Читать книгу The Emperor Series Books 1-4 - Conn Iggulden - Страница 21

‘Rome – the largest city in the world,’ Marcus said, shaking his head in wonder as they passed into the vast paved expanse of the forum. Great bronze statues gazed down on the small group as they walked their horses through the bustling pedestrians.

‘You don't realise how big everything is until you get up close,’ Cabera replied, his usual confidence muted. The pyramids of Egypt seemed larger in his memory, but the people there looked always to the past with their tombs. Here, the great structures were for the living and he felt the optimism of it.

Alexandria too seemed awed, though in part it was at how much everything had changed in the five years since Gaius' father had bought her to work in his kitchens. She wondered if the man who had owned her mother was somewhere still in the city and shuddered as she recalled his face, remembering how he had treated them. Her mother had never been free and died a slave after a fever struck her and several others in the slave pens beneath one of the sale houses. Such plagues were fairly common and the big slave auctions were accustomed to passing over a few bodies each month, accepting a few coins for them from the ash-makers. She remembered, though, and the waxen stillness of her mother still pressed against her arms in dreams. She shuddered again and shook her head as if to clear it.

‘I will not die a slave,’ she thought to herself, and Cabera turned to look at her, almost as if he had heard the thought. He nodded and winked and she smiled at him. She had liked him from the first. He was another who didn't quite fit, wherever he found himself.

‘I will learn useful skills and make things to sell and buy myself free,’ she thought, knowing the glory of the forum was affecting her and not caring. Who wouldn't dream in such a place that looked as if it had been built by gods? You could see how to make a hut, just by looking at it, but who could imagine these columns being raised? Everything was bright and untouched by the filth she remembered, narrow dirty streets and ugly men hiring her mother by the hour, with the money going to the owner of the house.

There were no beggars or whores in the forum, only well-dressed, clean men and women, buying, selling, eating, drinking, arguing politics and money. On each side, the eye was filled with gargantuan temples in rich stone; huge columns with their head and feet gilded; great arches erected for military triumphs. Truly, this was the beating heart of empire. Each of them could feel it. There was a confidence here, an arrogance. While most of the world scrubbed in the dirt still, these people had power and astonishing wealth.

The only sign of the recent troubles was the grim presence of legionaries standing to attention at every corner, watching the crowds with cold eyes.

‘It is meant to make a man feel small,’ Renius muttered.

‘But it does not!’ Cabera continued, gaping around him. ‘It makes me feel proud that man can build this. What a race are we!’

Alexandria nodded silently. It showed that anything could be achieved; even, perhaps, freedom.

Small boys advertised their master's wares from hundreds of tiny shops along the edges; barbers, carpenters, butchers, stonemasons, gold and silver jewellers, potters, mosaic makers, rug weavers, the list was endless, the colours and noises a blur.

‘That is the temple of Jupiter, on the Capitoline hill. We will come back and make a sacrifice when we have seen your uncle Marius,’ Tubruk said, relaxed and smiling in the morning sun. He was leading the group and raised his arm to halt them.

‘Wait. That man's path will cross ours. He is a senior magistrate and must not be hindered.’

The others drew up and halted.

‘How do you know who he is?’ Marcus asked.

‘Do you see the man beside him? He is a lictor, a special attendant. Do you see that bundle on his shoulder? Those are wooden rods for scourging and a small axe for beheading. If the magistrate was bumped by one of our horses, say, he could order a death on the spot. He needs neither witnesses nor laws to apply. Best to avoid them completely, if we can.’

In silence, they all watched the man and his attendant as they crossed the plaza, seemingly unaware of the attention.

‘A dangerous place for the ignorant,’ Cabera whispered.

‘Everywhere is, in my experience,’ Renius grunted from the back.

Past the forum, they entered lesser streets that abandoned the straight lines of the main ones. Here, there were fewer names on the intersections. The houses were often four or even five storeys high and Cabera, in particular, gaped at these.

‘The view they must have! Are they very expensive, these top houses?’

