Conn Iggulden - Emperor 02

by The Death of Kings

  She and Clodia let out unwilling gasps as they saw the shine of gold coins inside as he undid one flap. He laughed with pleasure and showed them more and more of them, full of bars or coin in silver and gold.

  “All the ransom and four times as much again,” he said cheerfully as he retied the packs. “We will buy our land back.”

  Cornelia wanted to ask where he had found such wealth, but as her eyes traveled over the white scars on his dark arms and the deep one on his brow, she stayed silent. He had paid heavily for it.

  “Tata?” came a little voice, and Julius laughed as he looked down and found the small figure with her hands upraised to be held.

  “Yes, my darling girl. I am your father, come home from the ships. Now I am for a good soak and a fine meal before sleep. The thought of being in my own bed is a pleasure I can hardly describe.”

  His daughter laughed at his words and he hugged her.

  “Gently! She's not one of your soldiers, you know,” Clodia said, reaching up to take her.

  Julius felt a pang as the child left his arms and he sighed with satisfaction as he looked at them all.

  “There's so much to do, my darling,” he said to his wife.

  * * *

  Too impatient in the end to wait, Julius had called for Tubruk to report to him while he bathed the dust and filth of the journey from his body. The hot water turned a dark gray after moments of scrubbing, and the heat made his heart thump away some of the weariness.

  Tubruk stood at the end of the narrow pool and recited the financial dealings of the estate over the previous three years, as once he had for Julius's father. When Julius was finally clean, he seemed younger than the dark warrior who had first come into sight at the head of a column. His eyes were a washed-out blue, and when the rush of energy from the hot water faded, Julius could barely stay awake to listen.

  Before the young man could fall asleep in the pool, Tubruk handed him a soft robe and towels and left him. His step was light as he walked down the corridors of the estate, listening to the songs of the drunken soldiers outside. For the first time since the event, the guilt that had plagued him over his part in the death of Sulla lifted as if it had never existed. He thought he would tell him when all the business of his return to Rome was settled and things were quiet again. The murder had been done in his name after all, and if Julius knew, Tubruk would be able to send anonymous gifts to the families of Casaverius, Fercus, and the parents of the young soldier who had stood against him at the gate. Especially Fercus, whose family were almost destitute without him. Tubruk owed them everything for their father's courage, and he knew Julius would feel the same.

  He passed Aurelia's door and heard a low keening from the room inside. Tubruk hesitated. Julius was too tired to rouse and he hadn't yet asked after his mother. Tubruk wanted nothing more than to go to his own bed after a long day, but then he sighed and went in.

  CHAPTER 28

  The messenger from the Senate arrived the following dawn. It took Tubruk some time to rouse Julius, and when he finally greeted the Senate runner, he was still less than fully alert. After so many months of tension, the one night in his own home had done little to remove the bone-deep exhaustion.

  Yawning, Julius rubbed a hand through his hair and smiled blearily at the young man from the city. “I am Julius Caesar. Deliver your message.”

  “The Senate requires you to attend a full council at noon today, master,” the messenger said quickly.

  Julius blinked. “That's all?” he asked flatly.

  The messenger shifted slightly. “That is the official message, master. I do know a little more, from the gossip amongst the runners.”

  “Tubruk?” Julius said, and watched as the estate manager passed over a silver coin to the man.

  “Well?” Julius asked when the coin had disappeared into a hidden pouch. The messenger smiled.

  “They say you are to be given the rank of tribune for your work in Greece.”

  “Tribune?” Julius looked at Tubruk, who shrugged as he spoke.

  “It's a step on the ladder,” the estate manager replied calmly, indicating the messenger with his eyes. Julius understood and dismissed the runner back to the city.

  When they were alone, Tubruk clapped him on the back.

  “Congratulations. Now are you going to tell me how you earned it? Unlike the Senate, I don't have messengers to run all over the place for me. All I have heard is that you beat Mithridates and overran an army twenty times your size.”

  Julius barked a surprised laugh. “Next week it will be thirty times the size, as the Roman gossips tell the story. Perhaps I shouldn't correct them,” he said wryly. “Come for a walk with me and I'll tell you all the details. I want to see where this new boundary is.”

  He saw Tubruk's sudden frown and smiled to ease the man's worry.

  “I was surprised when Cornelia told me. I never thought you of all people would sell land.”

  “It was that or send the ransom short, lad, and there's only one son of the house.”

  Julius gripped his shoulder in sudden affection. “I know, I'm only teasing you. It was the right thing to do and I have the funds to buy it back.”

  “I sold it to Suetonius's father,” Tubruk said grimly.

  Julius paused as he took this in. “He would have known it was for the ransom. He had to raise one for his son, after all. Did you get a good price?”

  Tubruk replied with a pained expression. “Not really. He drove a very hard bargain and I had to let more of it go than I wanted. I'm sure he saw it as good business, but it was”—he screwed his face up as if something bitter had entered his mouth—“shameful.”

  Julius took a deep breath. “Show me how much we've lost and then we'll work out how to get the old man to return it to me. If he's anything like his son, it won't be easy. I want to be back for when my mother wakes, Tubruk. I have a . . . great deal to tell her.”

