He cleared his throat, trying to summon his dignity. “You have your orders, gentlemen. Remember that you must not engage the enemy unless you have to. We find the king and get straight back here before they can muster enough of a force to slow us. You’ll hear the retreat horn blown when Ptolemy is captured, and when you do, get out as fast as you can. If you are separated, come here. Understood?”

A chorus of assenting murmurs answered him and he nodded, heaving open the door to the moonlit garden.

“Then follow me, gentlemen,” he said, responding at last to their bright eyes and smothered laughter with a grin. “Follow me.”

They drew their swords and rose to their feet, moving out into the darkness. It took a long time for the last of them to pass through from the furthest reaches of the palace. Only one cohort remained behind as Brutus closed the doors, plunging them all into a deeper dark. He turned to them and hesitated in the presence of the queen who stood like a scented statue, watching him.

“Block the windows and entrances,” he ordered, his voice sounding harsh after the echoing silence. “Use grain sacks and anything else you can lift—the heavier the better.”

The single cohort moved quickly into action, its six centurions snapping out orders until the least of them had work. The entrance hall emptied, leaving Brutus standing uncomfortably with the Egyptian queen.

Her voice came from the shadows. “The general in silver armor . . .”

His eyes adjusted to see the moon outline her bare shoulders in a faint glimmer. He shivered. “I am, mistress. Or should I call you Goddess?” He could feel her gaze like a weight.

“August Majesty is one title, though I carry the goddess in me. Does the idea offend you, Roman?”

Brutus shrugged. “I have seen a lot of foreign lands. I’ve seen people who paint their skins blue. There isn’t much that can surprise me now.”

“You must have been with Caesar for many years,” she said.

He looked away, suddenly unnerved. Would Julius have spoken of him? “More than I care to tell you,” he said.

“How were you injured? In his service?”

He snorted to himself then, growing irritated with the stream of questions. “I was injured in battle, Majesty. I think you may have already heard the details.”

He raised his splinted arm, as if to have it inspected. In response, she came closer. She reached out and, despite himself, he shivered again at her cool touch. She wore a heavy ring of gold with a carved ruby. In the gloom it was as black as the night sky.

“You are the one who betrayed him,” she said in fascination. “Tell me, why did he let you live?”