Emperor: The Gates of Rome E#1 (40 page)

"I thought it must be you, mudfish," he said. "I recognized Tubruk on the dock."

For a moment, Julius didn't recognize the man. Then it clicked. "Suetonius?" he exclaimed.

The man stiffened slightly. "Tesserarius Prandus, to you. I am watch commander for this century. An officer."

"You're signing on as one of those, aren't you, Julius?" Cabera said clearly.

Julius looked at Suetonius. On this day, he hadn't the patience to mind the man's feelings.

"For now," he replied to Cabera, then turned to his old neighbor. "How long have you been in that rank?"

"A few years," Suetonius replied, stiffening.

Julius nodded. "I'll have to see if I can do better than that. Will you show me to my quarters?"

Anger at the offhand manner colored Suetonius's features. Without another word, he turned away from them, striding over the decks.

"An old friend?" Cabera muttered as they followed.

"No, not really." Julius didn't say any more and Cabera didn't press for details. There would be time enough at sea to hear them all.

Inwardly Julius sighed. Two years of his life would be spent with these men, and it would be hard enough without having Suetonius there to remember him as a smooth-faced urchin. The unit would range right across the Mediterranean, holding Roman territories, guaranteeing safe sea trade, perhaps even taking part in land or sea battles. He shrugged at his thoughts. His experience in the city had shown that there was no point worrying about the future—it would always be a surprise. He would become older and stronger and would rise in rank. Eventually he would be strong enough to return to Rome and look Sulla in the eye. Then they would see.

With Marcus standing at his side, there would be a reckoning, and a payment taken for Marius's death.

CHAPTER 35

Marcus waited patiently in the outer chamber of the camp prefects rooms. To pass the time before he was admitted to the meeting to determine his future, he read the letter from Gaius again. It had been traveling for many months and had been carried from hand to hand by legionaries passing closer and closer to Illyria. Finally, it had been included in a bundle of orders for the Fourth Macedonia and passed on to the young officer.

Marius's death had come as a terrible blow. Marcus had wanted to be able to show the general that his faith in him had been well founded. He had wanted to thank him as a man, but that was impossible now. Although he had never met Sulla, he wondered if the consul would be a danger for himself and Gaius—Julius now.

He smiled at the news of the marriage and winced at the brief lines about Alexandria, guessing much more than Julius had revealed. Cornelia sounded like an angel to hear Julius write of her. It was really the only piece of good news in the whole thing.

His thoughts were interrupted by the heavy door to the inner rooms opening. A legionary came out and saluted. Marcus rose and returned the gesture smartly.

"The prefect will see you now," the man said.

Marcus nodded and marched into the room, standing to attention the regulation three feet from the prefects oak table, bare except for a wine jug, inkpot, and some neatly arranged parchment.

Renius was there, standing in the corner with a cup of wine. Leonides too, the centurion of the Bronze Fist. Carac, the camp prefect, rose as the young man entered, and gestured to him to sit. Marcus lowered himself onto a heavy chair and sat rigidly.

"At your ease, legionary. This is not a court-martial," Carac muttered, his gaze wandering over the papers on his desk.

Marcus tried to relax his bearing a little.

"Your two years are up in a week, as you are no doubt aware," Carac said.

"Yes, sir," Marcus replied.

"Your record has been excellent to date. Command of a contubernium, successful actions against local tribesmen. Winner of the Bronze Fist sword tourney last month. I hear the men respect you, despite your youth, and regard you as dependable in a crisis—some would say especially in a crisis. One officer's opinion was that you do well enough from day to day, but stand out in battle or difficulty. A valuable trait in a young officer suited to active legion life. It is perhaps to your benefit that the empire is expanding. There will be active work for you anywhere should you so desire it."

Marcus nodded cautiously and Carac motioned to Leonides.

"Your centurion speaks well of you and the way you have curbed the thefts of that boy... Peppis. There was some talk at first of whether you could merge your individuality into a legion, but you have been honest and obviously loyal to the Fourth Macedonia. In short, lad, I would like you to sign on again, with promotion to command a Fifty. More pay and status, with time to train for sword tourneys if necessary. What do you say?"

