Emperor: The Gates of Rome E#1 (28 page)

"Any other advice?"

"Obey every order without complaint. At the moment, you fight like an individual, like one of the savage tribes. They will teach you to trust your companions and to fight as a unit, but the learning does not come easily to some."

He turned to Peppis. "Life will be hard for you. Do as you are told and when you are grown you will be allowed to join the legion. Do nothing that shames you. Do you understand?"

Peppis nodded, his throat dry from fear of this alien life.

"I will learn. So will he," Marcus said.

Renius nodded and clicked his tongue at his horse to move on. "That you will."

Marcus felt an obscure satisfaction at the clean, orderly layout of streets, complete with rows of long, low buildings for the men. He and Renius had been greeted warmly at the gate as soon as he had shown his papers, and they proceeded on foot to the prefects quarters, where Marcus would pledge years of his life in the field service of Rome. He took confidence from Renius as the man strode confidently through the narrow roads, nodding in approval at the polished perfection of the soldiers who marched past in squads often. Peppis trotted behind them, carrying a heavy pack of equipment on his back.

The papers had to be shown twice more as they approached the small white building from which the camp prefect ran the business of a Roman town in a foreign land. At last they were allowed entry, and a slim man dressed in a white toga and sandals came into the outer rooms to meet them as they passed through the door.

"Renius! I heard it was you in the camp. The men are already talking about you losing your arm. Gods, it is good to see you!" He beamed at them, the image of Roman efficiency, suntanned and hard, with a strong grip as he greeted each of them in turn.

Renius smiled back with genuine warmth. "Marius didn't tell me you were here, Carac. I am glad to see you well."

"You haven't aged, I swear it! Gods, you don't look a day over forty. How do you do it?"

"Clean living," Renius grunted, still uncomfortable with the change Cabera had wrought.

The prefect raised an eyebrow in disbelief but let the subject drop.

"And the arm?"

"Training accident. The lad here, Marcus, cut me and I had it taken off."

The prefect whistled and shook Marcus's hand again. "I never thought I'd meet a man who could get to Renius. May I see the papers you brought with you?"

Marcus felt nervous all of a sudden. He passed them over and the prefect motioned them to long benches as he read.

Finally, he passed them back. "You come very well recommended, Marcus. Who is the boy?"

"He was on the merchant ship we took from the coast. He wants to be my servant and join the legion when he is older."

The prefect nodded. "We have many such in the camp, usually the bastard children of the men and the whores. If he shapes up, there may be a place, but the competition will be fierce. I am more interested in you, young man."

He turned to Renius. "Tell me about him. I will trust your judgment."

Renius spoke firmly, as if reporting. "Marcus is unusually fast, even more so when his blood is fired. As he matures, I expect him to become a name. He is impetuous and brash and likes to fight, which is partly his nature and partly his youth. He will serve the Fourth Macedonia well. I gave him his basic training, but he has gone beyond that and will go further."

"He reminds me of your son. Have you noticed the resemblance?" the prefect asked quietly.

"It had not... occurred to me," Renius replied uncomfortably.

"I doubt that. Still, we always have need of men of quality, and this is the place for him to find maturity. I will place him with the fifth century, the Bronze Fist."

Renius took in a sharp breath. "You honor me."

The prefect shook his head. "You saved my life once. I am sorry I could not save your son's. This is a small part of my debt to you."

Once again they shook hands. Marcus looked on in some confusion.

"What now for you, old friend? Will you return to Rome to spend your gold?"

"I had hoped there would be a place for me here," Renius said quietly.

The prefect smiled. "I had begun to think you would not ask. The Fist is short of a weapons master to train them. Old Belius died of a fever six months ago, and there is no one else as good. Will you take the post?"

Renius grinned suddenly, the old sharp grin. "I will, Carac. Thank you."

The prefect slapped him on the shoulder in obvious pleasure.

"Welcome to the Fourth Macedonia, gentlemen." He signaled to a legionary standing to attention nearby. "Take this young man to his new quarters in the Bronze Fist century. Send the boy to the stables until I can assign duties to him with the other camp children. Renius and I have a lot of catching up to do—and a lot of wine to drink while we do it."

CHAPTER 22

Alexandria sat in silence, polishing grime from an ancient sword in Marius's little armory. She was pleased he had been able to get back his town house. She'd heard the owner had rushed to make a gift of it to the new ruler of Rome. Much better than the thought of living with the rough soldiers in the city barracks—well, it would have been difficult at best. Gods knew, she wasn't afraid of men; some of her earliest memories were of them with her mother in the next room. They came in reeking of beer and cheap wine and went out with a swagger. They never seemed to last very long. One of them had tried to touch her once, and she remembered seeing her mother properly angry for the first time in her young life. She'd cracked his skull with a poker and together they'd dragged him into an alleyway and left him. For days, her mother had expected the door to burst in and men to take her away to be hanged, but no one had come.