‘Apartments, they are called, and no, they are the cheapest. They have no running water at that height and are in great danger from fire. If one starts on the bottom floor, those at the top rarely get out. You see how the windows are so small? That is to keep out the sun and rain, but it also means you can't jump from them.’

They wound their way through the heavy stepping stones that crossed the sunken roads at intervals. Without these, the fastidious pedestrians would have had to step down into the slippery muck left by horses and donkeys. The wheels of carts had to be set a regulation width apart so that they could cross in the gaps and Cabera nodded to himself as he watched the process.

‘This is a well-planned city,’ he said. ‘I have never seen another like it.’

Tubruk laughed. ‘There is no other like it. They say Carthage was of similar beauty, but we destroyed that more than fifty years ago, sowing the land with salt so that it could never again rise in opposition to us.’

‘You speak almost as if a city is a living thing,’ Cabera replied.

‘Is it not? You can feel the life here. I could feel her welcoming me as I came through the gate. This is my home, as no other house can be.’

Gaius too could feel the life around him. Although he had never lived within the walls, it was his home as it was Tubruk's – maybe more so as he was nobilitas, born free and of the greatest people in the world. ‘My people built this,’ he thought. ‘My ancestors put their hands on these stones and walked these streets. My father may have stood at that corner and my mother could have grown up in one of the gardens I can glimpse off the main street.’

His grip on the reins relaxed and Cabera looked at him and smiled, sensing the change of mood.

‘We are nearly there,’ Tubruk said. ‘At least Marius’ house is well away from the smell of dung in the streets. I don't miss that, I can assure you.'

They turned off the busy road and walked the horses up a steep hill and a quieter, cleaner street.

‘These are the houses of the rich and powerful. They have estates in the country but mansions here, where they entertain and plot for more power and even more wealth,’ Tubruk continued, his voice blank enough of emotion to make Gaius glance at him. The houses were sealed from the public gaze by iron gates, taller than a man. Each was numbered and entered by a small door for those on foot. Tubruk explained that this was only the least part; the buildings went back and back, from private baths to stables to great courtyards, all hidden from the vulgar plebeians.

‘They set great store by privacy in Rome,’ Tubruk said. ‘Perhaps it is part of living in a city. Certainly, if you were just to drop in to a country estate you would be unlikely to cause offence, but here you must make appointments and announce yourself and wait and wait until they are ready to receive you. This is the one. I will tell the gatekeeper we have arrived.’

‘I'll leave you here then,’ Renius said. ‘I must go to my own house and see if it has been damaged in the rioting.’

‘Do not forget the curfew. Be inside as the sun sets, my friend. They are still killing everyone left on the streets after dark.’

Renius nodded. ‘I'll watch out.’

He turned his horse away and Gaius reached out to put a hand on his good right arm.

‘You're not leaving? I thought …’

‘I must check my house. I need to think alone for a while. I don't feel ready to settle down with the other old men, not any more. I will be back tomorrow dawn to see you and … well, tomorrow dawn it is.’ He smiled and rode away.

As he trotted down the hill, Gaius noted again the darkness of his hair and the energy that filled the man's frame. He turned and looked at Cabera, who shrugged.

‘Gatekeeper!’ Tubruk shouted. ‘Attend to us.’

After the heat of the Roman streets, the cool stone corridors that led into the house grounds were a welcome relief. The horses and bags had been whisked away and the five visitors were taken into the first building, beckoned on by an elderly slave.

They stopped at a door of gold wood and the slave opened it, gesturing inside.

‘You will find all you need, Master Gaius. Consul Marius has given you leave to wash and change after your journey. You are not expected to appear before him until sunset, three hours from now, when you will dine. Shall I show your companions the way to the servants' rooms?’

‘No. They will stay with me.’

‘As you wish, master. Shall I take the girl to the slave quarters?’

Gaius nodded slowly, thinking.

‘Treat her with kindness. She is a friend of my house.’

‘Of course, sir,’ replied the man, motioning to Alexandria.

