The top was an uneven space, lit almost white in the moonlight. Julius raised his head and then pulled himself into a sudden crouch, horror flooding through him.

There was someone else there, only feet away from them. Two figures sat watching as Julius’s hands scrabbled for where his sword usually hung, almost cursing aloud as he remembered leaving it below.

“Looks like you two had the same idea we had,” a deep voice chuckled.

Brutus swore and rose fully, caught in sudden fear as Julius had been. The voice spoke in Latin, but any thoughts that it might have belonged to one of their own were quickly dispelled.

“You won’t have managed that climb with swords, lads, but I brought a dagger along and when you’re this high and barefoot, it’s a good idea to keep peaceful. Move slowly over here and don’t make me nervous.”

Brutus and Julius looked at each other. There was no way to retreat. The two figures rose and faced them, seeming to fill the tiny space. They too were barefoot and wore only tunics and leggings. One of them waved his dagger at them.

“I guess this makes me king for the night, lads. I see by your clothes that you’re Romans. Come to see the view, eh?”

“Let’s kill them,” his companion said.

Brutus looked him over with a sinking feeling. The man was as powerfully built as a wrestler and the moonlight revealed an expression without mercy. The best he could hope for was to carry the man over the edge with him, which wasn’t a thought that gave him any comfort. He edged away from the drop at his back.

The other man placed a hand on his friend’s chest, holding him still.

“No need for that, Crix. There’ll be time enough at the battle tomorrow. We can all shed each other’s blood then, roaring and threatening as the mood takes us.”

The wrestler subsided with a grunt and turned his back on the two Romans. He was almost close enough to touch, but something about the man’s alert stance warned Brutus he was expecting it. Possibly he was hoping they would try.

“Are you armed?” the first man said pleasantly, gesturing them closer. When they didn’t move, he inched closer to Julius with the dagger held ready. Behind him, the shorter man had turned back and was glaring at the young men, daring them to try something.

Julius allowed himself to be patted down and then stood aside as Brutus too was checked for hidden blades. The man was careful and his own shoulders looked powerful enough to give him an edge even without the dagger.

“Good lads,” he said when he was sure they were helpless. “It’s only because I am a dangerous old sod that I carried one myself. Will you be fighting tomorrow?”