“Well?” he was pressing me eagerly. “You planned it! The fight an’ the speech an’—”

“Down to the last insult.” I pressed the wad of rags against my nose, mopping the blood and wondering if Julius would ever be my friend again.

Never mind. He wasn’t supposed to be my friend anymore—just one of my men.

“Why’d you do it?” Antinous was asking, curious. “They’re all angry and grumbly now.”

“But they won’t grumble tomorrow.”

“They don’t like you.”

“They don’t have to like me. They just have to respect me.”

“Don’t they?”

“Not yet. They won’t respect me till we win a fight or two, but that’s all right. I wouldn’t either, in their place.”

Demetra’s son blinked those curly lashes of his. God, he looked soft. “I’m going to teach you how to fight,” I told him. “Starting tomorrow before the march. Get some sleep.”

“C’n I ride the horse tomorrow on the march?” He burrowed into his bedroll like a squirrel. “The wagon’s boring. ’Sides, you don’t ride the horse.”

“Feel free. Don’t say I didn’t warn you when he bucks you off too.”

His voice came in the dark as I was on the edge of sleep. “What do I call you?”

I yawned, considering. He’d never had occasion to call me much of anything before. He had just stared wide-eyed on my periodic visits, mumbling a shy yes or no to my few questions.

“Address me as Centurion in front of the men,” I said through the dark. “But for private, Vix will do well enough.”

“Vix?” He said it shyly, as if I’d hit him for taking liberties.

“You’d call me that if I were a brother.”

“But you’re not my brother.”

“I’m not your father either.” He’d rather have called me that, I could sense, but I wasn’t having it. “You had a father, not that you knew him, and it wasn’t me. But if I were a brother you’d call me Vix, and I’ve got a brother and sisters in Britannia not much older than you. So Vix will do.”

“Vix,” he said dubiously through the dark.

“Go to sleep, Antinous.” Now that he was mine, I’d have to start remembering his name.

TITUS

“Any advice?” Titus asked the bust of his father. It stared back: kindly, marble, silent, and Titus gave a long exhale. It had been a long time since he’d felt the need to consult his father’s stone face, but old habits were comforting. “I’ve never given a speech at the Rostra before,” he said. “I wish you could help me.”

Silence.