Читать книгу The Emperor Series Books 1-4 - Conn Iggulden - Страница 23

Marius almost glowed with pleasure and energy as he walked amongst his men, clapping his hands to shoulders and laughing. They grinned wryly, like schoolboys being congratulated by a tutor.

‘We've done it, boys!’ Marius shouted. ‘We'll show this city a day to remember a month from today.’ They cheered him and he called for wine and refreshments, summoning every slave of his home to treat the men like kings.

‘Anything they want!’ he bellowed. Wine cups of gold and silver were pressed into the rough hands of every man back in through the gates, Gaius and Marcus included. Dark purple wine sloshed and gurgled as it was poured from clay jugs. Alexandria was with the other slaves and smiled at both Marcus and Gaius. Gaius nodded to her, but Marcus winked as she passed him.

Tubruk sniffed his wine and chuckled. ‘The best.’

Marius held his cup high, his expression sombre. Silence fell after a few seconds.

‘To those who didn't make it today, who died for us. Tagoe, Luca and Vegus. Good men all.’

‘Good men all!’ Every voice echoed his in a guttural chorus, and the cups were tipped back and held out for refills from the waiting slaves.

‘He knew their names,’ Gaius whispered to Tubruk, who brought his head close to reply.

‘He knows all their names,’ he muttered. ‘That is why he is a good general. That is why they love him. He could tell you some of the history of every man here and a good portion of the legion outside Rome as well. Oh, you can call it a trick if you like, a cheap way to impress the men who serve. I know that's what he would say, if you asked him.’ He paused to look at the general as he caught a huge and husky soldier in a headlock and walked through the crowd with him. The man bellowed, but didn't struggle. He bore it as it was meant.

‘They're his children, I think. You can see how much he loves them. That big man could probably tear Marius’ arms off if he wanted. On another day, he'd put a dagger in a man for looking at him with a squint in the noonday sun. But Marius can lead him around by the head and he laughs. I'm not sure you can train a man into that skill – I think it's born into you, or not. You don't even need to have it to be a good general.

‘These men would follow Sulla, if they were in his legion. They'd fight for him and hold formation and die for him. But they love Marius, so they can't be bribed or bought and in battle they will not ever run, not to the last man. Not while he's watching, anyway. There used to be a land qualification to be in the legions, but Marius abolished it. Now anyone can make a career fighting for Rome, at least for him. Half these men wouldn't have made it into the army before Marius had his law passed by the Senate. They owe him a great deal.’

The men began to walk out of the entrance square, off to be bathed and massaged by the prettiest female slaves on the grounds. Several beauties had taken arms and were already gasping and exclaiming at stories of battle prowess. When Marius let go of the big legionary's head, he immediately called a girl over, a slim brunette with kohl-dark eyes. The big man took one look and grinned like a wolf, gathering her up into his arms. The echoes of her laughter came back off the brick walls as he trotted into the main buildings.

One young soldier dropped a powerfully muscled arm onto Alexandria's shoulder and said something to her. Marcus came up behind the man quickly.

‘Not this girl, friend. She's not from this house.’

The soldier looked at him and took in the boy's bearing and determined expression. He shrugged and called to another slave girl as she passed by. Gaius stood watching the exchange and when Alexandria caught his eye, her face filled with anger. She turned her back on Marcus and strode into the cool interior of the garden rooms.

Marcus turned to his friend. He had noticed her expression and his own was thoughtful.

‘Why was she so annoyed?’ Gaius said, exasperated. ‘I wouldn't have thought she wanted to go with that big ox. You saved her.’

Marcus nodded. ‘That may be the problem. Perhaps she didn't want me to. Perhaps she wanted you to save her.’

‘Oh.’ Gaius' face lit up. ‘Really?’

Marius staggered over to Gaius and his friends, still laughing, his hair plastered to his forehead with wine emptied over him. His eyes were shining with pleasure. He took Gaius by both shoulders.

‘Well, lad? How was your first taste of Rome?’

Gaius grinned back at him. You couldn't help it. The man's emotions were infectious. When he frowned, dark clouds of fear and anger followed him around and touched all who met him. When he smiled, you wanted to smile. You wanted to be one of his men. Gaius could feel the power of the man and for the first time wondered if he could ever command that kind of loyalty himself.

‘It was frightening, but exciting as well,’ he replied, unable to stop his lips smiling.

