With a shout, Brutus raced forward and the four men spun to face him. Two carried knives and two had swords like his own, but he did not pause in his rush. Alexandria shouted wildly at him and only the desperation in her voice made him hold his first blow.
‘No, Brutus! Don’t!’ she cried.
The men who threatened her were professionals, he saw. They moved aside so as not to be exposed to blades from behind as they faced him. Brutus lowered his sword and stepped into their range as if he had nothing to fear.
‘What goes on here?’ he demanded, glaring at the man who had pushed her.
‘None of your concern, boy,’ one of them said, jerking his sword in Brutus’ direction to make him flinch. Brutus regarded him impassively.
‘You really haven’t the first idea who you are speaking to, have you?’ he said, grinning nastily. His sword tip cut small circles in the air as he held it lazily at his side. The tiny movement seemed to draw the gazes of the other men, but the one who had spoken held his eyes, not daring to look away. There was something terrible in the way Brutus stood so casually before their blades and his confidence intimidated all of them.
‘Who are they, Ria?’ Brutus said, without looking at her.
‘Collectors for Clodius,’ she replied as she stood up. ‘They are demanding more money than we have. More than we earn. But you mustn’t kill them.’
Brutus frowned. ‘Why not? No one would miss them.’
One of the raptores answered him. ‘Because that pretty girl wouldn’t like what our friends would do to her, boy. So put your sword …’
Brutus cut the man’s throat and stood without expression as he collapsed, watching the others. Though he was only inches from their blades, not one of them dared to move.
‘Anyone else want to make threats?’ he said.
They stared wide-eyed at him and they could all hear the ghastly choking sounds coming from the floor. No one looked down.
‘Oh gods, no,’ he heard Alexandria whisper.
Brutus ignored her, waiting for one of the men to break the stillness that held them. He had seen Renius intimidate groups before, but there were always fools. He watched as the men shuffled backwards away from him until they were out of range of his gladius. Brutus took a sharp step towards them.
‘No little taunts now, lads. No calling out as you go. Just leave. I’ll find you if I have to.’
The men exchanged glances, but none of them broke the silence as they walked past the forges to the street door. The last to pass through closed it quietly behind him.
Alexandria was pale with anger and fear.
‘That’s it then,’ she said. ‘You don’t know what you’ve done. They’ll come back with more and burn this place down. Gods, Brutus, did you not hear what I said?’
‘I heard, but I’m here now,’ he replied, wiping his sword on the cooling body at his feet.
‘For how long? We have to live with them when you’ve gone back to your legions, don’t you realise that?’
Brutus felt a flare of anger start in him. He’d had just about enough of being criticised from Julius.
‘I should have just watched, then? Yes? I’m not who you think I am if you expect me just to stand there while they threaten you.’
‘He’s right, Alexandria,’ Tabbic broke in, nodding to Brutus. ‘There’s no taking it back now, but Clodius won’t just forget us, or you. We’ll have to sleep in the workshop for the next few nights. Will you stay with us?’
Brutus eyed Alexandria. It wasn’t exactly the homecoming he had imagined on his ride south, but then he shrugged.
‘Of course. It will save me rent, at least. Now, am I going to get a welcoming kiss or not? Not from you, Tabbic, obviously.’
‘First, get rid of that body,’ Alexandria said.
She had begun to shake with reaction and Tabbic placed a kettle on the forge to make her a hot drink. Brutus sighed and took hold of the corpse by its ankles, dragging it over the stone flags.
When he was out of earshot, Teddus leaned close to Alexandria.
‘I’ve never seen anything that fast,’ he said.
She looked at him, accepting the cup of hot spiced wine from Tabbic’s hands.
‘He won Caesar’s tournament; remember it?’
Teddus whistled softly to himself.
‘The silver armour? I can believe it. I won a bit on him myself. Will you be wanting me to stay tonight? It could be a long one when Clodius finds out about his man.’
‘Can you stay?’ Alexandria asked.
The old soldier looked away, embarrassed.
‘Of course I can,’ he said gruffly. ‘I’ll fetch my son as well, with your permission.’ He cleared his throat to cover his discomfort. ‘If they send men for us tonight, we could do with someone up on the roof as a lookout. He’ll be no trouble up there.’
Tabbic looked at the pair of them and nodded as he came to a decision.
‘I’m going to take my wife and children to her sister’s house for a few days. Then I’ll drop in on the old street and see if I can’t bring a couple of stout lads back for tonight. They might relish the chance to hit back for once, you never know. Lock the door behind me when I’ve gone.’
Clodius’ men came in force in the dark, with torches to burn the shop to the ground. Teddus’ son clattered down the back stairs to shout a warning and Brutus swore aloud. He had retrieved his silver armour from the last posting house by the city walls and now fastened the buckles and ties on the chestplate as he readied himself. He looked around at the motley group that had assembled by Tabbic’s forges. The jeweller had brought four young men back from the shops along the old road. They carried good blades, though Brutus doubted they could do much more than hack wildly with them. In the last hour before darkness had fallen, he had taught them the value of a repeated lunge and had them practise until their stiff muscles had loosened. Their eyes shone in the lamplight as they watched the silver-armoured warrior stand before them.
