“Not yet it isn’t, sir,” Julius replied. “There’s a lot of fighting above and we have to get back to it. I suggest we find you somewhere safe to wait it out. You don’t look quite up to joining in.”

In fact the man looked bloodless, his skin slack and gray. He was about fifty years old, with heavy shoulders and a sagging stomach. He might once have been a warrior, Julius judged, but time and soft living had taken his strength, at least of the body.

The governor stood straighter, the effort of will obvious. “I’ll go with you as far as I can. My hands are smashed, so I can’t fight, but I want to get out of this stinking pest-hole, at least.”

Julius nodded quickly, signaling to two of the men. “Take his arms, gently, carry him if you have to. We have to get back to help Gaditicus.”

With that, Julius was clattering up the steps, his mind already on the battle above.

“Come on, sir. Lean on my shoulder,” said one of the last pair as he took the weight. The governor cried out as his broken hands moved, then gritted his teeth against the pain.

“Get me out quickly,” he ordered curtly. “Who was the officer who freed me?”

“That was Caesar, sir,” the soldier replied as they began the slow trip. By the end of the first flight of stairs, the pain had forced the governor into unconsciousness and they were able to go much faster.

CHAPTER 2

Sulla smiled and drank deeply from a silver goblet. His cheeks were flushed with the effects of the wine, and his eyes frightened Cornelia as she sat on the couch he had provided.

His men had collected her in the heat of the afternoon, when she felt the heaviness of her pregnancy most painfully. She tried to hide her discomfort and fear of the Dictator of Rome, but her hands shook slightly on the lip of the glass of cool white wine he had offered her. She sipped sparingly to please him, wanting nothing more than to be out of his gilded chambers and back in the safety of her own home.

His eyes watched her every move and she could not hold the gaze as the silence stretched between them.

“Are you comfortable?” he asked, and there was a slurred edge to his words that sent a thrill of panic coursing through her.

Be calm, she told herself. The child will feel your fear. Think of Julius. He would want you to be strong.

When she spoke, her voice was almost steady.

“Your men have thought of everything. They were very courteous to me, though they did not say why you desired my presence.”

“Desired? What a strange choice of word,” he replied softly. “Most men would never use the word for a woman, what, weeks from giving birth?”

Cornelia looked at him blankly and he emptied his cup, smacking his lips together with pleasure. He rose from his seat without warning, turning his back to her as he refilled his cup from an amphora, letting the stopper fall and roll on the marble floor unheeded.