The Gods of War. Conn Iggulden

Like Pompey, he preferred to tear through the skin of comfort and find new places, new struggles. It was somehow fitting that the last lions of Rome should be facing each other at last. If Pompey had not been there to try him, Julius thought he would still have found himself handing power to Mark Antony, at least for a while. He would have gone to conquer Africa, perhaps, or to follow the footsteps of Alexander to the strange lands he had described in the east.

      ‘Shall we address our people, Consul?’ he said, signalling a centurion of the Tenth.

      The soldiers around the platform crashed their spears into their shields three times and then there was silence and they could hear a breeze whisper across the field of Mars. The crowd stood respectfully, before some of them started cheering and the rest joined in before Julius could speak. The sound was carried upwards by thousands of throats as the sun beat down.

      Julius looked at Mark Antony and was surprised to see there were tears in his eyes. He did not feel it so strongly himself, perhaps because his mind was already on the campaign to come, or because he had been a consul once before. He envied his companion, understanding without sharing the emotion.

      ‘Will you speak first?’ he asked softly.

      Mark Antony inclined his head in thanks for the offer. ‘After you, General. They are yours.’

      Julius rested his hands on the wooden rail his men had made for him, exactly at the height he wanted. He took a deep breath and flung out his voice.

      ‘The centuries have voted today and their mark has been made in the soil of our fathers. Mark Antony and I stand before you as consuls and Pompey will hear your voices even in Greece. He will know his absent Senate has been replaced. That is our message to him. No man is more than Rome, no single man more than those I see before me today.’

      They cheered and stamped to show their pleasure at his words.

      ‘We have shown that Rome can survive the loss of those who care nothing for her. We have shown that there can be law without corruption. Have I fulfilled my promises to you?’

      They roared incoherently in what may have been agreement.

      ‘I have,’ Julius told them, firmly. ‘The courts have been cleansed and bribery punished openly. There will be no secret deals in my city by those who rule. The workings of the Senate will be published each day at sunset. Your votes are a loan of power, but only to work in your interests, not to press you down. I have not forgotten this, as some have. Your voices sound with me each day and I will take their echoes to Greece to pass them to the armies there.’

      The crowd had grown denser at his feet as those behind pressed forward. He wondered how many had come to the Campus to vote in the new posts. They had been standing since dawn and would be hungry and thirsty, their few coins gone to the vendors long before. He resolved to be brief.

      ‘The legions in Greece will have heard us here, today. They will wonder how they support a man who has lost the faith of the people who matter most. There can be no authority without your voice. You have made some of your number into magistrates and quaestors, yes, and even into consuls!’ He waited through the response, smiling down at them. ‘We have accomplished much in these last few months. Enough that when I leave I know that my city will be safe and at peace. I will take your votes to Pompey and I will tell him that he has been rejected by the citizens who raised him. I will serve my city faithfully and Mark Antony will be your hands, your eyes, your will in the Senate.’

      As they cheered, he brought Mark Antony forward with a hand on his arm.

      ‘And now they are yours,’ he murmured.

      Without a glance back at the massed citizens, he walked down the steps to the ground and left Mark Antony alone to face them. It was important that the new consul be seen to act on his own and Julius walked away to where his horse was held ready. He took the reins from a legionary of the Tenth and threw a leg over the saddle, sitting straight and taking a deep breath of the cool air.

      As Mark Antony began to speak, Julius shook his head in gentle amusement. Even the man’s voice was perfect. It rang over the crowd and if Julius knew the words had been hammered out in late-night sessions, it did not show.

      ‘To stand here, my brothers, with the city behind us, is the reason I was born …’ Julius heard, before the voice was lost on the breeze. The extraordinarii formed up around him and they cantered towards the gates of Rome.

      Julius watched in silence as two of the strongest men dismounted and walked towards the plates of bronze and wax that sealed the city. They carried heavy hammers and as they raised them Julius heard the noise of the citizens swell like the sound of distant waves. With a crack, the plates fell away and the gates swung open for him to ride back to his work. The elections had given him legitimacy, but he would still have to take his legions over a hostile sea to Greece. For a moment, the thought that he would face Brutus there made him falter. It was a pain he crushed ruthlessly whenever it surfaced. The gods would grant him another meeting with his oldest friend, or they would not. He would lead his army to triumph, or he would be killed and his path would end. He could not allow himself to weaken, having come so far.

      ‘It is just a step,’ he said to himself as he crossed the line of the walls.

      Servilia was there at the old house of Marius when Julius arrived, sweating and dusty from his ride through the sweltering city. She looked fresh in comparison, but in the bright light of day, her age was ever more visible. She had always been a woman for the evening. He busied himself with the saddle for a moment while he collected his thoughts, unwilling to launch straight into another difficult discussion. The crowds of Rome were far easier to handle than Servilia, he thought.

      A slave brought him a cup of iced apple juice and Julius emptied it as he walked into the rooms where she waited. Water could be heard from the fountain in the courtyard and the inner rooms were arranged as squares around an open centre so that the scent of plants and flowers was always in the air. It was a beautiful home and it was rare now that he imagined the voice of Marius echoing through it.

      ‘Consul once again,’ he said to her.

      Her eyes softened for an instant, touched by his pride. There had been precious little softness from her since the night Brutus had left. At first, Julius had thought she felt guilt for her son’s betrayal, but he should have known better.

      ‘Your wife will be pleased, Caesar,’ Servilia said.

      Julius sighed and saw her eyes flash with anger. He went to her and took her in his arms. ‘But I came here to you, Servilia, as I said I would. Pompeia is at the estate to give me an heir. Nothing more than that. We have discussed this enough, don’t you think? The granddaughter of Cornelius Sulla is the best match I could have found to give me a son. He will have the blood of two noble families running through him. One day, the boy will lead Rome after me.’

      Servilia shrugged and he knew the hasty marriage still festered within her.

      ‘You were the one who warned me first that I would want a son, Servilia,’ he reminded.

      She snorted. ‘I know that, but I also know the part men think with. You are not a breeding bull, Julius, for all your boasting. Oh yes, I’ve heard your drunken soldiers talk about your stamina. What a joy it was to hear how many times you ploughed her in a single night.’

      Julius whooped with laughter. ‘You cannot hold me responsible for my soldiers!’ he said. ‘You should know better than to listen to such things.’ He took her by the shoulders, his amusement obvious. ‘I am here; does that tell you nothing? Pompeia will be mother to my children, that is all. I will not tell you there is no pleasure in fathering them. The girl is extremely well-proportioned …’

      Servilia pushed him away.

      ‘I have seen her,’ she said. ‘Pompeia is beautiful. She is also witless, which I suspect you missed while you were gazing at her breasts.’

      ‘I wanted health and strength, Servilia. As the breeding bull, I will provide the wit for my children.’

      ‘You