She flashed a glance at Gaius and the expression was unreadable in her dark eyes.

Without another word, the quiet little man left, his sandals making no noise on the stone floor. The others looked at one another, each taking some form of comfort from the company of friends.

‘I think she likes me, that one,’ Marcus mused to himself.

Gaius looked at him in surprise and Marcus shrugged. ‘Lovely legs, as well.’ He went in to their quarters, chuckling, leaving Gaius stupefied behind him.

Cabera whistled softly as he entered the room. The ceiling was forty feet from the mosaic floor, a series of brass rafters that crossed and recrossed the space. The walls were painted in the dark reds and oranges that they had seen so often since entering the city, but the floor was the thing that caught the attention, even before they looked up at the vault of a roof. It was a series of circles, gripping a marble fountain in the middle of the huge room. Each circle contained running figures, racing to catch the one in front and frozen in the attempt. The outer circles were figures from the markets, carrying their wares, then, as the eye followed the circles inwards, different aspects of society could be seen. There were the slaves, the magistrates, the members of the Senate, legionaries, doctors. One circle contained only kings, naked except for their crowns. The innermost ring, forming a belt around the actual fountain, contained pictures of the gods and they alone were still. They stood looking up at all the running hordes that sprinted around but could never leap from one circle to another.

Gaius walked across the rings to the fountain and drank, using a cup that rested on the marble edge. In truth, he was tired and, impressed as he was by the beauty of the room, the most important fact was that no food or couches were included in the splendour. The others followed him through an arch into the next room.

‘This is more like it,’ Marcus said cheerfully. A polished table was laid with food: meat, bread, eggs, vegetables and fish. Fruit was piled in bowls of gold. Soft couches stood around invitingly, but another door led onwards and Gaius could not resist looking.

The third room had a deep pool in the centre. The water steamed invitingly and bare wooden benches lined the walls, piled high with soft white cloths. Robes hung from stands by the water and four male slaves stood by low tables, ready to give massage if needed.

‘Excellent,’ Tubruk said. ‘Your uncle is a fine host, Gaius. I am for a bath first, before I eat.’ As he spoke, he began to pull off his clothes. One of the slaves walked to him and held out an arm for the garments as they were removed. When Tubruk was naked, the slave disappeared with them out of the only door. A few moments later, another entered and took up his place at the tables.

Tubruk lowered himself completely into the water, holding his breath as he slid below the surface and relaxing every muscle in the heat. By the time he surfaced, Gaius and Marcus had scrambled out of their garments, flung them at another slave and plunged into the opposite end, naked and laughing.

A slave held his arm out for Cabera's clothes and the old man frowned at him. Then he sighed and began stripping the robe from his skinny body.

‘Always new experiences,’ he said as he eased into the water, wincing.

‘Shoulders, lad,’ Tubruk called to one of the attendants.

The man nodded and knelt at the side of the pool, pressing his thumbs into Tubruk's muscles, unknotting the stresses that had been there since the slave attack on the estate.

‘Good,’ Tubruk sighed and he began to doze, lulled by the heat.

Marcus was first out onto the massage table, lying on the smooth cloth and steaming in the colder air. The nearest slave detached some instruments from his belt, almost like a set of long brass keys. He poured warm olive oil on liberally and then began to scrape Marcus' wet skin, as if he was skinning a fish, working the dirt of the journey off the surface and wiping a surprising amount of black filth onto a cloth at his waist. Then he rubbed the skin dry and poured a little more oil on for the massage, beginning great sweeping strokes along the spine.

Marcus groaned with satisfaction. ‘Gaius, I think I'm going to like it here,’ he muttered through slack lips.

