Читать книгу The Emperor Series Books 1-5 - Conn Iggulden - Страница 35

Cornelius Sulla sipped cooled wine in the shadow of his tent, looking over the legion camp. It was the last night he would have to bear away from his beloved Rome. He shivered slightly in the breeze and perhaps in anticipation of the conflict to come. Did he know every aspect of Marius’ plans or would the old fox surprise him? Messages of official welcome lay upon the table, ignored for the formality they were.

Padacus rode up, pulling the horse into a flashy stop with the rear legs buckling on the turn. Sulla smiled at him. So very young, and such a very beautiful man, he noted to himself.

‘The camp is secure, General,’ Padacus called as he dismounted. Every inch of his armour was polished and glowing, the leather soft and dark with oil. A young Hercules, Sulla thought as he received and answered the salute. Loyal unto death, though, like a pampered hound.

‘Tomorrow night, we will enter the city. This is the last night for hard ground and living like barbarians,’ Sulla told him, preferring the simple image over the reality of soft beds and fine linen in the general’s tent at least. His heart was with the men, but the privations of a legionary’s life had never appealed to the consul.

‘Will you share your plans, Cornelius? The others are all eager to know how you will handle Marius.’

Padacus had pressed a little too closely in his enthusiasm and Sulla held up a palm.

‘Tomorrow, my friend. Tomorrow will be soon enough for preparations. I will retire early tonight, after a little more wine.’

‘Will you require … company?’ Padacus asked softly.

‘No. Wait. Send a couple of the better-looking whores to me. I might as well see if I have anything new to learn.’

Padacus dropped his head as if he’d been struck. He backed to his horse and trotted away.

Sulla watched his stiff retreat and sighed, splashing the remaining wine in his goblet onto the black ground. It was the third time the young man had offered and Sulla had to face the fact that he was becoming a problem. The line between adoration and spite was fine in young Padacus. Better to send him away to some other legion before he caused trouble that could not be ignored. He sighed again and walked into the tent, flicking the leather sheet closed over the entrance behind him.

The lamps had been lit by his slaves, the floor was covered in rugs and cloth. Sweet-smelling oil burned in a tiny cup, a rare mixture he enjoyed. Sulla took a deep breath and caught a flicker of movement coming at him from the right. He collapsed backwards out of the line of the attack and felt the air move as something slashed above him. Sulla kicked out with powerful legs and his attacker was knocked from his feet. As the assassin flailed round, Sulla caught his knife hand in a crushing grip. He levered himself up so that his weight was on the man’s chest and he smiled as he watched the man’s expression change from anger and fear to surprise and despair.

Sulla was not a soft man. True, he didn’t favour the more extreme Roman tests of courage, where injuries and scars showed prowess, but he trained every day and fought in every battle. His wrists were like metal and he had no difficulty in turning the blade inward until it was pointing towards the man’s throat.

‘How much did Marius pay you?’ Sulla sneered, his voice showing little strain.

‘Nothing. I kill you for pleasure.’

‘Amateur by word and deed!’ Sulla continued, pressing the knife closer to the heaving flesh. ‘Guards! Attend your consul!’ he barked and, within seconds, the man was pinned down and Sulla could stand and brush dust from himself.

The guard captain had entered with the rush of people. He was pale, but managed to snap out a clean salute as he stood to attention.

‘It seems that an assassin has made his way through the camp and into the tent of a consul of Rome without being challenged,’ Sulla said quietly, dipping his hands into a bowl of scented water on an oak table and holding them out to be dried by a slave.

The guard captain took a deep breath to calm himself. ‘Torture will get us the names of his masters. I will supervise the questioning myself. I will resign my commission in the morning, General, with your permission?’

Sulla continued as if the man had not spoken. ‘I do not enjoy being accosted in my own tent. It seems such a common, grubby incident to disturb my repose in this way.’

He stooped and picked up the dagger, ignoring the owner’s frantic struggles as the grim soldiers bound him with vicious tightness. He held the slim blade out to the nervous captain.

‘You have left me unprotected. Take this. Go to your tent and cut your throat with it. I will have your body collected in … two hours?’

The man nodded stiffly, taking the dagger. He saluted again and turned on his heel, marching out of the tent space.

