Shouting with laughter, Sulla put the letter down. "Oh, superbly done, Gaius Marius!" he remarked to the four walls of his office, and went to scatter havoc among his tribunes and administrative officials by ordering them to scour the whole province for Roman notables. Because of its importance to Rome as a supplier of grain, Africa Province was a place the more globe-trotting members of the Senate liked to visit. It was also exotic and beautiful, and at this early time of the year, the prevailing winds being from the northern quadrant, it was a safer sea route to the east than passage across the Adriatic Sea for those who had the extra time. And though it was the rainy season, that did not mean that every day it rained; between rains the climate was deliciously balmy compared to winter-struck Europa, and cured the visitor's chilblains immediately. Thus Sulla was able to gather two globe-trotting senators and two visiting absentee landowners (including the biggest, Marcus Caelius Rufus), plus one senior Treasury official on winter vacation, and one plutocrat from Rome who had a huge business buying grain, and was currently in Utica to dabble a little in wheat futures. "But the great coup," he said to Gaius Marius the moment he arrived in Cirta fifteen days later, "was none other than Gaius Billienus, who fancied taking a look at Africa on his way to govern Asia Province. Thus I am able to offer you a praetor with proconsular imperium, no less! We also have a Treasury quaestor, Gnaeus Octavius Ruso, who fortunately happened to sail into Utica harbor just before I set out, bearing the army's wages. So I dragooned him too." "Lucius Cornelius, you're a man after my own heart!" said Marius, grinning broadly. "Oh, but you do catch on fast!" And before he saw the Moorish embassage, Marius called a council of his Roman notables. "I want to explain the situation to all of you august gentlemen exactly as it exists, and then after I have seen Prince Bogud and his fellow ambassadors in your presence, I want us to arrive at a joint decision as to what I ought to do about King Bocchus. It will be necessary for each of you to put down his opinion in writing, so that when Rome is informed, everyone can see that I did not exceed the limits of my authority," said Marius to senators, landowners, businessmen, one tribune of the Treasury, one quaestor, and one governor of a province. The outcome of the meeting was exactly what Marius had wanted; he had put his case to the Roman notables with care as well as eloquence, and was vehemently supported by his quaestor, Sulla. A peace agreement with Bocchus was highly desirable, the notables concluded, and might best be accomplished if three of the Moors were sent onward to Rome escorted by the Treasury quaestor Gnaeus Octavius Ruso, and the two remaining Moors were returned to Bocchus forthwith as evidence of Rome's good faith. So Gnaeus Octavius Ruso shepherded Bogud and two of his cousins onward to Rome, where they arrived early in March, and were heard at once by the Senate in a specially convened meeting. This was held in the temple of Bellona because the matter involved a foreign war with a foreign ruler; Bellona being Rome's own goddess of war and therefore far older than Mars, her temple was the place of choice for war meetings of the Senate. The consul Publius Rutilius Rufus delivered the Senate's verdict with the temple doors wide open to permit those who clustered outside to hear him. "Tell King Bocchus," Rutilius Rufus said in his high, light voice, "that the Senate and People of Rome remember both an offense and a favor. It is clear to us that King Bocchus rues his offense sincerely, so it would be unduly churlish of us, the Senate and People of Rome, to withhold our forgiveness. Therefore is he forgiven. However, the Senate and People of Rome now require that King Bocchus do us a favor of similar magnitude, for to date we have no favor to remember alongside the offense. We make no stipulations as to what this favor should be, we leave it entirely up to King Bocchus. And when the favor has been shown to us as unequivocally as the offense was, the Senate and People of Rome will be happy to give King Bocchus of Mauretania a treaty of friendship and alliance." Bocchus got this answer at the end of March, delivered in person by Bogud and the two other ambassadors. Terror of Roman reprisals had outweighed the King's fears for his person, so rather than retreat to far-off Tingis beyond the Pillars of Hercules, Bocchus had elected to remain in Icosium. Gaius Marius, he reasoned, would treat with him from this distance, but no further. And to protect himself from Jugurtha, he brought a new Moorish army to Icosium, and fortified the tiny port settlement as best he could. Off went Bogud to see Marius in Cirta. "My brother the King begs and beseeches Gaius Marius to tell him what favor he can do Rome of similar magnitude to his offense." asked Bogud, on his knees. "Get up, man, get up!" said Marius testily. "I am not a king! I am a proconsul of the Senate and People of Rome! No one grovels to me, it demeans me as much as it does the groveler!" Bogud clambered to his feet, bewildered. "Gaius Marius, help us!" he cried. "What favor can the Senate want?" "I would help you if I could, Prince Bogud," said Marius, studying his nails. "Then send one of your senior officers to speak to the King! Perhaps in personal discussion, a way might be found." "All right," said Marius suddenly. "Lucius Cornelius Sulla can go to see your king. Provided that the meeting place is no further from Cirta than Icosium."
