Emperor: The Blood of Gods (Special Edition) (Emperor Series, Book 5)

by Conn Iggulden

  ‘Is he worth hearing?’ Cassius asked.

  Brutus shrugged, waving a hand.

  ‘You know the Greeks. They see only chaos in the world and offer no solutions. It’s all froth and wind, compared to Roman thinkers. At least we are practical. When we see chaos, we stamp on its head.’

  ‘They are an arrogant people, I’ve always found,’ Cassius replied. ‘I remember one of them telling me they had invented everything, from gods to sex. I pointed out that Romans took their ideas and improved on them. Ares became Mars, Zeus became Jupiter. And of course, although we could not improve on sex, we are the ones who thought of trying it with women.’

  Brutus laughed, clapping him on the shoulder.

  ‘I don’t like to interrupt your discussion of philosophy,’ Suetonius said, breaking in. ‘But we do have more pressing concerns.’

  Cassius and Brutus shared an amused glance that Suetonius noticed, his mouth becoming a thin line of disapproval. Gaius Trebonius just watched them all, not confident enough to join the conversation.

  ‘Tell me, then,’ Brutus said with a sigh. He was feeling wonderfully relaxed. ‘What or who has brought you out of Syria, Cassius?’

  ‘Who else but Caesar?’ Cassius replied. ‘You know he has formed a triumvirate?’

  ‘With Mark Antony and some Gaul general named Lepidus, yes. I am not so far from Rome that I don’t hear such things.’

  ‘He has taken the power of an emperor to himself!’ Suetonius snapped, tired of the mellow tone of the conversation. ‘He acts as a dictator, selling our properties and making a mockery of the law. You know about the proscriptions?’

  Brutus smiled unpleasantly. ‘I’m on the list, I know that much. What of it? I’d do the same in his place.’

  ‘You are not so resigned to another Caesar rising above us all, no matter what you pretend,’ Suetonius said waspishly.

  Brutus stared coldly at him until he was forced to look away.

  ‘Watch yourself, Suetonius, at least around me. I am governor of Athens, after all. I don’t know exactly … what you are.’

  Suetonius gaped at him as Cassius grinned and turned away to hide it.

  ‘I am dispossessed! That’s what I am. I am one of the Liberatores! I saved Rome from an insane tyrant who made a mockery of the Republic, who destroyed centuries of civilisation by being too powerful to check or balance. That is who I am, Brutus. Who are you?’

  Brutus treated the outburst like noise from a yapping dog, though his smile grew tight. Suetonius waited only a beat before going on, the words flooding out of him after too long held inside.

  ‘Yet despite what I have done for the Republic, my family home is taken from me, my legal amnesty is revoked and my life threatened. Even here in Greece, I am in danger from any Roman who sees a chance to take my head and earn himself a fortune. You think you are immune, Brutus? We have come too far to lose everything because of some bastard relative trying to steal power he has not earned. He will bring us all down unless we stop him.’

  ‘You sound like a frightened old woman, Senator,’ Brutus replied. ‘Try to remember your dignity.’

  ‘My dignity?’ Suetonius said, his voice rising.

  Brutus turned away from him, leaving him open-mouthed in astonishment.

  ‘I have not been idle, Cassius,’ Brutus said. ‘I have been working with the legions and councils here, securing their loyalty. I’ve raised taxes to pay for two more legions, mostly Greco-Roman stock, but fit. They train every day and they are mine alone, sworn to me. Can you say the same?’

  Cassius smiled. ‘I have seven legions in Syria and four more from Egypt. I can field eleven at full strength, well supplied and equipped. They value the Republic, and without the poison of Caesarians whispering in their ears, they are utterly loyal to those who liberated Rome. I have not wasted my time. You know me better than that.’

  Brutus was pleased at the numbers and he inclined his head to acknowledge it before glancing at Suetonius.

  ‘I do,’ he said. ‘You see, Suetonius, Cassius and I have been working together. We have built an army while you were preening yourself and talking the months away in Rome.’

  Naked as Suetonius was, they could all see the mottled flush that spread down from his outraged face to his groin.

