Emperor: The Gates of Rome E#1 (14 page)

"I'm so sorry," he said to her, feeling rather than seeing her head come up to look at him. He knew she'd killed, had seen her covered in blood down in the yard as he'd come out the night before. He thought he understood why she was crying and had meant to try to comfort her, but the words unlocked a rush of sorrow in him and his eyes filled with tears. His face twisted in pain as he bowed his head to his chest.

Alexandria looked at him in astonishment, her eyes wide. Before she had time to think, she had reached over to him and they were holding each other in the darkness, a blot of private grief while the world went on in the sun outside. She stroked his hair with one hand and whispered comfort to him as he apologized over and over, to her, to his father, to the dead, to those he had burned.

When he was spent, she began to release him, but in the last fragment of time before he was too far, she pressed her lips lightly on his, feeling him start slightly. She pulled away, hugging her knees tightly, and, unseen in the shadows, her face burned. She felt his eyes on her but couldn't meet them.

"Why did you...?" he muttered, his voice hoarse and swollen from crying.

"I don't know. I just wondered what it would be like."

"What was it like?" he replied, his voice strengthening with amusement.

"Terrible. Someone will have to teach you to kiss."

He looked at her, bemused. Moments before, he had been drowning in a sorrow that would not diminish or wane in him. Now he was noticing that beneath the dirt and wisps of straw and smell of blood—beneath her own sadness—there was a rare girl.

"I have the rest of the day to learn," he said quietly, the words stumbling out past nervous blockages in his throat.

She shook her head. "I have work to do. I should be back in the kitchen."

In a smooth movement, she rose from her crouch and left the stall, as if she were going to walk right away without another word. Then she paused and looked at him.

"Thank you for coming to find me," she said, and walked out into the sunlight.

Gaius watched her go. He wondered if she had realized he had never kissed a girl before. He could still feel a light pressure on his lips as if she had marked him. Surely she hadn't meant "terrible"? He saw again the stiff way she had carried herself as she left the stables. She was like a bird with a broken wing, but she would heal with time and space and friends. He realized he would as well.

Marcus and Tubruk were laughing at something Cabera had said as Gaius came into the room. At the sight of him, they all fell silent.

"I came... to thank you. For doing what you did on the walls," Gaius began.

Marcus cut him off, stepping closer and grabbing his hand. "You never need to thank me for anything. I owe more than I could ever pay to your father. I was sorry to hear he fell at the last."

"We came through. My mother lives, I live. He would do it again if offered the chance, I know. You took some wounds?"

"Toward the end. Nothing serious, though. I was untouchable. Cabera says I will be a great fighter." Marcus broke into a grin.

"Unless he gets himself killed, of course. That would slow him down a little," Cabera muttered, busying himself with applying wax to the wood of his bow.

"How is Renius?" Gaius asked.

Both seemed to pause for a second at the question. Marcus looked evasive. There was something odd there, Gaius thought.

"He'll live, but it will be a long time before he's ever fit again," Marcus said. "At his age an infection would be the end of him, but Cabera says he'll make it."

"He will," Cabera said firmly.

Gaius sighed and sat down. "What happens now? I'm too young to take my father's place, to represent his interests in Rome. In truth, I would not be happy running only the estate, but I never had time to learn about the rest of his affairs. I don't know who looked after his wealth, or where the deeds to the land are." He turned to Tubruk. "I know you are familiar with some of it and I would trust you to control the capital until I am older, but what do I do now? Continue to hire tutors for Marcus and myself? Life seems suddenly vague, without direction, for the first time."

Cabera stopped polishing at this outburst. "Everyone feels this at some time. Did you think I planned to be here when I was a young boy? Life has a way of taking twists and turns you did not expect. I would not have it any other way, for all the pain it brings. Too much of the future is already set; it is good that we cannot know every detail or life would become a gray, dull sort of death."

"You will have to learn fast, that is all," Marcus continued, his face alight with enthusiasm.

"With Rome as it is? Who will teach me? This is not a time of peace and plenty, where my lack of political skill can be overlooked. My father was always very clear about that. He said Rome was full of wolves."

Tubruk nodded grimly. "I will do what I can, but already some will be looking at which estates have been weakened and might be bought cheaply. This is not the time to be defenseless."

