“You mock me in my own city, Consul. Do you think I will not respond? The army has been summoned. The city is filling with soldiers crying out in rage at what you have dared. If you do not return the king, they will sweep your small force away in the flood. Understand that I do not lie.”

“The boy will not survive an attack on this place,” Julius told them. “You will be killing him if I see a single sword drawn in anger. I suggest you do your best to keep the peace.”

“You cannot hold him here forever,” Panek replied. “How long do you think your food will last? Your water?”

“We have enough,” Julius said, shrugging. “Perhaps you are right. We should not be threatening each other. Instead, you can begin by telling me how much you value his life. What can you offer me for your king?”

The three men conferred in their own language for a few moments and then Panek spoke again, his anger rigidly controlled.

“Trade deals could be arranged between Roman ports and the Egyptian interior. I can arrange to have your merchants given first access to our goods.”

“Excellent,” Julius said, signaling that wine should be brought for the men. “I believe the negotiations have begun.”

It took thirty days of argument and discussion to reach a final agreement. Neither Julius nor Panek attended every hour of the meetings, instead sending subordinates to make offers and counteroffers. It could not have worked without Cleopatra’s influence, but she seemed to know exactly how far the delegation of courtiers could be pushed in each area.

She did not attend the negotiations herself, instead spending her days with her younger brother, who had been given the run of the palace. It was strange to see the pair of them walking the halls, deep in discussion, and stranger still for Julius to consider their relationship. She was his elder sister and a mature wife used to the intrigues of the court. He listened to her as to no one else and his angry outbursts had not been repeated.

At night, she told Julius how much her brother had hated the stifling life of court. It seemed his smallest request would have to be approved by Panek, and Ptolemy had admitted his hatred for the man. In a sense, he had been confined far more thoroughly before Julius stole him away. Panek spoke with the voice of the king, and the army would obey his every order.

“But your brother is the king, by the gods!” Julius had exclaimed, when she told him. “Why couldn’t he just have Panek taken out and beaten?”