Emperor: The Death of Kings E#2 (33 page)

  CHAPTER
29
  

W
alking through the city at the head of his ten soldiers sparked painful memories as Julius made his way to the street of Marius’s old home. He remembered the excitement he’d felt as the storm of energy around the general had caught him up in its wake. Each street and turning reminded him of that first clattering journey to the Senate, surrounded by the hardest men of Primigenia. How old had he been then, fourteen? Old enough to understand the lesson that the law would bend for strength. Even Sulla had quailed before the soldiers in the forum, on stones made wet with the blood of the heaving crowds. Marius had been granted the Triumph he wanted and the consulship that followed, though Sulla had brought him down at the end. Grief sat heavily on Julius as he wished for just one more moment with the golden general.

None of Julius’s men had ever seen Rome before, and four of them were from small villages along the African coast. They struggled not to stare, but it was a losing battle as they saw the mythical city made real before their eyes.

Ciro seemed awed simply by the numbers of people they passed in the bustling streets, and Julius saw the city with fresh eyes through the big man’s reactions. There was nowhere like it in the world. The smells of food and spices blended with shouts and hammering, and woven through the crowds were tunics and togas of blue and red and gold. It was a feast of the senses and Julius enjoyed their wonder, remembering how he had ridden at Marius’s shoulder on a gilded chariot, every street filled with cheering people. The sweet glory of it was mixed in memory with the pain of what came after, but still, he had been there, on that day.

Even with only the largest roads named, Julius remembered the way without difficulty, almost unconsciously taking the exact route he had taken on his first visit after passing through the forum. Gradually, the streets became less crowded and cleaner as they rose above the valley of winding tenements and climbed the paved hill road that was lined with modest doors and gates, each hiding splendor within.

Julius halted his men a few hundred feet from the gate he remembered, and approached alone. As he drew up to it, a small, stocky figure dressed in a simple slave tunic and sandals came up to the bars to greet him. Although the man smiled politely, Julius noticed his eyes flicked up and down the road with automatic caution.

“I have come to speak to the owner of the house,” Julius said, smiling and relaxed.

“General Antonidus is not here,” the gatekeeper replied warily.

Julius nodded as if he had expected the news. “I will have to wait for him then. He must have the news I carry.”

“You can’t come in while—” the man began.

With a jerk of his arm, Julius reached through the bars as he had once seen Renius do. The gatekeeper pulled back as he moved and almost made it, but Julius’s fingers found a grip in the tunic and yanked him hard into the bars.

“Open the gate,” Julius said into the man’s ear as he struggled.

“I won’t! If you knew the man this house belongs to, you wouldn’t dare. You will be dead before sunset unless you let me go!”

Julius heaved with his whole weight to jam the man against the bars. “I do know him.
I
own this house. Now open the door or I will kill you.”

“Kill me then—you won’t get in, even so,” the man snapped, still struggling wildly.

He filled his lungs to call for help and Julius grinned suddenly at his courage. Without another word, he reached through the bars with his other hand and took the key to the gate from the man’s belt. The gatekeeper gasped in outrage and Julius gave a low whistle for his men to approach.

“Hold this one and keep him quiet. I need both hands to work the lock and bar,” Julius ordered. “Don’t hurt him. He’s a brave man.”

“Help!” the gatekeeper managed before Ciro’s heavy hands clamped his mouth.

Julius fiddled the key into the hole in the plate and smiled as it clicked. He raised the bar and the gate swung open as two guards clattered into the courtyard beyond, their swords raised.

Julius’s men moved in quickly to disarm them. Against so many, the two guards dropped their swords as they were surrounded, though the gatekeeper went crimson with rage as he watched. He tried to bite Ciro’s hand and was cuffed roughly in response.

“Tie them up and search the house. Do not spill blood,” Julius ordered, watching coolly as his men broke into pairs to search the house he knew so well.