"But I don't know enough to protect us!" Gaius went on. "The Senate could take everything I own if I don't pay taxes, for example, but how do I pay? Where is the money and where do I take it and how much should I pay? Where are the names of my father's clients? You see?"

"Be calm," Cabera said, beginning the slow strokes along the wood of his bow again. "Think instead. Let us begin with what you do have and not what you don't know."

Gaius took a deep breath and once again wished his father were there to be the rock of certainty in his life.

"I have you, Tubruk. You know the estate, but not the other dealings. None of us knows anything about politics or the realities of the Senate."

He looked again at Cabera and Marcus. "I have you two and I have Renius on hand, but none of us has even entered the Senate chambers, and my father's allies are strangers to us."

"Concentrate on what we
have,
otherwise you will despair. So far you have named some very capable people. Armies have been started with less. What else?"

"My mother and her brother Marius, but my father always said he was the biggest wolf of them all."

"We need a big wolf right now, though. Someone who knows the politics. He is your blood, you must go and see him," Marcus said quietly.

"I don't know if I can trust him," Gaius said, his expression bleak.

"He will not desert your mother. He must help you to keep control of the estate, if only for her," Tubruk declared.

"True. He has a place in Rome I could visit. There is no one else to help, so it must be him. He is a stranger to me, though. Since my mother began her sickness, he has rarely been to the estate."

"That will not matter. He will not turn you away," Cabera said peacefully, eyeing the shine he had wrought in the bow.

Marcus looked sharply at the old man. "You seem very sure," he said.

Cabera shrugged. "Nothing is sure in this world."

"Then it is settled. I will send a messenger before me and visit my uncle," Gaius said, something of his gloom lifting.

"I will come with you," Marcus said quickly. "You are still recovering from your wounds and Rome is not a safe place at the moment, you know."

Gaius smiled properly for the first time that day.

Cabera muttered, as if to himself, "I came to this land to see Rome, you know. I have lived in high mountain villages and met tribes thought lost to antiquity on my travels. I believed I had seen everything, but all the time people told me I had to visit Rome before I died. I said to them, 'This lake is true beauty,' and they would reply, 'You should see Rome.' They say it is a wondrous place, the center of the world, yet I have never stepped inside its walls."

Both boys smiled at the old man's transparent subterfuge.

"Of course you will come. I consider you a friend of the house. You will always be welcome anywhere I am, on my honor," Gaius replied, his tone formal, as if repeating an oath.

Cabera laid the bow aside and stood with his hand outstretched. Gaius took it firmly.

"You too will always be welcome at my home fires," Cabera said. "I like the climate around here, and the people. I think my travels will wait for a little while."

Gaius released the grip, his expression thoughtful. "I will need good friends around me if I am to survive my first year of politics. My father described it as walking barefoot in a nest of vipers."

"He seems to have had a colorful turn of phrase, and not a high opinion of his colleagues," Cabera said, giving out a dry chuckle. "We will tread lightly and stamp on the occasional head as it becomes necessary."

All four smiled and felt the strength that comes from such a friendship, despite the differences in age and background.

"I would like to take Alexandria with us," Gaius added suddenly.

"Oh, yes? The pretty one?" Marcus replied, his face lighting up.

Gaius felt his cheeks grow red and hoped it wasn't obvious. Judging by the expressions of the others, it was.

"You will have to introduce me to this girl," Cabera said.

"Renius whipped her, you know, for distracting us at practice," Marcus continued.

Cabera tutted to himself. "He can be charmless. Beautiful women are a joy in life..."

"Look, I—" Gaius began.

"Yes, I'm sure you want her simply to hold the horses or something. You Romans have such a way with women, it is a wonder your race has survived."

Gaius left the room after a while, leaving laughter behind him.

* * *

Gaius knocked at the door of the room where Renius lay. He was alone for the moment, although Lucius was nearby and had just been in to check the wounds and stitches. It was dark in the room and at first Gaius thought the old man was asleep.

He turned to leave rather than disturb the rest he must need, but a whispering voice stopped him.

"Gaius? I thought it was you."

