Pompey ruffled the hair of his son affectionately. His voice rose to its previous volume as he went back inside the house, calling fresh orders to the guards and staff. After a while, he was gone and the house began to settle back to its usual sleepy quiet.

“Are you going to have a baby?” her son asked in his high voice, holding out his hands to be picked up.

Julia smiled, thinking how Brutus would react when she told him. “I am, darling.”

Her eyes were cold in the weak sunlight. She had made her choice. Knowing Brutus was ready to betray Pompey had proved a heavy burden since he had confided in her. Part of her felt pain at her own betrayal, but between her father and her lover, there was no loyalty left for Pompey.

“Sir, there really is very little time,” Suetonius said.

Cicero followed his gaze over the balcony of the meeting hall and his lips tightened. “Unless you would have me drag the great and good of Rome by the scruff of their necks, there’s little else to do but wait,” he said.

The previous hour had seen Suetonius’s manner change from breezy confidence to indignation at the lack of progress. He watched as yet another group of slaves came in to add to the general confusion. It astonished him how many crates and packages were involved in moving the Senate, and he could imagine Pompey’s growing impatience.

Below the pair, another argument erupted.

“I should go down there,” Suetonius said reluctantly.

Cicero considered letting him try. It would be amusing at the very least and he had little liking for the senator. Maturity had not brought him wisdom, Cicero decided, looking him over. Yet he was a link to the military machine under Pompey and must be cultivated if the Senate was to maintain any influence during the campaign. The gods knew they needed every advantage they could gather.

“They are in no mood to take orders, Suetonius, even if Pompey himself were here. Better to wait it out.”

They peered over the balcony again, looking for some sign that the chaos was lessening. Hundreds of slaves bore papers and materials in a snake of men that seemed to have no end. Suetonius tightened his grip on the railing, unable to hide his irritation.

“Perhaps you could explain the urgency to them, sir,” he said at last.

Cicero laughed aloud. “Urgency? Pompey has made it plain enough that we are nothing but baggage ourselves. What does he care if baggage take baggage with them?”

In his frustration, Suetonius spoke with less than his usual care. “Perhaps it would be better to have them stay. What use would they be on a battlefield?”