She had a horn in her hand, and before he could wonder what she intended she raised it to her lips and blew.

The note was deep and low, going on and on until she had no more breath. By the end of it, heads were turning in her direction and Julius was terrified she would be torn from her perch by a cloud of shafts.

"You will stop!" she cried. "In the name of Cleopatra, your queen. I am returned to you and you will stand back!"

Julius saw Roman hands reaching up, imploring her to come down. She ignored them, calling again. Her voice reached the lines of Egyptian soldiers and the reaction was like a shock of cold water. They pointed to her and their eyes went wide with awe. They had not known of her return to the city. Julius saw their swords begin to lower and the Tenth immediately launched themselves forward, killing indiscriminately.

"Sound the halt," Julius snapped to his cornicens. "Quickly!"

Roman horns wailed their echo to Cleopatra and an eerie silence fell over the bloody streets.

"I am returned to you, my people. These men are my allies. You will stop the killing now."

Her voice seemed louder than it had before, without the clash of arms to drown it. Ptolemy's army seemed dazed by her appearance and Julius wondered if she had chosen the statue of Isis deliberately, or whether it was simply the closest. He was surrounded by gasping, bloody men and his mind was blank.

"I wonder what she-" Julius began, then the people of Alexandria lost their stunned expressions and dropped to their knees.

Julius looked around in astonishment as Ptolemy's soldiers knelt with them, pressing their heads to the ground. The Roman legionaries stood stunned, looking to Julius for orders.

"Tenth and Fourth, kneel!" Julius bellowed instinctively.

His men glanced at each other, but they did as they were ordered, though their swords were ready. Ciro, Regulus, and Domitius went down onto one knee. Brutus followed as Julius's eyes fell on him, and then only Julius and Octavian were still on their feet.

"Don't ask me," Octavian said softly.

Julius looked him in the eye and waited. Octavian grimaced and knelt.

Against the foreground of thousands of bowed heads, one other group still stood on the far side of the battleground. The courtiers of the king held their heads high, watching the development in sick horror. Julius saw one of them kick out at a soldier, clearly demanding the fight go on. The man flinched, but did not rise. To Julius's eye, they looked like a pack of painted vultures. He relished the fear he saw in their gleaming faces.

"Where is my brother, Ptolemy? Where is my king?" Cleopatra called to them.

Julius saw her leap lightly down and stride long-legged through the gashed flesh and kneeling men. She walked proudly and as she passed Julius she beckoned to him.

"Where is my brother?" she demanded again.

Her voice struck at the courtiers like a blow and they seemed to wilt as she approached, as if her presence was more than they could bear. They parted as Cleopatra walked into their midst. Julius followed closely, his glare daring them to raise a hand against her.

Ptolemy lay pale and bloodless on a cloak of dusty gold cloth. His limbs had been placed with dignity, his right hand high on his chest where it almost covered a gaping wound. His mask had been smashed and lay in the dirt at his feet. Julius looked at the childish features as Cleopatra reached down to touch her brother, and felt a pang of regret at the sight of the small gladius at his waist. As he watched, Cleopatra leaned forward to kiss her brother's lips, before sitting back. Her eyes were wide with pain, but there were no tears.

As Cleopatra sat in silence, Julius looked around for Panek, knowing he would not be far away. He narrowed his eyes as he saw dark robes he knew. Panek was sitting in the dust, his breathing slow and loud. Julius took two quick steps as his anger rekindled, but the eyes that turned at the sound were dull and the chest was torn and bloody. Panek was dying and Julius had no more words for him.

At his back, Cleopatra rose to her feet. Not a sound came from the crowd and the breeze could be heard.

"The king is dead," she said, her voice echoing across them. "Carry my brother to his palace, my people. Know that you lay hands on a god when you do."

Her voice cracked then and she hesitated. Julius touched her lightly on the shoulder, but she did not seem to feel it.

"I who am Isis, am returned to you. My own blood has been shed this day, a death caused not by the men of Rome, but by the betrayal of my court. Rise and mourn, my people. Tear your clothes and rub ash into your skin. Honor your god with grief and tears."

The small body of Ptolemy was lifted into the air, his cloak hanging beneath him.

For a long time, Cleopatra could not drag her eyes from the body of her brother. Then she turned to face the courtiers.

"Was it not your task to keep my brother alive?" she murmured, reaching up to the throat of the nearest. He struggled not to flinch from the touch of her painted nails, and it was somehow obscene as she caressed the length of his jaw.

"Caesar, I would have you bind these men for punishment. They will serve my brother in his tomb."

The courtiers prostrated themselves at last, stunned with fear and misery. Julius signaled to Domitius to bring ropes. A tenuous drift of smoke reached them as the courtiers were trussed. Cleopatra's head jerked up as she smelled the hot and heavy air. She rounded on Julius in sudden fury.

"What have you done to my city?" she asked.

It was Brutus who answered. "You know we fired ships in the port. The flames may have reached the dock buildings."

"And you let them burn?" she snapped, facing him.

Brutus looked back calmly. "We were under attack," he said with a shrug.

Cleopatra was speechless for a moment. She turned cold eyes on Julius. "Your men must stop it before it spreads."

Julius frowned at her tone and she seemed to sense the irritation that was building in him.

"Please, Julius," she said, more gently.

He nodded and signaled to his generals to attend him. "I will do what I can," he said, troubled by her flashing changes of mood. She had lost a brother and regained her throne, he thought. Much could be forgiven on such a day.

Cleopatra did not leave until royal guards had brought a shaded platform for her, lifting it onto their shoulders as she lay back. Their faces were proud, Julius saw, as they bore their queen to her palace.

"Have trenches dug for the dead, Octavian," Julius ordered, watching her departure. "Before they spoil in the heat. The Fourth had better make their way to the docks to see to this fire."

As he spoke a cold cinder floated above his head, riding the breeze. He watched as it settled, still dazed by events. The boy king who had clung to his arm was dead. The battle was won.

He did not know if they would have achieved victory without the queen's intervention. The veteran legions were growing old and could not have fought on for long against the rising sun. Perhaps Cleopatra's slave would have brought reinforcements, or perhaps Julius would have bled his life out on Egyptian sand.

In her absence, he felt an ache start in him. He could smell her scent over the bitter taste of burnt air. He had known her as a woman. To see her as a queen had disturbed and enthralled him, from the moment the crowd and soldiers had knelt in the dirt at her word. He looked after the procession heading for the palace and wondered how the citizens of Rome would react if he brought her home.

"We are free to leave," Octavian said. "To Rome, Julius."

Julius looked at him and he smiled. He could not imagine leaving Cleopatra behind. "I have fought for more years than I can remember," he said. "Rome will wait a little longer, for me."