It was strange to be in the Curia without a single senator on the benches. Filling the seats with the officers of his legions had given an air of a military court and Julius wished the real Senate could see the efficiency of these men. There had been no wasted, pompous speeches throughout the long hours of darkness: there was too much real work to do.

Despite the freedoms of the festival, they had heard little to disturb the long watches of the night. In a breach of tradition, Julius had posted soldiers on the Senate house steps to prevent any of the more foolhardy women from coming close enough to interfere. It seemed to have worked, but the dawn light still brought a few smiles to the chamber as it signaled an end to the Bona Dea and the chance to get to bed at last.

Julius looked proudly round at the men who had assembled at his order. As well as the seven generals, he had called his most senior centurions and military tribunes to hear the final arrangements for leaving Rome behind them. More than three hundred men were packed into the seats and at times the discussion had been as noisy and jocular as a full Senate debate.

Though he was weary, Julius was content with the preparations for war. The fleet was waiting to sail at Ostia and he had the men to fill them, now that three more of his legions had come south and set up tents in the Campus Martius. Mark Antony was steady in his role as consul and every soldier in the room knew the main plans for the first landings in Greece, if not the final date.

“One more month,” Julius murmured to Domitius at his side, “then we will be free to go to war again.”

“One more throw for the whole game,” Domitius replied, echoing a conversation on the Rubicon months before.

Julius laughed at the reference. “It seems that whenever I think I have mastered a game, I find I have been playing blind on a greater board. I send Caecilius to Greece to be captured, but instead we receive detailed reports every month that are more valuable than gold. The man is a fox, it seems, and the gods have a strange sense of humor.”

Domitius nodded, feeling the same sense of satisfaction that showed in Julius’s face. The reports from Caecilius were a vital part of their preparations, and those who knew he had been sent simply to sow mistrust of Brutus were privately pleased that stratagem had failed, at least so far. Even then, the war to come was only half the task that faced them. Julius was obsessed with leaving the city safe and they had worked for months to prepare Rome to be handed over to Mark Antony.