"May I speak freely, sir?" Marcus asked, his heart thudding in his chest.

Carac frowned. "Of course," he replied.

"It is a generous offer. The two years with Macedonia have been happy ones for me. I have friends here. However... Sir, I grew up on the estate of a Roman who was not my father. His son and I were like brothers, and I swore I would support him, be his sword when we were men." He could feel Renius's gaze on him as he continued. "He is with the Third Partica at present, a naval legion, with a little more than a year left to serve. When he returns to Rome, I would like to join him there, sir."

"Renius has explained some of the history between this... Gaius Julius and yourself. I understand loyalty of this nature very well. It is what makes us more than beasts in the field, perhaps." Carac smiled in a cheerful way and Marcus looked at the other two quickly, surprised not to see the censure he had feared.

Leonides spoke up, his voice calm and low. "Did you think we would not understand? Son, you are very young. You will serve in many legions before they parcel you off with a farm. Most important of all, though, is that you serve Rome, constantly and without complaint. We three have devoted our lives to that aim—to see her safe and strong, envied by the world."

Marcus looked round at the three of them and caught Renius smiling as he covered his mouth with the wine cup. Together they were the personification of what he had hoped to be as a young boy, linked by beliefs and loyalty and blood into something unbreakable.

Carac reached over for a document on thick parchment.

"Renius was convinced this would be the only way to keep you in the legion long enough to take part in the Graeca sword competition this winter. It indentures you for a year and a day." He passed it over and Marcus felt his throat tighten with emotion.

He had expected to have to hand back his officer's equipment and collect his pay before beginning a lonely journey back to Italy. To have this offered to him when the future had seemed so bleak was like a gift from the gods. He wondered how much Renius had had to do with it and decided suddenly that he didn't care. He wanted to stay on with the Macedonia and in truth had felt torn between the loyalty to his childhood friend and the satisfaction he had found with his own family, the legion.

Now he had a year longer to grow and prosper. His eyes widened slightly as he read the complex Latin of the document. Carac noticed it.

"You see we have included the promotion. You will command a Fifty under Leonides, directly responsible to his
optio,
Daritus. I suggest you begin the post with an open mind. Fifty men is not eight—the problems will be new to you and the training for war involves complex skills. It will be a hard and challenging year, but I think you might enjoy it."

"I will, sir. Thank you. It is an honor."

"An honor earned, young man. I heard about what happened in the blueskin camp. The information you brought back has helped us to reformulate our policy toward them. Who knows, we may even trade with them after a few years." Carac was clearly enjoying being the bringer of good news to the young man, and Renius looked on approvingly.

This will be my year,
Marcus vowed to himself as he read the document to the end, noting how many ounces of oil and salt he was allowed to draw from the stores, what his allowance for repairs and damages was, and so on. The new post had a hundred things he had to learn and quickly. The pay was a vast improvement as well. He knew Julius's family would support him if asked, but the thought that he might be dependent on charity when he returned to Rome had rankled. Now he would be able to save a little and have a few gold coins for the return.

A thought struck him.

"Will you be staying on with the Macedonia?" he asked Renius.

The warrior shrugged and sipped his wine. "Probably, I like the company here. Mind you, I am way past retirement age as it is. Carac has to fiddle the pay figures every time he sends them in. I'd like to see what Sulla has done to the place. Oh, I heard he had Rome in the bulletins. I wouldn't mind checking he's looking after the old girl properly, and unlike you, I'm not under contract, as sword master."

Carac sighed. "I would like to see Rome again. It's been fourteen years since I was last posted there, but I knew that's how it would be when I joined." He poured cups of wine for all of them, refilling Renius's as it was held out.

"A toast to Rome, gentlemen, and to the next year."

They stood and knocked the cups together with easy smiles, each one of them a long way from home.

Marcus put his cup down, took up the quill from the inkpot, and signed his full name on the formal document.

Marcus Brutus,
he wrote.

Carac reached over the desk and took his right arm in a solid grip.

"A good decision, Brutus."

