“You know them better than that,” Brutus replied. “We’ve had to punish two more for looting the temples already. I’ll have to take them out into the desert after the first weeks, or anything that can be lifted will vanish from Alexandria. As it is, the markets in Rome will be glutted with artefacts when we return.”

Julius chuckled, and Brutus smiled. The darkest moments of the past seemed to have been forgotten between them, and his strength was returning. By the time the sun rose each day, Brutus had completed an hour of heavy sword practice with Domitius. He had lost some of the speed that had won tournaments, but he was no longer weak. He had not told Julius of a centurion who had sneered at him the day before. Brutus had taken him out to the training yard and beaten the man almost to death.

Perhaps Julius knew, Brutus thought, looking at him.

“Octavian is furious with my return to rank,” Brutus said. “Or because of your pleasure cruise on the Nile. It is difficult to be sure which has annoyed him more.”

Julius shook his head, exasperated. “He wants me to spend my final years in sleepy Senate debates.” He snorted. “I suppose we seem ancient to the younger ones, fit for nothing more than patting each other on the back for past glories.”

Brutus glanced at the alert, trim figure of his general, burnt a dark brown. If anything, Julius had been invigorated by the months in Egypt, no small part of it due to the prospect of peace at last. He and Brutus had suffered decades of war and privation. Perhaps the prize was simply an end to striving. Brutus could not imagine him contemplating cruises if Pompey still lived or Sulla threatened his city.

Brutus could not love the man who had pardoned him at Pharsalus, though when Julius had given him command in Alexandria, he felt a brief, uncluttered joy.

He sighed inwardly. Rome seemed far away, but he knew he should think of the future. There were years ahead to forget the shame of his defection to Pompey. Julius had trusted him with authority and the message would not be lost on the legions. It was time to rebuild a career that should have ended at Pharsalus. After all, Rome had been built by men who had survived defeat.

Brutus looked steadily at Julius, missing the old friendship. There were precious moments when he thought they shared an understanding impossible to voice. Yet without warning, he could feel an old jealousy and a destructive pride. With time, perhaps that too would ease.

“This is an old land,” Julius said suddenly, interrupting Brutus’s thoughts. “It could be a second Rome, a twin capital of an empire. I’m not too old to dream of that. I know there is work ahead, but for a little while I want to forget it all and see the Nile with my queen.”