The Gods of War (5 page)

Brutus turned at the doorway and looked back at the crowd. “What if Pompey had stayed?” he said.

Julius shrugged, his smile vanishing. “I would have killed him. Rome is mine and always has been.” He walked into the cool interior, leaving Brutus alone on the steps.

         

The echoing Senate house was subtly different from the one Julius remembered. The sheath of creamy marble on the walls showed the attempt to re-create the old Curia, but it was not the chamber where he had seen Marius and Sulla argue, or heard Cato's voice dominate the discussion. Though he had not thought the loss could touch him, there was a dull pain somewhere deep. All the foundations of his life were being removed and part of him would always want to go back.

He tried to stifle his thoughts as the men with him took seats on the benches. Marius would have berated him for that sort of weakness. The past was comforting because it was safe. It was also dead and gone; there were no mysteries to be found there. Facing the future, with all its uncertainty, took courage and strength. He inhaled deeply of the air in the chamber, smelling the oiled wood and clean plaster.

“Fetch Adàn for me, Ciro. I will need a record of my orders,” he said.

Ciro rose quickly and disappeared out into the sun. Julius looked at the others and smiled. Octavian, Mark Antony, Brutus, and Domitius. They were men he could trust. Men with whom he could begin an empire. Though the future had its fears, it was the place for dreams. He hardly dared think where his path could take him by the end.

“So, gentlemen, it was worth crossing the Rubicon, at least so far. It is a good place to start.”

Adàn came in and took a seat as he gathered his writing materials. He could not resist glancing around the chamber. For him, it was a place of legend, having never known the other. His eyes shone.

“We must find barracks and homes for our men inside the city before tonight,” Julius continued, once Adàn was settled. “Ciro, that is your task. Domitius, I want every drop of wine the city has to offer to be distributed freely. Get the best price you can, but I want the whole of Rome drunk by midnight. Spread the first taste of our gold into their pouches and tell them I want parties in every street and great house, open to all. Torches on the walls and crossroads. We'll light the city from one end to the other—buy oil and use the Tenth to keep order for tonight, the Third for tomorrow. We must have some sober soldiers to keep the peace.

“Octavian, you will send a century of the extraordinarii to Ostia, to make certain Pompey has left. We've no reason to doubt our informants, but the old fox has been cunning before.”

He paused to think and Mark Antony cleared his throat. “What about the senators who did not go to Greece?”

Julius nodded. “They must be courted. They will be the core that gives stability after the elections. Spread the word that they are brave men to have resisted Pompey. Make them all heroes. We will ask for their help in the new administration and give my word they will be safe. We need them.”

“And the elections?” Mark Antony continued. “I would want to hold them as soon as possible.”

“Then you have the task. Consuls, magistrates, senators, quaestors, and praetors for the new regions of Gaul—we must have them all. Begin the notices the day after tomorrow, when the hangovers start wearing off. I will leave the details to you, but I want the posts filled quickly. We will have two consuls to head the Senate, once I have seen who is left among the nobilitas. If they are the men I think they are, they should already be considering the benefits of staying behind.”

A frown crossed his face for an instant. “Not Bibilus, though. If he is still in the city, I do not want him. The man is not fit for authority of any kind.”

Mark Antony nodded and Adàn scratched on his tablets until Julius noticed.

“Wipe that part clear, Adàn. I do not want every private opinion recorded. It is enough to have it said between us.”

He watched as the young Spaniard ran a calloused thumb over the wax square and was satisfied.

“This is a new start, gentlemen. It will take months to build a fleet and I intend to use that time to revise the laws of Rome from the very beginning. When we leave, the city will be peaceful and more secure than we found her—and the laws will apply to all. They will see that I have kept my word to them. I will begin with a reform of the courts. There will be no more bribery and favors. This is a chance to make the city work as it was meant to. As it did for our fathers.”

He stopped, looking around the echoing chamber and imagining it full once again of the lawmakers and rulers of Rome.

“We have the whole of Gaul to administer. The roads and enclosures there must continue. Taxes must be paid and revenues collected for the public buildings. It will be hard work. I should think our legions in Gaul will be pleased to get the call home when we are ready.” He grinned as he considered the enormity of the task before them.

“When I have a fleet, I will call all but one legion south. Gaul will not rise again this generation, not after us.”

“Will we have enough men to beat Pompey?” Mark Antony said quietly.

Julius glanced at him. “If every legion in Greece goes over to him, we could be overwhelmed, but we pardoned the men of Corfinium, did we not? The word will spread, even to Greece. Pompey's own men will take that piece of gossip to the legions there. Our people will wonder if they are on the right side in this. I expect many to come to me before the end.” He paused to look around at the men who had come so far with him.

