The Emperor Series Books 1-5. Conn Iggulden

He smiled and rode away.

      As he trotted down the hill, Gaius noted again the darkness of his hair and the energy that filled the man’s frame. He turned and looked at Cabera, who shrugged.

      ‘Gatekeeper!’ Tubruk shouted. ‘Attend to us.’

      After the heat of the Roman streets, the cool stone corridors that led into the house grounds were a welcome relief. The horses and bags had been whisked away and the five visitors were taken into the first building, beckoned on by an elderly slave.

      They stopped at a door of gold wood and the slave opened it, gesturing inside.

      ‘You will find all you need, Master Gaius. Consul Marius has given you leave to wash and change after your journey. You are not expected to appear before him until sunset, three hours from now, when you will dine. Shall I show your companions the way to the servants’ rooms?’

      ‘No. They will stay with me.’

      ‘As you wish, master. Shall I take the girl to the slave quarters?’

      Gaius nodded slowly, thinking.

      ‘Treat her with kindness. She is a friend of my house.’

      ‘Of course, sir,’ replied the man, motioning to Alexandria.

      She flashed a glance at Gaius and the expression was unreadable in her dark eyes.

      Without another word, the quiet little man left, his sandals making no noise on the stone floor. The others looked at one another, each taking some form of comfort from the company of friends.

      ‘I think she likes me, that one,’ Marcus mused to himself.

      Gaius looked at him in surprise and Marcus shrugged. ‘Lovely legs, as well.’ He went in to their quarters, chuckling, leaving Gaius stupefied behind him.

      Cabera whistled softly as he entered the room. The ceiling was forty feet from the mosaic floor, a series of brass rafters that crossed and recrossed the space. The walls were painted in the dark reds and oranges that they had seen so often since entering the city, but the floor was the thing that caught the attention, even before they looked up at the vault of a roof. It was a series of circles, gripping a marble fountain in the middle of the huge room. Each circle contained running figures, racing to catch the one in front and frozen in the attempt. The outer circles were figures from the markets, carrying their wares, then, as the eye followed the circles inwards, different aspects of society could be seen. There were the slaves, the magistrates, the members of the Senate, legionaries, doctors. One circle contained only kings, naked except for their crowns. The innermost ring, forming a belt around the actual fountain, contained pictures of the gods and they alone were still. They stood looking up at all the running hordes that sprinted around but could never leap from one circle to another.

      Gaius walked across the rings to the fountain and drank, using a cup that rested on the marble edge. In truth, he was tired and, impressed as he was by the beauty of the room, the most important fact was that no food or couches were included in the splendour. The others followed him through an arch into the next room.

      ‘This is more like it,’ Marcus said cheerfully. A polished table was laid with food: meat, bread, eggs, vegetables and fish. Fruit was piled in bowls of gold. Soft couches stood around invitingly, but another door led onwards and Gaius could not resist looking.

      The third room had a deep pool in the centre. The water steamed invitingly and bare wooden benches lined the walls, piled high with soft white cloths. Robes hung from stands by the water and four male slaves stood by low tables, ready to give massage if needed.

      ‘Excellent,’ Tubruk said. ‘Your uncle is a fine host, Gaius. I am for a bath first, before I eat.’ As he spoke, he began to pull off his clothes. One of the slaves walked to him and held out an arm for the garments as they were removed. When Tubruk was naked, the slave disappeared with them out of the only door. A few moments later, another entered and took up his place at the tables.

      Tubruk lowered himself completely into the water, holding his breath as he slid below the surface and relaxing every muscle in the heat. By the time he surfaced, Gaius and Marcus had scrambled out of their garments, flung them at another slave and plunged into the opposite end, naked and laughing.

      A slave held his arm out for Cabera’s clothes and the old man frowned at him. Then he sighed and began stripping the robe from his skinny body.

      ‘Always new experiences,’ he said as he eased into the water, wincing.

      ‘Shoulders, lad,’ Tubruk called to one of the attendants.

      The man nodded and knelt at the side of the pool, pressing his thumbs into Tubruk’s muscles, unknotting the stresses that had been there since the slave attack on the estate.

      ‘Good,’ Tubruk sighed and he began to doze, lulled by the heat.

      Marcus was first out onto the massage table, lying on the smooth cloth and steaming in the colder air. The nearest slave detached some instruments from his belt, almost like a set of long brass keys. He poured warm olive oil on liberally and then began to scrape Marcus’ wet skin, as if he was skinning a fish, working the dirt of the journey off the surface and wiping a surprising amount of black filth onto a cloth at his waist. Then he rubbed the skin dry and poured a little more oil on for the massage, beginning great sweeping strokes along the spine.

      Marcus groaned with satisfaction. ‘Gaius, I think I’m going to like it here,’ he muttered through slack lips.

      Gaius lay in the water and let his mind drift free. Marius might not want to have the two boys around. He had no children of his own and the gods knew it was a difficult time for the Republic. All the fragile freedoms his father had loved were coming under threat with soldiers on every corner. As consul, Marius was one of the two most powerful men in the city, but, with Sulla’s legion on the streets, his power became a fiction, his life at Sulla’s whim. Yet how could Gaius protect his father’s interests without his uncle’s help? He had to be introduced to the Senate, sponsored by another. He could not just take his father’s old place; they would throw him out and that would be the end of everything. Surely the blood tie to his mother would be worth a little help, but Gaius could not be sure. Marius was the golden general who had dropped in on his sister occasionally when Gaius was small. But the visits had become fewer and fewer as her illness progressed and it had been years since the last visit.

      ‘Gaius?’ Marcus’ voice interrupted his thoughts. ‘Come and have a massage. You’re thinking too much again.’

      Gaius grinned at his friend and rose from the water. It did not occur to him to be embarrassed at his nakedness. No one was.

      ‘Cabera? Ever had a massage?’ he asked as he passed the old man, whose eyes were drooping.

      ‘No, but I’ll try anything once,’ Cabera replied, wading towards the steps.

      ‘You’re in the right city then,’ Tubruk chuckled, eyes closed.

      Clean and cool in fresh clothes and with the edge taken off their hunger, the four were escorted to Marius at sundown. As a slave, Alexandria did not accompany them, and for a moment Gaius was disappointed. When she was with them, he hardly knew what to say to her, but when she was gone his mind filled with clever pieces of wit that he could never quite remember to say later. He had not brought up the kiss in the stables with her and wondered if she thought of it as often as he did. He cleared his mind of her, knowing he had to be sharp and focused to meet a consul of Rome.

      A portly slave stopped them outside the door to the chamber and fussed with their clothing, producing a carved ivory comb to pull Marcus’ curls back into place and straightening Tubruk’s jacket. As the fleshy fingers approached Cabera, the old man’s hands shot out and slapped them away.

      ‘Don’t touch!’ he snapped waspishly.

      The slave’s face remained blank and he carried on improving the others. At last he was satisfied, although he permitted himself a frown at Cabera.

      ‘The master and mistress