A shadow moved in the courtyard and Cornelia raised her head to see. It could have been one of the soldiers on his rounds, she thought, then let out her held breath as the graying night revealed him. Octavian, spying on the lovers. If she called to him, the moment of privacy Clodia and Tubruk had found would be spoiled, and she hoped the boy would have the sense not to get too close.

Julius too had grown up inside the walls and once had been as fascinated by love as Octavian.

She watched in silence as Octavian crouched behind a water trough and peered at Tubruk. The couple kissed again and Tubruk reached down to the ground, his fingers searching as he chuckled again. When he had found what he wanted, Cornelia saw his arm go back and jerk forward, sending a pebble clattering toward where Octavian hid.

“Go back to bed,” Tubruk called to the boy. Cornelia smiled, turning away to take the advice herself.

*                                                      *                                                      *

“The Senate doors are opening!” Quintus said at Julius’s shoulder. Julius turned to see the magistrates returning.

“That was fast,” he said nervously to the jurist.

The old man nodded. “Fast is not good in a property case, I think,” he muttered ominously.

Julius tensed in sudden fear. Had he done enough? If the decision went against him and the judges accepted the call for a death penalty, he would be dead before the sun set. He could hear their sandals on the forum stones, as if they marked off his last moments. Julius felt sweat trickle down his side under his toga, cold against his skin.

With the rest of the court, he stood to receive the magistrates, bowing as they entered. The soldiers who had accompanied them from the Senate building took up their posts in a second line between the crowd and the court, their hands on their swords. Julius’s heart sank. If they were expecting trouble, it could be the magistrates had warned them of the verdict already.

The three judges moved to their seats with slow dignity. Julius tried to catch their eyes as they settled, desperate for some clue of what was to come. They gave nothing away and the crowd became silent as the tension grew, waiting for them.

The magistrate who had spoken throughout the proceedings rose ponderously to his feet, his expression grim.

“Hear our verdict, Rome,” he called. “We have searched for truth and speak as law.”

Julius held his breath unconsciously and the silence that surrounded them seemed almost painful after the crashing cheers and chants before.

“I find in favor of General Antonidus,” the man said, his head and neck stiff. The crowd roared in anger, then a hush fell again as the second judge rose.