Emperor: the field of swords E#3 (10 page)

    “Will she know me?” Julius asked, suddenly uncomfortable. He glanced at the gates as if speaking of Julia could bring her into sight. He remembered only a little of the daughter he had left in her care. Just a fragile girl he had comforted while her mother was laid out in the darkness. The memory of her tiny hands wrapped around his neck was strangely powerful.

    “She will, I’m sure. She’s always asking for stories of you, and I’ve told her all I can.” Clodia’s gaze strayed past him to Octavian as he stood stiffly by the horses.

    “Octavian?” she said, wondering at the changes in him.

    Before he could resist, Clodia ran to him and administered a smothering hug. Julius chuckled at his discomfort.

    “There’s dust in our throats, Clodia. Will you keep us standing out here all day?”

    Clodia let Octavian escape her.

    “Yes, of course. Give your horses to one of the boys there and I’ll see to the kitchen. There’s only a few of the slaves and me now. Without the papers in your name, the merchants wouldn’t deal with me. Without Tubruk to run the place, it’s been…”

    Julius flushed as the woman came close to tears again. He had not done his duty by her, he realized, wondering at his own blindness. She was making little of hard years and, to his shame, he could have eased the burden. He should have replaced Tubruk before he left and signed the control of funds over to her. Clodia seemed suddenly flustered at the thought of Julius seeing the house she had come to think of as her home, and he laid a hand on her arm to ease her.

    “I could not have asked for more,” he said.

    Some of the tightness in her eased. As the horses were led away to be brushed and fed, Clodia bustled before them into the house and they followed, Julius swallowing dryly as they passed from the courtyard into the rooms of his childhood.

    The meal Clodia brought to them was interrupted by a high sweet call outside as a clatter of hooves marked Julia’s return. With his mouth filled with bread and honey, Julius leapt to his feet and strode out into the sun. He had thought he would let her come in to him and greet her formally, but the sound of her voice overrode his patience and he couldn’t wait.

    Though she had seen only ten summers, she was the image of her mother, and her dark hair was worn long in a braid down her back. Julius laughed at the sight of the girl as she jumped down from her pony and fussed around him, pulling thorns and snags from his mane with her fingers as a comb.

    His daughter started at the sound of the strange voice and looked around to see who dared to chuckle at her in her own home. When her eyes met Julius’s, she frowned in suspicion. Julius watched her closely as she walked over to him, her head tilted to one side in silent inquiry in a way he remembered Cornelia doing.

    She walked with confidence, he noted with pleasure. A mistress of an estate come to meet visitors. She was dressed in a threadbare cream tunic and leggings for riding, and with her hair tied back and no sign of breasts under the cloth, she could almost have passed for a boy. He saw a simple silver bangle at her wrist and recognized it as one of his mother’s.

    Clodia had come out to witness the meeting and smiled at them both with maternal pride.

    “This is your father, Julia,” she said. The little girl froze in the act of rubbing dust from her sleeve. She looked up at Julius with a blank expression.

    “I remember you,” she said slowly. “Are you back to stay?”

    “For a while,” Julius replied as seriously.

    The little girl seemed to digest this and nodded.

    “Will you buy me a horse? I’m getting too big for old Gibi and Recidus says I would do well on a mount with a bit of spirit.”

    Julius blinked at her and some of the past seemed to melt away in his amusement.

    “I will find you a beauty,” he promised, rewarded with a smile that thumped his heart for the woman he had lost.

    Alexandria stood back from the heat of the forge, watching as Tabbic removed the cup of molten gold and positioned it over the pouring holes in the clay.

    “A steady hand now,” she cautioned unnecessarily, as Tabbic began to rotate the long wooden handle without a tremor. Both of them gave the liquid metal the respect it deserved as it hissed and gurgled into the cast. A single splash would burn flesh to the bone, and every part of the process had to be slow and careful. Alexandria nodded in satisfaction as vapor whistled out of the airholes in the clay and the deep gulping sound began to rise in tone until the structure was full. When the gold had cooled, the clay would be painstakingly removed to reveal a mask as perfect as the face of the woman it represented. At a senator’s bidding, Alexandria had performed the unpleasant task of taking a cast from his dead wife only hours after her death. Three lesser masks had followed in clay as Alexandria altered the lines of the face to smooth away the ravages of disease. With infinite care, she had rebuilt the nose where sickness had eaten the flesh, and at last the man had wept to see the image death had taken from him. In gold, she would be preserved forever young, long after the man who loved her was ashes himself.