Gaius lay in the water and let his mind drift free. Marius might not want to have the two boys around. He had no children of his own and the gods knew it was a difficult time for the Republic. All the fragile freedoms his father had loved were coming under threat with soldiers on every corner. As consul, Marius was one of the two most powerful men in the city, but, with Sulla's legion on the streets, his power became a fiction, his life at Sulla's whim. Yet how could Gaius protect his father's interests without his uncle's help? He had to be introduced to the Senate, sponsored by another. He could not just take his father's old place; they would throw him out and that would be the end of everything. Surely the blood tie to his mother would be worth a little help, but Gaius could not be sure. Marius was the golden general who had dropped in on his sister occasionally when Gaius was small. But the visits had become fewer and fewer as her illness progressed and it had been years since the last visit.

‘Gaius?’ Marcus' voice interrupted his thoughts. ‘Come and have a massage. You're thinking too much again.’

Gaius grinned at his friend and rose from the water. It did not occur to him to be embarrassed at his nakedness. No one was.

‘Cabera? Ever had a massage?’ he asked as he passed the old man, whose eyes were drooping.

‘No, but I'll try anything once,’ Cabera replied, wading towards the steps.

‘You're in the right city then,’ Tubruk chuckled, eyes closed.

Clean and cool in fresh clothes and with the edge taken off their hunger, the four were escorted to Marius at sundown. As a slave, Alexandria did not accompany them, and for a moment Gaius was disappointed. When she was with them, he hardly knew what to say to her, but when she was gone his mind filled with clever pieces of wit that he could never quite remember to say later. He had not brought up the kiss in the stables with her and wondered if she thought of it as often as he did. He cleared his mind of her, knowing he had to be sharp and focused to meet a consul of Rome.

A portly slave stopped them outside the door to the chamber and fussed with their clothing, producing a carved ivory comb to pull Marcus' curls back into place and straightening Tubruk's jacket. As the fleshy fingers approached Cabera, the old man's hands shot out and slapped them away.

‘Don't touch!’ he snapped waspishly.

The slave's face remained blank and he carried on improving the others. At last he was satisfied, although he permitted himself a frown at Cabera.

‘The master and mistress are present this evening. Bow first to the master as you present yourselves and keep your eyes on the floor as you bow. Then bow to Mistress Metella, an inch or two less deep. If your barbarian slave requires it, he can knock his head on the floor a few times as well.’

Cabera opened his mouth to retort, but the slave turned away and pushed the doors open.

Gaius entered first and saw a beautiful room with a garden in the centre, open to the sky. Around the rectangle of the garden was a walkway, with other rooms leading off it. Columns of white stone held the overhang of roof and the walls were painted with scenes from Roman history: the victories of Scipio, the conquest of Greece. Marius and his wife Metella stood to receive their guests and Gaius forced a smile onto his face, suddenly feeling very young and very awkward.

As he approached, he could see the man sizing him up and wondered what conclusions he was drawing. For his own part, Marius was an impressive figure. General of a hundred campaigns, he wore a loose toga that left his right arm and shoulder bare, revealing massive musculature and a dark weave of hair on the chest and forearms. He wore no jewellery or adornment of any kind, as if such things were unnecessary to a man of his stature. He stood straight and radiated strength and will. His face was stern and dark-brown eyes glared out from under heavy brows. Every feature revealed the city of his birth. His arms were clasped behind him and he said nothing as Gaius approached and bowed.

Metella had once been a beauty, but time and worry had clawed at her face, lines of some nameless grief gripping her skin with an old woman's talons. She seemed tense, the cords of sinew on her neck standing out. Her hands quivered slightly as she looked at him. She wore a simple dress of red cloth, complemented with earrings and bracelets of bright gold.

‘My sister's son is always welcome in my house,’ Marius said, his voice filling the space.

Gaius almost sagged with relief, but held himself firm.

Marcus came up beside him and bowed smoothly. Metella locked eyes with him and the quivering in her hands increased. Gaius caught Marius' sideways glance of worry at her as she stepped forward.

‘Such beautiful boys,’ she said, holding out her hands. Bemused, they took one each. ‘What you have suffered in the uprising! What you have seen!’

She put a hand to Marcus' cheek. ‘You will be safe here, do you understand? Our home is your home, for as long as you want.’

