“You were the one who warned me first that I would want a son, Servilia,” he reminded.

She snorted. “I know that, but I also know the part men think with. You are not a breeding bull, Julius, for all your boasting. Oh yes, I’ve heard your drunken soldiers talk about your stamina. What a joy it was to hear how many times you plowed her in a single night.”

Julius whooped with laughter. “You cannot hold me responsible for my soldiers!” he said. “You should know better than to listen to such things.” He took her by the shoulders, his amusement obvious. “I am here; does that tell you nothing? Pompeia will be mother to my children, that is all. I will not tell you there is no pleasure in fathering them. The girl is extremely well-proportioned—”

Servilia pushed him away.

“I have seen her,” she said. “Pompeia is beautiful. She is also witless, which I suspect you missed while you were gazing at her breasts.”

“I wanted health and strength, Servilia. As the breeding bull, I will provide the wit for my children.”

“You are a goat, at least,” she said, and he laughed again.

“A goat who is consul for the second time, Servilia. A goat who will rule.”

His humor was infectious and she could not resist him. Gently, she slapped his face to interrupt his mood.

“All men are fools around women, Julius. If you leave her out in that estate for too long without you, there will be trouble.”

“Nonsense, she will pine for me. After a touch of Caesar in the night, all women—”

She slapped him again, with a little more force. “You chose for beauty and children, but keep a close eye on that one. She is far too pretty to be left alone.”

“I will keep her away from the young men of Rome, of course. Now, enough of this, Servilia. As consul, I demand food and the best wine from the cellar. I have to go to Ostia later to see the new keels and I’m up at dawn tomorrow to take the auspices with Mark Antony. It will be a good year for Rome, I can feel it. There will be lightning tomorrow as the earnest priests look for signs.”

Servilia sighed. “And if there isn’t?”

“Domitius will come and report he has seen some. That has always worked in the past. The priests won’t argue. We will have a year of good fortune, regardless.”

He stepped away from her and she ached to be held as strongly again. For all his laughing dismissal of his new wife, he had not shared Servilia’s bed for some weeks and the last time was almost a requiem for the closeness she remembered. There had been little hunger in him then; not for her. She swallowed her pride in his presence, but the marriage had hurt.