street. His mouth was bloody, but he struggled like a madman. Pompeia gave a cry of sheer horror as she saw him. Julius shook his head in amazement. The stranger Belas had seen was a youth, no more than eighteen years old. He had long hair to his shoulders, Julius noted sourly. Looking at him made Julius feel old and his bitterness increased.

The soldiers held the intruder in grim silence as they realized their general was with them. One of them had taken a cut to his lip in the struggle and was red-faced with exertion.

"Let him up," Julius said, his hand dropping automatically to his gladius.

Pompeia cried out in panic and Julius turned to slap her hard across the face. The shock silenced her and her eyes filled with tears as the young man rose to his feet and stood to face his tormentors. He was breathing heavily as he wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Take me," he said clearly. "Let her go."

"Get him inside," Julius snapped. "I won't have the whole of Rome watching this."

His men laid heavy hands on the youth, dragging him into the garden and locking the gate behind them. Pompeia followed, her eyes dark with terror and misery as they moved out of the sun into the cool halls beyond.

The soldiers threw the young man down on the marble with a hard slapping sound. He groaned in pain before staggering upright. He looked at Julius with reproof.

"Well?" Julius said. "What's your name, boy? I am curious to find out what exactly you thought would happen here."