It had hardly changed. The fountain was still there and Antonidus had left the gardens as he had found them. Julius could see the spot where he had kissed Alexandria and could have traced his way to her room in the slave quarters without a guide. It was easy to imagine Marius bellowing laughter somewhere out of sight, and Julius would have given a great deal at that moment to see the big man once again. The sudden sadness of memory weighed him down.

He didn’t recognize any of the slaves or servants that were brought out and tied in the courtyard by his men, working with cheerful efficiency. One or two of his legionaries bore scratches on their faces from a struggle, but Julius was pleased to see that none of the prisoners had been harmed even so. If he was to be successful in appealing a law case and reestablish his right to the house as surviving heir, he knew it was important that it was achieved peacefully. The magistrates would be members of the nobilitas, and any stories of bloodshed in the middle of the city would prejudice them against him from the start.

It was quickly done and, without any further discussion, his men lifted the captive bundles out onto the street, the gatekeeper last of all. He had been gagged to stop his shouting, but still champed in anger as Ciro deposited him on the road. Julius closed the gate himself and locked it with the key he had taken from him, winking at the furious figure before he turned away.

His men were in two ranks of five before him. It was not enough to hold the house against a determined assault, and the first thing he had to do was send a couple as runners back to the estate to fetch a full fifty of his best fighters. It was all very well to plan for a court case, but whoever actually held the house in his possession would have a clear advantage and Julius was determined not to lose it when Antonidus returned.

In the end, he sent three of the fastest runners wearing messenger tunics taken from the house stores. His main worry was that they would become lost in the unfamiliar city, and he cursed himself for not bringing someone from the estate to help them find their way back to the Tiber bridge.

When they had gone, he turned to his men, a slow smile spreading on his face.

“I told you I would find you quarters in Rome,” he said.

They chuckled, looking about them appreciatively.

“I need three of you to stay on guard by the gate. The others will relieve them in two hours. Stay alert. Antonidus will come back before the day is much older, I’m sure. Summon me when he arrives.”

The thought of that conversation cheered him immensely as the guards took up their positions. The house would be secure by evening and then he could turn his attention to rebuilding Marius’s name in the city, if he had to fight the whole of the Senate to do it.

*      *      *

Brutus and Cabera were at the estate when two of the messengers arrived from Julius, the third some miles behind. Well used to command, Brutus quickly organized a fifty and began the fast march back to the city. Julius couldn’t have known that so many soldiers would have been stopped from entering, so Brutus had them remove their armor and swords. He sent them into the city in pairs or threes to gather again out of sight of city guards, who were the eyes of the Senate in Rome. Last to come through was the cart full of their weapons, and Brutus stayed with that to bribe the gate captain. Cabera pulled a bottle of wine from under the coverings to press into the man’s hand with coins, and with a conspiratorial wink, they were let through.

“I don’t know whether to be pleased or appalled at how easy that was,” Brutus muttered as Cabera whipped the reins on the pair of oxen that pulled the heavy cart. “When this is over, I’ll be tempted to go back to that guard and have a word with him. It wasn’t even a large bribe.”

Cabera cackled as he made the reins crack in the air. “He would have been too suspicious if it was. No, we paid just enough to make him think of us as wine dealers avoiding the city tariff. You look like a guard and he probably thought of me as the wealthy owner.”

Brutus snorted. “He thought you were a cart driver. That tatty old robe of yours doesn’t look much like a wealthy owner to me,” he replied as they wound on through the streets. Cabera snapped the leather reins again in irritation as a response.

The cart blocked the road neatly, with its wheels fitting between the stepping-stones used by the walking crowds. There was nowhere to pass or turn and their progress toward Marius’s house was slow, though Cabera enjoyed shouting at the other drivers and shaking his fist at anyone who dared to cross in front of them. Four of Julius’s men fell in behind them, obviously pleased to have the cart to follow through the tortuous maze of streets. Neither Brutus nor Cabera dared look back at them, though Brutus wondered how many would still be wandering through the markets at sunset. His directions had been simple enough, he was sure, but then after months of working with Primigenia at their barracks as well as his trips to see his mother, he knew Rome as well as anybody. Pretending to check the wheels under them, Brutus looked around and was relieved to see the number of followers had grown to nine of the men Julius had wanted. He hoped they wouldn’t make it too obvious, or the curious people of Rome would quickly be joining them and an impromptu procession would arrive at Marius’s old house, with the cart at the head and any attempt at stealth ruined.

