Julius cracked with laughter, made worse by Tubruk’s stunned expression.
“I’ve never seen you so nervous before,” Julius said. “I think you have taken a liking to the little puppy?”
Tubruk shrugged, irritated by the change in mood. Typical of Octavian to ignore his orders yet again. Each day seemed to start afresh for him, with his lessons or punishments completely forgotten.
“He has a hardy spirit for a lad so young. He reminds me of you sometimes, now we’ve cleaned him up a little.”
“I won’t question anything you have done in my absence, Tubruk. If your judgment was good enough for my father, it will always be good enough for me. I’ll see the lad properly when I return this evening or tomorrow. He was a bit small to be fighting on the backstreets of the city, wasn’t he?”
Tubruk nodded, pleased Julius hadn’t objected. He wondered if it was the right moment to mention that the boy had his own room in the house and his own pony in the stables. Probably not.
Still smiling, Julius went into the main buildings, and Tubruk was left alone in the yard. A flicker of movement from the stables registered in his vision and he sighed. The boy was spying again, probably worried that his pony would be taken away, the only threat that had any effect on him.
* * *
Julius sat silently in his mother’s dressing room and watched while a slave applied the oils and paints that went some way toward hiding her wasted condition. The fact that she had allowed him to see her without the aids worried him as much as the actual shock of how thin and ill looking she had become. For so long, he had promised himself that he would reveal his understanding of her sickness and achieve a companionship of sorts from the rubble of his childhood. As the moment had come, he couldn’t think how to begin. The woman sitting in front of the mirror was almost a stranger to him. Her cheeks had sunk into darkened hollows that resisted the paints the slave applied, showing through the lighter colors like a shadow of death that hung over her. Her dark eyes were listless and weary and her arms were so pitifully thin it made him wince to look at them.
Aurelia had known him, at least. She had greeted him with tears and a delicate embrace that he returned with infinite care, feeling as if he could break the fragile thing she had become. Even then, she gasped slightly as he held her, and guilt swept over him.
When the slave had packed her materials into an elegantly veneered case and bowed out of the room, Aurelia turned to her son and essayed a smile, though her skin crinkled like parchment under the applications of false colors.
Julius struggled with his emotions. Cabera had said his condition was different from his mother’s, and he knew she had never suffered a wound like the one that had nearly killed him. Even so, they had something in common at last, though the gulf seemed unbridgeable.
“I . . . thought of you a great deal while I was away,” he began.
She didn’t reply, seemingly transfixed by the examination of her face in the polished bronze. Her long, thin fingers rose to touch her throat and hair as she turned this way and that, frowning at herself.
“I was injured in a battle and ill for a long time,” Julius struggled on, “and afterward a strange fit would come over me. It . . . reminded me of your sickness and I thought I should tell you. I wish I had been a better son to you. I never understood what you were going through before, but when it happened to me it was like a window opening. I’m sorry.”
He watched her shaking hands smooth and caress her face as he spoke, their movements becoming more and more agitated. Worried for her, he half rose out of his seat and the movement distracted her so that she turned her face to him.
“Julius?” she whispered. Her pupils had widened darkly and her eyes seemed unfocused as they passed over him.
“I am here,” he said sadly, wondering if she had heard him at all.
“I thought you had left me,” she went on, her voice sending a shudder through him.
“No, I came back,” he said, feeling his eyes prickle with grief.
“Is Gaius all right? He’s such a willful boy,” she said, closing her eyes and lowering her head as if to shut out the world.
“He is . . . well. He loves you very much,” Julius replied softly, bringing up his hand to clear the tears that stung him.
Aurelia nodded and turned back to her mirror and her contemplation. “I am glad. Would you send in the slave to tend me, dear? I will need a little makeup to face the house today, I think.”
Julius nodded and stood looking at her for a moment.
“I’ll fetch her for you,” he said, and left the room.
