He opened his mouth again to speak the words he wanted to say, but could not begin them. There was no guile in the dark eyes that looked so steadily into his. He had not been able to believe it at first, but somehow he had been forgiven. He felt his heart race in his chest until sparks fired on the edges of his vision. He knew the fever was still in him and he wanted to lie back into the darkness. He could not face Julius and he looked away.

“Why didn’t you kill me?” he whispered.

“Because you are my oldest friend,” Julius replied, leaning closer. “How many times have you saved my life over the years? Do you think I could take yours? I can’t.”

Brutus shook his head, unable to comprehend. In the night, he had thought the shame would kill him and there had been moments when he had wanted the knife he had thrown away.

“The men think you should,” he said, thinking of the dark figures and the tainted food.

“They don’t understand,” Julius said and Brutus hated him for his mercy. Every citizen of Rome would hear how Julius had spared the friend who had betrayed him. Brutus could imagine the heart-wrenching verses the poets would write, until it was all he could do not to spit.

He showed Julius nothing of his thoughts as he looked up at him. This was a new world after Pharsalus, and he had been reborn. Perhaps a new beginning was possible for him. He had imagined casting off the dead skin of the past and finding his place as Julius’s friend once more. But not his equal. That had been denied forever by the sickening nobility of his pardon. His life had been given by Julius’s hand and he did not know if he could bear to go on.

Despite himself, he clenched his teeth and groaned, overwhelmed by pounding emotions. As if from a distance, he felt Julius’s hand rest on his forehead.

“Steady there, you’re still weak,” he heard Julius say.

Tears shone in Brutus’s eyes as he wrestled with despair. He wanted desperately to have the last two years back, or to be able to accept what had happened. He could not bear it. He could not.

He closed his eyes tightly against the sight of the man sitting by his side. When he opened them after an interval, Julius had gone and he was left with the accusing glares of the wounded soldiers. Their fascination prevented him sobbing out his hatred and his love.

Chapter 22

CHAPTER 22