"Of course it's Jugurtha we want as the favor," said Marius to Sulla as his quaestor prepared to ship out. "Ah, I'd give my eyeteeth to be going in your place, Lucius Cornelius! But since I cannot, I'm very glad I'm sending a man with a decent pair of eyeteeth." Sulla grinned. "Once they're in, I find it hard to let go," he said. "Then sink them in, twice as deep for me! And if you can, bring me Jugurtha!" So it was with swelling heart and iron determination that Sulla set sail from Rusicade; with him he had a cohort of Roman legionaries, a cohort of light-armed Italian troops from the tribe of the Paeligni in Samnium, a personal escort of slingers from the Balearic Isles, and one squadron of cavalry, Publius Vagiennius's unit from Liguria. The time was mid-May. All the way to Icosium he chafed, in spite of the fact that he was a good sailor, and had discovered in himself a great liking for the sea and ships. This expedition was a lucky one. And a significant one for himself. He knew it, as surely as if he too had received a prophecy. Oddly enough, he had never sought an interview with Martha the Syrian, though Gaius Marius urged him to it often; his refusal had nothing to do with disbelief, or lack of the necessary superstition. A Roman, Lucius Cornelius Sulla was riddled with superstitions. The truth was, he was too afraid. Yearn though he did to have some other human being confirm his own suspicions about his high destiny, he knew too much about his weaknesses and his darknesses to go as serenely into prognostication as had Marius. But now, sailing into Icosium Bay, he wished he had gone to see Martha. For his future seemed to press down on him as heavily as a blanket, and he did not know, could not feel, just what it held. Great things. But evil too. Almost alone among his peers, Sulla understood the tangible brooding presence of evil. The Greeks argued about its nature interminably, and many argued indeed that it did not exist at all. But Sulla knew it existed. And he very much feared it existed in himself. Icosium Bay craved some majestic city, but instead owned only a small township huddled in its back reaches, where a rugged range of coastal mountains came right down to the shore, and rendered it both sheltered and remote. During the winter rains many streamlets discharged themselves into the water, and more than a dozen islands floated like wonderful ships with the tall local cypresses appearing as masts and sails upon them. A beautiful place, Icosium, thought Sulla. On the shore adjacent to the town there waited perhaps a thousand Moorish Berber horse troopers, equipped as were the Numidians no saddles, no bridles, no body armor just a cluster of spears held in one hand, and long-swords, and shields. "Ah!" said Bogud as he and Sulla landed from the first lighter. "The King has sent his favorite son to meet you, Lucius Cornelius." "What's his name?" asked Sulla. "Volux." The young man rode up, armed like his men, but upon a bedizened horse bearing both saddle and bridle. Sulla found himself liking the way his hand was shaken, and liking Prince Volux's manner; but where was the King? Nowhere could his practised eye discern the usual clutter and scurrying confusion which surrounded a king in residence. "The King has retreated south about a hundred miles into the mounta
ins, Lucius Cornelius," the prince explained as they walked to a spot where Sulla could supervise the unloading of his troops and equipment. Sulla's skin prickled. "That was no part of the King's bargain with Gaius Marius," he said. "I know," said Volux, looking uneasy. "You see, King Jugurtha has arrived in the neighborhood." Sulla froze. "Is this a trap, Prince Volux?" "No, no!" cried the young man, both hands going out. "I swear to you by all our gods, Lucius Cornelius, that it is not a trap! But Jugurtha smells a dead thing, because he was given to understand that the King my father was going back to Tingis, yet still the King my father lingers here at Icosium. So Jugurtha has moved into the hills with a small army of Gaetuli not enough men to attack us, but too many for us to attack him. The King my father decided to withdraw from the sea in order to make Jugurtha believe that if he expects someone from Rome, he expects his visitor to travel on the road. So Jugurtha followed him. Jugurtha knows nothing of your arrival here, we are sure. You were wise to come by sea." "Jugurtha will