The Emperor Series Books 1-5. Conn Iggulden

and I haven’t found anyone to like yet,’ Cornelia replied, touching the pins in her hair.

      Clodia tutted to herself. ‘Your father is a good man, but tradition is important. He should find you a young man with good prospects and you should have a house of your own to run. I think you will enjoy that, somehow.’

      ‘I’ll take you with me when that happens. I’d miss you if I didn’t, like … a dress that is a bit old and out of fashion but still comfortable, you know?’

      ‘How beautifully you put your affection for me, my dear,’ Clodia replied, buffeting Cornelia’s head with her hand as she turned away to pick up the robe.

      It was a great square of gold cloth that hung down to Cornelia’s knees. It had to be artfully arranged for the best effect, but Clodia had been doing it for years and knew Cornelia’s tastes in the cut and style.

      ‘It is beautiful – but heavy,’ Cornelia muttered.

      ‘So are men, dear, as you will find out,’ Clodia replied with a sparkle in her eyes. ‘Now run to your parents. We must be early enough to have a good place to watch the Triumph. We’re going to the house of one of your father’s friends.’

      ‘Oh, Father, you should have lived to see this,’ Gaius whispered as they passed into the streets. The way ahead was dark green, with every spot of stone covered by rushes. The people too wore their best and brightest clothes, a surging throng of colour and noise. Hands were held out and hot, envious eyes watched them. The shops were all boarded shut, as Marius had said. It seemed the whole city had turned out for a holiday to see the great general. Gaius was astonished at the numbers and the enthusiasm. Did they not remember these same soldiers cutting themselves room on the forum only a month before? Marius had said they respected only strength and the proof was in their cheers, booming and echoing in the narrow streets. Gaius glanced to his right into a window and saw a woman of some beauty throwing flowers at him. He caught one and the crowd roared again in appreciation.

      Not a soul pushed onto the road, despite the lack of soldiers or guards along the edge. The lesson of the last time had clearly been learned and it was as if there was an invisible barrier holding them back. Even the hard-faced men of Marius’ own guard were grinning as they marched.

      Marius sat like a god. He placed his massive hands on the arms of the golden throne and smiled at the crowd. The slave behind him raised the garland of gilded laurel over his head and the shadow fell on his features. Every eye followed his progress. His horses were trained for the battlefield and ignored the yelling people, even when some of the more daring landed flowers around their necks as well.

      Gaius stood at the great man’s shoulder as the ride went on and the pride he felt lifted his soul. Would his father have appreciated this? The answer was probably not and Gaius felt a pang of sorrow at that. Marius was right: just to be alive on this day was to touch the gods. He knew he would never forget it and could see in the eyes of the people that they too would store away the moments to warm them in the dark winters of years yet to pass.

      Halfway along the route, Gaius saw Tubruk standing on a corner. As their eyes met, Gaius could feel all the history between them. Tubruk raised his arm in a salute and Gaius returned it. The men around Tubruk turned to look at him and wonder at his connection. He nodded as they passed and Gaius nodded back, swallowing down the catch in his throat. He was drunk with emotion and gripped the back of the throne to keep from swaying in the tide of cheering.

      Marius gave a signal to two of his men and they climbed onto the carriage, holding soft leather bags. Hands were plunged into the dark recesses and came up glinting with fistfuls of silver coins. Marius’ image went flying over the crowd and they screamed his name as they scrabbled for the metal in his wake. Marius too reached in and his fingers emerged dripping pieces of silver, spraying the coins high with a gesture and laughing as they fell and the crowd dipped to pick up the gifts. He smiled at their pleasure and they blessed him.

      From a low window, Cornelia looked out over the bobbing mass of people, pleased to be clear of the crowds. She felt a thrill as Marius drew close on his throne and cheered with the rest. He was a handsome general and the city loved heroes.

      There was a young man next to him, too young to be a legionary. Cornelia strained forward to get a better look. He was smiling and his eyes flashed blue as he laughed at something Marius said.

      The procession came abreast of where Cornelia and her family watched. She saw coins go flying and the people rush to grab the pieces of silver. Her father, Cinna, sniffed at this.

      ‘Waste of money. Rome loves a frugal general,’ he said waspishly.

      Cornelia ignored him, her gaze on Marius’ companion. He was attractive and healthy-looking, but there was something else about him, about the way he held himself. There was an inner confidence and, as Clodia often said, there was nothing in the world so attractive as confidence.

      ‘Every mother in Rome will be after that young cockerel for their daughters,’ Clodia whispered at her elbow.

      Cornelia blushed and Clodia’s eyebrows shot up in surprise and pleasure.

      The Triumph passed on for another two hours, but for Cornelia it was wasted time.

      The colours and faces had blurred together, the men were heavily draped in flowers and the sun had reached noon by the time they began the entry to the forum. Marius signalled to his driver to put the carriage at the front, by the Senate steps. The space echoed as the hooves struck the stone slabs and the noise of the streets was slowly left behind. For the first time, Gaius could see Sulla’s soldiers guarding the entrances to the plaza and the boiling mass of the crowds beyond.

      It was almost peaceful after the colourful riot of the trip into the centre.

      ‘Stop her here,’ Marius said, and stood from the throne to watch his men come in. They were well drilled and formed tidy ranks, layer on layer from the furthest corner to the Senate steps, until the forum was full of the shining rows of his soldiers. No human voice could carry to every man so a horn gave the order to stand to attention and they crashed their feet together and down, making thunder. Marius smiled with pride. He gripped Gaius’ shoulder.

      ‘Remember this. This is why we slog through battlefields a thousand miles from home.’

      ‘I could never forget today,’ Gaius replied honestly and the grip tightened for a moment before letting go.

      Marius walked to where a white bull was held steady by four of his men. A great black-bristled boar was similarly held, but snorted and chafed against the ropes.

      Marius accepted a taper and lit the incense in a golden bowl. His men bowed their heads and he stepped forward with his dagger, speaking softly as he cut the two throats.

      ‘Bring us all through war and pestilence, safe home to our city,’ he said. He wiped the blade on the skin of the bull as it sank to its knees, bawling its fear and pain. Sheathing the dagger, he put an arm around Gaius’ shoulder and together they walked up the wide white steps of the Senate building.

      It was the seat of power in all the world. Columns that could not be girdled by three large men holding their arms outstretched supported a sloping roof that was itself mounted with distant statues. Bronze doors that dwarfed even Marius stood closed at the top of the steps. Made of interlocking panels, they looked as if they were designed to stand against an army, but as the pair ascended, the doors opened silently, pulled from within. Marius nodded and Gaius swallowed his awe.

      ‘Come, lad, let us go and meet our masters. It would not do to keep the Senate waiting.’

       CHAPTER SIXTEEN

      Marcus wondered at the tight expression on Renius’ face as they travelled the road to the sea. From dawn until late in the afternoon, they had trotted and