* * *
As the noon shadow marked the sundial of the forum, Julius entered the great expanse with his guards, taking a direct route to the Senate building. As he crossed the open space, he was struck by the changes in the city since he’d left. The fortifications Marius had raised along the walls had been dismantled, and there were only a few legionaries to be seen. Even they were relaxed, walking with their mistresses or standing in small groups chatting, without a sign of the tension he had expected. It was a city at peace again and a shudder passed through him as he walked over the flat gray stones. He had brought ten soldiers of his command into the city, wanting them close while he was out of armor and in his formal robe. Such a precaution seemed unnecessary and he didn’t know if he was pleased or sorry. The battle for the walls was as fresh in his mind as if he had never left, but the people enjoying the spring sunshine laughed and joked with each other, blind to the scenes that flashed into his mind. He saw Marius fallen again and the clash of dark figures as Sulla’s forces cut down the defenders around their general.
His mouth twisted in bitterness as he considered how young and full of joy he had been that night. Fresh from the marriage bed, he had seen all their dreams and planning crushed and his own future altered forever. If they had beaten Sulla, if they had only beaten Sulla, Rome would have been spared years of brutality and the Republic might have regained some of its former dignity.
He halted his men at the bottom of the wide marble steps, and despite the contented mood in the forum, he told them to remain alert. After the death of Marius, he had learned it was ultimately safer to expect trouble, even by the Senate building.
Leaving his men to stand in the sun, Julius looked up at the studded bronze doors that had been unbarred for the assembly. Senators stood in pairs and threes, discussing the issues of the day as they waited for the gathering to be called. Julius saw his father-in-law, Cinna, with Crassus and walked up the steps to greet them. They had their heads close together as they talked, and Julius saw anger and frustration on their faces. Crassus was still the thin brown stick of a man Julius remembered, disdaining any sign of his wealth in his simple white robe and sandals. He had seen Cinna last at his wedding to Cornelia, and of the pair of senators, he had changed the most in the intervening years. As he turned to greet Julius, the younger man was struck by the wrinkles that had cut into his face, the visible effects of his worries. Cinna smiled tiredly at him and Julius returned it uncomfortably, never having got to know the man properly.
“‘The wanderer returns to us, his sword and bow at rest,’ ” Crassus quoted. “Your uncle would be proud of you if he were here.”
“Thank you. I was just thinking of him,” Julius replied. “Seeing the city again is hard after so long, especially here. I keep expecting to hear his voice.”
“It was forbidden even to mention his name while Sulla was alive, did you know?” Crassus asked, watching him for a reaction.
Only a slight tightening of the mouth betrayed the young man’s feelings. “Sulla’s desires meant little to me while he lived; less so now,” he said flatly. “I would like to visit the tomb of Marius after the Senate meeting, to pay my respects.”
Crassus and Cinna exchanged glances and Crassus touched him on the arm in sympathy.
“I’m sorry, his remains were taken and scattered. It was some of Sulla’s soldiers, though he denied it.
I think that was why he left instructions to be cremated himself, though friends of Marius wouldn’t stoop so low.”
He dropped his hand as Julius tensed with anger, visibly struggling to remain controlled. Crassus spoke calmly, giving him time to compose himself.
“The Dictator’s legacy still plagues us in the form of his followers in Senate. Cato is first amongst them, and Catalus and Bibilus seem content to follow his lead in everything. I believe you know Senator Prandus, whose son you were captured with?”
Julius nodded. “I have some business to discuss with him after the meeting today,” he replied, once again giving the outward appearance of calm. Surreptitiously, he held his right hand in his left, suddenly worried that the emotions that swelled in him would begin a fit on the very steps of the Senate and disgrace him forever. Crassus affected not to notice anything was wrong, for which Julius was grateful.
“Have a care with Prandus, Julius,” Crassus said sternly, leaning in close so that the senators entering the building couldn’t overhear them. “He has powerful connections with the Sullans now, and Cato counts him as a friend.”