‘Good! Some don't feel it, you know. They just add up supply figures and calculate how many men it would take to hold a ravine. They just don't feel the excitement.’

He looked over at Marcus, Tubruk and Cabera.

‘Get drunk if you like, have a woman if you can find one by now. We'll do no work today and no one can leave until it's dark after that trouble we had. Tomorrow, we'll start planning how to bring five thousand men fifty miles and all the way through Rome. Do you know anything about supply?’

Both Marcus and Gaius shook their heads.

‘You'll learn. The best army in the world is lost without food and water, boys. That's the thing to know. Everything else falls into place. My home is your home, remember. I'm going to sit in the fountain and get drunk.’ He collected three unopened jugs of wine from the remaining male slaves and walked away – a man with a mission.

Tubruk watched him leave the courtyard with a wry smile.

‘Once, in North Africa, on the eve of a battle against a savage tribe, they say Marius walked alone into the enemy camp carrying a jug of wine in each hand. Remember, this was the camp of seven thousand of the most brutal warriors the legion had encountered. He drank all night with the chief of the tribe, despite not understanding a word of each other's language. They toasted life and the future and courage. Then the next morning he staggered back to his own lines.’

‘What happened next?’ Marcus said.

‘They wiped out the tribe to the last man. What would you expect?’ Tubruk laughed.

‘Why didn't the chief kill him?’ Marcus continued.

‘I suppose he liked him. Most people do.’

Metella came into the courtyard and held out her hands to Gaius and Marcus, smiling.

‘I'm glad you are safely returned to us. I want you both to think of this house as a place of peace and refuge for you.’

She gazed into Marcus' eyes and he looked back calmly. ‘Is it true you grew up without a mother?’

Marcus blushed a little, wondering how much Marius had told her. He nodded and Metella gave a little gasp.

‘You poor boy. I would have brought you to me earlier if I had known.’

Marcus was wondering if she knew what the legionaries were getting up to with her female slaves. She didn't seem to fit into the bluff world of Marius and his legion. He wondered what his own mother was like, and for the first time considered trying to find her. Marius would probably know, but it was not a question he wished to ask the man. Perhaps Tubruk would tell him before he returned to the estate.

Metella took her hand away from his and reached up to brush his cheek.

‘You have had a rough time of it, but that is all over now.’

Slowly, he touched her hand with his and it was as if they had reached some private understanding. Suddenly her eyes glistened with tears and she turned and walked away along the cloisters.

Marcus looked at Gaius and shrugged.

‘You have a friend there,’ Tubruk said, watching her retreating figure. ‘She has taken a liking to you.’

‘I'm a bit old to need a mother,’ Marcus muttered.

‘Possibly, but she's not too old to need a son.’

* * *

At noon, there was a commotion at the house gates. Some of the legionaries turned out with swords drawn in case it was a reprisal for the morning's work. Gaius and Marcus rushed to the courtyard with the rest and then stopped and gaped.

Renius was there, draped through the metal poles and singing a drunken dirge. He used the crossbar of the gate to steady himself, but his tunic was soaked with wine and specks of vomit. A guard stepped up to the bars and spoke to him as Gaius and Marcus came up, Tubruk just behind them.

Suddenly, Renius reached up to the man's hair and pulled his head into the metal with a clang. Unconscious, the soldier fell away and the others began to shout in anger.

‘Let him in and kill him!’ yelled one man, but another said it could be a trap of Sulla's to make them open the gates. This gave them all pause and it was Gaius and Marcus who approached the gates next.

‘Can we help you?’ Marcus said, raising his eyebrows in polite inquiry.

Renius mumbled angrily, ‘I'll stick my sword up you, whore's boy.’

Marcus started to laugh.

‘Open the gates,’ Gaius called to the other guard. ‘It's Renius – he's with me.’

The guard ignored him as if he had not spoken, making it clear that Gaius could not give orders in that house. As Gaius stepped towards the gate, a legionary took a pace to stand in front of him, shaking his head slowly.

Marcus sidled over to the gate and said a few quiet words to the guard there.

The man was in the middle of replying when Marcus butted him savagely, knocking him down into the dust. Ignoring the guard as he flailed and tried to get up, Marcus ran back the big bolts that held the door secure and opened it.

Renius fell into the yard and lay flat, his good arm twitching. Marcus chuckled and began to close the gate when he heard the smooth metallic sound of a knife coming from a sheath. He spun and was just in time to block a thrust from the furious guard with his forearm. With his left hand, he backhanded the man across the mouth and sent him sprawling again. Marcus shut the gate.