  ‘It was I who secured all our futures by handing over the fleet to Sextus Pompey!’ Suetonius replied. ‘If Bibilus and I hadn’t achieved that much, you would be looking at an armed invasion this year, Brutus. That is what all my “preening” bought you – the time we need!’

  ‘I’m sure we all agree that was a fine decision,’ Cassius said, trying to ease the tension between them. ‘Sextus Pompey is young, but his enmity for Caesar’s faction is well known. Are you in contact with him?’

  ‘I am,’ Brutus said. He saw Suetonius look up and shrugged. ‘He has the only fleet in the west and my name is not a disadvantage in that camp, not to him. Of course I am in contact. You know the Casca brothers reached him?’

  ‘No, I didn’t,’ Cassius replied. ‘Good. Though their estates have been sold for the state coffers.’

  ‘All the more motive to keep them on our side,’ Brutus said. ‘I do not want any surprises at this point. We can use the fleet to land on Roman territory or wait for them here. Yes, Suetonius, I know they will come. Octavian and Mark Antony cannot ignore us while the grain runs out in Rome. They must come. They will cross to land in Greece, just as Julius Caesar did against Pompey. This time, though, I think they will lose half their men when Sextus sends them to the bottom of the sea. Do I have it right, Cassius?’

  ‘It is my hope, yes,’ the thin senator replied. ‘It is our best hope to end it all.’

  As they left the bathing complex, Brutus reached inside a pouch to find a few bronze coins for the staff. He paused as he drew out a silver sesterce and flicked it through the air to Cassius. The older man examined it with a frown, then laughed.

  ‘“Saviour of the Republic”? Really, Brutus? It seems, well, a little immodest.’

  Brutus smiled wryly, tossing another one to Suetonius, who caught it and peered at the face printed on the metal.

  ‘I could hardly fit your names as well. It is a good likeness, don’t you think? As governor, I’m responsible for the Athens mint, so it wasn’t much trouble. It does not hurt our cause to remind the citizens why we murdered a man in Rome.’ He nodded to Suetonius. ‘On that we can agree, I hope.’

  Cassius had pursed his lips at the word ‘murdered’, but he handed back the coin with something like satisfaction on his face.

  ‘Indeed. Image is everything. That is something I’ve learned over the years. The people know very little, just what they are told. I have discovered they will believe almost anything I tell them.’

  Brutus grunted and tossed the silver coin to the bath attendant. The slave bowed his head, delighted at the windfall.

  ‘I never denied having personal reasons for my part in it, Cassius. Everything I have done, everything I achieved, was as nothing in his shadow. Well, I shone a light into the dark places and cast him off. The coins are true in their way. We did save the Republic, unless we lose it now to this boy Octavian.’

  ‘We will not lose,’ Cassius said. ‘He will come to us, and when he does, he must come by sea.’

  ‘Unless they march round the north of Italy and strike south by land,’ Suetonius said grimly. Brutus and Cassius looked at him, but he was long past courting their admiration. ‘Well? It is no further than Syria. You cannot simply ignore the threat of a land attack. What is a thousand miles or so to legions?’

  ‘Senator,’ Brutus said scornfully, ‘if they move so many men that far north, we will be told. We have the fleet, remember? If the Caesarians take their army north, we will be safe in Rome for months before they can make it back. I’d be happy for them to try it! It would solve all our problems at once.’

  Suetonius grunted unintelligibly, his face red as they left the bath-house. The Romans stood out in the Greek
crowd, if only for their short-cropped hair and military bearing. As he reached the street, Brutus gestured to a group of soldiers waiting for him and they saluted smartly, forming up on all sides.

  ‘I have to say you did well in choosing Athens, Brutus,’ Cassius observed, looking around him as they walked. ‘This is pleasant, a home away from home. I’m afraid Syria is too hot in summer and much too cold in winter. It is a harsh place, but then the legions there are harder still.’

  ‘How many ships do you have to bring them over?’ Brutus asked.

  ‘Ships? None at all. The ones I had I sent to Sextus Pompey. I don’t need them, with land all the way from here to Beroea. There are ferry boats to take them across the Bosphorus strait, by Byzantium. You should see that place one day, Brutus, if you do not know the area. In some ways it is as Greek as Athens, older even than Rome.’