Padacus placed a warm palm on Sulla’s arm. ‘Are you wounded?’

Sulla pulled his arm away in irritation. ‘I am fine. Gods, it was only one man. Marius must have a very low opinion of me.’

‘We don’t know it was only one man. I will set guards around your tent tonight.’

Sulla shook his head. ‘No. Let Marius think he has scared me? I’ll keep those two whores you were bringing me and make sure one of them is awake through the night. Bring them in and get rid of everyone else. I believe I have worked up an appetite for a little vicious entertainment.’

Padacus saluted smartly, but Sulla saw the full lips pout as he turned and made a note. The man was definitely a risk. He would not make it back to Rome. An accident of some kind – a fall from his glorious gelding. Perfect.

At last he was alone and Sulla sat on a low bed, smoothing a hand over the soft material. There was a quiet, female cough from outside and Sulla smiled with pleasure.

The two girls that entered at his call were clean, lithe and richly dressed. Both were beautiful.

‘Wonderful,’ Sulla sighed, patting the bed beside him. For all his faults, Padacus had an eye for truly beautiful women, a rather wasted gift in the circumstances.

Marius frowned at his nephew.

‘I do not question your decision to be wed! Cinna will be a useful support in your career. It will suit you politically as well as personally to marry his daughter. However, I do question your timing. With Sulla’s legion likely to arrive at the gates of the city tomorrow evening, you want me to arrange a marriage in such haste?’

A legionary rushed up to the general, attempting to salute around an armful of scrolls and documents. Marius raised a hand to hold him off.

‘You discussed certain plans with me, if things didn’t work out tomorrow?’ Gaius asked, his voice quiet.

Marius nodded and turned to the guard. ‘Wait outside. I’ll fetch you when I’m finished here.’

The man attempted another salute and trotted out of the general’s barracks room. As soon as he was out of earshot, Gaius spoke again.

‘If somehow things go wrong for us … and I have to flee the city, I won’t leave Cornelia behind unmarried.’

‘She can’t go with you!’ Marius snapped.

‘No. But I can’t leave her without my name for protection. She may be pregnant.’ He hated to admit the extent of their relationship. It was a private thing between them, but only Marius could get the sacrifices and priests ready in the short time left to them and he had to be made to understand.

‘I see. Does her father know of … your intimacy?’

Gaius nodded.

‘Then we are lucky he is not at the door with a horsewhip. Fair enough. I will make ready for the briefest of vow ceremonies. Dawn tomorrow?’

Gaius smiled suddenly, released from a tension he had felt pressing on him.

‘That’s more like it,’ Marius laughed in response. ‘Gods, Sulla isn’t even in sight yet and a long way from taking Rome back from me. You look too hard for the worst outcomes, I fear. Tomorrow evening your haste may seem ridiculous as we put old Sulla’s head on a spike, but no matter. Go. Buy a wedding robe and presents. Have all the bills sent to me.’ He patted Gaius on the back.

‘Oh, and see Catia on the way out – a lady of mature years who makes uniforms for the men. She will think of a few things and where to get them in so short a time. Go!’

Gaius left, chuckling.

As soon as he had gone, Marius summoned his aide with a shout and spread the scrolls out on the table, holding the edges with smooth lead weights.

‘Right, lad,’ he said to the soldier. ‘Summon the centurions for another meeting. I want to hear any fresh ideas, no matter how bizarre. What have I missed? What does Sulla plan?’

‘Perhaps you have already thought of everything, General.’

‘No man can think of everything; all we can do is to be ready for anything.’ Marius waved the man away on his errand.

Gaius found Cabera throwing dice with two of Marius’ legionaries. The old man was engrossed in the game and Gaius controlled his impatience as he made another throw and clapped his ancient hands together in pleasure. Coins were passed over and Gaius took his arm before another round could begin.

‘I spoke to Marius. He can arrange the ceremony for dawn tomorrow. I need help today to get everything ready.’

Cabera looked carefully at him as he tucked his winnings into his ragged brown robe. He nodded to the soldiers and one of them shook hands a little ruefully before walking away.

‘I look forward to meeting this girl who has had such an impact on you. I suppose she is terribly beautiful?’

‘Of course! She is a young goddess. Sweet brown eyes and golden hair. You cannot possibly imagine.’