‘We’ll have to go out and meet them if they’ve come to burn. This place is wood-framed and we’d better have water buckets ready in case they get through. If there are enough of them, it could be … difficult. Who’s coming?’
The four lads Tabbic had brought raised their new swords in response and Tabbic nodded. Teddus raised his hand with them, but Brutus shook his head.
‘Not you. One more won’t make a difference outside, but if they get past us, someone has to be here for Alexandria. I don’t want her alone.’
Brutus looked at her then and his face tightened with disapproval. She had refused to go with Tabbic’s wife and children and now he feared for her.
‘If they come, Teddus will hold them while you get to the back stairs, all right? His son will guide you down to the alleys and you may get clear. That’s if you are still staying? This is no place for you if they come in a mob. I’ve seen what can happen.’
His warning frightened her, but she raised her chin in defiance. ‘This shop is mine. I won’t run.’
Brutus glared at her, caught between admiration and anger. He tossed a small dagger at her and watched as she snatched it neatly from the air and checked the blade. Her skin was pale as milk in the gloom.
‘If they come past us, you’ll have to,’ he said gently. ‘I don’t want to be worrying about what they’ll do to you.’
Before she could reply, the shouting rose in the street outside and Brutus sighed. He drew his gladius and rolled his neck to loosen the muscles.
‘Right then, lads. On your feet. Do what I tell you and you’ll have a memory to cherish. Panic and your mothers wear black. Is that clear?’
Tabbic chuckled and the other men nodded mutely, in awe of the silver general. Without waiting for them, Brutus strode across the echoing floor and flung the door open. Orange flickers reflected in the metal he wore as he went out.
Brutus swallowed dryly as he saw how many men had been sent to make an example of them. The approaching crowd staggered to a stop
as he came out and stood before them, his five men forming a single rank at his sides. It was one thing to terrify shop owners in the backstreets, quite another to attack fully armed soldiers. Every man in the crowd recognised the silver armour Brutus wore and their shouts and laughter died away to nothing. Brutus could hear the crackling of their torches as they watched him, their eyes catching the dim orange light and shining like a pack of dogs.
Renius had said once that one strong man could handle a mob, if he took the initiative and kept it. He had also admitted that the most successful bluff could be called when a crowd could hide behind their numbers. No man seriously expected to die when he was surrounded by his friends and that confidence could lead to a rush against swords that no single one of them would have dared. Brutus hoped they had not been drinking. He took a deep breath.
‘This is an unlawful assembly,’ Brutus bellowed. ‘I am the General of the Third Gallica and I tell you to go back to your homes and families. I have bowmen on the roof. Do not shame yourselves attacking old men and women in this place.’
In that moment, he wished Julius were with him. Julius would have found the words to turn them back. No doubt they would have ended up carrying him through the streets and joining a new legion. The thought made Brutus smile despite the tension and those who saw it hesitated. Some of them squinted up into the darkness, but could see nothing after the flare of the torches. In truth, there was nothing to see. If Brutus had been given another couple of days, he might have found a few good men to put up on the overhanging roof, but as it was, only Teddus’ son watched them and he was unarmed.
A sudden crash made every man jump or swear and Brutus tensed to be rushed. He saw a tile had been dislodged from the roof, shattering amongst the crowd. No one had been injured, but Brutus saw more faces look up and saw them talk nervously amongst themselves. He wondered if it had been deliberate, or whether the young man would follow the tile shortly afterwards and thump down on the crowd like the clumsy sod he was.
‘You should get out of our way!’ a man shouted from back in the mass. A growl from the crowd agreed with him.
Brutus sneered. ‘I’m a soldier of Rome, whoreson!’ he bellowed. ‘I didn’t run from the slaves. I didn’t run from the tribes in Gaul. What have you got that they didn’t have?’
The crowd lacked a leader, Brutus could see. They milled and shoved each other, but there was no one with the authority to force them onto the swords of the men in the road outside the shop.
‘I’ll tell you this much,’ Brutus called out. ‘You think you’re protected, lads? When Caesar returns from Gaul, he’ll find every one of the men who made threats against his friends. That is written in stone, lads. Every word of it. Some of you will be taking his pay already. They’ll have lists of names for him and where to find them. Be sure of it. He’ll go through you like a hot knife.’
In the darkness, it was difficult to be sure, but Brutus thought the crowd was thinning as those at the outskirts began to drift away. One of the torches was dropped by its bearer and picked up by another. No matter what hold Clodius had, Julius’ name had been read on every street corner for years and it worked as a talisman on those who could slip into the night, unseen.
In only a short time, Brutus was left facing no more than fifteen men, no doubt the original ones that Clodius had sent to burn them out. None of those could retreat without being dragged from their beds the following morning. Brutus could see their faces shining with sweat as they saw the numbers dwindle around them.
Brutus spoke gently to them, knowing their desperation could only be pushed so far.
‘If I were you, lads. I’d get out of the city for a while. Ariminum is quiet enough and there’s always work on the docks for those who don’t mind a bit of sweat.’