find out I'm here soon enough," said Sulla grimly, thinking of his inadequate escort, fifteen hundred strong. "Hopefully not, or at least, not yet," said Volux. "I led a thousand of my troopers out of the King my father's camp three days ago as if on maneuvers, and came up to the coast, We are not officially at war with Numidia, so Jugurtha has little excuse to attack us, but he's not sure what the King my father intends to do either, and he dare not risk an outright breach with us until he knows more. I do assure you that he elected to remain watching our camp in the south, and that his scouts will not get anywhere near Icosium while my troopers patrol the area." Sulla rolled a skeptical eye at the young man, but said nothing of his feelings; they were not a very practical lot, these Moorish royals. Fretting too at the painful slowness of the disembarkation for Icosium possessed no more than twenty lighters all told, and he could see that it would be this time tomorrow before the process was complete he sighed, shrugged. No point in worrying; either Jugurtha knew, or did not know. "Whereabouts is Jugurtha located?" he asked. "About thirty miles from the sea, on a small plain in the midst of the mountains, due south of here. On the only direct path between Icosium and the King my father's camp," said Volux. "Oh, that's delightful! And how am I to get through to the King your father without fighting Jugurtha first?" "I can lead you around him in such a way that he'll never know," said Volux eagerly. "Truly I can, Lucius Cornelius! The King my father trusts me I beg that you will too!" He thought for a moment, and added, "However, I think it would be better if you left your men here. We stand a much better chance if our party is very small." "Why should I trust you, Prince Volux?" Sulla asked. "I don't know you. For that matter, I don't really know Prince Bogud or the King your father, either! You might have decided to go back on your word and betray me to Jugurtha I'm quite a prize! My capture would be a grave embarrassment for Gaius Marius, as you well know." Bogud had said nothing, only looked grimmer and grimmer, but the young Volux was not about to give up. "Then give me a task which will prove to you that I and the King my father are trustworthy!" he cried. Sulla thought about that, smiling wolfishly. "All right," he said with sudden decision. "You've got me by the balls anyway, so what have I got to lose?" And he stared at the Moor, his strange light eyes dancing like two fine jewels under the brim of his wide straw hat an odd piece of headgear for a Roman soldier, but one famous these days clear from Tingis to Cyrenaica, anywhere the deeds of the Romans were told over by campfires and hearths: the albino Roman hero in his hat. I must trust to my luck, he was thinking to himself, for I feel nothing inside me that warns me my luck will not hold. This is a test, a trial of my confidence in myself, a way of showing everyone from King Bocchus and his son to the man in Cirta that I am equal to no, superior to! anything Fortune can toss in my way. A man cannot find out what he's made of by running away. No, I go forward. I have the luck. For I have made my luck, and made it well. "As soon as darkness falls this night," he said to Volux, "you and I and a very small cavalry escort are going to ride for the King your father's camp. My own men will stay here, which means that if Jugurtha does discover a Roman presence, he'll naturally assume it is limited to Icosium, and that the King your father will be coming here to see us." "But there's no moon tonight!" said Volux, dismayed. "I know," said Sulla, smiling in his nastiest manner. "That is the test, Prince Volux. We will have the light of the stars, none other. And you are going to lead me straight through the middle of Jugurtha's camp." Bogud's eyes bulged. "That's insanity!" he gasped. Volux's eyes danced. "Now that's a real challenge," he said, and smiled with genuine pleasure. "Are you game?" Sulla asked. "Right through the middle of Jugurtha's camp in one side without the Watch seeing us or hearing us down the middle on the via praetoria without disturbing one sleeping man or one dozing horse and out the other side without the Watch seeing us or hearing us. You do that, Prince Volux, and I will know I can trust you! And in turn trust the King your father." "I'm game," said Volux. "You're both mad," said Bogud.