“There can only be one ending between us after we meet in the field. Pompey will never be second to me. I will let it be known that any man who surrenders to my forces will be pardoned and honored for his loyalty. I will be the symbol of the old Rome against the new, and I will have my private letters copied and distributed, begging Pompey to choose exile over the death of Roman citizens.” He grinned suddenly. “It will drive him mad.”

“Who will rule Rome while you are away?” Mark Antony asked.

Brutus glanced up and his hand gripped the wooden rest tightly. Julius did not look his way.

“You have proved yourself, Mark Antony. I can think of none better to administer Italy while I fight the war in Greece. Stand for the second consul's seat with me. I can trust you to remain loyal for my return.”

Mark Antony stood on shaking legs and embraced his general.

“The gates will be open to you,” he said.

Brutus too rose, his face pale with strong emotion. For a moment, it seemed as if he would speak, and Julius turned to him, questioningly. Brutus shook his head and his mouth tightened.

“I must check the men,” he said at last, his voice choked. He walked into the sun and was gone.

Mark Antony looked troubled, decency forcing him to voice his thoughts. “Did you consider Brutus, sir? He deserves it as much, if not more.”

Julius smiled wryly. “You will keep Rome in order, Mark Antony. You will respect the law and take satisfaction from the thousand problems each day will bring. However, do not be offended when I say you are not the general I need to beat Pompey in the field. You have different strengths and I'll need Brutus in the battles to come. He has a talent for death.”

Mark Antony flushed, unsure if he was receiving a compliment. “I think you should tell him that, sir.”

“I will, of course,” Julius replied. “Now, to business, gentlemen. I want the city to sing tonight. By all the gods, we are home at last.”

         

Outside, the light of day seemed to claw at Brutus as he came onto the steps. He found himself breathing heavily as he looked over the drifting crowd. If they saw him, they did not respond and he was struck by the image of being invisible to them all, like a ghost. He was almost tempted to call out, just to hear his own voice and break the spell. He felt strangely cold, as if he stood beneath a shadowed arch on stones always hidden from the sun.

“I am owed a little more than this,” he said, his voice a breath. He opened his right hand to find it cramped and yellow with tension. He had not felt the grip tighten as Julius gave Mark Antony everything that mattered in the world. If Brutus had known how the man would become a rival, he would have taken him aside one dark night in Gaul and cut his throat. The picture was a sweet thing in his mind and it brought a righteous anger to the fore. On the Rubicon, he had believed he was needed, that the generals would risk it all together. Julius had spoken to the crowd as if he had come south on his own.

Brutus watched the people of Rome and found their ignorance of his presence was a sort of freedom. He felt bonds fall away and almost staggered in relief and pain. He looked for the boy holding his horse and walked down the white steps, dazed. The crowd melted around him like smoke and in a few moments he was lost amongst them.

                                                      
CHAPTER
5
                                                      

R
egulus frowned as he saw Brutus appear once more. The silver-armored figure stood like a statue by the white columns, and Regulus shivered, surprising himself. There was something eerie in the general's stillness as he looked over the milling crowd. Even from a distance, Brutus looked pale, and Regulus broke suddenly into a fast walk toward him, convinced something was wrong. The path was dense with citizens, but Regulus ignored the shouts of those he sent sprawling, his eyes never leaving Brutus. He saw the general take his horse and swing himself into the saddle without a glance or word for those around him. Fear touched Regulus then. He called out as Brutus dug in his heels, knocking down a young boy who had clustered too close to his hooves.

Brutus did not stop or even turn at the cry. He rode stiffly and his face was bloodless and grim. They passed within feet of each other and Brutus didn't feel the hand grasp desperately for his reins, nor hear his name.

Regulus swore under his breath as the horse clattered by out of reach. He looked up at the Senate building and was caught between ordering his men to stop Brutus and finding out what had happened. He had nothing solid to support the feeling of dread that had stolen his peaceful mood. The moment of indecision passed with torturous slowness and Regulus found himself marching up the steps.

He heard their calm voices before he saw the generals of Gaul, and Regulus shook his head in confusion. His mind had filled with violent images, but there was Adàn with his tablets and Ciro rising slowly with a questioning gaze.

“What is it?” Julius said.

Regulus hesitated, unwilling to voice what seemed like childish fears. What had he been thinking to allow such flights of fancy? “I . . . saw Brutus leave, sir. I thought there might be further orders.”

A subtle tension went out of the men as he spoke, and Regulus saw Mark Antony too showed strain on his patrician features.

“Join us, Regulus,” Julius said. “Have one of your men keep order in the forum. You know Pompey as well as anyone and I want you to be part of the planning.”