Marcus put his hand up to cover hers and whispered, ‘Thank you.’ He seemed more comfortable with the strange woman than Gaius was. Her intensity reminded him too painfully of his own mother.

‘Perhaps you could check on the arrangements for the meal, my dear, while I discuss business with the boys,’ Marius boomed cheerfully from behind them.

She nodded and left, with a backward glance at Marcus.

Marius cleared his throat.

‘I think my wife likes you,’ he said. ‘The gods have not blessed us with children of our own and I think you will bring her comfort.’

His gaze passed over them.

‘Tubruk – I see you are still the concerned guardian. I heard you fought well in the defence of my sister's house.’

‘I did my duty, sir. It was not enough in the end.’

‘The son lives, and his mother. Julius would say that was enough,’ Marius replied. At this, his eyes returned to Gaius.

‘I can see your father's face in yours. I am sorry for his leaving. I cannot say we were truly friends, but we had respect for each other, which is more honest than many friendships. I could not attend his funeral, but he was in my thoughts and prayers.’

Gaius felt the beginnings of liking for this man. Perhaps that is his talent, warned an inner voice. Perhaps that is why he has been elected so many times. He is a man whom others follow.

‘Thank you. He always spoke well of you,’ he replied out loud.

Marius laughed, a short bark.

‘I doubt it. How is your mother, is she … the same?’

‘Much the same, sir. The doctors despair.’

Marius nodded, his face betraying nothing. ‘You must call me uncle from now on, I think. Yes. Uncle suits me well. And you, who is this?’ Once again, his eyes and focus had switched without warning, this time to Cabera, who looked back impassively.

‘He is a priest and healer, my adviser. Cabera is his name,’ Gaius replied.

‘Where are you from, Cabera? Those are not Roman features.’

‘The distant east, sir. My home is not known in Rome.’

‘Try me. I have travelled far with my legion in my lifetime.’ Marius did not blink, his gaze was relentless.

Cabera didn't seem perturbed by it.

‘A hill village a thousand miles east of Aegyptus. I left it as a boy and the name is lost to me. I too have travelled far since then.’

The flame gaze snapped away as Marius lost interest. He looked again at the two boys.

‘My house is your home from now on. I presume Tubruk will be returning to your estate?’

Gaius nodded.

‘Good. I will arrange your entrance to the Senate as soon as I have sorted out a few problems of my own. Do you know Sulla?’

Gaius was painfully aware that he was being assessed. ‘He controls Rome at present.’

Marius frowned, but Gaius went on: ‘His legion patrols the streets and that gives him a great deal of influence.’

‘You are correct. I see living on a farm hasn't kept you completely away from the affairs of the city. Come and sit down. Do you drink wine? No? Then this is as good a time as any to learn.’

As they sat on couches around the food-laden table, Marius bowed his head and began to pray aloud: ‘Great Mars. Grant that I make the right decisions in the difficult days to come.’ He straightened and grinned at them, motioning for a slave to pour wine.

‘Your father could have been a great general, if he had wanted,’ Marius said. ‘He had the sharpest mind I have ever encountered, but chose to keep his interests small. He did not understand the reality of power – that a strong man can be above the rules and laws of his neighbours.’

‘He set great stock by the laws of Rome,’ Gaius replied, after a moment's thought.

‘Yes. It was his one failing. Do you know how many times I have been elected consul?’

‘Three,’ Marcus put in.

'Yet the law only allows one term. I shall be elected again and again until I grow tired of the game. I am a dangerous man to refuse, you see. It comes down to that, for all the laws and regulations that are so dear to the old men of the Senate. My legion is loyal to me and me alone. I abolished the land qualification to join, so many of them owe their only livelihood to me. True, some of them are the scrapings of the gutters of Rome, but loyal and strong despite their origins and birth.

'Five thousand men would tear this city apart if I were assassinated, so I walk the streets in safety. They know what will happen if I die, do you see?