Historical Note

There is very little historical information on the earliest years of Julius Caesar's life. As far as possible, I have given him the sort of childhood that a young boy from a minor Roman family could have had. Some of his skills can be inferred from later accomplishments, of course. For example, swimming saved his life in Egypt, when he was fifty-two years old. The biographer Suetonius said that he had great skill with swords and horses as well as surprising powers of endurance, preferring to march rather than ride and going bareheaded in all weathers. I am sorry to say that Renius is fictional, though it was customary to employ experts in various fields. We know of one tutor from Alexandria who taught Caesar rhetoric, and we can read Cicero's reluctant praise of Caesar's ability to speak skillfully and movingly when needed. His father died when Julius was only fifteen, and it is true that Julius married Cinna's daughter Cornelia shortly afterward, apparently for love.

Although Marius was an uncle on his father's side rather than Aurelia's as I have it, the general was very much the sort of character presented here. In flagrant opposition to law and custom, he was consul seven times in all. Where previously it was possible to join a legion only if a man owned land and had an income from it, Marius abolished that qualification and enjoyed fanatical loyalty from his soldiers. It was Marius who made the eagle the symbol of all Roman legions.

The civil war between Sulla and Marius forms a major part of this book, but I found it necessary to simplify the action for dramatic purposes. Cornelius Sulla did worship Aphrodite, and parts of his lifestyle scandalized even the tolerant Roman society. However, he was an extremely able general who had once served under Marius in an African campaign for which they both claimed credit. The two men disliked each other intensely.

When Mithridates rebelled against Roman occupation in the east, both Marius and Sulla wanted to move against him, seeing the campaign as an easy one and a chance to gain great riches. In part from personal motives, Sulla led his men against Rome and Marius in 88 B.C., claiming that he would "free it from tyrants." Marius was forced to flee to Africa, returning later with the army he had gathered there. The Senate was simply unable to cope with such powerful leaders and allowed him back, declaring Sulla an enemy of the state while he was away fighting Mithridates. Marius was elected consul for the last time, but died during his term, leaving the dithering Senate in a difficult situation. They sought peace at first, but Sulla was in a strong position, after a crushing victory in Greece. He did let Mithridates live, but confiscated vast wealth, looting ancient treasures. I compressed these years, having Marius dying in the first attack, which may be an unfairly quick ending for such a charismatic man.

When Sulla returned from the Greek campaign, he led his armies to quick victory against those loyal to the Senate, finally marching on the city again in 82 B.C. He demanded the role of Dictator and it was in this role that he met Julius Caesar for the first time, when he was brought before Sulla as one of those who had supported Marius. Despite the fact that Julius flatly refused to divorce Cornelia, Sulla did not have him killed. The Dictator is reported to have said that he saw "many Mariuses in this Caesar," which if true is something of an insight into the man's character, as I hope I have explored in this book.

Sulla's time as Dictator was a brutal period for the city. The unique position he held and abused had been designed as an emergency measure for times of war, similar in concept to martial law in modern democracies. Before Sulla, the strictest time limits had accompanied the title, but he managed to avoid these restrictions and scored a fatal wound on the Republic by doing so. One of the laws he passed forbade armed forces approaching the city, even for the traditional Triumph parades. He died at age sixty and for a while it looked as if the Republic might flower again into its old strength and authority. In Greece at this time, there was a twenty-two-year-old man called Caesar who would make this impossible. After all, Marius and Sulla had shown the fragility of the Republic when faced with determined ambition. We can only speculate how the young Caesar was affected when he heard Marius say, "Make room for your general," and watched the jostling crowd cut down in full view of the Senate house. The histories of these characters, especially those written shortly after the period, by Plutarch and Suetonius, make astonishing reading. In researching the life of Caesar, the question that kept coming up was "How did he do that?" How did a young man recover from the disaster of being on the losing side in a civil war to the point where his very surname came to mean king? Both
tsar
and
kaiser
are derived from that name and were still being used two thousand years later.

The histories can be a little bare at times, though I would recommend
Caesar
by Christian Meier to any reader interested in the details I had to omit here. There are so many fascinating incidents in this life that it has been a great pleasure putting flesh to them. The events of the second book are even more astonishing.

C. IGGULDEN