The Gates of Rome

by Conn Iggulden

  Lavia spoke from the side: "I'll call start. All ready?"

  The contestants nodded. Gaius noted that a few other people were wandering over, always ready to view or bet on a contest in whatever form. The air smelled cleanly of grass and he felt full of life. He scuffed his feet and remembered what Tubruk had said about the soil. Roman earth, fed with the blood and bones of his ancestors. It felt strong under his feet and he set himself. The moment seemed to hold, and nearby he could see Tani the discus champion spin and release again, his discus flying high and straight over the Campus Martius. The sun was reddening as it sank, giving a warm cast to the tense boys in the square.

  "Begin!" Lavia shouted.

  Gaius dropped to one knee, spoiling a lunge that went over his head. He shoved up then, with all the strength of his thighs, taking another boy off his feet and leaving him flat on the dusty grass. As Gaius rose, he was hammered from the side, but spun as he fell so that his unknown attacker hit the ground first, with Gaius's weight knocking the wind from him.

  Marcus was locked in a grip with Petronius, their hands tight on each other's armpits and shoulders. Another struggling combatant was shoved blindly into Petronius and the pair fell roughly, but Gaius's moment of inattention was punished by an arm circling his neck from behind and tightening on his windpipe. He kicked out backward and raked his sandals down someone's shin, hacking back with an elbow at the same time. He felt the grip loosen but then they were both sent sprawling by a knot of fighting boys. Gaius hit the ground hard and scrambled to get to the side of the square, even as a foot clouted into his cheek, splitting the skin.

  Anger swelled for a moment, but he saw his attacker hadn't even registered him, and he retired to the edge of the square, cheering on Marcus, who had regained his feet. Petronius was down and out, knocked cold, and only Marcus and two others were still in the competition. The crowd that had gathered to watch were yelling encouragement and making side bets. Marcus grabbed one of the pair by the crotch and neck and tried to lift him into the air for throwing. The boy struggled wildly as his feet came off the ground, and Marcus staggered with him just as the last gripped him around his own chest and knocked him over backward in a heaving pile of limbs.

  The stranger came to his feet with a whoop and took a circuit of the square with his hands held high. Gaius could hear Marcus laughing and breathed deeply in the summer air as his friend stood up, brushing off the dust. In the middle distance, beyond the vast Campus, Gaius could see the city, built on seven ancient hills centuries before. All around him were the shouts and cries of his people, and underneath his feet, his land.

  In hot darkness, lit only by a crescent moon that signaled the month coming to a close, the two boys made their way in silence over the fields and paths of the estate. The air was filled with the smell of fruit and flowers, and crickets creaked in the bushes. They walked without speaking until they reached the place where they had stood with Tubruk earlier in the day, at the corner of the peg-marked line of a new field.

  With the moon giving so little light, Gaius had to feel along the twine until he came to the broken spot at the corner, and then he stood and drew a slim knife from his belt, taken from the kitchens. Concentrating, he drew the sharp blade across the ball of his thumb. It sank in deeper than he had intended and blood poured out over his hand. He passed the blade to Marcus and held the thumb high, slightly worried by the injury and hoping to slow the bleeding.

  Marcus drew the knife along his own thumb, once, then twice, creating a scratch from which he squeezed a few swelling beads of blood.

  "I've practically cut my thumb off here!" Gaius said irritably.

  Marcus tried to look serious, but failed. He held out his hand and they pressed them together so that the blood mingled in the darkness. Then Gaius pushed his bleeding thumb into the broken ground, wincing. Marcus watched him for a long moment before copying the action.

  "Now you are a part of this estate as well and we are brothers," Gaius said.

  Marcus nodded and in silence they began the walk back to the sprawling white buildings of the estate. Invisibly in the darkness, Marcus's eyes brimmed and he wiped his hand over them quickly, leaving a smear of blood on his skin.

  Gaius stood on the top of the estate gates, shading his eyes against the bright sun as he looked toward Rome. Tubruk had said his father would be returning from the city, and he wanted to be the first to see him on the road. He spat on his hand and ran it through his dark hair to smooth it down.

