The Emperor Series Books 1-5. Conn Iggulden

quite angry.

      ‘No? Then good night.’ She nodded to them, her mouth firm, and gently closed the door.

      Carla stood with her mouth open in astonishment. She wasn’t sure how to start apologising.

      ‘What are you doing here, Marcus?’ Gaius demanded, keeping his voice low.

      ‘Same thing as you. I thought she might be lonely. I didn’t know you were going to make it a social occasion, did I?’

      Doors were opening along the corridor and a low female voice called, ‘Everything all right, Carla?’

      ‘Yes, dear. Thank you,’ Carla hissed back. ‘Look. She’s gone to bed. I suggest you two follow her example before the whole house turns out to see what’s happening.’

      Grim-faced, they nodded and walked back down the corridor together, leaving Carla with her hand over her mouth to stop her laughing before they were out of earshot. She nearly made it.

      As Alexandria had predicted, the house of Marius came suddenly alive a good two hours before dawn. The kitchen ovens were lit, the windows opened, torches placed along the walls until the sun rose. Slaves bustled around, carrying trays of food and towels for the soldiers. The silence of the dark hours was broken by coarse laughter and shouts. Gaius and Marcus were awake at the first sounds, with Tubruk only a little behind them. Cabera refused to get up.

      ‘Why would I want to? I will just throw on my robe and walk to the gates! Two more hours till dawn sounds good to me.’

      ‘You can wash and have breakfast,’ Marcus said, his eyes lively.

      ‘I washed yesterday and I don’t eat much before noon. Now go away.’

      Marcus retreated and joined the others as they ate a little bread and honey, washed down with a hot, spiced wine that filled their bellies with warmth. They had not spoken of the events of the night before and both could feel a small tension between them and silences in the spaces they would usually have filled with light talk.

      Finally, Gaius took a deep breath.

      ‘If she likes you, I will stay out of it,’ he said, each word pronounced clearly.

      ‘Very decent of you,’ Marcus replied, smiling. He drained his cup of hot wine and walked out of the room, smoothing his hair with one hand.

      Tubruk glanced at Gaius’ expression and barked out a laugh before following.

      Looking fresh and rested, Marius strode back into the garden rooms with the clatter of iron-soled sandals on stone. He seemed even bigger in the general’s uniform, an unstoppable figure. Marcus found himself watching the walk for weaknesses, as he had learned to watch any opponent. Did he dip a once-injured shoulder or favour a slightly weaker knee? There was nothing. This was a man who had never been close to death, who had never known despair. Though he had no children, a single weakness. Marcus wondered if it was Marius or his wife who was barren. The gods were known to be capricious, but what a jest to give so much to a man yet leave him unable to pass it on.

      Marius wore a chestplate of bronze and a long red cloak over his shoulders. He had a simple legionary’s gladius strapped to his waist, though Marcus noted the silver handle that set it apart from common blades. His brown legs were mostly bare under a leather kilt. He moved well, uncommonly well for a man of his age. His eyes glittered with some excitement or anticipation.

      ‘Good to see you all up and about. You’ll be marching with my men?’ His voice was deep and steady, with no trace of nerves.

      Gaius smiled, pleased not to have had to ask.

      ‘We all are, with your permission … Uncle.’

      Marius nodded his head at the word.

      ‘Of course, but stay well back. This is a dangerous morning’s entertainment, no matter how it turns out. One thing – you don’t know the city and, if we do become separated, this house may no longer be safe. Seek out Valcinus at the public baths. They will be shut until noon, but he’ll let you in if you mention my name. All set?’

      Marcus, Gaius and Tubruk looked at each other, dazed at the speed of events. At least two of them were a little excited at the same time. They fell in behind Marius as he strode out to the yard where his men waited patiently.

      Cabera joined them at the last minute. His eyes were as sharp as ever, but white stubble showed on his cheeks and chin. Marcus grinned at him and received a scowl as reply. They stood near the back of the group of men and Gaius took in the countenances of the soldiers around him. Brown-skinned and dark-haired to a man, they carried rectangular shields strapped to their left arms. On the brass face of each shield was the simple crest of the house of Marius – three arrows crossing each other. In that moment, Gaius understood what Marius had been explaining. These were Roman soldiers who would fight in defence of their city, but their loyalty was to the crest they carried.

      All was silent as they waited for the great gates to swing open. Metella appeared out of the shadows and kissed Marius, who responded with enthusiasm, grasping a buttock. His men regarded this impassively, not sharing his lively mood. Then she turned and kissed Gaius and Marcus. To their surprise, they could see tears shine in her eyes.

      ‘You come back safe to me. I will wait for you all.’

      Gaius looked around for Alexandria. He had a vague notion that he could tell her of his noble decision to make way for Marcus. He hoped that she would be touched by his sacrifice and scorn Marcus’ affections. Unfortunately, he could not see her anywhere, and then the gates opened and there was no more time.

      Gaius and Marcus fell in with Tubruk and Cabera as the soldiers of Marius clattered out onto the dawn streets of Rome.

       CHAPTER THIRTEEN

      Under normal circumstances, the streets of Rome would have been empty at dawn, with the majority of the people waking in the late morning and continuing business up to midnight. With the curfew in force, the rhythm of the day had changed and the shops were opening as Marius and his men marched out.

      The general led the soldiers, his step easy and sure. Shouts of warning went up from passers-by and Gaius could see people duck back into doorways as they spotted the armed men. After the recent riots, no one was in the mood to stand and watch the procession as it wound its way down the hill to the city forum where the Senate had its buildings.

      At first, the main roads emptied as the early-rising workers stood well back for the soldiers. Gaius could feel their eyes on them and heard angry mutters. One word was repeated from hard faces: ‘Scelus!’ – a crime for soldiers to be on the streets. The dawn was damp and cold and he shivered slightly. Marcus too looked grim in the grey light and he nodded as their eyes met, his hand on the hilt of his gladius. The tension was heightened by the clatter and crash as the men moved. Gaius had not realised how noisy fifty soldiers could be, but in the narrow streets the clank of iron-shod sandals echoed back and forth. Windows opened in the high apartments as they passed and someone shouted angrily, but they marched on.

      ‘Sulla will cut your eyes out!’ one man howled before slamming his door shut.

      Marius’ men ignored the taunts and the crowd gathering behind them, drawn by the excitement and danger into a swelling mob.

      Up ahead, a legionary carrying Sulla’s mark on his shield turned at the noise and froze. They marched towards him and Gaius could feel the sudden excitement as every eye fixed on the lone man. He chose discretion over valour and set off at a trot, disappearing around a corner. A man at the front with Marius leaned forward as if to follow, but the general put a hand against his chest.

      ‘Let him go. He’ll tell them I’m coming.’ His voice carried back through the ranks and Gaius marvelled at his calmness. No one else spoke and