Regulus felt a weight lift. He had been mistaken and chose not to mention his moment of superstitious fear. Yet as he seated himself he recalled the wildness in Brutus's eyes and decided to seek him out before the day was over. Regulus did not enjoy mysteries, and he had never been a trusting man. With the decision made, he was able to turn to the business of the meeting, and the incident slipped from his conscious thought.

         

Servilia's house had hardly changed in the time Brutus had been away from the city. The three-story building was clean and well kept, with a single torch burning over the doorway at all hours of the day and night.

He paid a boy to look after his horse and walked into the main hall, removing his helmet and running a hand through sweat-soaked hair. He stood awkwardly as he announced himself, detached from the empty faces around him. He felt like a spectator in a play, hearing his own breath more loudly than the words of the servants.

She came out in a rush when she heard his name, and he embraced her awkwardly, feeling her stiffen on the instant she came into contact. Her smile vanished.

“What is it? Is there fighting?” she said.

He shook his head and, without warning, tears threatened to humiliate him. “No. The city is cheering him in the forum. Julius is in the Senate building.”

“Then what is it? You're so pale! Come inside, Brutus, and tell me.”

He followed past the stares of clients into the private suite of rooms and sank onto a couch, gazing at nothing. Servilia sat next to him and took his hands in hers. He saw how she had painted and prepared herself, and knowing it was for Julius was almost enough to make him walk out, if his legs would have borne him.

“Tell me,” she said softly.

He was surprised to see a rim of tears on her lashes. He reached up to touch them gently with his thumb and let his hand fall as she flinched from anything that would spoil her perfection. “I'm leaving, Servilia,” he said. “I'm free of him.”

Servilia shook her head in confusion, gripping his hand. “What are you saying?” she demanded.

He grimaced. “Exactly what you heard me say, Mother. I am done with Julius and he is done with me.”

“Will you tell me what happened?”

“I saw him make Mark Antony first in Rome and it all became painfully clear. Julius was never the man I thought he was. Never. He's played with my loyalty as cleverly as any other of those Senate bastards, until we are all working for them, giving our lives for nothing more than their promises and prestige.”

“What does it matter if he honors Mark Antony? The man is no more than competent. There are dozens like him working for Rome. Julius
needs
you. I have heard him say it.”

Brutus shook his head in disgust. “He doesn't
need
anyone. Just followers. I've done that for too many years and I've been his dog for most of my life. That can end too, like anything else.” He closed his eyes for a moment, overcome by memory and pain.

She reached a hand to his cheek and he flinched away, wounding her.

“Have you thought what you will do, at all?” she said, her voice hardening. “Have you planned how you will live? Or must a son of mine be reduced to mercenary work and petty theft? How will you eat?”

“I'm a little old to be looking for another life, Mother, don't you think? I'm a Roman general and I know how to train soldiers. There will always be a place for men like me. I'll go as far as I can until I have to work and there I'll stay. I'll build armies for someone else and never see Rome until Julius has gone from her. You may prefer me to stay and wash his feet for the rest of my life, but I will not.”

“You
must
talk to Julius,” she said, her eyes pleading. “No, let
me
talk to him. You stay here for an hour and I will see him. He loves you, Brutus, as much as I do.”

He rose and she stood with him, not willing to let him go.

“He will hurt you too in the end,” Brutus said softly. “And he won't even know.”

He tilted his head, watching as tears flowed down her cheeks and spoiled the powder. As he began to step away from her, she reached out with surprising strength and drew him into an embrace. For a long time, she held him in silence and he could feel the wetness of her tears on his throat.

“You are my only son,” she said at last. “Did I tell you how proud I was when you stood on the tourney sand and the crowd rose to cheer you? Did I tell you that?”

“You did, and I knew it anyway,” he murmured into her hair. “You were shining with it, in front of them all.”

“Is there nothing I can say to you? Will you not even give me an hour? It is not such a great thing.”

“Let it go, Mother,” he said, his expression hardening. “Let me go.”

“Never,” she said. “You are too precious to me.”

“What a pair of fools we are,” he said. He raised his hand to her face and this time she did not draw back as he smoothed the tears from her. “In my letters, did I ever say there was a battle where I wore his helmet and cloak?”

She shook her head and he shrugged, looking back into the past.

“They thought they were following him. The legions were tired and starving and in pain, but they followed because they thought he was calling them out for one last charge. He was helpless with his shaking sickness and he could not do it. I led them because I love him more than any other man I have known. He has been with me all my life and we have seen places I would not have believed. We have conquered countries together, and by the gods you should have seen the armies we broke. Enough to fill little Rome twice over, and we went through them.”

“Then why?”

“Because I cannot give my whole life to a man who does not even know what he has been given. He showed how much he valued me with his gift to Mark Antony.”

