The Emperor Series Books 1-5. Conn Iggulden

the head of the wounded man who had wandered away. A quick crack of the jaws and it was over. That lion settled down with the corpse, ignoring the other slaves as it bit into the soft abdomen and began to feed. It was quickly killed, speared on three blades in the mouth and chest.

      Renius met the charge of the last to his left. His protecting slave was tumbled by the strike and over him came the snapping rage that was the male cat. Its paws were striking and great dark claws stood out like spear points, straining to pierce and tear. Renius balanced himself and struck into the chest. A wound opened with a rush of sticky dark blood, but the blade skittered off the breastbone and Renius was struck by a shoulder, only luck letting the jaws snap where he had been. He rolled and came up well, still with sword in hand. As the beast checked and turned back on him, he was ready and sent his blade into the armpit and the bursting heart. The strength went out of it in the instant, as if the steel had lanced a boil. It lay and bled into the sand, still aware and panting, but become pitiful. A soft moan came from deep within the bloody chest as Renius approached, drawing a dagger from his belt. Reddish saliva dribbled onto the sand as the torn lungs strained to fill with air.

      Renius spoke softly to the beast, but the words could not be heard in the stands. He lay a hand on the mane and patted it absently, as he would a favourite hound. Then he slipped the blade into the throat and it was over.

      The crowd seemed to draw breath for the first time in hours and then laughed at the release of tension. Four men were dead on the sand, but Renius, the old killer, still stood, looking exhausted. They began to chant his name, but he bowed quickly and left the ring, striding to the shadowed door and into darkness.

      ‘Get in quickly, Tubruk. You know my highest price. A year, mind – a full year of service.’

      Tubruk disappeared into the crowds and the boys were left to make polite conversation with Julius. However, without Tubruk to act as a catalyst, the conversation died quickly. Julius loved his son, but had never enjoyed talking to the young. They prattled and knew nothing of decorum and self-restraint.

      ‘He will be a hard teacher, if his reputation is accurate. He was once without equal in the empire, but Tubruk tells the stories better than I.’

      The boys nodded eagerly and determined to press Tubruk for the details as soon as they had the opportunity.

      The seasons had turned towards autumn on the estate before the boys saw Renius again, dismounting from a gelding in the stone yard of the stables. It was a mark of his status that he could ride like an officer or a member of the Senate. Both of them were in the hay barn adjoining, and had been jumping off the high bales onto the loose straw. Covered in hay and dust, they were not fit to be seen and peered out at the visitor from a corner. He glanced around as Tubruk came to meet him, taking the reins.

      ‘You will be received as soon as you are refreshed from your journey.’

      ‘I have ridden less than five miles. I am neither dirty nor sweating like an animal. Take me in now, or I’ll find the way myself,’ snapped the old soldier, frowning.

      ‘I see you have lost none of your charm and lightness of manner since you worked with me.’

      Renius didn’t smile and for a second the boys expected a blow, or a violent retort.

      ‘I see you have not yet learned manners to your elders. I expect better.’

      ‘Everyone is younger than you. Yes, I can see how you would be set in your ways.’

      Renius seemed to freeze for a second, slowly blinking. ‘Do you wish me to draw my sword?’

      Tubruk was still, and Marcus and Gaius noticed for the first time that he too wore his old gladius in a scabbard.

      ‘I wish you only to remember that I am in charge of the running of the estate and that I am a free man, like yourself. Our agreement benefits us both; there are no favours being done here.’

      Renius smiled then. ‘You are correct. Lead on then to the master of the house. I would like to meet the man who has such interesting types working for him.’

      As they left, Gaius and Marcus looked at each other, eyes aglow with excitement.

      ‘He will be a hard taskmaster, but will quickly become impressed at the talent he has on his hands …’ Marcus whispered.

      ‘He will realise that we will be his last great work, before he drops dead,’ Gaius continued, caught up in the idea.

      ‘I will be the greatest swordsman in the land, aided by the fact that I have stretched my arms every night since I was a baby,’ Marcus went on.

      ‘The fighting monkey, they will call you!’ Gaius declared in awe.

      Marcus threw hay at his face and they grabbed each other with mock ferocity, rolling around for a second until Gaius ended up on top, sitting heavily on his friend’s chest.

      ‘I will be the slightly better swordsman, too modest to embarrass you in front of the ladies.’

      He struck a proud pose and Marcus shoved him off into the straw again. They sat panting and lost in dreams for a moment.

      At length, Marcus spoke: ‘In truth, you will run this estate, like your father. I have nothing and you know my mother is a whore … no, don’t say anything. We both heard your father say it. I have no inheritance save my name and that is stained. I can only see a bright future in the army, where at least my birth is noble enough to allow me high position. Having Renius as my trainer will help us both, but me most of all.’

      ‘You will always be my friend, you know. Nothing can come between us.’ Gaius spoke clearly, looking him in the eye.

      ‘We will find our paths together.’

      They both nodded and gripped hands for a second in the pact. As they let go, Tubruk’s familiar bulk appeared as he stuck his head into the hayloft.

      ‘Get yourselves cleaned up. Once Renius has finished with your father, he’ll want some sort of inspection.’

      They stood slowly, nervousness obvious in their movements.

      ‘Is he cruel?’ Gaius asked.

      Tubruk didn’t smile.

      ‘Yes, he is cruel. He is the hardest man I have ever known. He wins battles because the other men feel pain and are frightened of death and dismemberment. He is more like a sword than a man and he will make you both as hard as himself. You will probably never thank him – you will hate him, but what he gives you will save your lives more than once.’

      Gaius looked at him questioningly. ‘Did you know him before?’

      Tubruk laughed, a short bark with no humour. ‘I should say so. He trained me for the ring, when I was a slave.’

      His eyes flashed in the sun as he turned and he was gone.

      Renius stood with his feet shoulder-width apart and his hands clasped behind his back. He frowned at the seated Julius.

      ‘No. If anyone interferes, I will leave on that hour. You want your son and the whore’s whelp to be made into soldiers. I know how to do that. I have been doing it, one way or another, all my life. Sometimes they only learn as the enemy charges, sometimes they never learn, and I have left a few of those in shallow foreign graves.’

      ‘Tubruk will want to discuss their progress with you. His judgement is usually first-rate. He was, after all, trained by you,’ Julius said, still trying to regain the initiative he felt he had lost.

      This man was an overwhelming force. From the moment he entered the room, he had dominated the conversation. Instead of setting out the manner of his son’s teaching, as he had intended, Julius found himself on the defensive, answering questions about his estate and training facilities. He knew better now what he did not have than what he did.

      ‘They are very young, and …’

      ‘Any older would be too late. Oh, you can take a man of twenty and make him a competent soldier,