She sighed as she worked at the layers of crusted oil on the bronze blade, relic of some old campaign. At first, Rome had seemed a city with limitless possibilities, but Marius had taken control three months before and here she was still working all day for nothing and every day a little older. Others were changing the world, but her life remained the same. Only at night, when she sat with ancient Bant in his little metalwork room, did she feel she was making any progress in her life. He had shown her the uses of his tools and guided her hands through the first clumsy steps. He didn't speak much, but seemed to enjoy her company, and she liked his silences and kind blue eyes. She had seen him first as he was shaping a brooch in the workshop, and knew in that moment that it was something she could do. It was a skill worth learning, even for a slave.

She rubbed more vigorously. To be worth no more to a man than a horse, or even a good sword like the one she held! It wasn't fair.

"Alexandria!" Carla's voice, calling. For a moment, she was tempted to remain silent, but the woman had a tongue like a whip and her disapproval was feared by most of the female slaves.

"Here," she called, putting the sword down and wiping her hands on a rag. There would be another task for her, another few hours of labor before sleep.

"There you are, love. I need someone to run down to the market for me; would you do that?"

"Yes!" Alexandria stood up quickly. She had come to look forward to these rare errands over the previous few months. They were the only occasions when she was allowed to leave Marius's house, and on the last few she had been trusted on her own. After all, where could she run?

"I have a list of things for you to buy for the house. You always seem to get the best price," Carla said as she passed a slate over.

Alexandria nodded. She enjoyed bargaining with the traders. It made her feel like a free woman. The first time, she hadn't been alone, but even with a witness, Carla had been shocked at how much money the girl had saved the house. The traders had been charging over market value for years, knowing Marius had deep pockets. The older woman realized the girl had a talent and sent her out as much as possible, seeing also that she needed the little touches of freedom. Some never got used to the condition of slavery and were slowly broken down into depression and occasionally despair. Carla enjoyed watching Alexandria's face light up at the thought of a trip out.

She guessed the girl was keeping a coin or two from what she was given, but what did that matter? She was saving them silvers, so if she kept the odd bronze, Carla didn't begrudge them to her.

"Go on with you. I want you back in two hours and not a minute later, understand?"

"I do, Carla. Two hours. Thank you."

The older woman grinned at her, remembering when she had been young and the world was such an exciting place. She knew all about Alexandria's visits to Bant the metalworker. The old man had taken quite a liking to her, it seemed. There was very little in the house that Carla didn't find out about sooner or later, and she knew that in Alexandria's room was a small bronze disc that she had decorated with a lion's head using Bants tools. It was a pretty piece.

As she watched the trim figure vanish around a corner, Carla wondered if it was a present for Gaius. Bant had said the girl had a talent for the work. Aye, perhaps because she was making it for love.

* * *

The market was a riot of smells and swirling crowds, but Alexandria didn't dawdle over the items on the list for once. She completed her business quickly, getting good prices, but leaving the discussion before they were pared right to the bone. The shopkeepers seemed to enjoy the arguments with the pretty girl, throwing their hands into the air and calling for witnesses to see what she was demanding. She smiled at them then, and for a few the smile dropped the price further than they could believe after she had left. Certainly more than their wives could believe.

With packages stowed safely in two cloth bags, Alexandria hurried on to her real destination, a tiny jewelry shop at the end of the stalls. She had been inside many times to look at the man's designs. Most of the pieces were bronze or pewter. Silver was rarely worked in jewelry, and gold was too expensive unless particular pieces were commissioned. The metalsmith himself was a short man, dressed in a rough tunic and a heavy leather apron. He watched her as she came into the tiny shop, and stopped work on a small gold ring to keep an eye on the girl. Tabbic was not a trusting man, and Alexandria could feel his steady gaze on her as she looked over his wares.

Finally she summoned enough courage to speak to him.

"Do you buy items?" she said.

"Sometimes," came the reply. "What do you have?"

She produced the bronze disc from a pocket in her tunic, and he took it from her hand, holding it up to the daylight to see the design. He held it for a long time and she didn't dare speak for fear of angering him. Still he said nothing, just turned it over and over in his hands, examining every last mark on the metal.

"Where did you get this?" he asked at last.

"I made it. Do you know Bant?"

The man nodded slowly.

"He has been showing me how."

"This is crude, but I can sell it. The execution is clumsy, but the design is very good. The lion's face is very well scribed; it's just that you aren't very skilled with the hammer and awl." He turned it over again. "Tell me the truth now, you understand? Where did you get the bronze to make this?"

Alexandria looked at him nervously. He returned her stare without blinking, but his eyes seemed kind. Quickly she told him about her bargaining and how she had saved a few tiny coins from the house money, enough to purchase the bare metal circle from a stall of trinkets.

Tabbic shook his head. "I can't take it then. It isn't yours to sell. The coins belonged to Marius, so the bronze is his as well. You should give it to him."

Alexandria felt tears threaten to start. She had spent so long on the little piece, and now it had all come to nothing. She watched, almost hypnotized, as he turned it over in his grasp. Then he pressed it back into her hands.