Two more of the men ran up to grab him, but a voice called, ‘Hold!’ and everyone froze for a second. Marius walked into the courtyard, showing no effects from the wine he had been putting away steadily for two hours. As he approached, the two men kept their eyes on Marcus, who looked calmly back at them.

‘Gods! What is going on in my house?’ Marius came up and put a heavy hand on the shoulder of one of the men facing Marcus.

‘Renius is here,’ Gaius said. ‘He came with us from the estate.’

Marius looked down at the sprawling figure, peacefully asleep on the stones.

‘He never got drunk when he was a gladiator. I can see why if this is how it affects him. What happened to you?’ The last question was addressed to the guard who had resumed his post. His mouth and nose were bloody and his eyes sparked with indignation, but he knew better than to complain to Marius.

‘Caught myself in the face with the gate when I was opening it,’ he said slowly.

‘Damned careless of you, Fulvio. You should have let my nephew help you with it.’

The message was clear. The man nodded and wiped a little of the blood away with his hand.

‘Glad we've cleared that up. Now, you and you’ – he pointed a stiff finger at Gaius and Marcus – ‘come with me to my study. We need to discuss a couple of things.’

He waited until Gaius and Marcus had walked in front of him before falling in behind. Over his shoulder, he called, ‘Get that old man somewhere to sleep it off and keep that damned gate shut.’

Marcus caught the eye of the legionaries nearby and found they were all grinning, whether in malice or genuine amusement, he couldn't say.

Marius opened the door of his study and let the two go through into a room lined with maps on every wall, showing Africa and the empire and Rome herself. He closed the door quietly and then turned to face them. His eyes were cold and Gaius felt a momentary pang of fear as the man focused his dark gaze on him.

‘What did you think you were doing?’ Marius spat from between clenched teeth.

Gaius opened his mouth to say he was letting Renius in when he thought better of it.

‘I'm sorry. I should have waited for you.’

Marius banged his heavy fist on the desk.

‘I suppose you realise that if Sulla had had twenty picked men in the street waiting for just such an opportunity, we would most likely be dead by now?’

Gaius blushed miserably.

Marius swivelled to face Marcus. ‘And you. Why did you attack Fulvio?’

‘Gaius gave the order to open the gates. The man ignored him. I made it happen.’

There was no give in Marcus. He looked up at the older man and met his gaze unflinchingly.

The general raised his eyebrows in disbelief.

‘You expected him, a veteran of thirty conflicts, to take orders from a beardless boy of fourteen?’

‘I … didn't think about it.’ For the first time, Marcus looked unsure of himself and the general turned back to Gaius.

‘If I back you in this, I will lose some of the respect of the men. They all know you made a mistake and will be waiting to see what I do about it.’

Gaius' heart sank.

‘There is a way out of this, but it will cost you both dearly. Fulvio is the boxing champion of his century. He lost a lot of face today when you clipped him, Marcus. I dare say he would be willing to take part in a friendly fight, just to clear the air. Otherwise, he may well put a knife in you when I am not around to step in.’

‘He'll kill me,’ Marcus said quietly.

‘Not in a friendly match. We won't use the iron gloves, because of your tender age, just goatskin ones to protect your hands. Have you been trained at all?’

The boys murmured that they had, thinking of Renius.

Marius turned to Gaius again.

‘Of course, win or lose, if your friend shows courage, the men will love him and I can't have my nephew in his shadow, do you understand?’

Gaius nodded, guessing what was coming.

‘I'll put you in against one of the others. They're all champions at some skill or other, which is why I chose them for the escort duty to the Senate. You'll both take a beating, but if you handle yourselves well enough the incident will be forgotten and you may even gain a bit of standing with my men. They are the scum of the gutters, most of them; they fear nothing and have respect only for strength. Oh, I can just order them back to duties and do nothing, letting you hide in the shadow of my authority, but that won't do, d'you see?’

Their faces were bleak, and he snorted suddenly.

‘Smile, boys. You might as well. There is no other way out of this, so why not spit in old Jupiter's eye while you're at it?’

They looked at each other, and both grinned.

Marius laughed again.

‘You'll do. Two hours. I'll tell the men and announce the opponents. That'll give Renius time to sober up a little. I should think he would want to see this. By all the gods, I want to see this! Dismissed!’