The core of men looked back angrily, undecided. It was still too many for Brutus to think he had a chance to win if they attacked. Their blades caught the light of the torches and there was no hint of weakness in the hard expressions they turned to him. He glanced at the men at his side and saw their tension. Only Teddus seemed calm.
‘Not a word, lads,’ Brutus murmured. ‘Don’t set anything off now.’
With a snort of disgust, one of the torchbearers threw his brand down onto the street and stalked away. Two more followed him and the others looked at each other in silent communication. In groups of twos and threes, they walked clear until there were only a few remaining in the street.
‘If I were a vengeful man, I would be very tempted to cut you down, right now,’ Brutus said to them. ‘You can’t stand here all night.’
One of them grimaced.
‘Clodius won’t let you get away with this, you know. He will raise hell in the morning.’
‘Perhaps. I may have a chance to speak to him before he does. He may be reasonable.’
‘You don’t know him, do you?’ the man said, grinning.
Brutus began to relax.
‘Are you going to go home then? It’s too cold to be standing out here.’
The man looked around at the last pair of his companions.
‘I think I will,’ he said. ‘Was it true what you said?’
‘Which part?’ Brutus replied, thinking of his non-existent archers.
‘About being a friend of Caesar?’
‘We’re like brothers,’ Brutus said easily.
‘He’s a good man for Rome. Some of us wouldn’t mind seeing him come back. Those with families at least.’
‘Gaul won’t hold him for ever,’ Brutus replied.
The man nodded and walked away into the dark with his friends.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Brutus slept on the floor of the shop for a full week. The night after the failed attack, he visited Clodius’ town house in the centre of the city, but found it better protected than a fortress and bristling with armed men. His sense of worry only deepened as the days crept by. It was as if the city were holding its breath.
Though Tabbic accepted his advice and kept his family away from the shop, Alexandria grew more and more irritable each day she was forced to spend sleeping on the hard floor. All her wealth was tied up in the new premises, from the walls and roof to the stocks of precious metals and the enormous forges. She would not leave it and Brutus could not return to the north while he felt she was in danger.
The young men who had stood with them against the collectors also stayed. Tabbic had offered them a salary as temporary guards, but they waved his coins away. They idolised the silver general who had called for their help and in return Brutus spent a few hours each day teaching them how to use the swords they carried.
The tense crowds thinned around noon, when much of the city paused to eat. Brutus went out then with one or two of the young men, to gather food and information. At least they could always prepare a hot meal on the forges, but the usual gossip of the markets seemed to have been stifled. At best, Brutus could only pick up a few fragments here and there and he missed having his mother in the city. Without her, the details of the Senate meetings were unknown and Brutus felt an increasing frustration and blindness as the city wound tighter and tighter each night.
Though Pompey had returned to Rome, there seemed to be no order on the streets, especially after dark. More than once, Brutus and the others were woken from sleep by dim, muffled sounds of conflict. From the roof, they could see the distant glow of fires somewhere in the maze of backstreets and alleys. The armed gangs made no second attempt to attack the shop and Brutus worried that their masters were involved in a more serious struggle.
In the middle of the second week, the markets were full of the news that Clodius’ raptores had attacked the house of the orator, Cicero, trying to trap him inside as they set it alight. The man escaped them, but there was no outcry against Clodius and to Brutus it was another sign that law in the city had broken down. His arguments with Alexandria became more heated and at last she agreed to leave and wait out the crisis at Julius’ estate. Rome was fast becoming
a battleground by night and the shop was not worth their lives. For one who had been a slave, though, the shop was the symbol of everything she had achieved and Alexandria wept bitterly at leaving it for the gangs.
Following her directions, Brutus risked a trip to Alexandria’s house to pick up clothes and came back with Octavian’s mother Atia to add to those who huddled in the shop as darkness fell.
Each day became an agony of frustration for the young general. If he had been alone, it would have been simple enough to join Pompey’s legion at their barracks. As it was, the crowd of people looking to him for safety seemed to grow each day. Tabbic’s sister had brought her husband and children into the safety of the shop and joined Tabbic’s three young daughters. The families of the young men had swelled their number still further and Brutus despaired at the thought of moving twenty-seven people through the violent city, even in daylight. When the Senate declared a general curfew at sunset, Brutus decided he could wait no longer. Only law-abiding citizens seemed to obey the edict of the Senate. The curfew had no effect on the roving gangs, and that same night the street next to the shop was set alight, with pitiful screams sounding in the darkness until they were consumed.
As the sullen city stirred the following morning, Brutus armed his group with anything that Tabbic could find, from swords and knives to simple iron bars.
‘It’s going to be a good hour through the streets and you could see things that will make you want to stop,’ he said to them. He knew they looked to him to save them and he forced himself to remain cheerful in the face of that trust.
‘No matter what happens, we do not stop, does everyone understand? If we are attacked, we cut and keep moving. Once we are through the gate, the estate is only a few hours away from the city. We’ll be safe there until things have settled.’
The Emperor Series: Books 1-5 Page 125