Julius inclined his head even closer to Crassus and whispered harshly, “Those who were friends to Sulla are enemies of mine.”
Without another word, he turned from the pair to ascend the final steps to the doors and disappear into the shadowed hall within.
Crassus and Cinna looked at each other with guarded surmise as they followed at a slower pace.
“Our aims converge, it seems,” Cinna said quietly.
Crassus nodded curtly, unwilling to discuss it further as they moved amongst their colleagues to their seats, passing enemies and friends alike.
Julius felt the vibrant energy of the gathering as soon as he entered it. There were few vacant places and he had to take a position in the third row back from the speaker’s rostrum. He took in the sights and sounds with satisfaction, knowing he had finally returned to the heart of power. Seeing so many strangers, he wished for a moment that he had stayed with Crassus and his father-in-law for them to name the new faces. For the moment, however, he was content just to watch and learn, overlooked by the predators until he had better defenses. He smiled tightly to himself at the vision of battle that the Senate represented to him. It was a false one, he knew. Here, the enemies could be the ones who greeted him most fondly, then set assassins on him as soon as they turned away. His father had always been disparaging of the bulk of the nobilitas, though he’d admitted a grudging respect for the few that held honor above politics.
The assembly became quiet and an elderly consul Julius did not know began the day’s oath. As one, they stood for the solemn words: “We who are Rome pledge our lives for her peace, our strength for her own, and our honor for her citizens.”
Julius repeated the chanted words with the others and felt the beginnings of excitement. The heart of the world was beating still. He listened with utter concentration to the agenda of discussions they would undertake, and managed to remain outwardly unaffected as the consul came to “the post of tribune to be awarded to Gaius Julius Caesar for his actions in Greece.” A few of those who knew him turned to watch his reaction, but he showed them nothing, pleased for the warning he had bought from the messenger. He resolved to hire advisers there and then to help him understand every one of the issues of the day. He would need expert jurists to prepare the law cases he would undertake as soon as he was awarded the first post of his political career. He was grimly certain that the first trial before magistrates would be against Antonidus after he took back his uncle’s house. That the arguments would have to involve a public defense of Marius gave him a great deal of satisfaction.
Cato was easy to recognise by his bulk, though Julius didn’t remember seeing him on his only other visit to the Senate house, years before. The senator was obscenely large and his features almost seemed to have been smothered in the billowing folds of flesh, so that the real man looked out from somewhere deep within the face. He had a coterie of friends and supporters around him, and Julius could see from the deference shown that he was a man of influence, even as Crassus had warned. Suetonius’s father was there and their eyes met momentarily before the older man looked away, pretending he hadn’t seen. A moment later the man whispered something in Cato’s ear, and Julius found himself the subject of a stare that seemed amused rather than worried. With an impassive expression, Julius marked the man in his mind as an enemy. He noted with interest the way Cato’s eyes flickered to fasten on Pompey as he entered and took a seat his own supporters had held for him.
Julius too watched Pompey, judging the changes in the man. The tendency toward softness of flesh had gone from Pompey’s figure. He looked trim and hard-muscled as a soldier should, a greyhound compared to Cato. His skin was burned dark and Julius remembered he had spent time in Spain overseeing the legions there. No doubt the task of dealing with the rebellious tribes of the provinces had melted the fat from him.
Pompey rose smoothly for the first item and spoke on the need for a force to be sent against the sea pirates, estimating they had a thousand ships and two thousand villages and towns in their control. Given his own bitter experiences, Julius listened with interest, a little shocked that the situation had been allowed to get so far out of hand. He was amazed when others stood to refute Pompey’s figures and argue against stretching their forces further.
“I could clear the seas in forty days if I had ships and men,” Pompey snapped in return, but the vote passed against him and he took his seat again, his brows knotted in frustration.