Miserable, she put the disc back in her pocket. "I'm sorry," she said.

He turned back to her. "My name is Tabbic. You don't know me, but I have a reputation for honesty and sometimes for pride." He held up another metal circle, gray-silver in color.

"This is pewter. It's softer than bronze and you'll find it easier to work. It polishes up nicely and doesn't discolor as badly, just grows dull. Take it, and return it to me when you have made something of it. I'll attach a pin and sell it on as a cloak fastener for a legionary. If it's as good as the bronze one, I could get a silver coin for it. I'll take back the price of the pewter and the pin and you will be left with six, maybe seven quadrantes. A business transaction, understand?"

"Where is your profit in this?" Alexandria asked, her eyes wide at the change in fortune.

"None for this first one. I am making a small investment in a talent I think you have. Give Bant my regards when you see him next."

Alexandria pocketed the pewter circle and once again had to fight against tears. She wasn't used to kindness.

"Thank you. I will give the bronze to Marius."

"Make sure you do, Alexandria."

"How... how do you know my name?"

Tabbic picked up the ring he had been working on as she came in. "Bant talks of little else when I see him."

Alexandria had to run to be back before the two hours were up, but her feet were light and she felt like singing. She would make the pewter disc into a beautiful thing, and Tabbic would sell it for more than a silver coin and clamor for more until her work brought in gold pieces, and one day she would gather her profits together and buy herself free. Free. It was a giddy dream.

As she was let into Marius's house, the scent of the gardens filled her lungs and she stood for a moment, just breathing in the evening air. Carla appeared and took her bags and the coins, nodding at the savings as always. If the woman noticed anything different about Alexandria, she didn't say, but she smiled as she took the supplies down to the cool basement stores, where they wouldn't spoil too quickly.

Alone with her thoughts, Alexandria didn't see Gaius at first and wasn't expecting him. He spent most of his days matching his uncle's punishing schedule, returning to the house at odd hours only to eat and sleep. The guards at the gate let him in without comment, well used to his comings and goings. He started as he saw Alexandria in the gardens and stood for a moment, simply enjoying the sight of her. Evening was coming on with late-summer slowness, where the air is soft and the light has a touch of gray for hours before it fades.

She turned as he approached, and smiled at him.

"You look happy," he said, smiling in return.

"Oh, I am," she replied.

He had not kissed her since the moment in the stables back on the estate, but he sensed the time was right at last. Marcus was gone and the town house seemed deserted.

He bent his neck and his heart thumped painfully with something almost like fear.

He felt her warm breath before their lips touched, and then he could taste her and he gathered her up in a natural embrace, as they seemed to fit together without effort or design.

"I can't tell you how often I have thought of this," he murmured.

She looked into his eyes and knew there was a gift she could give him and found she wanted to.

"Come along to my room," she whispered, taking his hand.

As if in a dream, he followed her through the gardens to her quarters.

Carla watched them go.

"And about bloody time," she muttered.

At first, Gaius was worried that he would be clumsy, or worse, quick, but Alexandria guided his movements and her hands felt cool on his skin. She took a little bottle of scented oil from a shelf, and he watched as she spilled a few sluggish drops onto her palms. It had a rich scent that filled his lungs as she sat astride him, rubbing it gently into his chest and lower, making him gasp. He took some of it from his own skin and reached upward to her breasts, remembering the first time he had seen their soft swell in the courtyard of the estate so long ago. He pressed his mouth gently against one, then the other, tasting her skin and moving his lips over the oily nipples. She opened her mouth slightly, her eyes closing at his touch. Then she bent to kiss him and her unbound hair covered them both.

As the evening darkened, they joined with urgency and then again with playfulness and a kind of delight. There was little light in her room without the candles, but her eyes shone and her limbs were darkened gold as she moved under him.

He woke before dawn to find her gaze on his face.

"This was my first time," he said quietly. Something in him told him not to ask the question, but he had to know. "Was it the first for you?"

She smiled, but it was a sad smile. "I wish it had been," she said. "I really do."

"Did you... with Marcus?"

Her
eyes
widened slightly. Was he truly so innocent that he didn't see the insult?

"Oh, I would have, of course," she replied tartly, "but he didn't ask."

"I'm sorry," he said, blushing, "I didn't mean..."

"Did he say we did?" Alexandria demanded.

Gaius kept his face straight as he replied, "Yes, I'm afraid he boasted about it."

"I'll put a dagger in his eye the next time I see him. Gods!" Alexandria raged, gathering her clothes to dress.

Gaius nodded seriously, trying not to smile at the thought of Marcus returning innocently.

They dressed hurriedly, as neither wanted the gossips to see him coming out of her room before the sun was up. She left the slave quarters with him and they sat together in the gardens, brushed by a warm night wind that moved in silence.

"When can I see you again?" he asked quietly.

She looked away and he thought she wouldn't answer. Fear rose in him.