Like the Senate themselves, Julia had no real role to play in the months of waiting for Caesar to build a fleet and cross. Brutus had seen her on the arm of her husband in the first few weeks after their arrival, but as the work had increased for Pompey, she had been left to her own devices. It had been a strange thing to be introduced to her in Pompey’s offices, so far from Julius’s estate. On that first meeting, Brutus had only managed a few polite words, but he thought he had caught a sparkle beneath her formality. Pompey’s slaves had painted and clothed her in jewels exactly as she had once predicted. For Brutus, the mixture of cold reserve and heavy perfume was deeply exciting, a warning and a challenge.

When he had first seen the garden where she sheltered from the heat of the afternoon, he had noted the entrances almost idly. He knew Pompey remained at the temple until evening and then went on to one of his dull meetings with the senators. Apart from a few personal slaves, his wife was often left practically alone.

Brutus guessed Pompey would have soldiers somewhere near her, but as he looked through the gate to the cool inner courtyard, no one else was visible. His heart beat faster at the danger of it. Pompey knew he had met Julia before through her father. It would not take a great deal for him to become suspicious of something more than a casual acquaintance.

Perhaps it was the fact that he had been denied his orders to lead a legion, or simply the irritation at the constant mistrust and distance that Pompey imposed. Either way, Brutus felt a thrill of pleasure despite the appalling risk.

“Are you well, Julia?” he called softly through the ornate bars.

He saw her stiffen and she looked round, the image of Julius’s first wife, Cornelia. She was a beautiful woman and the sight of her brought back memories of their single night together with surprising force. There had been little blood, he remembered, though enough perhaps to bind her to him.

She stood and came to the gate, her face flushed. “What are you doing here?” she demanded. “My husband—”

“Is discussing his dreary plans with Labienus, as always, Julia, as I’m sure you know. Why he leaves a woman like you alone on such a beautiful day, I cannot understand.”

He heard the high voice of a child sing tunelessly in the background.

“Your son? Who else is with you here?”

“You must not talk to me, Brutus!” she said, looking around nervously. “He has guards within call and there are always slaves here. This is not private.”

A little boy tottered out of the house and Brutus winked at him. The child beamed.

“He is very handsome, that one. Look at the size of his hands. He will be a great swordsman.”