"Renius. I wanted to thank you." Gaius approached the bed and drew up a chair beside the figure. The eyes were open and clear and Gaius blinked as he took in the features. It must have been the dim light, but Renius looked younger. Surely not, yet there was no denying that some of the deep-seamed wrinkles had lessened and a few black hairs could be seen at the temples, almost invisible in the light, but standing out against the white bristles.

"You look... well," Gaius managed.

Renius gave a short, hard chuckle. "Cabera healed me and it has worked wonders. He was more surprised than anyone, said I must have a destiny or something, to be so affected by him. In truth, I feel strong, although my left arm is still useless. Lucius wanted to take it off, rather than have it flapping around. I... may let him, when the rest of me has healed."

Gaius absorbed this in silence, fighting back painful memories.

"So much has happened in such a short time," he said. "I am glad you are still here."

"I couldn't save your father. I was too far away and finished myself. Cabera said he died instantly, with a blade in his heart. Most likely, he wouldn't even have known it."

"It's all right. You don't need to tell me. I know he would have wanted to be on that wall. I would have wanted it too, but I was left in my room, and..."

"You got out, though, didn't you? I'm glad you did, as it turned out. Tubruk says you saved him right at the end, like a... reserve force." The old man smiled and coughed for a while. Gaius waited patiently until the fit was over.

"It was my order to leave you out of it. You were too weak for hours of fighting, and your father agreed with me. He wanted you safe. Still, I'm glad you got out for the end of it."

"So am I. I fought with Renius!" Gaius said, his eyes brimming with tears, though he smiled.

"I always fight with Renius," muttered the old man. "It isn't that much to sing about."

CHAPTER 11

The dawn light was cold and gray; the skies clear over the estate lands. Horns sounded low and mournful, drowning the cheerful birdsong that seemed so inappropriate for a day marking the passing of a life. The house was stripped of ornament save for a cypress branch over the main gate to warn priests of Jupiter not to enter while the body was still inside.

Three times the horns moaned and finally the people chanted,
"Conclamatum est"
—"The sadness has been sounded." The grounds inside the gates were filled with mourners from the city, dressed in rough wool togas, unwashed and unshaven to show their grief.

Gaius stood by the gates with Tubruk and Marcus and watched as his father's body was brought out feetfirst and laid gently in the open carriage that would take him to the funeral pyre. The crowd waited, heads bowed in prayer or thought as Gaius walked stiffly to the body.

He looked down into the face he had known and loved all his life and tried to remember it when the eyes could open and the strong hand reach out to grip his shoulder or ruffle his hair. Those same hands lay still at his sides, the skin clean and shining with oil. The wounds from the defense of the walls were covered by the folds of his toga, but there was nothing of life there. No rise and fall of breath; the skin looked wrong, too pale. He wondered if it would be cold to the touch, but he could not reach out.

"Goodbye, my father," he whispered, and almost faltered as grief swelled in him. The crowd watched and he steadied himself. No shame in front of the old man. Some of them would be friends, unknown to him, but some would be carrion birds, come to judge his weakness for themselves. He felt a spike of anger at this and was able to smother the sadness. He reached out and took his father's hand, bowing his head. The skin felt like cloth, rough and cool under his grip.

"Conclamatum est,"
he said aloud, and the crowd murmured the words again.

He stood back and watched in silence as his mother approached the man who had been her husband. He could see her shaking under her dirty wool cloak. Her hair had not been tended by slaves and stood out in wild disarray. Her eyes were bloodshot and her hand trembled as she touched his father for the last time. Gaius tensed, and begged inside that she would complete the ritual without disgrace. Standing so close, he alone could hear the words she said as she bent low over the face of his father.

"Why have you left me alone, my love? Who will now make me laugh when I am sad and hold me in the darkness? This is not what we dreamed. You promised me you would always be there when I am tired and angry with the world."

She began to sob in heaves and Tubruk signaled to the nurse he'd hired for her. As with the doctors, she had brought no physical improvement, but Aurelia seemed to draw comfort from the Roman matron, perhaps simply from female companionship. It was enough for Tubruk to keep her on, and he nodded as she took Aurelia's arm gently and led her away into the darkened house.

Gaius breathed out slowly, suddenly aware of the crowd again. Tears came into his eyes and were ignored as they brimmed and held against his lashes.

