Brutus felt irritated by the legionary’s calm. Something about the almost hypnotic stretching nettled him.

“Right. Cabera? Go to the quartermaster and tell him I’ll let the bet ride for one more bout with Domitius here.”

“I don’t think . . .” Cabera began, looking doubtfully toward the newcomer. Domitius was almost a head taller than Brutus and moved with control and an ease of balance that was rare.

“Just tell him. One more and I’m coming to collect.”

Cabera grimaced and trotted away.

Domitius rose as if he were uncoiling and smiled at Brutus. “That’s what I was waiting for,” he said. “My friends have lost a lot of money betting against you.”

“And that didn’t tell you something? Let’s get on with it, then,” Brutus said curtly.

Domitius sighed. “You short men are always so impatient,” he said, shaking his head.

*                                                      *                                                      *

Octavian wiped his nose along his arm, leaving a silvery trail on the skin. At first the city had seemed a different place. It had been easy enough to slip past the gate guards, using a cart as cover, but once inside, the noise and smells and sheer hurry of the crowds were disconcerting. He realized the months on the estate had made him forget the energy of the city, even at night.

He hoped Tubruk was worried about him. In a day or two, Octavian thought, he would be welcomed back with open arms. Especially if he could persuade Tabbic to grind the blade back to a good edge. All he had to do was stay out of trouble until morning, when the little shop opened. The blade was wrapped in a horse cloth and held under his arm. He wouldn’t have got far with it otherwise, he was sure. Some public-spirited citizen was sure to stop him, or, worse, a thief could snatch it for the money it would bring at one of the cheaper shops than Tabbic’s.

Almost unconsciously, Octavian let his footsteps take him in the direction of his mother’s house. If only he could spend the night there, he would see Tabbic and be back in the estate in a day or two with Tubruk pleased with him again. He thought of her likely reaction at seeing him and winced. The sword would be discovered and she would think he had stolen it. For a mother, she was not very trusting, he admitted sadly to himself. She never believed him, even when he was telling the truth, which was always infuriating.

Perhaps he should try to signal Alexandria, get her out to see him without disturbing the rest of the house. She might understand better than his mother what he had to do.