Julius glanced at him in puzzlement. “My blood is joined in her. Egypt and I are already one. Rome will come with me.” He gestured toward the window with his cup, feeling the wine heat his thoughts. “The years ahead are golden, Octavian. I have seen them.”

“Welcome back, sir,” Brutus said.

Julius paced up and down the hall of the palace, wincing at every cry from Cleopatra’s lips. His son was coming into the world and he could hardly remember being more nervous. Her courtiers had come to wake him in his quarters and he had dressed hurriedly in a toga and sandals, calling for Brutus to attend him.

The two men had come barreling into the meeting hall only to be told that the queen’s privacy was not to be interrupted. To Julius’s irritation, the door to her chambers was guarded by her own men and he had been left to pace and fret, his empty stomach growling hungrily as the hours wore on. Messengers came and went at the run, carrying steaming pails of water and piles of white linen. Julius could hear the voices of women inside and at intervals Cleopatra cried out in pain. He clenched his fists in frustration and barely noticed the warm tisane that Brutus pressed into his hands.

At dawn, Sosigenes came out, snapping orders for more cloths to a waiting slave. The astrologer was flushed and busy, but a glance at Julius’s face brought him up short.

“Your son is coming, Caesar. It is a great omen that he is to be born in the first light of day,” Sosigenes said.

Julius gripped his arm. “Is she well? The birth, is it all right?”

Sosigenes smiled and nodded his head. “You should rest, Consul. You will be called in soon enough. My queen is young and strong, as her mother was. Rest.”

He returned the grip on his arm with a brief pressure of his hand, then he walked past the guards. A long scream could be heard then, which made Julius groan.

“By the gods, I can’t bear it,” he said.

“Were you like this when Julia was born?” Brutus asked him.

Julius shook his head. “I don’t remember. No, I wasn’t, I think. But I am older now. If the child dies, how many other chances will I have?”

“What will he be called then, this son of yours?” Brutus asked, in part to take Julius’s mind off the chanting they could hear within. He had no idea what strange rituals were being enacted and it showed the depth of Julius’s agitation that he had hardly noticed them.

The question seemed to calm Julius a little. “His name will be Ptolemy Caesarion,” he said, with pride. “Two houses joined.”

“You will show him in the forum,” Brutus prompted.