Tubruk approached and spoke quietly to him. "She will be all right," he said, but they both knew it wasn't true.

One by one, the other mourners came to pay their respects to the body, and more than a few spoke to Gaius afterward, praising his father and pressing him to contact them in the city.

"He was always straight with me, even when profit lay the other way," said one gray-haired man in a rough toga. "He owned a fifth part of my shops in the city and lent me the money to buy them. He was one of the rare ones you could trust with anything, and he was always fair."

Gaius gripped his hand strongly. "Thank you. Tubruk will make arrangements to discuss the future with you."

The man nodded. "If he is watching me, I want him to see me being straight with his son. I owe him that and more."

Others followed and Gaius was proud to see the genuine sadness his father had left behind. There was a world in Rome that the son had never seen, but his father had been a decent man and that mattered to him, that the city was a little poorer because his father would no longer walk the streets.

One man was dressed in a clean toga of good white wool, standing out in the crowd of mourners. He did not pause at the carriage, but came straight to Gaius.

"I am here for Marius the consul. He is away from the city, but wanted to send me to let you know your father will not be forgotten by him."

Gaius thanked him politely, his mind working furiously. "Send the message that I will call on Consul Marius when he is next in the city."

The man nodded. "Your uncle will receive you warmly, I am sure. He will be at his town house three weeks from today. I will let him know." The messenger made his way back through the crowd and out of the gates, and Gaius watched him go.

Marcus moved to his shoulder, his voice low. "Already you are not so alone as you were," he said.

Gaius thought of his mother's words. "No. He has set my standard and I will meet it. I will not be a lesser man when I lie there and my son greets those who knew me. I swear it."

Into the dawn silence came the low voices of the
praeficae
women, singing softly the same phrases of loss over and over. It was a mournful sound and the world was filled with it as the horses pulled the carriage with his father out of the gates in slow time, with the people falling in behind, heads bowed.

In only a few minutes the courtyard was empty again, and Gaius waited for Tubruk, who had gone inside to check on Aurelia.

"Are you coming?" Gaius asked him as he returned.

Tubruk shook his head. "I will stay to serve your mother. I don't want her alone at this time."

Tears came again into Gaius's eyes and he reached out for the older man's arm.

"Close the gates behind me, Tubruk. I don't think I can do it."

"You must. Your father is gone to the tomb and you must follow, but first the gates must be shut by the new master. It is not my place to take yours. Close up the estate for mourning and go and light the funeral pyre. These are your last tasks before I will call you master. Go now."

Words would not come from his throat and Gaius turned away, pulling the heavy gates shut behind him. The funeral procession had not gone far with their measured step, and he walked after them slowly, his back straight and his heart aching.

The crematorium was outside the city, near the family tomb. For decades, burials within the walls of Rome had been forbidden as the city filled every scrap of available space with buildings. Gaius watched in silence as his father's body was laid on a high pyre that hid him from view in the center of it. The wood and straw were soaked with perfumed oils, and the odor of flowers hung heavily in the air as the praeficae changed their dirge to one of hope and rebirth. Gaius was brought a sputtering torch by the man who had prepared his father's body for the funeral. He had the dark eyes and calm face of a man used to death and grief, and Gaius thanked him with distant politeness.

Gaius approached the pyre and felt the gaze of all the mourners on him. He would show them no public weakness, he vowed to himself. Rome and his father watched to see if he would falter, but he would not.

Close, the smell of the perfumes was almost overpowering. Gaius reached out with a silver coin and opened his father's loose mouth, pressing the metal against the dry coolness of the tongue. It would pay the ferryman, Charon, and his father would reach the quiet lands beyond. He closed the mouth gently and stood back, pressing the smoking torch against the oily straw stuffed between the branches at the base of the pyre. A memory of the smell of burning feathers slipped into his mind and was gone before he could identify it.

The fire grew quickly, with popping twigs and a crackle that was loud against the soft songs of the praeficae. Gaius stepped back from the heat as his face reddened, and held the torch limply in his hand. It was the end of childhood while he was yet a child. The city called him and he did not feel ready. The Senate called him and he was terrified. But he would not fail his father's memory and would meet the challenges as they came. In three weeks, he would leave the estate and enter Rome as a citizen, a member of the nobilitas.

At last, he wept.