Sulla decided to leave Bogud behind in Icosium, not sure that this member of the Moorish royal family was to be trusted. His detention was courteous enough, but he had been left in the charge of two military tribunes who were under orders not to let him out of their sight. Volux found the four best and surest-footed horses in Icosium, and Sulla produced his mule, still of the opinion that a mule was a better beast by far than any horse. He also packed his hat. The party had been fixed at Sulla, Volux, and three Moorish nobles, so all save Sulla were used to riding without saddles or bridles. "Nothing metal to jingle and betray us," said Volux. However, Sulla elected to saddle his mule, and put a rope halter around nose and ears. "They may creak, but if I fall, I'll make a lot more noise," he said. And at full darkness the five of them rode out into the stunning blackness of a moonless night. But the sky glowed with light, for no wind had come up to stir the African dust into the air; what at first glance seemed misty straggling clouds were actually vast conglomerations of stars, and the riders had no difficulty in seeing. All the animals were unshod, and pattered rather than clattered over the stony track which traversed a series of ravines in the range of hills around Icosium Bay. "We'll have to trust to our luck that none of our mounts goes lame," said Volux after his horse stumbled, righted itself. "You may trust to my luck at least," said Sulla. "Don't talk," said one of the three escorts. "On windless nights like this, your voices can be heard for miles." Thence they rode in silence, the remarkable devices of their eyes adjusted to pick up the smallest particle of light, the miles going by. So when the orange glow of dying campfires from the little basin where Jugurtha lay began to appear over the crest before them, they knew where they were. And when they looked down upon the basin, it seemed as brilliant as a city, its layout manifest. Down from their mounts slid the five; Volux put Sulla aside, and set to work. Waiting patiently, Sulla watched as the Moors proceeded to fit specially adapted hippo shoes over every hoof; normally these had wooden soles and were used on loose ground to keep the tender underside of the hoof around the frog clear of stones, but Volux's hippo shoes had been soled with thick felt. They were held on with two supple leather straps fixed to their fronts; these crossed over, looped under a hinged metal hook at the back, and were brought forward again to buckle over the front of the hoof. Everyone rode his mount around for a while to get it used to the hippo shoes, then Volux headed off on the last half mile between them and Jugurtha's camp. Presumably there were sentries and a mounted patrol, but the five riders saw no one wakeful, no one moving. Roman trained, naturally Jugurtha had based the construction of his camp upon the Roman pattern, but an aspect of foreigners which fascinated Gaius Marius, Sulla knew had not been able to summon up the patience or the willingness to reproduce the original properly. Thus Jugurtha, well aware Marius and his army were in Cirta and Bocchus not strong enough to attempt aggression, had not bothered to entrench himself; he had merely raised a low earthen wall so easy to ride a horse up and over that Sulla suspected it was more to keep animals in than humans out. But had Jugurtha been a Roman, rather than
Roman trained, his camp would have had its full complement of trenches, stakes, palisades, and walls no matter how safe he felt himself. The five riders came to the earthen wall some two hundred paces east of the main gate, which was really just a wide gap, and urged their mounts up and over it easily. On the inside, each rider turned his steed abruptly to walk parallel with the wall and hugging it; in the freshly dug soil, not a sound did they make as they headed for the main gate. Here they could discern guards, but the men faced outward and were far enough in front of the gap not to hear the five riders wheel onto the broad avenue running down the center of the camp, from the front gate to the back gate. Sulla and Volux and the three Moorish nobles rode all the way down the half-mile-long via praetoria at a walk, turned off it to hug the inside of the wall when they reached its far end, and then crossed to the outside of the camp and freedom as soon as they judged themselves far enough away from the back gate guard. A mile further on, they removed the hippo shoes. "We did it!" whispered Volux fiercely, teeth flashing at Sulla in a triumphant grin. "Do you trust me now, Lucius Cornelius?'' "I trust you, Prince Volux," said Sulla, grinning back. They rode on at a pace between a walk and a trot, careful not to lame or exhaust their unshod beasts, and shortly after dawn found a Berber camp. The four tired horses Volux offered to trade for fresh ones were superior to any the Berbers owned, and the mule was a bit of a novelty, so five horses were forthcoming, and the ride continued remorselessly through the day. Since he had brought along his shady hat, Sulla hid beneath its brim and sweated. Just after dark they reached the camp of King Bocchus, not unlike Jugurtha's in construction, but bigger. And