Gaius and Marcus walked slowly back to their rooms. Their initial levity had faded, leaving a sick churning in both their stomachs at what was to come.

‘Hey! Do you realise I put a century boxing champion on his back? I am damn well going to try and win this match. If I can hit him once, I can knock him out. One good strike is all it takes.’

‘But this time he'll be expecting it,’ Gaius replied morosely. ‘I'll probably get that big ape Marius was leading around by the head earlier; that would be just the sort of joke he likes.’

‘Big men are slow. You're fast with the cross, but you'll have to stay out of range. All these soldiers are heavy and that means they can hit harder than we can. Keep moving your feet and wear them down.’

‘We're going to be murdered,’ Gaius replied.

‘Yes, I think we probably are.’

Tubruk was calmly accepting when he heard the news back at their rooms.

'I expected something like it. Marius loves contests and is forever staging them between his own men and those of the other legions. This is just his style – a bit of cheering and a deal of blood and everything is forgotten and forgiven.

‘Thankfully, you haven't drunk more than a cup or two of wine. Come on, two hours is not long to get you warmed up and ready. You'd better spar for a while in one of the training rooms. Get a slave to direct you to one and I'll find you as soon as I have some gloves. One thing – don't let Marius down. Especially you, Gaius. You're his kin, you have to put on a good show.’

‘I understand,’ Gaius replied grimly.

‘Then get going. I'll have some of the slaves throw ice water on Renius – from a distance so that he doesn't go berserk.’

‘What happened with him? Why was he drunk so early in the day?’ Gaius asked, curiously.

‘I don't know. Concentrate on one thing at a time. You'll have a chance to speak to Renius this evening. Now go!’

While the rest of Rome slept through the heat of the afternoon, the men from the First-Born legion gathered in the largest training room, lining the walls, laughing, chatting and sipping cool beer and fruit juices. After the fights, Marius had promised them a ten-course feast of good food and wine, and the mood was relaxed and cheerful. Tubruk stood with Marcus and Gaius, loosening the shoulders of one then the other. Cabera sat on a stool, his face inscrutable.

‘They are both right-handed,’ Tubruk said quietly. ‘Fulvio you know; the other, Decidus, is a javelin champion. He has very strong shoulders, though he doesn't look fast. Stay away from them, make them come to you.’

Marcus and Gaius nodded. Both were a little pale under their tanned skin.

‘Remember, the idea is to stay upright long enough to show you have nerve. If you go down early, get up. I'll stop it if you're in real trouble, but Marius won't like that, so I will have to be careful.’ He put a hand on each of their shoulders.

‘Both of you have skill and courage and wind. Renius is watching. Don't let us down.’

Both boys glanced over to where Renius sat, his useless arm strapped to his belt. His hair was still damp and murder glinted from his expression.

Cheering began as Marius entered. He held up his hands for quiet and it came quickly.

‘I expect each man to do his best, but know that my money will be on my nephew and his friend. Two bets, twenty-five aurei on each. Do I have any takers?’

For a moment, the silence held. Fifty gold pieces was a huge bet for a private fight, but who could resist? The gathered men emptied their pouches and some left for their rooms to fetch more coins. After a while, the money was there and Marius added his own pouch so that one hundred gold pieces were held in his great hand, enough to buy a smallholding, or a warhorse and full armour and weapons.

‘Will you hold the bag for us, Renius?’ Marius asked.

‘I will,’ he replied, his tone solemn and formal. He seemed to have thrown off most of the effects of drink, but Gaius noticed he did not try to rise and waited until the money was brought to him.

Fulvio and Decidus entered the training hall to more cheering from the men. There was now no question where their support lay.

Both men were wearing only a tight-fitting cloth wrapped around their groins and upper thighs, held by a wide belt. Decidus had the sort of shoulders and physique usually seen on the statues of the forum. Gaius watched him closely, but there were no obvious weaknesses. Fulvio did not wave to the crowd. His nose was bound with a strip of cloth tied at the back of his head and his lips were swollen and angry-looking.

Gaius nudged Marcus. ‘Looks like you broke his nose with that butt earlier on. He'll be expecting you to hit it again, you realise. Wait for a good opportunity.’

Marcus nodded, engrossed as Gaius had been with his study of the man and his movements.

Marius raised his hands again to be heard over the lively soldiers.

‘Marcus and Fulvio will fight the first bout. No time limits, but a round ends when one man has a knee or more on the ground. When one is unable to rise, the bout is over and the other will begin. Come to your marks.’