  He enjoyed being away from the chores and cares of his life. The slaves below rarely looked up as they passed from one part of the estate buildings to another, and it was a peculiar feeling to watch and yet be unobserved: a moment of privacy and quiet. Somewhere, his mother would be looking for him to carry a basket for her to collect fruit, or Tubruk would be looking for someone to wax and oil the leather harnesses of the horses and oxen or perform one of a thousand other little tasks. Somehow, the thought of all those things he was not doing raised his spirits. They couldn't find him and he was in his own little place, watching the road to Rome.

  He saw the dust trail and stood up on the gatepost. He wasn't sure. The rider was still far away, but there weren't too many estates that could be reached from their road, and the chances were good.

  After another few minutes he was able to see the man on the horse clearly and let out a whoop, scrambling to the ground in a rush of arms and legs. The gate itself was heavy, but Gaius threw his weight against it and it creaked open enough for him to squeeze through and run off down the road to meet his father.

  His child's sandals slapped against the hard ground and he pumped his arms enthusiastically as he raced toward the approaching figure. His father had been gone for a full month, and Gaius wanted to show him how much he had grown in the time. Everyone said so.

  "Tata!" he called, and his father heard and reined in as the boy ran up to him. He looked tired and dusty, but Gaius saw the beginnings of a smile crease against the blue eyes.

  "Is this a beggar or a small bandit I see on the road?" his father said, reaching out an arm to lift his son to the saddle.

  Gaius laughed as he was swung into the air and gripped his father's back as the horse began a slower walk up to the estate walls.

  "You are taller than when I saw you last," his father said, his voice light.

  "A little. Tubruk says I am growing like corn."

  His father nodded in response and there was a friendly silence between them that lasted until they reached the gates. Gaius slid off the horse's back and heaved the gate wide enough for his father to enter the estate.

  "Will you be home for long this time?"

  His father dismounted and ruffled his hair, ruining the spit-smoothness he'd worked at.

  "A few days, perhaps a week. I wish it were more, but there is always work to be done for the Republic." He handed the reins to his son. "Take old Mercury here to the stables and rub him down properly. I'll see you again after I have inspected the staff and spoken to your mother."

  Gaius's open expression tightened at the mention of Aurelia, and his father noticed. He sighed and put his hand on his sons shoulder, making him meet his gaze.

  "I want to spend more time away from the city, lad, but what I do is important to me. Do you understand the word 'Republic'?"

  Gaius nodded and his father looked skeptical.

  "I doubt it. Few enough of my fellow senators seem to. We live an idea, a system of government that allows everyone to have a voice, even the common man. Do you realize how rare that is? Every other little country I have known has a king or a chief running it. He gives land to his friends and takes money from those who fall out with him. It is like having a child loose with a sword.

  "In Rome, we have the rule of law. It is not yet perfect or even as fair as I would like, but it tries to be, and that is what I devote my life to. It is worth my life—and yours too when the time comes."

  "I miss you, though," Gaius replied, knowing it was
selfish.

  His father's gaze hardened slightly, then he reached out to ruffle Gaius's hair once more.

  "And I miss you too. Your knees are filthy and that tunic is more suitable for a street child, but I miss you too. Go and clean yourself up—but only after you have rubbed Mercury down."

  He watched his son trudge away, leading the horse, and smiled ruefully. He was a little taller. Tubruk was right.

  In the stables, Gaius rubbed the flanks of his father's horse, smoothing away sweat and dust and thinking over his fathers words. The idea of a republic sounded very fine, but being a king was clearly more exciting.

  Whenever Gaius's father, Julius, had been away for a long absence, Aurelia insisted on a formal meal in the long triclinium. The two boys would sit on children's stools next to the long couches, on which Aurelia and her husband would recline barefoot, with the food served on low tables by the household slaves.

