The woman Brutus saw there was nothing like the one from the room of statues. She was as tall and slim as he was, with long dark hair that hung loose about her shoulders. Her skin glowed with sun and health and her face was not beautiful, in fact was almost ugly, but the wide mouth and dark eyes had a knowing sensuality that he thought would ensnare many men. Her hands were wide and strong on the bow, and gold bangles chimed on her wrists as she moved.

He took in every detail of her and felt pain as he recognized a touch of himself in the line of her perfect throat.

“You don’t know me,” he said quietly.

“What did you say?” she said, coming closer. “You disrupt my home and carry a blade into my rooms. I should have you whipped raw, and do not think your pretty rank will save you.”

She walked superbly, he thought. He had seen that sort of sexual confidence in a woman only once before, at the temple of Vesta, where the virgins moved with insolence in every stride, knowing it was death to any man who touched them. She had something of that and he felt himself becoming aroused, sickened by it, but not knowing how to feel like a son. Blood rushed into his face and neck and she smiled sensually, showing sharp white teeth.

“I thought you would look older,” he murmured, and a look of irritation came into her eyes.

“I look how I look. I still don’t know you.”

Brutus sheathed his sword. He wanted to say who he was and have shock break through her confidence, to see her eyes widen in amazement as she realized what an impressive young man he was.

Then it all seemed worthless. A long-suppressed memory came to him of overhearing Julius’s father talking about her, and he sighed to have it confirmed. He was in a whorehouse, no matter how rich it seemed. It didn’t really matter what she thought of him.

“My name is Marcus. I am your son,” he said, shrugging.

She froze as still as one of her statues. For a long moment she held his gaze, then her eyes filled with tears and she dropped the bow with a clatter and ran back down the corridor, slamming the door behind her with a force that shook the walls.

The guard was looking at Brutus with his mouth open.

“Is that true, sir?” he said gruffly. Brutus nodded and the man flushed with embarrassment. “We didn’t know.”

“I didn’t tell you. Look, I’m going to leave now. Is anyone waiting to put a bolt in me as I go through the door?”

The guard relaxed slightly. “No,” he said. “Me and the lad are the only guards. She doesn’t need them, as a rule.”

Brutus turned to leave and the guard spoke again.