The response was fast and the clash of swords went on and on until the breath came hard from Brutus’s lungs. There was no weakness in his defense and Octavian could batter all day before he found a way through. The younger man sensed his confidence and backed to the edge of the circle.

“You’re a bag of old wind,” Octavian said. “A liar, a traitor, a coward.”

His eyes glittered as he waited for the attack, but Brutus only laughed, confusing him.

“Ask him when he returns, then, boy. Ask him what he thinks about your beloved Republic. He told me . . .” They met again and Brutus cut a stripe down Octavian’s leg. The blood ran like water and he continued cheerfully, knowing weakness would follow. “He told me the Senate’s day was over, but perhaps he will lie to you, to spare your tender pride.”

They circled more slowly and Brutus did not force the pace.

“What did you think, that we were fighting for the Republic?” Brutus asked mockingly. “Maybe once, when we were all young, but he has a queen now and she carries his son.”

“You liar!” Octavian roared, leaping in.

His leg felt like it was on fire, but even through the pain he knew that Brutus was letting him tire himself. A poor stroke let Brutus gash his left hand before he could jerk it back. He clenched the fist in reflex and blood dripped between his knuckles.

“I wonder if I wasn’t on the right side at Pharsalus, after all,” Brutus said, switching gaits and leaving Octavian to stumble. He looked dazed, though whether it was the words or the wounds, Brutus did not know.

“Don’t pretend to be dying, boy. I’ve seen that trick a few times before,” he jeered.

Octavian straightened subtly and his sword lashed out in a perfect lunge that Brutus missed. It jolted against his shoulder plate, snapping the leather ties. Brutus swore, before yanking it loose with his free hand and tossing it away.

“That beautiful girl is carrying a son. Now, why would that make you angry?” Brutus paused, breaking the rhythm. “It can’t be that you expected to inherit? Mind you, why not? He’s bald and ancient compared to you. Why would you not look forward to sitting in his place one day? Gods, it must eat at you to know it won’t happen. When his son is born, how much time do you think he’ll find for a distant relative?”

His laughter was cruel, and against the cry of his instinct Octavian was stung again into an attack. Brutus swayed out of its path and crashed another blow into the same cheek, splitting it.

“You look a proper butcher’s shop, did you know?” Brutus said. “You’re getting slower every moment.”