‘No. I was never young. I was born a wrinkled old man, to the surprise of my mother,’ Cabera answered seriously, making Gaius laugh. He felt drunk with excitement, with the threatening shadow of Sulla’s arrival pushed right to the back of his mind.

‘Marius has given me the purse strings, but the shops close so early. We have no time to waste. Come on!’ Gaius pulled Cabera by the arm and the old man chuckled, enjoying the enthusiasm.

As evening darkened over the city, Marius left the centurions and walked out to make another inspection of the wall defences. He stretched as he walked and felt and heard his back clicking, sore from bending over the plans for so many hours. A warning voice in his mind reminded him of how foolish it was to walk around in this city after dark, even with the curfew still in place. He dismissed it with a shrug. Rome would never hurt him. She loved her son too dearly, he knew.

As if in response to his thoughts, he felt the freshening warm wind on his face, drying the sweat that had seeped from him in the cramped barracks. When Sulla was disposed of, he would see about building a greater palace for the Rome legion. There was a slum area adjoining the barracks that could be flattened by senatorial order. He saw it in his mind and imagined entertaining foreign leaders in the great halls. Dreams, but pleasant as he walked through the silent streets, with only the clack-clack of his sandals breaking the perfect stillness.

He could see the silhouettes of his men against the star-filled night sky long before he reached them. Some were still and some walked their prescribed, overlapping routes at random. At a glance, he could see they were alert. Good men. Who knew what awaited them the next time night fell? He shrugged again to himself and was glad no one could see him in the dim streets. Sulla would come and he would be met with steel. There was no point in worrying and Marius took a deep cleansing breath, putting it all away inside him. He smiled cheerfully as the first of many sentries stopped him.

‘Good lad. Hold that spear steady now, a pilum is a fearful weapon in a strong grip. That’s it. I thought I would take a tour of this section. Can’t stand the waiting, you know. Can you?’

The sentry saluted gravely.

‘I don’t mind it, sir. You may pass.’

Marius clapped his hand against the sentry’s shoulder. ‘Good man. They won’t get past you.’

‘No, sir.’

The legionary watched him go and nodded to himself. The old man was still hungry.

Marius climbed the steps to the new wall his legion had constructed over and around the old gates of Rome. It was a solid and massive construction of heavy interlocking blocks with a wide walkway at the top, where a smaller wall would protect his men from archers. Marius rested his hands on the smooth stone and looked out into the night. If he were Sulla, how would he take the city?

Sulla’s legions had huge siege engines, heavy crossbows, stone throwers and catapults. Marius had used each type and feared them all. He knew that, as well as large stones to batter the wall, Sulla could load his machines with smaller shot that would rip through defenders too slow to duck. He would use fire, launching barrels of rock oil over the wall to ignite the inner buildings. Enough barrels and the men on the wall would be lit from behind, easy targets for archers. Marius had cleared some wooden buildings away from the wall, his men dismantling homes quickly and efficiently. Those he could not move had a huge supply of water at the ready, with trained teams to deal with it. It was a new idea for Rome and one he would have to look into when the battle was over. Every summer, fires gutted houses in the city, sometimes spreading to others before being stopped by a wide street or a thick stone wall. A small group ready with water could …

He knuckled his eyes. Too much time spent thinking and planning. He hadn’t slept for more than a few hours for weeks and the drain was beginning to tell on even his vitality.

The wall would have to be scaled with ladders. It was strong, but Roman legions were practised in taking fortresses and castles. The techniques were almost mundane now. Marius muttered to himself, knowing the nearest sentry was too far away to hear his voice.

‘They have never fought Romans, especially Romans in defence of their own city. That is our true advantage. I know Sulla, but he knows me. They have the mobility, but we have the stronghold and the morale. My men are not attacking beloved Rome, after all.’

Cheered by his thoughts, Marius walked on over the section of wall. He spoke to each man and, recalling names here and there, asked them about their progress and promotions and loved ones. There wasn’t a hint of weakness in any he spoke to. They were like hard-eyed hunting dogs, eager to be killing for him.

By the time he had walked the section and descended back into the dark streets below, Marius felt lifted by the men’s simple faith in him. He would see them through. They would see him through. He hummed a military tune to himself as he strolled back to the barracks and his heart was light.