here Sulla balked, reining in on his awkward halter well out of sentry distance. "It isn't lack of trust, Prince Volux," he said, "it's more a pricking of my fingers. You're the King's son. You can ride in and out any time of day or night without question. Where I am obviously a foreign stranger, an unknown quantity. So I'm going to lie down here in as much comfort as I can manage, and wait until you see your father, make sure all is well, and return to fetch me." "I wouldn't lie down," said Volux. "Why?" "Scorpions." The hair stood up on Sulla's neck, he had to discipline himself not to leap instinctively; since Italy was free of all venomous insects, not a Roman or an Italian lived who did not abominate spiders and scorpions. Silently he drew breath, ignoring the beads of cold sweat on his brow, and turned a disinterested starlit face to Volux. "Well, I'm certainly not going to stand up for however many hours it's going to take for you to return, and I am not climbing back up on that animal," he said, "so I'll take my chances with the scorpions." "Suit yourself," said Volux, who already admired Sulla to the point of hero worship, and now brimmed over with awe. Sulla lay down amid a patch of soft and sandy earth, dug a hollow for his hip, shaped a mound for the back of his neck, said a mental prayer and promised an offering to Fortune to keep the scorpions away, closed his eyes, and fell instantly asleep. When Volux came back four hours later he found Sulla thus, and could have killed him. But Fortune belonged to Sulla in those days; Volux was a genuine friend. The night was cold; Sulla hurt everywhere. "Oh, this creeping around like a spy is a younger man's profession!" he said, extending a hand to Volux for help in getting to his feet. Then he discerned a shadowy form behind Volux, and stiffened. "It's all right, Lucius Cornelius, this is a friend of the King my father's. His name is Dabar," said Volux quickly. "Another cousin of the King your father, I presume?" "Actually no. Dabar is a cousin of Jugurtha's, and like Jugurtha, he's the bastard of a Berber woman. That's how he came to throw in his lot with us Jugurtha prefers to be the only royal bastard at his court." A flask of rich sweet unwatered wine was passed over; Sulla drained it without pausing to breathe, and felt the pain lessen, the cold vanish in a huge glow. Honey cakes followed, a piece of highly spiced kid's meat, and another flask of the same wine, which seemed at that moment the best Sulla had ever tasted in all his life. "Oh, I feel better!" he said, flexing his muscles and stretching enormously. "What's the news?" "Your pricking fingers cautioned you well, Lucius Cornelius," said Volux. "Jugurtha got to my father first." "Am I betrayed?" "No, no! But the situation has changed nonetheless. I will leave it to Dabar to explain, he was there." Dabar squatted down on his haunches to join Sulla. "It seems Jugurtha heard of a deputation from Gaius Marius to my king," he said, low-voiced. "Of course he assumed that was why my king had not gone back to Tingis, so he decided to be close by, putting himself between my king and any embassage from Gaius Marius by road or by sea. And he sent one of his greatest barons, Aspar, to sit by my king's right hand and listen to all congress between my king and the expected Romans." "I see," said Sulla. "What's to do, then?" "Tomorrow Prince Volux will escort you into my king's presence as if you have ridden together from Icosium Aspar did not see the prince come in tonight, fortunately. You will speak to my king as if you had come from Gaius Marius at the order of Gaius Marius, rather than at my king's behest. You will ask my king to abandon Jugurtha, and my king will refuse, but in a prevaricating way. He will order you to camp nearby for ten days while he thinks about what you have said. You will go to that camp and wait. However, my king will come to see you privately tomorrow night at a different place, and then you can talk together without fear." Dabar looked at Sulla keenly. "Is that satisfactory, Lucius Cornelius?" "Entirely," said Sulla, yawning mightily. "The only problem is, where can I stay tonight, and where can I find a bath? I stink of horse, and there are things crawling in my crotch." "Volux has had a comfortable camp pitched for you not far away," said Dabar. "Then lead me to it," said Sulla, getting to his feet. The next day Sulla went through his farcical interview with Bocchus. It wasn't difficult to tell which one of the nobles present was Jugurtha's spy, Aspar; he stood on the left of Bocchus's majestic chair far more majestic than its occupant and nobody ventured near him nor looked at him with the ease of long familiarity. "What am I to do, Lucius Cornelius?" wailed Bocchus that night after dark, meeting Sulla undetected at a distance from both his camp and Sulla's. "A favor for Rome," said Sulla. "Just tell me what favor Rome wants, and it shall be done! Gold jewels land soldiers cavalry wheat only name it, Lucius Cornelius! You're a Roman, you must know what the Senate's cryptic message means! For I swear I do not!" Bocchus quivered in fear. "Every commodity you have named, Rome can find without being cryptic, King Bocchus," said Sulla