‘If they can't kill me, they have to accommodate me, except that Sulla has finally come into the game, with a legion of his own, loyal only to him. I can't kill him and he can't kill me, so we growl at each other across the Senate floor and wait for a weakness. At present, he has the advantage. His men are in the streets as you say, whereas mine are camped outside the walls. Stalemate. Do you play latrunculi? I have a board here.’

This last question was to Gaius, who blinked and shook his head.

‘I will teach you. Sulla is a master, and so am I. It is a good game for generals. The idea is to kill the enemy king, or to remove his power so that he is helpless and must surrender.’

A soldier entered in full, shining uniform. He saluted with a stiff right arm.

‘General. The men you requested have arrived. They entered the city from different directions and gathered here.’

‘Excellent! You see, Gaius, another move in the game is upon us. Fifty of my men are with me in my home. Unless Sulla has spies on every gate, he will not know they have entered the city. If he guesses my intentions, there will be a century from his legion waiting outside at daybreak, but all life is a gamble, yes?’

He addressed the guard.

‘We will leave at dawn. Make sure my slaves look after the men. I will come along in a while.’

The soldier saluted again and left.

‘What are you going to do?’ Marcus asked, feeling completely out of his depth.

Marius rose and flexed his shoulders. He called a slave over and told him to prepare his uniform, ready for dawn.

‘Have you ever seen a Triumph?’

‘No. I don't think there has been one for a few years,’ Gaius replied.

'It is the right of every general who has captured new lands: to march his legion through the streets of his beloved capital city and receive the love of the crowd and the thanks of the Senate.

‘I have captured vast tracts of lush farming land in northern Africa, like Scipio before me. Yet a Triumph has been denied me by Sulla, who has the Senate under his thumb at the moment. He says the city has seen too much upheaval, but that is not the reason. What is his reason?’

‘He does not want your men in the city, under any pretext,’ Gaius said quickly.

‘Good, so what must I do?’

‘Bring them in anyway?’ Gaius hazarded.

Marius froze. ‘No. This is my beloved capital city. It has never had a hostile force enter its gates. I will not be the first. That is blind force, which is always chancy. No, I am going to ask! Dawn is in six hours. I suggest you get a little sleep, gentlemen. Just let one of the slaves know when you want to be taken to your rooms. Good night.’ He chuckled and strode off, leaving the four of them alone.

‘He …’ Cabera began, but Tubruk held up a warning finger, motioning with his eyes at the slaves who stood by so unobtrusively.

‘Life will not be dull here,’ he said quietly.

Both Marcus and Gaius nodded and grinned at each other.

‘I'd like to see him “ask”,’ Marcus said.

Tubruk shook his head quickly. ‘Too dangerous. There will certainly be bloodshed, and I have not brought you to Rome to see you killed the first day! If I had known Marius planned something of this sort, I would have delayed.’

Gaius put a hand on the man's arm. ‘You have been a good protector, Tubruk, but I too want to see this. We will not be refused in this.’

His voice was quiet, but Tubruk stared as if Gaius had shouted. Then he relaxed.

‘Your father was never this foolhardy, but if you are set, and Marius agrees, I will come along to watch your back, as I have always done. Cabera?’

‘Where else would I go? I still wander the same path as you.’

Tubruk nodded. ‘Dawn then. I suggest you rise at least an hour or two before daybreak, for stretching exercises and a light breakfast.’ He rose and bowed to Gaius. ‘Sir?’

‘You may leave, Tubruk,’ Gaius said, his face straight.

Tubruk left.

Marcus raised an eyebrow, but Gaius ignored him. They were not in private and could not enjoy the casual relationship of the estate. Kin or not, Marius' house was not a place to relax. Tubruk had reminded them of this in his formal style.

Marcus and Cabera departed soon after, leaving Gaius to his thoughts. He lay back on a couch and stared at the night stars over the open garden.