Fulvio and Marcus came to stand on either side of the general.

‘When the horn is blown, you begin. Good luck.’

Marius walked sedately to the sidelines with the men and signalled to one to sound the horn usually used in battle. A hush fell and the blare resonated as a pure note.

Marcus loosened his shoulders, rocked his head from side to side and stepped forward. He held his hands high as he had been taught by Renius, but Fulvio kept his fists relaxed, his arms only slightly bent. He swayed as Marcus jabbed with his left and the blows went by harmlessly. One fist shot out and thumped into Marcus' chest, over the heart. He gasped in pain and backed away, then set his teeth and came in again. He launched a fast jab followed immediately by a straight right, but, again, Fulvio moved out of the way with a single step and hammered the same spot with his gloved right hand. Marcus felt the air explode out of him with the pain.

The men had begun cheering and only Gaius, Tubruk and Cabera cheered for the younger fighter. Fulvio was smiling and Marcus began to think. The man was fast and difficult to hit. At present, Marcus was doing all the work, winning nothing for his efforts. He growled in rage and surged forward, his right arm cocked. He saw Fulvio steady himself and then pulled up suddenly, letting the blow that should have knocked him out go past his chin. Marcus punched fast and hard at Fulvio's nose and was gratified at the crunch of bones he felt. At that second, a cross caught him on the side of his head and he went down hard on the wooden floor, dazed and winded.

He panted as he came up onto one knee and looked up at Fulvio standing a couple of paces away. Blood streamed from his nose again and he looked murderous.

Marcus got up into a flurry of blows. He tried to stay away and fend off the worst of them, but Fulvio was all over him, thumping fists into his stomach and kidneys from all angles, chopping him to pieces, and when the pain made him hunch, catching Marcus with swift uppercuts to the head, rocking him back. He fell again and lay there, his chest heaving painfully. He tasted blood in his mouth and his left eye was swelling shut under the assault of Fulvio's straight right.

This time he rose and took three quick steps backwards to give him time to compose himself. Fulvio came with him remorselessly, moving his head and body from side to side as he looked for the best place to hit. The man resembled a snake about to bite and Marcus knew the next time he went down he was unlikely to get up. Anger flooded him and he ducked the first punch on sheer reflexes, batting the follow-through away with his arm. He felt Fulvio's forearm slide under his fingers and suddenly gripped the wrist. His right fist came into the man's stomach with all the power of his shoulders behind it and he was rewarded with a slight whoosh of pain.

Still holding the arm, he tried to repeat the punch, but Fulvio brought his left over and clipped him hard on the jaw. The world went black and he fell down, barely feeling the hard, wooden boards underneath him. His legs seemed to have lost all strength and he could only manage to get himself up onto all fours, panting like a beast.

Fulvio waved a glove at him to get up, still unsatisfied. Marcus looked down at the floor and wondered if he should. Blood dribbled from between his lips and he watched it spatter into a small pool.

Ah well, he thought. One more try.

This time Fulvio didn't rush him. He was grinning again and beckoned with his hands for Marcus to come on. Marcus tightened his jaw. He was going to put the man on his back one more time if it killed him. He imagined each of Fulvio's fists held a dagger, so that any contact would mean death. He felt his spirits rise. He knew how to fight with swords and knives, so why was this so different? He let himself sway a little, wanting Fulvio to come in. Most of his knife training had revolved around counter-strikes and he wanted the boxer to throw another punch. Fulvio quickly lost patience and came in fast, fists bobbing.

Marcus watched the fists and when one exploded towards him, he blocked, lifting it with his forearm and counter-punched into Fulvio's abdomen. Fulvio grunted and the left came over the top again in reflex, but this time Marcus dropped his head and the blow skidded over him, leaving Fulvio open for a split second. Marcus hammered everything into a straight left stopper, wishing it were his right. Fulvio's head rocked back and, when it came level, the right was ready and Marcus smacked it into the boxer's broken nose again. Fulvio took a sudden seat and fresh blood poured from his battered nose.

Before Marcus could feel any pleasure, the man leapt up and poured out a string of blows, seeming to move twice as fast as he had before. Marcus went down after the first two and caught two more as he fell. This time he didn't get up and didn't hear the cheers or the horn as Marius nodded to end the match.

Fulvio raised his hands in triumph and Marius ruefully signalled the first fifty of the hundred gold coins to be given back to the men. They gathered together in a momentary huddle and then, when silence had fallen, one of them offered the bag back to Marius.