  ‘Yes, when my neck is not on the line one day, perhaps I will waste my time with old maps and cities. How long to march your legions into Macedonia?’

  ‘They are already marching. Come the spring, you and I will have an army to face anything the triumvirate has left after the crossing. We can put nineteen legions into battle, Brutus – more than ninety thousand men and most of them veterans. Whatever half-drowned rabble lands in Greece when Sextus is finished with them will not last long against such a host.’

  ‘I will command, of course,’ Brutus said.

  Cassius came to a sudden stop in the street and the others paused with him, so that the crowd was forced to go around them, like a rock in a river. There were curses thrown their way in Greek, but the Romans ignored them.

  ‘I believe I have the greater number of legions, Brutus. We do not want to lose the war before it has even begun by squabbling over this.’

  Brutus weighed the determination in the sinewy man who faced him.

  ‘I have more experience than you or any five of your legates,’ he said. ‘I fought in Gaul and Spain and Egypt, for years on end. I do not dispute their loyalty to you, Cassius, but I have been wasted before by Caesar. I will not be wasted here.’

  In turn, Cassius judged how far he could resist and gave up.

  ‘Joint command then,’ he said. ‘The numbers are too great for just one man to give orders. Will that satisfy you? Each to his own legions?’

  ‘I’ll have eight to your eleven, Cassius, but, yes, I think I can make them dance when the time comes. I’ll want the horsemen, though, under my own command. I know how to use extraordinarii.’

  ‘Very well,’ Cassius replied. ‘I have eight thousand. As a gesture of friendship, they are yours.’

  As they walked on, Suetonius shook his head, his irritation growing as they discussed the future with no acknowledgement of the part he and Bibilus had played.

  ‘You think this is all about a war?’ he said with a sneer. ‘Or a few coins, with boastful words on them?’

  Brutus and Cassius stopped again as he spoke. Both men glared at him, but he continued, refusing to be cowed.

  ‘So which of you will be emperor when this is over? Which of you will rule Rome as king?’

  ‘Suetonius, I don’t think you …’ Cassius began. To his surprise, Suetonius held up a flat palm, cutting him off.

  ‘I knew you when you were just a boy, Brutus; do you remember?’

  ‘Oh, I remember,’ Brutus said.

  A warning had crept into his tone, but Suetonius ignored it. The crowd continued to flow around them.

  ‘You and I believed in the Republic then, not just as a fantasy but as something real, something worth dying for. Julius never did. The Republic is worth a life, remember? It was also worth a death. That is what we were trying to save, but the way you talk, it’s almost as if you have forgotten it. Do you recall how you once hated men like Pompey and Cornelius Sulla? Generals like Marius who would do anything if it brought them power? Caesar was one of those, part of the same miserable illness – and his adopted son is another. If Octavian is killed, if he is defeated, it must not be just to put another like him in his place. The old Republic depends on the goodwill of those strong enough to tear it apart, but it is worth more than a few men. I have given my life to this cause and I will die for it if I have to. Those are the stakes – more than a war, or a fleet, or another dictator. After this, we will either have emperors or we will have free men. That is why we resist Octavian: not for revenge, or to protect ourselves, but because we believe in the Republic – and he does not.’

  Brutus had been going to speak for a time, but he closed his mouth. Cassius looked at him in surprise.

  ‘I think you have silenced our general, Senator!’ He chuckled to lighten the moment, but no one joined him.

  ‘I think at least one of us should think about what happens when we win, Cassius, don’t you?’ Suetonius replied coldly. ‘This is a chance to restore the old liberties, the compact between free citizens and the state, the great freedom. Or we can be just another branch of the vine that has been strangling Rome for fifty years.’

  He reached into his pouch and brought out the coin Brutus had given him, holding it up.

  ‘“Saviour of the Republic,”’ he read aloud. ‘Well, why not, Brutus? Why not?’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  The heel of Italy was lost in the mist and gloom as the fleet of galleys struggled around it in rough, grey seas. Sextus wiped salt water from his eyes as it sprayed over him. He knew better than most how poorly his crews handled a storm. So that they could skip across shallow waters, the galleys had no deep keels, but that great speed brought instability and in rough seas the oars had to be used to prevent the galleys from turning over.

