His wife stepped forward and lifted a circlet of green oak leaves. Julius unfroze and, when Gaditicus nodded at him, removed his helmet to accept it. He blushed and suddenly the men cheered, though whether it was at the honor to one of their own or the food to come, he wasn’t sure.

“Thank you, I-I . . .” he stammered.

Paulus’s wife put her hand on his own and Julius could see where face paint covered dark circles of worry under her eyes.

“You brought him back to me.”

Gaditicus barked out the orders to remove helmets and follow the governor to where his staff were setting up the meal. He held Julius back for a moment, and when it was quiet, he asked to see the circlet. Julius handed it to him quickly, trying not to shout out loud with the excitement he felt.

Gaditicus turned the band of dark leaves over in his hands. “Do you deserve it?” he asked quietly.

Julius hesitated. He knew he had risked his life and rushed two men on his own down in the lowest room of the fort, but it was a prize he had not expected.

“Not more than a lot of the men, sir,” he replied.

Gaditicus looked closely at him, then nodded, satisfied. “That’s a good line, though I will say I was pleased to see you when you flanked the bastards last night.” He grinned at Julius’s rapidly changing expressions, from delight to embarrassment.

“Will you wear it under your helmet, or perched on top?”

Julius felt flustered. “I . . . I hadn’t thought. I suppose I will leave it on the ship if there’s action.”

“Are you sure, now? Pirates will run scared of a man with leaves on his head, perhaps?”

Julius flushed again and Gaditicus laughed, clapping him on the shoulder.

“I’m only teasing you, lad. It is a rare honor. I’ll have to promote you, of course. I can’t have a lowly watch officer with an honor wreath. I will give you a twenty to command.”

“Thank you, sir,” Julius replied, his spirits lifting even further.

Gaditicus rubbed the leaves between his fingers thoughtfully. “You will have to wear this in the city sometime. It will be expected of you, at least once.”

“Why, sir? I don’t know the ritual.”

“It’s what I would do, anyway. The laws of Rome, lad. If you walk into a public event with an honor wreath, everyone must stand. Everyone, even the Senate.”

The centurion chuckled to himself. “What a sight that would be. Come in when you’re settled. I’ll make sure they keep some wine for you. It looks like you could do with a drink.”

CHAPTER 3

In the gray evening light, Brutus scrambled down the side of the building, tearing most of the climbing roses with him. His foot caught in a loop of thorns at the bottom, and he fell flat, his sword skidding over the cobbles with a clatter. Wincing, he freed himself before struggling to his feet. He could hear another roar of anger above his head as Livia’s father approached the window and glared down at the intruder. Brutus looked up at him as he tugged at his bracae, yelping as the cloth snagged on a thorn deep in his thigh.