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took roads to the left and right without daring to look back, his breath rasping in his throat. So far, Livia had been worth his trouble, but if he was killed, she wasn’t his choice for the last woman in his life. He hoped the father would take his anger out on Renius and wished them both luck.
    The alleyway he ran down came to a dead end around a corner. A cat scrambled from him as he halted against the nearest stone wall and prepared to risk a glance back. There was nowhere to run, but perhaps he’d lost them for the moment. He strained his ears before inching toward the edge, hearing nothing more threatening than the cat’s complaints disappearing into the distance.
    He eased one eye around the wall and pulled back at once. The alley seemed filled with men, all heading his way. Brutus dropped down into a crouch and risked a second glance at them, hoping he wouldn’t be seen so low down.
    A voice called out in recognition and Brutus groaned again as he pulled back. He’d picked up a little Greek in his time with the Bronze Fist, but hardly enough to talk his way out of the situation.
    He made his decision and stood, firming his grip on the sword hilt, his other hand falling to the scabbard where he could fling it away. It was a fine blade that he’d won in a legion tournament, and he would have to show the farmers that he’d earned it. He hitched up his bracae one more time and took a deep breath before stepping out into the alley to face them.
    There were five of them, their faces filled with the enthusiasm of children as they rushed down the alley. Brutus pulled away the scabbard with a flourish, in case they were in any doubt about his intentions. With great solemnity, he lowered the point at the men, and they pulled up as one. The moment held and Brutus thought furiously. Livia’s father had yet to appear and there could be a chance to win free of the younger men before he arrived to encourage them. They might be open to persuasion and even bribery.
    The largest of them stepped forward, careful to remain outside the range of the unwavering sword in Brutus’s hands.
    “Livia is my wife,” the man said in clear Latin.
    Brutus blinked at him. “Does she know?” he asked.
    The man’s face colored in anger and he produced a dagger from his belt. The others followed his example, revealing clubs and blades that they waved at Brutus while beckoning him forward to meet them.
    Before they could rush him, Brutus spoke quickly, trying to sound calm and unruffled by the threat.
    “I could kill every one of you, but all I want is to be allowed to go on my way in peace. I’m a legion champion with this pretty blade, and not one of you will leave this alley alive if you make the wrong decision.”
    Four of them listened with blank faces until Livia’s husband translated the speech. Brutus waited patiently, hoping for a favorable response. Instead, they chuckled and began to edge closer to him. Brutus took a step back.
    “Livia is a healthy girl with normal appetites,” he said. “She seduced me, not the other way around. There is nothing worth killing for in this.”
    He waited with the others for the translation to begin, but the husband remained silent. Then the man said something in Greek, which Brutus barely followed. Part of it was certainly to try to keep him alive, which he approved, but the last part involved him being “given to the women,” which sounded distinctly unpleasant.
    Livia’s husband leered at Brutus. “Catching a criminal means a festival for us. You will be the middle . . . the heart of it?”
    As Brutus began to frame a reply, they rushed him with a flurry of blows, and though he pricked one of them with his gladius, a whistling club connected behind his ear and knocked him unconscious.
    *      *      *
    He woke to a slow creaking and a feeling of dizziness. For a moment, he kept his eyes closed, trying to sense his whereabouts without letting unseen watchers know he was