  Gaius and Marcus hated the meals. They were forbidden to chatter and sat in painful silence through each course, allowing the table servants only a quick rub of their fingers between dipping them into the food. Although their appetites were large, Gaius and Marcus had learned not to offend Aurelia by eating too quickly and so were forced to chew and swallow as slowly as the adults while the evening shadows lengthened.

  Bathed and dressed in clean clothes, Gaius felt hot and uncomfortable with his parents. His father had put aside the informality of their meeting on the road and now talked with his wife as if the two boys did not exist. Gaius watched his mother closely when he could, looking for the trembling that would signal one of her fits. At first, they had terrified him and left him sobbing, but after years an emotional callousness had grown, and occasionally he even hoped for the trembling so that he and Marcus would be sent from the table.

  He tried to listen and be interested in the conversation, but it was all about developments in the laws and city ordinances. His father never seemed to come home with exciting stories of executions or famous street villains.

  "You have too much faith in the people, Julius," Aurelia was saying. "They need looking after as a child needs a father. Some have wit and intelligence, I agree, but most have to be protected..." She trailed off and silence fell.

  Julius looked up and Gaius saw a sadness come into his face, making Gaius look away, embarrassed, as if he had witnessed an intimacy.

  "Relia?"

  Gaius heard his father's voice and looked back at his mother, who lay like a statue, her eyes focused on some distant scene. Her hand trembled and suddenly her face twisted like a child's. The tremor that began in her hand spread to her whole body, and she twisted in spasm, one arm sweeping bowls from the low table. Her voice I erupted violently from her throat, a torrent of screeching sound that made the boys wince.

  Julius rose smoothly from his seat and took his wife in his arms.

  "Leave us," he commanded, and Gaius and Marcus went out with the slaves, leaving behind them the man holding the twisting figure.

  The following morning, Gaius was woken by Tubruk shaking his shoulder.

  "Get up, lad. Your mother wants to see you."

  Gaius groaned, almost to himself, but Tubruk heard.

  "She is always quiet after a... bad night."

  Gaius paused as he pulled clothes on. He looked up at the old gladiator.

  "Sometimes I hate her."

  Tubruk sighed gently. "I wish you could have known her as she was before the sickness began. She used to sing to herself all the time, and the house was always happy. You have to think that your mother is still there, but can't get out to you. She does love you, you know."

  Gaius nodded and smoothed his hair down carelessly.

  "Has my father gone back to the city?" he asked, knowing the answer. His father hated to feel helpless.

  "He left at dawn," Tubruk replied.

  Without another word, Gaius followed him through the cool corridors to his mother's rooms.

  She sat upright in bed, her face freshly washed and her long hair braided behind her. Her skin was pale, but she smiled as Gaius entered, and he was able to smile back.

  "Come closer, Gaius. I am sorry if I scared you last night."

  He came into her arms and let her hold him, feeling nothing. How could he tell her he wasn't scared anymore? He had seen it too many times, each worse than the last. Some part of him knew that she would get worse and worse, that she was already leaving him. But he could not think of that—better to keep it inside, to smile and hug her and walk away untouched.

  "What are you going to do today?" she asked as she released him.

  "Chores with Marcus," he replied.

  She nodded and seemed to forget him. He waited for a few seconds and, when there was no further response, turned and walked from the room.

  When the tiny space in her thoughts faded and she focused again on the room, it was empty.

  * * *

  Marcus met him at the gates, carrying a bird net. He looked into his friend's eyes and made his tone light and cheerful.

  "I feel lucky today. We'll catch a hawk—two hawks. We'll train them and they'll sit on our shoulders, attacking on our command. Suetonius will run when he sees us."

  Gaius chuckled and cleared his mind of thoughts of his mother. He missed his father already, but the day was going to be a long one and there was always something to do in the woods. He doubted Marcus's idea of hawk-catching would work, but he would go along with it until the day was over and all the paths had been walked.

  The green gloom almost made them miss the raven that sat on a low branch, not far from the sunlit fields. Marcus froze as he saw it first and pressed a hand against Gaius's chest.

