Regulus swore under his breath as the horse clattered by out of reach. He looked up at the Senate building and was caught between ordering his men to stop Brutus and finding out what had happened. He had nothing solid to support the feeling of dread that had stolen his peaceful mood. The moment of indecision passed with torturous slowness and Regulus found himself marching up the steps.

He heard their calm voices before he saw the generals of Gaul, and Regulus shook his head in confusion. His mind had filled with violent images, but there was Adàn with his tablets and Ciro rising slowly with a questioning gaze.

“What is it?” Julius said.

Regulus hesitated, unwilling to voice what seemed like childish fears. What had he been thinking to allow such flights of fancy? “I . . . saw Brutus leave, sir. I thought there might be further orders.”

A subtle tension went out of the men as he spoke, and Regulus saw Mark Antony too showed strain on his patrician features.

“Join us, Regulus,” Julius said. “Have one of your men keep order in the forum. You know Pompey as well as anyone and I want you to be part of the planning.”

Regulus felt a weight lift. He had been mistaken and chose not to mention his moment of superstitious fear. Yet as he seated himself he recalled the wildness in Brutus’s eyes and decided to seek him out before the day was over. Regulus did not enjoy mysteries, and he had never been a trusting man. With the decision made, he was able to turn to the business of the meeting, and the incident slipped from his conscious thought.

Servilia’s house had hardly changed in the time Brutus had been away from the city. The three-story building was clean and well kept, with a single torch burning over the doorway at all hours of the day and night.

He paid a boy to look after his horse and walked into the main hall, removing his helmet and running a hand through sweat-soaked hair. He stood awkwardly as he announced himself, detached from the empty faces around him. He felt like a spectator in a play, hearing his own breath more loudly than the words of the servants.

She came out in a rush when she heard his name, and he embraced her awkwardly, feeling her stiffen on the instant she came into contact. Her smile vanished.

“What is it? Is there fighting?” she said.

He shook his head and, without warning, tears threatened to humiliate him. “No. The city is cheering him in the forum. Julius is in the Senate building.”

“Then what is it? You’re so pale! Come inside, Brutus, and tell me.”