As they turned in to the hill that led up to the great house he remembered so vividly, Brutus saw a gesticulating figure shouting at someone inside the gate. At least the road was wide enough so that stopping on it would not bring all the traffic in the area to a shuddering halt, he thought gratefully.

“Get out and check the wheels or something,” he hissed to Cabera, who clambered down with an ill grace and walked around the cart, pronouncing “Wheel” as he came to each one. The shouting man at the gate didn’t seem to notice the laden cart that had stopped just down from him, and Brutus risked another glance back, blinking in surprise at the group of men who had assembled behind him. Even worse, they had fallen into ranks and, despite their clothing, looked exactly what they were—a group of legionaries pretending to be citizens. Brutus leapt out of the cart and ran over to them.

“Don’t stand to attention, you fools. You’ll have every house in the area sending guards out to see what you’re doing!”

The men shuffled around uncertainly and Brutus raised his eyes in exasperation. There was no help for it. Already the servants and guards at nearby gates had come right up to the bars for a look at the milling group of soldiers. Distantly, he could hear cries of alarm sounding around them.

“Right. We can forget secrecy. Get your swords and armor from the cart and follow me to the gate. Quickly! The Senate will have a fit when they find we have an army in the city.”

All uncertainty banished, the relieved soldiers grabbed their equipment and laced it tight without any fuss. It took only a few minutes and then Brutus told Cabera to stop the inspection of the cart that had continued without pause, his announcement of each wheel growing increasingly weary.

“Now forward,” Brutus growled, his cheeks flushing at the gathering number of onlookers. They marched toward the gate in perfect ranks, and for a second, he was distracted from his embarrassment by a quick professional assessment of the men following him. They would do very well for Primigenia.

*      *      *

Antonidus was pale with anger by the time Julius had finished explaining his position.

“You dare!” he bellowed. “I will appeal to the Senate. This house is mine by right of purchase, and I will see you dead before you steal it from me.”

“I have stolen it from no one. You had no right to offer money for property that was my uncle’s,” Julius replied calmly, rather enjoying the man’s fury.

“An enemy of the state, his lands and wealth confiscated. A traitor!” Antonidus shouted. He would have liked nothing better than to reach through the bars and grab the insolent young man’s throat, but the guards that watched him within had their swords drawn and his own two were badly outnumbered. He thought through what Julius might find in the rooms of the house. Was there any evidence linking him to Pompey’s daughter? He didn’t think so, but the thought nagged at him, lending a wild edge of panic to his outrage.

“A traitor named by Sulla, who attacked his own city?” Julius replied, his eyes narrowing. “Wrongly named, then. Marius defended the Senate from a man who would set himself up as Dictator. He was a man of honor.”

Antonidus spat in disgust on the ground, his spittle almost touching the hem of the still-bound gatekeeper.

“
That
for his honor,” he roared, taking the gate bars in his hands.

Julius motioned one of his men forward and Antonidus was forced to drop his hands away.

“Do not think to put your hands on anything I own,” Julius said.

Antonidus would have replied, but a sudden clatter of legion sandals from down the hill made him pause. He glanced at the sound and a leer stole over his features.

“Now you will see, you criminal. The Senate has sent men to restore order. I will have you beaten and leave you on the street as you have left my men.”

He stepped away from the gate to greet the newcomers. “This man has broken into my house and abused my servants. I want him arrested,” he said to the nearest soldier, flecks of white gathering at the corners of his mouth from his exertions.

“Well, he has a friendly face. Let him keep it,” Brutus replied, grinning.