  Something stopped Julius telling Tubruk about the head wound and the fits that came after it. In part, it was shame at the lack of understanding he had shown his mother over the years, which he knew he had to put right. More than that, though, he didn't want to see pity in the old gladiator's eyes. He didn't think he could bear it.

  Together, they walked out of the estate and up the hill to the woods that Julius had run through as a boy, Tubruk listening as Julius told him everything that had happened in the years he had been away from the city.

  The new boundary was a solid wooden fence right across the path where Julius remembered digging a wolf trap for Suetonius years before. The sight of it on land that had been in his family for generations made him want to break it down, but instead he leaned on it, deep in thought.

  “I have enough gold to offer him far more than the land is worth, but that sticks in my throat, Tubruk. I don't like to be cheated.”

  “He'll be at the Senate meeting at noon. You could sound him out there. We may be misjudging the man. Perhaps he will offer to return the land for what he paid for it,” Tubruk said, his doubts showing clearly.

  Julius knocked his knuckles on the solid fence and sighed. “Somehow I doubt that. Suetonius must be home by now and we fell out about a few things on the ships and in Greece. He won't be wanting to do me any favors, but I am getting my father's land back. I'll see what Marcus thinks.”

  “Brutus now, you realize? Did you know he made centurion with the Bronze Fist? He'll be wanting your advice about Primigenia as well.”

  Julius nodded and smiled at the thought of being able to talk again with his old friend. “He must be the youngest general Rome has ever had,” he said, chuckling.

  Tubruk snorted. “A legate without a legion, then.” He sobered suddenly, his eyes becoming cold with memory. “Sulla had the name struck from the legion rolls after Marius's death. It was awful in Rome for a while. Nobody was safe, not even the Senate. Anyone Sulla named as enemy of the state was dragged out of their home and executed without trial. I thought of taking Cornelia
and the baby away, but . . .” He caught himself, remembering what Cornelia had said to him as he returned to his own room from Aurelia's the night before, while Julius lay deeply asleep.

  The old gladiator felt torn between his loyalties to Julius and to Cornelia. His relationship with both of them was far closer to fatherly love than the professional duty of an estate manager. He hated to keep secrets, but he knew that what had happened with Sulla should be hers to tell first.

  Julius didn't seem to notice his preoccupation, lost in thought himself.

  “Thank the Furies that bastard's dead, Tubruk. I don't know what I'd have done if he'd lived. I suppose I could have written to you to take my family out of the country, but a life in exile would have been the end of me. I can't describe what it felt like to touch my feet on Roman soil again after so long. I hadn't really known the strength of it until I left, you understand?”

  “You know I do, lad. I don't know how Cabera can stand to wander as he does. A rootless life is beyond me, but then perhaps we have deeper roots than most, here.”

  Julius let his gaze pass over the green-shadowed woods that held so many memories, and his resolve firmed. He would have back what had been taken.

  Another thought struck him. “What of Marius's house in the city?”

  “It is lost,” Tubruk said without looking at him. “Sold at auction when Sulla was declared Dictator. A great deal of property changed hands by his order. Crassus bought some of it, but for the most part the bidding was a farce, with Sulla's supporters taking the best.”

  “Do you know who lives there now?” Julius asked, his voice tight with anger.

  Tubruk shrugged. “It was given to Antonidus, Sulla's general, or rather he paid a tiny amount of its worth. They called him Sulla's dog for his loyalty, but he gained a great deal from his master.”

  Julius clenched a fist slowly. “That is a problem I can settle today, after the Senate meeting. Does he have many soldiers at his command, this Antonidus?”

  Tubruk frowned as he understood, then a smile tugged at his mouth. “A few house guards. He has a nominal rank, which no one has thought to take from him, but he is not linked to a particular legion. You have the men to turn him out if you do it quickly.”

  “Then I shall do it quickly,” Julius replied, turning away from the fence and looking back toward the estate. “Will my mother be awake by now?”

  “She usually is. She doesn't sleep much these days,” Tubruk replied. “Her illness is the same, but you should know she grows weaker.”

  Julius looked with affection on the old gladiator, whose emotions were always closer to the surface than he pretended. “She would be lost without you,” he said.

  Tubruk looked away and cleared his throat as they began to walk back to the estate. His continuing duty to Aurelia was not open for discussion, despite the fact that it had been more and more in his thoughts over the previous few months. He thought of her when he looked at Clodia and admitted the affection that had sprung out of nothing to surprise him. Cornelia's nurse was a gentlewoman and she had made it clear that she shared the quiet love he felt for her. Yet there was Aurelia to care for and he knew he could never retire to a small house in the city while there was still that obligation in his life, even if they could buy Clodia free of slavery as she seemed so sure they could. There was little to be gained in worrying about the future, he reflected as they neared the estate. It made a mockery of planning, every time. All they could ever do was be ready for the swift turns and changes it would bring.

  Octavian was waiting for them at the gate. Julius looked at him blankly as they drew abreast, pausing in surprise as the small boy bowed deeply to him.

