“Who calls on my house?” Julius said, looking Cato in the eye below. The man stared back impassively, content to wait through the formalities. He would know better than anyone what turmoil was going on in Julius’s mind. A senator could not be refused.

A soldier at Cato’s side spoke loudly enough for his voice to carry into the house. “Senator Cato desires entrance on a private matter. Dismiss your men and open this gate.”

Julius did not reply, instead descending into the yard and conferring quickly with Brutus and Tubruk. The defenders on the walls were brought down and sent into the buildings to await a call to arms. The others were given tasks that allowed them to remain close. It was farcical to see armed men taking horses from the stable and grooming them in the open, but Julius was not in the mood for risk and as he opened the gate himself, he wondered if blood would be spilled in the next hour.

Cato passed through the gate, smiling slightly as he saw the numbers of armed men in the area.

“Expecting a war, Caesar?” he said.

“A legion must drill, Senator. I would not like to be caught unprepared,” Julius replied. He frowned as Cato’s men entered behind their master. He had to allow it, but he thanked his house gods for his foresight in bringing so many of Primigenia out of the city barracks. Cato’s men would be dead in seconds if he gave the order. Their faces showed they understood this as well as anyone as their horses were led away, leaving them exposed in the open courtyard.

Cato looked at him. “Are you now the general of Primigenia, then? I do not recall an application having been made at the Senate house.” His voice was light and without threat, but Julius stiffened, knowing he had to watch every word.

“It has yet to be made official, but I speak for them,” he replied. Courtesy demanded he offer the senator a seat and refreshment after his journey, but he could not bring himself to utter the fictions of politeness, even knowing Cato would take it as a small triumph.

Renius and Brutus moved to Julius’s side and Cato looked from one to the other, seemingly unaffected by the men he faced.

“Very well, Julius. I will speak to you of my son,” Cato said. “I have offered gold for him and had it refused. I have come tonight to ask what you do want for him.”

He raised his head and Julius saw his deep-set eyes were bright. He wondered if this man had ordered the killing of Pompey’s daughter. Would the risk be lessened from him if he handed Germinius back to his father? Or would it be seen as a weakness that Cato would use to scatter his house in ashes?

“He has taken oath, Senator. There—”