  "Look at the size of it!" he whispered, unwrapping his bird net.

  They crouched down and crept forward, watched with interest by the bird. Even for a raven it was large, and it spread heavy black wings as they approached, before almost hopping to the next tree with one lazy flap.

  "You circle around," Marcus whispered, his voice excited. He backed this up with circling motions of his fingers, and Gaius grinned at him, slipping into the undergrowth to one side. He crept around in a large circle, trying to keep the tree in sight while checking the path for dry twigs or rustling leaves.

  When Gaius emerged on the far side, he saw the raven had changed trees again, this time to a long trunk that had fallen years before. The gentle slope of the trunk was easy to climb, and Marcus had already begun to inch up it toward the bird, at the same time trying to keep the net free for throwing.

  Gaius padded closer to the base of the tree. Why doesn't it fly away? he thought, looking up at the raven. It cocked its large head to one side and opened its wings again. Both boys froze until the bird seemed to relax, then Marcus levered himself upward again, legs dangling on each side of the thick trunk.

  Marcus was only feet from the bird when he thought it would fly off again. It hopped about on the trunk and branches, seemingly unafraid. He unfolded the net, a web of rough twine usually used for holding onions in the estate kitchens. In Marcus's hands, it had instantly become the fearsome instrument of a bird catcher.

  Holding his breath, he threw it, and the raven took off with a scream of indignation. It flapped its wings once again and landed in the slender branches of a young sapling near Gaius, who ran at it without thinking.

  As Marcus scrambled down, Gaius shoved at the sapling and felt the whole thing give with a sudden crack, pinning the bird in the leaves and branches on the ground. With Gaius pressing it all down, Marcus was able to reach in and hold the heavy bird, gripping it tightly in his two hands. He raised it triumphantly and then hung on desperately as the raven struggled to escape.

  "Help me! He's strong," Marcus shouted, and Gaius added his own hands to the struggling bundle. Suddenly an agonizing pain shot through him. The beak was long and curved like a spear of black wood. It jabbed at his hand, catching and gripping the piece of soft flesh between thumb and first finger.

  G
aius yelped. "Get it off. It's got my hand, Marcus." The pain was excruciating and they panicked together, with Marcus fighting to hold his grip while Gaius tried to lever the vicious beak off his skin.

  "I can't get it off, Marcus."

  "You'll have to pull it," Marcus replied grimly, his face red with the effort of holding the enraged bird.

  "I can't, it's like a knife. Let it go."

  "I'm not letting it go. This raven is ours. We caught it in the wild, like hunters."

  Gaius groaned with pain.

  "It caught us, more like." His fingers waved in agony and the raven let go without warning, trying to snap at one of them. Gaius gasped in relief and backed off hurriedly, holding his hands against his groin and doubling over.

  "He's a fighter, anyway," Marcus said with a grin, shifting his grip so the searching head couldn't find his own flesh. "We'll take him home and train him. Ravens are intelligent, I've heard. He'll learn tricks and come with us when we go to the Campus Martius."

  "He needs a name. Something warlike," Gaius replied, in between sucking his torn skin.

  "What's the name of that god who goes round as a raven or carries one?"

  "I don't know, one of the Greek ones, I think. Zeus?"

  "That's an owl, I think. Someone has an owl."

  "I don't remember one with a raven, but Zeus is a good name for him."

  They smiled at each other and the raven went quiet, looking around him with apparent calmness.

  "Zeus it is, then."

  They walked back over the fields to the estate, with the bird held firmly in Marcus's grasp.

  "We'll have to find somewhere to hide him," he said. "Your mother doesn't like us catching animals. You remember when she found out about the fox?"

  Gaius winced, looking at the ground. "There's an empty chicken coop next to the stables. We could put him in there. What do ravens eat?"

  "Meat, I think. They scavenge battlefields, unless that's crows. We can get a few scraps from the kitchens and see what he takes, anyway. That won't be a problem."

  "We'll have to tie twine to his legs for the training, otherwise he'll fly off," Gaius said thoughtfully.