He felt his eyes fill. His father was gone and he was stuck with strangers. Everything was new and different and overwhelming. Every word had to be considered before it left his mouth, every decision had to be judged. It was exhausting and, not for the first time, he wished he were a child again, without responsibility. He had always been able to turn to others when he made mistakes, but who could he turn to now? He wondered if his father or Tubruk had ever felt as lost as he did. It didn't seem possible that they knew the same fears. Perhaps everyone had them, but hid their worries from others.

When he was calm again, he rose in the darkness and walked silently out of the room, barely admitting his destination to himself. The corridors were silent and seemed deserted, but he had walked only a few paces before a guard stepped towards him and spoke.

‘Can I help you, sir?’

Gaius started. Of course Marius would have guards around his house and gardens.

‘I brought a slave in with me today. I would like to check on her before I sleep.’

‘I understand, sir,’ the guard replied, with a small smile. ‘I'll show you the way to the slave quarters.’

Gaius gritted his teeth. He knew what the man was thinking, but speaking again would only worsen his suspicions. He followed in silence until they came to a heavy door at the end of the passage. The soldier knocked quietly and they waited for only a few moments before it opened.

A senior female glared at the guard. Her hair was greying and her face quickly set into disapproving lines, clearly a common expression with her.

‘What do you want, Thomas? Lucy is asleep and I've told you before …’

‘It's not for me. This young man is Marius' nephew. He brought a girl in with him today?’

The woman's manner changed as she perceived Gaius, who was shaking his head in painful silence, wondering how public things were going to get.

‘Alexandria, wasn't it? Beautiful girl. My name is Carla. I'll show you to her room. Most of the slaves are asleep by now, so tread quietly, if you please.’ She beckoned for Gaius to follow and he did so, neck and back stiff with embarrassment. He could feel Thomas' eyes on his back before the door closed gently behind him.

This part of Marius' house was plain but clean. A long corridor was lined with closed doors and there were small candles in holders along the walls at intervals. Only a few were lit, but enough light was shed for Gaius to see where they were going.

Carla's voice was lowered to a harsh whisper as she turned to him.

‘Most of the slaves sleep in a few large rooms, but your girl was put in one of her own, that we keep for favoured ones. You said to treat her kindly, is that true?’

Gaius blushed. He had forgotten the interest that Marius' slaves would take in Alexandria and himself. It would be all over the house by the morning that he had visited her in the night.

They turned a final corner and Gaius froze in astonishment. The final door of the corridor was open and, against the low light from within, he could see Alexandria standing there, beautiful in the flickering candlelight. She alone would have caused him to take a quick breath, but there was someone with her, leaning against the wall in the shadows.

Carla darted forward and they both recognised Marcus at the same time. For his part, he seemed just as surprised to see them.

‘How did you get in here?’ Carla asked, her voice strained.

Marcus blinked.

‘I crept about the place. I didn't want to wake everyone up,’ he answered.

Gaius looked at Alexandria and his chest tightened with jealousy. She looked annoyed, but the glint in her eyes only heightened her tousled appearance. Her voice was curt.

‘As you can both see, I am fine and quite comfortable. Slaves have to be up before dawn, so I would like to go to sleep, unless you want to bring Cabera or Tubruk along as well?’

Marcus and Gaius looked on her with surprised expressions. She really seemed quite angry.

‘No? Then good night.’ She nodded to them, her mouth firm, and gently closed the door.

Carla stood with her mouth open in astonishment. She wasn't sure how to start apologising.

‘What are you doing here, Marcus?’ Gaius demanded, keeping his voice low.

‘Same thing as you. I thought she might be lonely. I didn't know you were going to make it a social occasion, did I?’

Doors were opening along the corridor and a low female voice called, ‘Everything all right, Carla?’

‘Yes, dear. Thank you,’ Carla hissed back. ‘Look. She's gone to bed. I suggest you two follow her example before the whole house turns out to see what's happening.’

Grim-faced, they nodded and walked back down the corridor together, leaving Carla with her hand over her mouth to stop her laughing before they were out of earshot. She nearly made it.

