Brutus shrugged. “They’re on the legion rolls, don’t forget, but the barracks are actually outside the walls on the north side, near the Quirinal gate. I have one of the best training grounds in Rome, and Renius as sword master. You should see it.”

“You’ve done so much, Brutus,” Julius said, gripping his shoulder. “Rome will not be the same now we’re back. I’ll bring my men to you as soon as I’m sure Antonidus won’t try again.”

Brutus held the arm, his enthusiasm spilling over. “We do need your men. Primigenia has to grow. I won’t rest until it’s back to the old strength. Marius—”

“No, Brutus.” Julius dropped his arm. “You have misunderstood me. My men are sworn to me alone. They cannot be under your command.” He didn’t want to be hard on his friend, but it was better to be clear from the start.

“What?” Brutus replied, surprised. “Look, they aren’t part of any legion and Primigenia has less than a thousand men. All you have to do—”

Julius shook his head firmly. “I will help you with recruiting, as I promised, but not with these. I’m sorry.”

Brutus looked at him in disbelief. “But I am rebuilding Primigenia for you. I would be your sword in Rome, remember?”

“I remember,” Julius replied, taking his arm again. “Your friendship means more to me than anything except for the lives of my wife and daughter. Your blood is in my veins, do you remember that? Mine is in yours.” He paused and gripped the held arm tightly. “These men are my Wolves. They cannot be under your command. Let this go.”

Brutus pulled his arm away with a jerk, his face hardening. “All right. You keep your Wolves while I struggle for every new recruit. I will return to my barracks and my own men. See me there when you want to bring your soldiers in. Perhaps we can discuss the fees for their lodging then.”

He turned away and twisted the key in the gate to open it.

“Marcus!” Julius called to his back.

Brutus froze for a moment, then opened the gate and walked away, leaving it swinging behind him.

*                                                      *                                                      *

Even in the company of his two remaining guards, Antonidus kept his hand on the dagger in his belt as he made his way through the dark alleys. Narrow as they were, at night there were too many places for the raptores to lie in wait for him to relax. He breathed through his mouth as he walked, trying to ignore the pools of foul water that had ruined his sandals in the first few steps away from the main streets. One of his men stifled a curse as his foot skidded through a heap that was fresh enough not to be completely cold.