Brutus took a grip on his thoughts. He had never heard his name from her mouth in all his years of being alive. It made him angry, and anger allowed him to speak calmly to her.

“What was my father like?” he asked.

She looked away at the walls of the simple room where they sat.

“He was a good man, very strong and as tall as you are. I only knew him for two years before he died, but I remember he was very pleased to have a son. He named you and took you to the temple of Mars to have you blessed by the priests. He became ill that year and was taken before winter. The doctors couldn’t treat him, but there was very little pain at the end.”

Brutus felt his eyes fill and brushed at them angrily as she continued.

“I . . . couldn’t bring you up. I was a child myself and I wasn’t ready or able to be a mother. I left you with his friend and ran away.” Her voice broke completely on the last phrase, and she opened her clenched hand to reveal a crumpled cloth that she used to wipe her eyes.

Brutus watched her with a peculiar sense of detachment, as if nothing she did or said could touch him. The anger had drained away and he felt almost light-headed. There was a question he had to ask, but it came easily now.

“Why didn’t you come for me while I was growing up?”

She didn’t answer for a long time, using the cloth to touch away the tears until her breathing had steadied and she was able to look at him again. She held her head with a fragile dignity.

“I did not want you to be ashamed.”

His unnatural calm gave way to the emotions sweeping him, revealed as straw in a storm.

“I might have been,” he whispered hoarsely. “I heard someone talking about you a long time ago and I tried to pretend it was a mistake, to put you out of my mind. It is true then, that you . . .”

He couldn’t say the words to her, but she straightened still further, her eyes glittering.

“That I am a whore? Perhaps. I was once, though when the men you know are powerful enough, they call you a courtesan, or even a companion.” She grimaced, her mouth twisting.

“I thought you might be ashamed of me, and I couldn’t face seeing that in my son. Do not expect me to feel that shame. I lost that too long ago to even remember. I would live my life differently if I could go back, but I don’t know anyone who hasn’t the same useless, idle dream. I will not live my life now with my head bowed in guilt every day! Even for you.”