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had something that set her apart. The calculating part of him saw how she transferred her attention to whoever spoke, flattering them simply by the interest she showed. She was a woman who liked men and they sensed it. Julius shook his head slightly. His reaction to her disturbed him, but she was so different from Cornelia that no comparison occurred to trouble his thoughts.
        He had not been in female company for a long time and then only when Brutus managed to get enough drink in him that he didn’t care anymore. Looking at Servilia reminded him of the world outside his soldiers’ rough gatherings. He felt unbalanced with her, out of practice. The thought crossed his mind that he should be careful to keep a distance. A woman of her experience could very well eat him alive.
        He shook his head to clear it, irritated with his weakness. The first woman to sit at their table for months and he was reacting with little more sophistication than Octavian, though he hoped his thoughts weren’t so obvious. He’d never hear the end of Brutus’s mockery if they were. He imagined the amused taunts with a shudder and pushed his wine cup away firmly. No matter what, she was hardly likely to show interest in a friend of her son. It was ridiculous even to entertain the idea.
        Octavian interrupted Julius’s musings as he reached across the table to offer Servilia the last morsel of an herb dish. The young Roman had grown in strength and skill under the tutelage of Brutus and Domitius. Julius wondered if Octavian would have so much to fear from the apprentices in the city as he’d used to. He doubted it. The boy seemed to thrive in the company of the rough soldiers of the Tenth and even copied the way Brutus walked, to his friend’s amusement. He seemed so young, it was strange to think Julius had been married when only a year older.
        “I learned a new feint this morning, sir,” Octavian said proudly.
        Julius smiled at him. “You’ll have to show it to me,” he said, reaching over to ruffle the boy’s hair.
        Octavian beamed in response to the small show of affection. “Will you train with us tomorrow, then?” he asked, readying himself for disappointment.
        Julius shook his head. “I’m going out to the gold mines with Renius for a few days,” he said, “but perhaps I will when I come back.”
        Octavian tried to look pleased, but they could all see he took it as a straight refusal. Julius almost changed his mind, but the dark humors that plagued him eased back into his thoughts. None of them understood his work. They had the light spirits of boys, and that carelessness was no longer a luxury he could afford. Forgetting his earlier resolution, Julius reached for his cup and emptied it.
        Brutus saw the depression settle on his friend and struggled to find something to divert him.
        “The Spanish swordsmith will begin working with our legion men tomorrow. Can’t you delay the trip until you’ve seen what you paid for?”
        Julius stared at him, making them all uncomfortable.
        “No, the preparations are made,” he said, refilling his cup and cursing softly as he spilled a little of the wine onto the table in the process. Julius frowned at his hands. Was there a tremble there? He couldn’t tell. As rather stilted conversation resumed, he watched them all, looking for some sign that they had seen his weakness. Only Cabera met his eyes and the old man’s face was full of kindness. Julius drained the cup, suddenly angry with all of them.
        Servilia dipped her fingers in the water bowl and wiped her mouth delicately with them, a gesture that held Julius’s attention, though she seemed not to notice it.
        “I have enjoyed this, very much, but the journey here was tiring,” she said, smiling at them all. “I will rise early to watch your training, Octavian, if you don’t mind?”
        “Of course, come and watch,” Brutus said pleasantly. “I’ll get