    Alexandria touched a hand to the clay, feeling the heat constrained within and wondering if a man would ever love her enough to keep her image all his life.

    Lost in thought, she did not hear Brutus enter the workshop, and only the stillness as he gazed at her made her turn, sensing something she could not have named.

    “Break out the good wine and take your clothes off,” he said. His eyes were on her and he didn’t even notice Tabbic standing there with his mouth open. “I’m back, girl. Julius is back and Rome will be turned on its head when we’re done.”

CHAPTER 9

    Brutus patted Alexandria’s thigh, enjoying the feel of her as they rode through the dusk out to the estate. After spending the day in bed with her, he felt more relaxed and at ease with the world than he could remember. He wished all his homecomings were of that quality.

    Not used to riding, she held him tightly and he could feel the whip of her hair as it struck his bare neck, something he found extraordinarily erotic. She had grown strong while he was away, her body taut with health and strength. Her face too had altered subtly and her forehead was marked with a scar from a splash of hot metal, almost in the shape of a tear.

    Her black cloak snapped around him for a moment in the wind, and he gripped the edge of it, pulling her in closer. She wrapped her arms around his chest and breathed deeply. The air was warm as the land gave back the heat of the sun, and Brutus only wished there was someone there to witness how magnificent they must look as he cut across the fields to the estate.

    He saw it from far away, the light of torches blurring together to make the walls a crown of light in the growing darkness. He slowed at the end and for a moment he thought it was Tubruk waiting for him by the open gate.

    Julius stayed silent as he watched them slow to a walk, guessing at Brutus’s thoughts and understanding them. He put aside his impatience and gave silent thanks for his friend’s arrival. It was right that he be there, and they shared a private smile of regret as Brutus turned in the saddle to help Alexandria down and then jumped to the ground beside her.

    Julius kissed Alexandria on the cheek. “I’m honored to have you at my home. The servants will take you in while I have a word with Brutus,” he said. Her eyes sparkled, he thought, wondering if her mind ever strayed back to one particular evening as his did.

    When she had gone inside, Julius took a deep breath and clapped Brutus on the shoulder in affection.

    “I can’t believe Tubruk isn’t here,” Julius said, looking out over the fields.

    Brutus glanced at him in silence for a moment, then reached down and picked up a handful of dust.

    “Do you remember when he made you hold this?” he said.

    Julius nodded, copying the action. Brutus was pleased to see him smile as he let the dust trickle into the breeze.

    “Fed with the blood of those who have gone before us,” Julius said.

    “And our blood. He was a good man,” Brutus replied, letting his own handful lift away and bringing his hands together in a sharp clap. “You’ll have to find someone else to get the fields plowed under again. I’ve never seen the place so ragged. Still, you’re back now.”

    Julius frowned at him. “I was going to ask where you had disappeared to, but I see you found something better than seeing to the camp at Ostia.” Julius could not bring himself to be angry with his friend, though he had intended to make the point very clearly.

    “Renius had it all in hand and it’s a good thing I did,” Brutus replied. “Alexandria told me there will be a public debate tomorrow in the forum and I rode straight here to tell you.”

    “I know about it. Servilia told me as soon as she heard. Still, I’m glad you came. I would have sent for you even if you hadn’t disobeyed my orders.”

    Brutus looked at his friend, trying to judge how seriously he was being criticized. The strain and exhaustion of the time in Spain had left Julius’s face, and he seemed younger than he had for a long time. Brutus waited for a moment.

    “Am I forgiven?” he said.

    “You are,” Julius replied. “Now come inside and meet my daughter. There’s a room ready for you and I want you with me to plan a campaign. You are the last to come in.”

