"Without you?" Octavian said, knowing the answer. Julius nodded and Octavian sighed. "My place is at your right hand. If you say we must go on, I will be there, as I always have been."

"You are a good man, Octavian. If there are no sons to follow me, I would be proud to see you in my place." He chuckled. "Where else would you find an education like this one! I can teach you more politics here than you would find in a decade of Senate meetings. Think of the future, Octavian. Think of what you will accomplish when I am gone. This is Alexander's city and it could be a prize for Rome. Who better than we to take his mantle?"

Octavian nodded slowly, and Julius clapped him on the arm.

"How many are we facing, exactly?" Domitius said, interrupting. Both men seemed to break free of some private communication.

"Too many for the Tenth alone," Julius said. "We must wait for the Fourth to arrive. Even then, we might need Cleopatra's army before we are done. Though they are so ringed about with informers that the courtiers will know if they begin to move. We need to wrench an advantage from the first moment, while they still think we are going to leave in peace. We have surprise. With the Fourth here in strength, we'll strike where they don't expect it."

He grinned and Octavian responded, feeling the excitement despite his misgivings.

"What do you have in mind?" Octavian asked.

"It is like a game of latrunculi," Julius said. "We must capture the king."

In gloom, the legions waited, crammed into every corner of the Roman quarters. Julius himself had gone down to the docks to greet the soldiers of the Fourth as they sailed in. They had come expecting to pursue Pompey across a new continent, but instead found themselves part of a plot to kidnap a boy king. It may have been the return of warm nights, or simply the fact that Pompey was dead and they were free at last, but a rare mood of juvenile excitement had stolen amongst them. They nudged each other and smiled in the darkness. Caesar had triumphed over his enemies, and they had been there to see it happen.

Julius waited by the heavy doors, peering out at the moon. He heard a snort from a Roman mount and glanced at the source, watching shadows move. The horses had been well fed on grain, better than they had seen in weeks. The palace too was filled with stores, the first choice of cargoes from Cyprus, Greece, even Sicily. Roman gold had weight on the docks of Alexandria.

Despite the tension, Julius could not hide the fact that he was enjoying himself. Ciro, Brutus, and Regulus had come across to Egypt. He had his generals around him once more and he felt gloriously alive.

At Julius's side, Brutus could not share the lightness of the others. His broken arm had healed in the weeks of pursuit, but the muscles were still too weak to risk on such a venture. He yearned to go with them, for things to be as they had once been. There were times when he could forget everything that had happened and imagine they were back in Gaul or Spain, with trust and friendship binding them together. However, he could not miss the glances of dislike from the men to remind him of his new status. They did not allow him the luxury of any doubt on the subject. He sensed Octavian was watching him, and stared at nothing until the feeling faded. It would change when his strength returned. He would make it change. Until then, he accepted that he would stay and barricade the palace ready for their return.

Facing the night, Julius did not see Cleopatra at first. She came silently into the packed entrance hall without announcement, weaving her way in and out of startled soldiers. Julius turned in time to see her smile as one of the men let out a low whistle and a ripple of laughter went through them. He was at a loss to say how she had done it, but she had found a new costume only slightly less revealing than the one she had worn on their first meeting. Her lithe movement was girlish, though her eyes were older. Her hair was held back by a bar of gold and her legs and bare stomach drew sidelong glances as she walked amongst them.

Julius found himself blushing as she approached him, knowing his soldiers were happily drawing their own conclusions about his sudden interest in Egypt. His generals had met her before, but they still stood rooted as she spun in place to face the men.

"I have heard of Roman courage," she said, her voice soft. "And I have seen your honor in coming to my aid in this. You will learn the gratitude of a queen when I have my throne again."

She bowed to the rough killers of Rome and in that moment they would have gone anywhere for her. They knew better than to cheer the beauty who came so humbly amongst them, but a low murmur of approval went through the palace, almost a growl.

"It's time," Julius said, looking strangely at the queen.

Her skin gleamed in the shadows and her eyes were bright with the moon as she turned to him. Before he could react, she took a step and kissed him lightly on the lips. He knew he was blushing again with embarrassment. She was less than half his age and he could practically feel the grins of the men as they exchanged glances.

He cleared his throat, trying to summon his dignity. "You have your orders, gentlemen. Remember that you must not engage the enemy unless you have to. We find the king and get straight back here before they can muster enough of a force to slow us. You'll hear the retreat horn blown when Ptolemy is captured, and when you do, get out as fast as you can. If you are separated, come here. Understood?"

A chorus of assenting murmurs answered him and he nodded, heaving open the door to the moonlit garden.

"Then follow me, gentlemen," he said, responding at last to their bright eyes and smothered laughter with a grin. "Follow me."

They drew their swords and rose to their feet, moving out into the darkness. It took a long time for the last of them to pass through from the furthest reaches of the palace. Only one cohort remained behind as Brutus closed the doors, plunging them all into a deeper dark. He turned to them and hesitated in the presence of the queen who stood like a scented statue, watching him.

"Block the windows and entrances," he ordered, his voice sounding harsh after the echoing silence. "Use grain sacks and anything else you can lift-the heavier the better."

The single cohort moved quickly into action, its six centurions snapping out orders until the least of them had work. The entrance hall emptied, leaving Brutus standing uncomfortably with the Egyptian queen.

Her voice came from the shadows. "The general in silver armor…"

His eyes adjusted to see the moon outline her bare shoulders in a faint glimmer. He shivered. "I am, mistress. Or should I call you Goddess?" He could feel her gaze like a weight.

"August Majesty is one title, though I carry the goddess in me. Does the idea offend you, Roman?"

Brutus shrugged. "I have seen a lot of foreign lands. I've seen people who paint their skins blue. There isn't much that can surprise me now."

"You must have been with Caesar for many years," she said.

He looked away, suddenly unnerved. Would Julius have spoken of him? "More than I care to tell you," he said.

"How were you injured? In his service?"

He snorted to himself then, growing irritated with the stream of questions. "I was injured in battle, Majesty. I think you may have already heard the details."

He raised his splinted arm, as if to have it inspected. In response, she came closer. She reached out and, despite himself, he shivered again at her cool touch. She wore a heavy ring of gold with a carved ruby. In the gloom it was as black as the night sky.

"You are the one who betrayed him," she said in fascination. "Tell me, why did he let you live?"