Julius voted in three other matters, noticing Pompey, Crassus, and Cinna matched his views on each occasion. On all three they were defeated and Julius felt his own frustration rise. A slave revolt near Vesuvius had proved difficult to put down, but instead of sending a crushing force, the Senate gave permission for only one legion to deal with them. Julius shook his head in disbelief. He hadn’t realized at first how cautious the Senate had become. From his experiences with Marius and his own battles, Julius knew an empire had to be strong to survive, yet many of the senators were blind to the problems facing their commanders around the Mare Internum. At the end of an hour of speeches, Julius had a far better understanding of the annoyance felt by men like Prax and Gaditicus at the ditherers of the Senate. He had expected to see a nobility of action and aspect to match the oath they had taken, not petty bickering and factions opposing each other.
Lost in these thoughts, he missed hearing the next item and only the sound of his own name broke his reverie.
“. . . Caesar, who shall be awarded the post of military tribune with all rights and honors in our thanks for the defeat of Mithridates in Greece, and the taking of two pirate vessels.”
All the senators stood, with even Cato levering himself ponderously onto his feet.
Julius grinned boyishly as they cheered him and pretended not to notice the ones who stood in silence, though he marked every face as his gaze swept round the packed rows.
He sat down with his heart beating in excitement. A tribune could levy troops and he knew three hundred not far away who would be the first to join his command. Cato caught his eye and nodded to him, testing. Julius returned the gesture with an open smile. It would not do to warn the man he had a new enemy.
* * *
As the bronze doors were once again thrown open to admit daylight into the Senate house, Julius moved quickly to intercept Suetonius’s father as he made his way out.
“I would like a word, Senator,” he said, interrupting a conversation.
Senator Prandus turned to him, raising his eyebrow in surprise. “I can’t imagine that we have anything to discuss, Caesar,” he replied.
Julius ignored the cold tone and went on as if the matter were between friends. “It’s the land my estate manager sold you to pay my ransom. You know I was successful in getting the gold back, including your own son’s. I would like to meet with you to discuss the price to return it to my family.”
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The senator shook his head slightly. “I’m afraid you will be disappointed. I have wanted to expand my holdings for some time, and I have plans to build another house there for my son once those woods have been cleared. I’m sorry I can’t help you.”
He smiled tightly at Julius and would have turned back to his companions. Julius reached out and took his arm, only to have his grip shaken off with a quick jerk. Senator Prandus’s face flushed with anger at the touch.
“Have a care, young man. You are in the Senate house, not some distant village. If you touch me again, I will have you arrested. From what my son has told me, you are not the sort of person I want to do business with.”
“He may also have mentioned that I am not a good person to have as an enemy,” Julius murmured, keeping his voice low so that it would not be overheard.
The senator froze for a moment as he considered the threat, then turned away stiff-necked to catch up with Cato as he passed through the doors.
Thoughtfully, Julius watched him go. He had expected something similar from the man, though the news of a house to be built on his old land was a blow. At the peak of the hill, it would look down on his estate, a position of superiority that would no doubt give Suetonius enormous satisfaction. He looked around for Crassus and Cinna, wanting to speak to them before they left for their homes. In a way, what Suetonius’s father had said was true. Using force in Rome would lead quickly to disaster. He would have to be subtle.
“First is Antonidus, though,” he muttered under his breath. Force would do very well there.
CHAPTER 29
Walking through the city at the head of his ten soldiers sparked painful memories as Julius made his way to the street of Marius’s old home. He remembered the excitement he’d felt as the storm of energy around the general had caught him up in its wake. Each street and turning reminded him of that first clattering journey to the Senate, surrounded by the hardest men of Primigenia. How old had he been then, fourteen? Old enough to understand the lesson that the law would bend for strength. Even Sulla had quailed before the soldiers in the forum, on stones made wet with the blood of the heaving crowds. Marius had been granted the Triumph he wanted and the consulship that followed, though Sulla had brought him down at the end. Grief sat heavily on Julius as he wished for just one more moment with the golden general.
Emperor: The Death of Kings Page 31