    They walked together through the courtyard, the only sound the snap and flutter of the lamps along the wall. The breeze cut across them for a moment as the gate was shut, and Brutus felt the hairs lift on his arms, making him shiver. Julius opened a door into a room of life and chatter, and he ducked his head to go in, feeling the first touches of excitement.

    Julius had summoned them all, Brutus saw as he looked round the room and greeted his friends. With Alexandria, everyone he cared about was in that one room, and they had the bright eyes of joyful conspirators, planning how to rule a city. Servilia, Cabera, Domitius, Ciro, Octavian, all the ones Julius had gathered to his side. The only stranger was the young Spaniard who had come with them as Julius’s scribe. Adŕn looked from face to face even as Brutus did, and when their eyes met, Brutus nodded to him, acknowledging him as Julius would have wanted.

    Brutus saw that Alexandria was standing stiffly amongst them and moved to her side instinctively. Julius caught the movement and understood it.

    “We need you here, Alexandria. No one else has lived in the city for the last few years, and I want that knowledge.”

    She blushed prettily as she relaxed, and Brutus squeezed her buttock, unseen by the others. His mother looked sharply at him as Alexandria slapped his hand away, but Brutus only smiled at her before looking back at Julius.

    “Where is this daughter of yours?” Brutus asked. He was curious to see the girl.

    “She’ll be out in the stables,” Julius said. “She rides like a centaur, you know. I’ll call her in before she’s ready to sleep.” For an instant, pride touched his features as he thought of his daughter, and Brutus smiled with him. Then Julius cleared his throat, looking round at them all.

    “Now, I need to decide what I am to do tomorrow morning, when I walk into the forum and declare for the consul’s post.”

    Everyone tried to speak at once and the knock at the door went unheard for the first few moments. Clodia opened it and her expression brought quiet as they saw her.

    “There is… I could not stop him,” she began.

    Julius took her by the arm. “Who is it?” he asked.

    He froze as he caught sight of the figure behind her and stood back with Clodia to let the door swing open.

    Crassus stood there, dressed in a toga of startling white against his dark skin. A gold clasp glittered at his shoulder and Alexandria blinked as she recognized her own work, wondering if it was coincidence or subtle proof of his understanding of the relationships in the room.

    “Good evening, Caesar. I believe your post of tribune was never revoked. Should I address you by that title now that you have left the praetorship of Spain behind you?”

    Julius bowed his head, struggling to hide the anger he felt at the man’s casual entry into his home. His mind spun with sudden thoughts. Were there soldiers outside? If there were, Crassus would find it harder to leave than to enter, he swore silently. Julius released his grip on Clodia’s arm and she left the room quickly without looking back. He did not blame her for letting Crassus into his home. Though she had run the house as its mistress, she had been too many years a slave not to be frightened by one of the most powerful men in the Senate. No door could be barred against a consul of Rome.

    Crassus saw the tension in the young man he faced and continued. “Put yourself at ease, Julius. I am a friend to this house, as I was to Marius before you. Did you think you could land a legion on my coastline without word reaching me? I would imagine even Pompey’s feeble ring of spies has heard you are back by now.” Crassus caught sight of Servilia in the room and lowered his head slightly in greeting.

    “You are welcome here,” Julius said, trying to unbend. He knew he had hesitated too long and suspected the older man had enjoyed every moment of the confusion he had created.

    “I am glad,” Crassus replied. “Well, if someone will fetch another chair, I will join you, with your permission. You will need a strong speech tomorrow if you mean to have a consul’s robe next year. Pompey will not be pleased to hear of it, but that is the sweetness to the sauce.”

    “Are there no secrets from you?” Julius asked, beginning to recover.

    Crassus smiled at him. “Confirmed by your own mouth! I thought there could be no other reason for you to leave the post as praetor. I trust you appointed a replacement before you sailed for Rome?”

    “I did, of course,” Julius replied. To his surprise, he found he was enjoying the exchange.