As Alexandria had predicted, the house of Marius came suddenly alive a good two hours before dawn. The kitchen ovens were lit, the windows opened, torches placed along the walls until the sun rose. Slaves bustled around, carrying trays of food and towels for the soldiers. The silence of the dark hours was broken by coarse laughter and shouts. Gaius and Marcus were awake at the first sounds, with Tubruk only a little behind them. Cabera refused to get up.

‘Why would I want to? I will just throw on my robe and walk to the gates! Two more hours till dawn sounds good to me.’

‘You can wash and have breakfast,’ Marcus said, his eyes lively.

‘I washed yesterday and I don't eat much before noon. Now go away.’

Marcus retreated and joined the others as they ate a little bread and honey, washed down with a hot, spiced wine that filled their bellies with warmth. They had not spoken of the events of the night before and both could feel a small tension between them and silences in the spaces they would usually have filled with light talk.

Finally, Gaius took a deep breath.

‘If she likes you, I will stay out of it,’ he said, each word pronounced clearly.

‘Very decent of you,’ Marcus replied, smiling. He drained his cup of hot wine and walked out of the room, smoothing his hair with one hand.

Tubruk glanced at Gaius' expression and barked out a laugh before following.

Looking fresh and rested, Marius strode back into the garden rooms with the clatter of iron-soled sandals on stone. He seemed even bigger in the general's uniform, an unstoppable figure. Marcus found himself watching the walk for weaknesses, as he had learned to watch any opponent. Did he dip a once-injured shoulder or favour a slightly weaker knee? There was nothing. This was a man who had never been close to death, who had never known despair. Though he had no children, a single weakness. Marcus wondered if it was Marius or his wife who was barren. The gods were known to be capricious, but what a jest to give so much to a man yet leave him unable to pass it on.

Marius wore a chestplate of bronze and a long red cloak over his shoulders. He had a simple legionary's gladius strapped to his waist, though Marcus noted the silver handle that set it apart from common blades. His brown legs were mostly bare under a leather kilt. He moved well, uncommonly well for a man of his age. His eyes glittered with some excitement or anticipation.

‘Good to see you all up and about. You'll be marching with my men?’ His voice was deep and steady, with no trace of nerves.

Gaius smiled, pleased not to have had to ask.

‘We all are, with your permission … Uncle.’

Marius nodded his head at the word.

‘Of course, but stay well back. This is a dangerous morning's entertainment, no matter how it turns out.

One thing – you don't know the city and, if we do become separated, this house may no longer be safe. Seek out Valcinus at the public baths. They will be shut until noon, but he'll let you in if you mention my name. All set?’

Marcus, Gaius and Tubruk looked at each other, dazed at the speed of events. At least two of them were a little excited at the same time. They fell in behind Marius as he strode out to the yard where his men waited patiently.

Cabera joined them at the last minute. His eyes were as sharp as ever, but white stubble showed on his cheeks and chin. Marcus grinned at him and received a scowl as reply. They stood near the back of the group of men and Gaius took in the countenances of the soldiers around him. Brown-skinned and dark-haired to a man, they carried rectangular shields strapped to their left arms. On the brass face of each shield was the simple crest of the house of Marius – three arrows crossing each other. In that moment, Gaius understood what Marius had been explaining. These were Roman soldiers who would fight in defence of their city, but their loyalty was to the crest they carried.

All was silent as they waited for the great gates to swing open. Metella appeared out of the shadows and kissed Marius, who responded with enthusiasm, grasping a buttock. His men regarded this impassively, not sharing his lively mood. Then she turned and kissed Gaius and Marcus. To their surprise, they could see tears shine in her eyes.

‘You come back safe to me. I will wait for you all.’ Gaius looked around for Alexandria. He had a vague notion that he could tell her of his noble decision to make way for Marcus. He hoped that she would be touched by his sacrifice and scorn Marcus' affections. Unfortunately, he could not see her anywhere, and then the gates opened and there was no more time.

Gaius and Marcus fell in with Tubruk and Cabera as the soldiers of Marius clattered out onto the dawn streets of Rome.