He clenched his fists at that memory.

“I could have been more, do you understand? If he had died in Gaul, I would have mourned him, but I would have taken his place and cut my own path. I could have done it, Servilia. He and I have something running in our blood that no one else in this feeble city has, not anymore. Either one of us could have risen over all of them and accepted no equals—no masters, Servilia. Yet with him, I am a servant. He sends me, I go. He tells me to stay, I stay. Can you imagine how that feels, for me?”

He stroked her hair gently as he spoke, but his eyes were distant and cold.

“I am the
best
of my generation, Mother. I could have ruled. But I had the misfortune to be born to a Rome with Julius in it. I have suffered it for
years
. I have pledged my life to him and he cannot see it.”

She pulled back from him at last and shook her head. “You're too proud, Brutus. Even for a son of mine you are too proud. You're still young. You could be great and still be loyal to him.”

Temper flushed his cheeks. “I was born for more than that! In any other city, I could have ruled, don't you understand? The tragedy is that I was born into
his
generation.” He sighed in misery. “You couldn't know. I have won battles when Julius had already given them up. I have led men when they would have run under any other general. I have
trained
generals for him, Servilia. There are places in Gaul where my silver armor is part of legends. Don't tell me I'm too proud. You were not there.”

His eyes glinted with banked fire.

“Why should I throw my years away for him like so many others? Renius died to save him, and Cabera gave his health because it was Julius asking. Tubruk died to save his wife. They were good men, but I won't go with them across the river, not for him. I have won Gaul for Julius; let that be the end of it. He has had enough from me.” He gave a bitter laugh, which chilled his mother. “Perhaps I should cross to Pompey and offer him my allegiance. I doubt he would scorn what I could bring.”

“You won't betray Julius,” Servilia said, her eyes dark with horror. “Even your arrogance wouldn't stretch that far.” For an instant, she thought he might strike her.

“My
arrogance
? Is that what you call it? Well, why not, Mother? Where else in the world is crying out for good Roman generals? Perhaps when Julius comes asking for me, you should tell him he will find me in Greece, on the other side of a battle. Perhaps he would understand then what he has lost in me.”

He detached her clinging hands and smiled at the ravages her crying had made in her face. Her age was no longer concealed and he wondered if he would ever see her again.

“I
am
your son, Servilia, and I do have too much pride to follow him any longer.”

She looked up into his eyes and saw his furious determination. “He will kill you, Brutus.”

“Such little faith in me, Servilia. Perhaps I shall kill him.” He nodded as if they had come to an end, and kissed her hand before walking out.

Alone, Servilia sank slowly onto the couch. Her hands were shaking and she clasped them together, before reaching for a tiny silver bell at her side. A slave girl entered and stood appalled at the destruction of the morning's work.

“Fetch your paints and oils, Talia. We must repair the damage before he comes.”

         

Brutus guided his Spanish horse through the streets, taking a path that would leave the forum far to the east. He had no wish to meet any of the men he was leaving, and the thought of having to speak to them gave him an urgency that cut through his stunned misery.

He rode without care for the citizens and slaves who scurried out of his way. He wanted to leave it all behind and get to the coast, where he could buy his way onto a fishing boat or anything else that would take him. The familiarity of the city seemed to mock his decision and every turning brought fresh memories. He had thought he had few ties with the people, but instead of faces he found he knew the calls of vendors, the colors, even the smells of the alleys that led away from the main roads.

Even though he was mounted, hurrying citizens kept pace with him as he rode through their midst, rushing endlessly from place to place in the city. He flowed with them and felt the stares of stall-keepers as he rode stiffly through the arteries of trade. It was all familiar, but still he was surprised when he found he had taken the road that led to Alexandria's shop.

There were ugly memories waiting for him there. He thought of the riots that had left him wounded. Yet he was proud of saving those who could not protect themselves, and he sat a little straighter in the saddle as he approached.

He saw her in the distance as he gathered the reins to dismount. Though she was facing away from him, he would have known her anywhere. His hands froze on the high pommel as a man at her side reached around her waist with casual affection. Brutus's mouth pursed in thought and he nodded to himself. It didn't touch him except as a distant pain that something else in his life had ended. He was too numb with a greater loss. Her letters had stopped a long time ago, but somehow he had thought she might have waited, as if her life could only go on while he was there. He shook his head and saw a grubby child watching him from an alley between the shops.

“Come here, boy,” he called, holding up a silver coin.

The urchin came out with a swagger like a dockworker and Brutus winced at the lack of meat on the young bones.

“Do you know the lady who works in this shop?” Brutus asked.

The boy flickered a glance after the couple further along the road, an answer in itself. Brutus did not follow the look, but simply held out the coin.