    Crassus took the chair Octavian vacated for him and settled himself, using his long fingers to tweak his toga into neatness. The tension in the room began to ease as they accepted him amongst them.

    “I wonder, did you think you would just stride through the forum and ascend the speakers’ platform?” Crassus asked.

    Julius looked blankly at him. “Why not? Servilia tells me Prandus will be there to speak. I have as much right as he.”

    Crassus smiled, shaking his head. “I believe you would have done, at that. Better to come at my invitation, Julius. Pompey will not be asking for you to join us, after all. I look forward to seeing his face when you enter your name onto the lists.”

    He accepted a cup of wine and sipped at it, wincing slightly.

    “You realize Pompey may claim you have abandoned your duty by leaving before your term in Spain was finished?” he said, leaning forward in his seat.

    “I am immune from prosecution as tribune,” Julius replied quickly.

    “Unless it is a crime of violence, my friend, though I suppose deserting your post is safe enough. Pompey knows your protection, but how will it look to the people? From now until the elections, Julius, you must not only act well, but be seen to act well, or the votes you need will be wasted on another candidate.”

    Crassus looked around at the others in the room and smiled as his eyes met Alexandria’s. His fingers caressed the gold clasp at his shoulder for an instant, and she knew he recognized her and experienced a thrill of danger. For the first time since Brutus had found her in the workshop, she realized that Julius collected as many enemies as he did friends, and she was not yet sure which Crassus was.

    “What do you gain by helping me?” Julius said suddenly.

    “You have a legion I helped to rebuild, Julius, when it was still named Primigenia. I have been… persuaded of the need for men in the city. Trained men who cannot be bribed or tempted away by the gangs of raptores.”

    “You claim a debt from me?” Julius replied, tensing himself to refuse.

    Crassus glanced at Servilia and exchanged a look of understanding that Julius could not fathom.

    “No. I waived any debts too long ago to mention. I am asking freely for your help and in return my clients will help to spread your name in the city. You do have only a hundred days, my friend. Even with my aid, that is a short time.”

    He saw Julius hesitate and went on: “I was a friend to your father and Marius. Is it too much to ask for trust from the son?”

    Servilia tried to will Julius to look at her. She knew Crassus better than anyone else in the room and hoped Julius would not be fool enough to refuse him. She watched the man she loved with something like pain as she waited for his reply.

    “Thank you, Consul,” Julius said formally. “I do not forget my friends.”

    Crassus smiled in genuine pleasure. “With my wealth…” he began.

    Julius shook his head. “I have enough for this, Crassus, though I thank you.”

    For the first time, Crassus looked at the young general with the beginning of real respect. He had been right in his judgment, he thought. He could work with him and infuriate Pompey at the same time.

    “Shall we toast your candidacy, then?” Crassus asked, raising his cup.

    At Julius’s nod, the rest of them took wine and held the vessels awkwardly as they waited. For a moment, Julius regretted finishing the Falernian, but thought better of it. Tubruk could raise a cup of it to them, wherever he was.

    Julia sat out in the darkness of the stables, enjoying the warm comfort that the horses brought. She walked down the stalls and patted their soft muzzles, speaking softly to each one. She paused at the enormous gelding her father’s friend had brought that woman on. It was strange to use the word. Her
father
. How many times had Clodia told her about the brave man who had been sent away from the city by a consul’s whim? She had made her own pictures of him, telling herself he was held by the bonds of duty and could not return for her. Clodia always said he would come back in the end and everything would be all right, but now that he was there, Julia found him more than a little frightening. As soon as he had put his foot in the dust of the yard, everything had changed and the house had a new master.

    He seemed so stern, she thought as she reached up to rub her nose against the gelding’s velvet nostrils. The horse whickered gently in reply and pushed at her, blowing warm air against her face. He was not as old as she had expected. She’d imagined him with gray hair at the temples and the quiet dignity of a member of the Senate.

    The night air carried a gust of noise from where the new people had gathered. So many of them! The house had never been so full of visitors, she thought, wondering at them. From her perch on the outer wall, she had watched them come in and shaken her head at so many strangers.