  Sextus could see the storm coming in fast on the horizon, a bank of dark cloud with distant threads of rainfall spilling from it. The entire cloud flashed and the sea seemed to respond, the swell surging and showing white foam.

  His legion captain was vomiting over the side and Sextus shuddered as he felt flecks of it blown back on the wind, striking his face and neck.

  ‘By Mars, go downwind, would you?’ he shouted angrily.

  The miserable man shuffled to the stern without taking his hands from the rail. Sextus walked up the rolling deck to the prow, staring out over the grey vastness. All around him, he could see dozens of galleys plunging through the waves. They were at their most vulnerable when the oars had to be brought in, the openings sealed with tar-cloth so that the rowing decks didn’t become swamped. Some of his galleys had already given the order and raised a tiny storm sail, while many more laboured on with the oars out and freezing water pouring through the gaps in the wooden walls. The men inside would be baling for their lives, but at least the galleys could be controlled. For the others, only a scrap of cloth, steering oars and rare glimpses of the southern coast guided them around the mainland.

  Sextus swallowed nervously, waiting for the crash that would tell him one of them had struck a rock, or perhaps each other. There was always danger, but galleys were safe enough when they could head for shore and beach themselves. It was only when a madman like him ordered them into deep water that they became vulnerable.

  A wave rushed over the bow, drenching him and making him shiver. Rain began to pound the flat deck, reducing visibility even further. Sextus peered out to the distant coast, just a dim line in the grey. He needed to reach shelter before the full storm struck, but the way it looked, his crews would have to endure a battering before they were around the point. When he caught glimpses of the other ships, he saw more and more of them had been forced to pull the oars in or sink. Only the huge double steering oars at the stern could guide them then. Through the spray and mist, he could see galleys wandering away over the sea, soldiers climbing the masts to shout sightings to those below. He groaned, knowing he’d be lucky not to lose a few crews. He wished Vedius were there, but his second in command had been the only man he could trust with the other half of his fleet. Vedius would not betray him, he was certain. He had also left instructions with two others for him to be q
uietly murdered if he did.

  Sextus felt an itch at the back of his neck and when he turned, he was not surprised to see Lavinia there, holding on to the main mast. One hand shaded her eyes as she stared into the distance and he thought she looked like a ghost, with her cloak whipping around her in the wind and her features unnaturally pale. He left his place on the prow and walked back to her, staggering slightly on the heaving deck.

  ‘I can’t be worrying about you as well as the ship,’ he said. ‘What’s wrong with your cabin?’

  Lavinia raised her eyes to him.

  ‘I needed to breathe, that’s all. There’s no air down below and the ship is rolling and jumping about like a mad thing.’

  Despite his concern, he smiled at her martyred tone. He reached out with his free hand to push back a lock of her sodden hair where it had fallen over her face.

  ‘It won’t last much longer, I promise. We’ll be round the point soon and the sea will be calmer after that.’

  He glanced again at the storm clouds and she read the worry in his expression, her nervousness increasing.

  ‘It’s going to get worse?’ she said.

  He grinned to reassure her. ‘We are the lucky ones, remember? We’ll come through.’

  It was an old and bitter joke between them. Their family had suffered far more than its fair share of misfortune. If any luck still clung to the Pompey name, it would surely fall on Sextus and Lavinia. She rolled her eyes at the feeble attempt to cheer her up. Her brother saw her shivering and realised her cloak was wet through with spray.

  ‘You’ll freeze if you stay up here,’ he said.

  ‘No more than you will,’ she retorted. ‘At least I am away from the smell of sweat and vomit. It is … unpleasant down below.’

  ‘You’ll survive,’ he said, without sympathy. ‘Don’t we always? I told you I’d look after you and here I have a fine fleet at my command.’

  As he spoke, the galley gave a great lurch as it missed the peak of a wave and crashed down into the trough. Lavinia yelped and he wrapped his arm around his sister and the mast, holding on to them both.