scornfully. "Then what! Only tell me what!" pleaded Bocchus. "I think you must already have worked it out for yourself, King Bocchus. But you won't admit that," said Sulla. "I can understand why. Jugurtha! Rome wants you to hand Jugurtha over to Rome peacefully, bloodlessly. Too much blood has already been shed in Africa, too much land torn up, too many towns and villages burned, too much wealth frittered away. But while ever Jugurtha continues at large, this terrible waste will go on. Crippling Numidia, inconveniencing Rome and crippling Mauretania too. So give me Jugurtha, King Bocchus!" "You ask me to betray my son-in-law, the father of my grandchildren, my kinsman through Masinissa's blood?" "I do indeed," said Sulla. Bocchus began to weep. "I cannot! Lucius Cornelius, I cannot! We are Berber as well as Punic, the law of the tented people binds us both. Anything, Lucius Cornelius, I will do anything to earn that treaty! Anything, that is, except betray my daughter's husband." "Anything else is unacceptable," said Sulla coldly. "My people would never forgive me!" "Rome will never forgive you. And that is worse." "I cannot!" Bocchus wept, genuine tears wetting his face, glistening amid the strands of his elaborately curled beard. "Please, Lucius Cornelius, please! I cannot!" Sulla turned his back contemptuously. "Then there will never be a treaty," he said. And each day for the next eight days the farce continued, Aspar and Dabar riding back and forth between Sulla's pleasant little camp and the King's pavilion, bearing messages which bore no relation to the real issue. That remained a secret between Sulla and Bocchus, and was discussed only in the nights. However, it was plain Volux knew of the real issue, Sulla decided, for Volux now avoided him as much as possible, and whenever he did see him looked angry, hurt, baffled. Sulla was enjoying himself, discovering that he l
iked the sensation of power and majesty being Rome's envoy gave him; and more than that, enjoyed being the relentless drip of water that wore down this so-called royal stone. He, who was no king, yet had dominion over kings. He, a Roman, had the real power. And it was heady, enormously satisfying. On the eighth night, Bocchus summoned Sulla to the secret meeting place. "All right, Lucius Cornelius, I agree," said the King, his eyes red from weeping. "Excellent!" said Sulla briskly. "But how can it be done?" "Simple," said Sulla. "You send Aspar to Jugurtha and offer to betray me to him." , "He won't believe me," said Bocchus desolately. "Certainly he will! Take my word for it, he will. If the circumstances were different, it's precisely what you might be doing, King." "But you're only a quaestor!" Sulla laughed. "What, are you trying to say that you do not think a Roman quaestor is as valuable as a Numidian king?" "No! No, of course not!" "Let me explain, King Bocchus," said Sulla gently. "I am a Roman quaestor, and it is true that all the title signifies in Rome is the lowest man on the senatorial ladder. However, I am also a patrician Cornelius my family is the family of Scipio Africanus and Scipio Aemilianus, and my bloodline is far older, far nobler than either yours or Jugurtha's. If Rome was ruled by kings, those kings would probably be members of the Cornelian family. And last but by no means least I happen to be Gaius Marius's brother-in-law. Our children are first cousins. Does that make it more understandable?" "Jugurtha does Jugurtha know all this?" whispered the King of Mauretania. "There's very little escapes Jugurtha," Sulla said, and sat back, and waited. "Very well, Lucius Cornelius, it shall be as you say. I will send Aspar to Jugurtha and offer to betray you." The King drew himself up, dignity a little threadbare. "However, you must tell me exactly how I am to go about it." Sulla leaned forward and spoke crisply. "You will ask for Jugurtha to come here the night after next, and promise him that you will hand over to him the Roman quaestor Lucius Cornelius Sulla. You will inform him that this quaestor is alone in your camp, endeavoring to persuade you to ally yourself with Gaius Marius. He knows it to be true, because Aspar has been reporting to him. He also knows there are no Roman soldiers within a hundred miles, so he won't bother to bring his army with him. And he thinks he knows you, King Bocchus. So he won't dream that it is he who will be yielded up rather than me." Sulla pretended not to see Bocchus wince. "It's not you or your army Jugurtha is afraid of. He's only afraid of Gaius Marius. Rest assured, he'll come, and he'll come believing every word Aspar tells him." "But what will I do when Jugurtha never returns to his own camp?" asked Bocchus, shivering anew. Sulla smiled a nasty smile. "I strongly recommend, King Bocchus, that the moment you have turned Jugurtha over to me, you strike camp and march for Tingis as fast as you can." "But won't you need my army to keep Jugurtha prisoner?" The King stared at Sulla, palpitating; never was a man more patently terrified. "You have no men to help you take him to Icosium! And his camp is there in between." "All I want is a good set of manacles and chains, and six of your fastest horses," said Sulla.
1. First Man in Rome Page 40
