The echoing Senate house was subtly different from the one Julius remembered. The sheath of creamy marble on the walls showed the attempt to re-create the old Curia, but it was not the chamber where he had seen Marius and Sulla argue, or heard Cato’s voice dominate the discussion. Though he had not thought the loss could touch him, there was a dull pain somewhere deep. All the foundations of his life were being removed and part of him would always want to go back.

He tried to stifle his thoughts as the men with him took seats on the benches. Marius would have berated him for that sort of weakness. The past was comforting because it was safe. It was also dead and gone; there were no mysteries to be found there. Facing the future, with all its uncertainty, took courage and strength. He inhaled deeply of the air in the chamber, smelling the oiled wood and clean plaster.

“Fetch Adàn for me, Ciro. I will need a record of my orders,” he said.

Ciro rose quickly and disappeared out into the sun. Julius looked at the others and smiled. Octavian, Mark Antony, Brutus, and Domitius. They were men he could trust. Men with whom he could begin an empire. Though the future had its fears, it was the place for dreams. He hardly dared think where his path could take him by the end.

“So, gentlemen, it was worth crossing the Rubicon, at least so far. It is a good place to start.”

Adàn came in and took a seat as he gathered his writing materials. He could not resist glancing around the chamber. For him, it was a place of legend, having never known the other. His eyes shone.

“We must find barracks and homes for our men inside the city before tonight,” Julius continued, once Adàn was settled. “Ciro, that is your task. Domitius, I want every drop of wine the city has to offer to be distributed freely. Get the best price you can, but I want the whole of Rome drunk by midnight. Spread the first taste of our gold into their pouches and tell them I want parties in every street and great house, open to all. Torches on the walls and crossroads. We’ll light the city from one end to the other—buy oil and use the Tenth to keep order for tonight, the Third for tomorrow. We must have some sober soldiers to keep the peace.

“Octavian, you will send a century of the extraordinarii to Ostia, to make certain Pompey has left. We’ve no reason to doubt our informants, but the old fox has been cunning before.”

He paused to think and Mark Antony cleared his throat. “What about the senators who did not go to Greece?”