  “And who is this?” he said, turning to Tubruk, amazed to see him blushing in embarrassment.

  “His name is Octavian, master. I did tell him I would present him to you when there was time, but he has lost his patience yet again, I see.”

  Octavian paled slightly at the criticism. It was true that he hadn't been able to wait, but he hadn't disobeyed so much as assumed Tubruk would have changed his mind, which was entirely different, he thought.

  “Tubruk is looking after me for my mother,” he said brightly to Julius. “I am learning how to fight with a gladius and ride horses and—”

  Tubruk cuffed him gently to stop the recitation, his embarrassment growing. He had meant to explain the situation to Julius, and was mortified to have it thrust on him without a moment to prepare.

  “Alexandria brought him,” he said, sending Octavian tottering away with a push in the direction of the stables. “He is a distant relative of yours, from your grandfather's sister. Aurelia seems to like him, but he's still learning his manners.”

  “And how to fight with a gladius and ride horses?” Julius asked, enjoying Tubruk's confusion with gentle amusement. Seeing the estate manager flustered was a new experience for him, and he was quite happy to allow it to run for a while.

  Tubruk scratched the back of his ear with a grimace and looked after Octavian as the little boy finally took the hint and trotted out of sight.

  “That was my idea. He was being hurt by apprentices in the city, and I thought I could show him how to take care of himself. I was going to clear it with you, but . . .”

  Julius cracked with laughter, made worse by Tubruk's stunned expression.

  “I've never seen you so nervous before,” Julius said. “I think you have taken a liking to the little puppy?”

  Tubruk shrugged, irritated by the change in mood. Typical of Octavian to ignore his orders yet again. Each day seemed to start afresh for him, with his lessons or punishments completely forgotten.

  “He has a hardy spirit for a lad so young. He reminds me of you sometimes, now we've cleaned him up a little.”

  “I won't question anything you have done in my absence, Tubruk. If your judgment was good enough for my father, it will always be good enough for me. I'll see the lad properly when I return this evening or tomorrow. He was a bit small to be fighting on the backstreets of the city, wasn't he?”

  Tubruk nodded, pleased Julius hadn't objected. He wondered if it was the right moment to mention that the boy had his own room in the house and his own pony in the stables. Probably not.

  Still smiling, Julius went into the main buildings, and Tubruk was left alone in the yard. A flicker of movement from the stables registered in his vision and he sighed. The boy was spying again, probably worried that his pony would be taken away, the only threat that had any effect on him.

  * * *

  Julius sat silently in his mother's dressing room and watched while a slave applied the oils and paints that went some way toward hiding her wasted condition. The fact that she had allowed him to see her without the aids worried him as much as the actual shock of how thin and ill looking she had become. For so long, he had promised himself that he would reveal his understanding of her sickness and achieve a companionship of sorts from the rubble of his childhood. As the moment had come, he couldn't think how to begin. The woman sitting in front of the mirror was almost a stranger to him. Her cheeks had sunk into darkened hollows that resisted the paints the slave applied, showing through the lighter colors like a shadow of death that hung over her. Her dark eyes were listless and weary and her arms were so pitifully thin it made him wince to look at them.

  Aurelia had known him, at least. She had greeted him with tears and a delicate embrace that he returned with infinite care, feeling as if he could break the fragile thing she had become. Even then, she gasped slightly as he held her, and guilt swept over him.

  When the slave had packed her materials into an elegantly veneered case and bowed out of the room, Aurelia turned to her son and essayed a smile, though her skin crinkled like parchment under the applications of false colors.

  Julius struggled with his emotions. Cabera had said his condition was different from his mother's, and he knew she had never suffered a wound like the one that had nearly killed him. Even so, they had something in
common at last, though the gulf seemed unbridgeable.

  “I . . . thought of you a great deal while I was away,” he began.

  She didn't reply, seemingly transfixed by the examination of her face in the polished bronze. Her long, thin fingers rose to touch her throat and hair as she turned this way and that, frowning at herself.

  “I was injured in a battle and ill for a long time,” Julius struggled on, “and afterward a strange fit would come over me. It . . . reminded me of your sickness and I thought I should tell you. I wish I had been a better son to you. I never understood what you were going through before, but when it happened to me it was like a window opening. I'm sorry.”

  He watched her shaking hands smooth and caress her face as he spoke, their movements becoming more and more agitated. Worried for her, he half rose out of his seat and the movement distracted her so that she turned her face to him.

  “Julius?” she whispered. Her pupils had widened darkly and her eyes seemed unfocused as they passed over him.

  “I am here,” he said sadly, wondering if she had heard him at all.

  “I thought you had left me,” she went on, her voice sending a shudder through him.

  “No, I came back,” he said, feeling his eyes prickle with grief.

  “Is Gaius all right? He's such a willful boy,” she said, closing her eyes and lowering her head as if to shut out the world.

  “He is . . . well. He loves you very much,” Julius replied softly, bringing up his hand to clear the tears that stung him.

  Aurelia nodded and turned back to her mirror and her contemplation. “I am glad. Would you send in the slave to tend me, dear? I will need a little makeup to face the house today, I think.”