His eyes closed in grief. “You cannot . . . ask me for that,” he said, unable to meet her eyes. As he spoke, she broke his grip and stood apart from him and though his arms ached to hold her again, he could not. Her voice was harsh and loud, filling the room.

“Then don’t preach to me about how much you care for us, Julius. Don’t ever say that again. Your precious city keeps us in danger and you wrap yourself in lies of duty and love.” Tears of anger spilled from her red eyes once again, and she flung open the door, shoving roughly past the soldiers of Primigenia who kept station on the other side. Their faces were pale at what they had heard, but both men kept their gaze fastened on the floor as they followed Cornelia at a distance, fearful of provoking her any further.

In moments, Julius was left alone in the room and he sank numbly onto a couch. It was the third time they had argued in the three days since the trial, and the worst. He had come home full of the excitement of his triumph, and as he told her, it had somehow brought her feelings to a head, making her speak with an anger he had never seen before. He hoped Clodia was on hand. Only the old nurse seemed to be able to calm her. Anything he said made it worse.

Glumly, he thought back over the argument. She didn’t understand the work he had undertaken in the city, and he clenched his fists in sudden irritation at himself. She was right: he had wealth enough to take them all away. The estate could be sold to his avaricious neighbors, and he could leave the struggles of the Senate and the dominions to others. Tubruk could retire and it would be as if the family of Caesar had never played a part in the greatest city.

A memory flashed into his mind of Tubruk pressing his fingers deep into the black earth of the fields when Julius was a little boy. Julius was of the land and could never leave it, though hurting Cornelia shamed him. She would see, when his enemies were broken, that this was simply a passing grief, and they would be able to watch their daughter grow in peace, in the arms of Rome. If Cornelia could only endure for the present, he would make it up to her in time. At last he shrugged off the dark lethargy that plagued him and stood. It was approaching noon, and with a Senate meeting scheduled for the early evening, he would have to be quick to complete his business with the house of Suetonius before making his way to the city.