‘We'll let the win ride for the next one, sir, if you're willing,’ he said.

Marius grimaced in mock horror, but nodded and said he would cover the bet. The men cheered again.

Marcus woke up as Tubruk threw a cup of wine in his face.

‘Did I win?’ he said through smashed lips.

Tubruk chuckled and wiped some of the blood and wine off his face.

‘Not even close, but you were still astonishing. You shouldn't have been able to touch him.’

‘Touched him properly though,’ he mumbled, smiling and wincing as his lips cracked. ‘Knocked him on his arse.’

Marcus looked around for somewhere to spit and, finding nothing handy, swallowed a gummy mixture of phlegm and blood.

Every part of him hurt, worse than it had when he'd been tied up by Suetonius years before. He wondered if he'd be as good-looking when he'd healed, but his thoughts were interrupted by Fulvio coming over, taking off his gloves as he walked.

‘Good fight. I had three gold pieces on me, myself. You're very fast – in a few years, you could be seriously dangerous.’

Marcus nodded and put out his hand. Fulvio looked at it and then shook it briefly and walked back to the men, who cheered him all over again.

‘Take the cloth and keep dabbing as the blood drips,’ Tubruk continued cheerfully. ‘You'll need stitches over your eye. We'll have to cut it to get the swelling down as well.’

‘Not yet. I'll watch Gaius first.’

‘Of course.’ Tubruk walked away, still chuckling, and Marcus squinted at him through his one good eye.

Gaius clenched his fists and waited for Tubruk to reach him. His opponent had already taken the floor and was limbering up, stretching his muscular shoulders and legs.

‘He's a big brute,’ he muttered as Tubruk came alongside.

‘True, but he's not a boxer. You have a reasonable chance against this one, as long as you don't get in the way of one of his big punches. He'll put you out like snuffing a candle if he catches you. Stay back and use your feet to move around him.’

Gaius looked at him quizzically. ‘Anything else?’

‘If you can, punch him in the testicles. He'll watch for it, but it isn't strictly speaking against the rules.’

‘Tubruk, you do not have the heart of a decent man.’

‘No, I have the heart of a slave and a gladiator. I have two gold pieces on you for this one and I want to win.’

‘Did you bet on Marcus?’ he asked.

‘Of course not. Unlike Marius, I don't throw money away.’

Marius came to the centre and signalled for silence once again.

‘After that disappointing loss, the money rides on the next bout. Decidus and Gaius, take your marks. Same rules. When you hear the horn, begin.’ He waited until both stood eyeing each other and walked to the wall, folding his great arms over his chest.

As the horn sounded, Gaius stepped in and slammed his fist up into Decidus' throat. The bigger man gave out a choked groan and raised both his hands to his neck, in agony. Gaius threw a scything uppercut that caught Decidus on the chin. He went down onto his knees and then toppled forward, his eyes glassy and blank. Gaius walked slowly back to his stool and sat down. He smiled silently and Renius, watching, remembered the same smile on a younger boy's face as he'd lifted him from the icy waters of a river pool. Renius nodded sharply in approval, his eyes bright, but Gaius did not see it.

The silence roared for a second, then the men released the breath they'd been holding and a rabble of voices broke out – mostly questions and spiced with a few choice swearwords as they realised the bets were all lost.

Marius walked over to the prostrate figure and felt his neck for a second. Silence fell again. Finally, he nodded.

‘His heart beats. He'll live. Should have kept his chin down.’

The men gave a half-hearted cheer for the winner, though their spirits weren't really in it.

Marius addressed the crowd, grinning.

‘If you have an appetite, there's a feast waiting for you in the dining hall. We'll make a night of it, for tomorrow it's back to planning and work.’

Decidus was revived and taken out, shaking his head groggily. The rest trooped after him, leaving Marcus and Gaius alone with the general. Renius never left his seat and Cabera stayed back as well, his face alive with interest.

‘Well, boys, you've made me a lot of money today!’ Marius boomed, starting to laugh. He had to lean against a wall for support as the laughter shook his frame.

‘Their faces! Two beardless boys and one puts Fulvio on his backside …’ The laughter overtook him and he wiped his eyes as they streamed over his red face.

Renius stood up, swaying a little. He walked over to Marcus and Gaius and clapped a hand on each shoulder.

‘You've started making your names,’ he said quietly.