The Emperor Series: Books 1-5

by Conn Iggulden

  Alone for a few precious moments, Julius thumped his fist on the table, shaking it. How could he trust Crassus after such a revelation? As consul, he should have denounced Catiline’s conspiracy the moment he stepped into the senate building. Of all the men in Rome, he had failed in his most basic duty and, despite his protestations of innocence, Julius found it hard to forgive him that weakness. Not since Sulla had an armed force threatened to enter the city and the memory of that night still caused Julius to shudder. He had seen Marius brought down by soldiers in dark cloaks, swarming over him like the ants of Africa. Crassus should have known better than to listen to men like Catiline, no matter what they promised him.

  Julius was startled from his thoughts by a commotion downstairs. His hand dropped to the gladius laid on the table before he recognised Brutus’ voice and relaxed. That was what Crassus had brought about, a return to the fear he had felt when Cato threatened him and every man had to be considered an enemy. Anger swelled as he understood how Crassus had manipulated him, yet he knew the old man would have what he wanted. The conspirators had to be reined in before they acted. Could they be threatened, he wondered. A century of the Tenth sent with his best officers to their homes, perhaps. If the men realised their plans were known, the conspiracy could be allowed to die stillborn.

  Brutus knocked and entered and Julius knew it was bad news as he saw his expression.

  ‘I had my men scout the villages Crassus warned you about. I think he’s telling the truth,’ Brutus said without preamble. There was none of his usual lightness of manner.

  ‘How many swords do they have?’ Julius asked.

  ‘Eight thousand, maybe more, though they’re spread out. Every town up there is full of men, far too many to support. No legion marks or banners, just an awful lot of blades too close to Rome for comfort. If my lads hadn’t been looking for signs, they might have missed them completely. I think the threat is real, Julius.’

  ‘Then I must move,’ Julius said. ‘It’s gone too far to warn them off. Take men to the houses we’ve been watching. Go to Catiline’s home yourself. Arrest the conspirators and bring them to the senate meeting this afternoon. I’ll take the floor there and tell our senators how close they came to destruction.’ He rose and buckled his sword onto his belt. ‘Be careful, Brutus. They must have supporters in the city for this to work. Crassus said they would start fires in the poor areas as the signal, so we must have men on the streets, ready for them. Who knows how many are involved?’

  ‘The Tenth will be spread thinly if we try to cover the whole city, Julius. I can’t keep order and take the field against the mercenaries at the same time.’

  ‘I will convince Pompey to use his men on the streets. He’ll see the need. After you have brought the men to the Senate, give me an hour to put the case and then march. If I’m not there to lead, go alone against them.’

  Brutus paused for a moment, understanding what he was being asked to do.

  ‘If I take the field without a senate order, that could be the end of me, whether we bring victory or not,’ he said softly. ‘Are you sure you can trust Crassus not to betray you in this?’

  Julius hesitated. It would be enough to finish them all if Crassus refused to repeat his accusations in the senate house. The old man was subtle enough to have created the conspiracy simply to remove a few of his opponents. Crassus could be rid of his competitors, while remaining unstained by all of it.

  Still, what choice did he have? He could not allow a rebellion to begin while he had the chance to stop it.

  ‘I can’t trust him, no, but no matter who is responsible for that gathering of soldiers, I cannot allow a threat to Rome. Arrest the men he has named before any more harm is done by waiting. I’ll take the responsibility if I can get to you. If I am not there, it’s your decision. Wait as long as you can.’

  Brutus led twenty of his best with Domitius to take Catiline at his own home. To his fury, they were delayed crucial moments as they broke through his outer gate. By the time they reached the private rooms, Catiline was warming his hands at a brazier filled with burning papers. The man seemed calm as he greeted the soldiers. His face was almost sculpted out of hard planes and the breadth of his shoulders showed he was one who took care of his strength. Unusually for a senator, he wore a gladius at his side in an ornate scabbard.

  Rushing in, Brutus threw a jug of wine on the flames. As the wet smoke hissed out, he rammed his hand into the sodden ashes, but there was nothing left.

  ‘Your master has overstepped the mark, gentlemen,’ Catiline remarked.

  ‘My orders are to take you to the Curia, Senator, to answer charges of treason,’ Domitius told him.

  Catiline let his right hand rest on the pommel of the gladius and both Brutus and Domitius stiffened.

  ‘If you touch that sword again, you will die right now,’ Brutus warned him softly and Catiline’s eyes opened wide under the heavy lids as he assessed the danger facing him.

  ‘What is your name?’ he asked.

  ‘Marcus Brutus of the Tenth.’

  ‘Well, Brutus, Consul Crassus is a good friend of mine and when I am free, I will discuss this with you in more detail. Now do as you have been told and take me to the Senate.’

  Domitius put out a hand to hold the senator’s arm and Catiline knocked it aside, his temper showing through the false calm.

  ‘Do not dare to put hands on me! I am a senator of Rome. When this is over, do not think I will forget the insults to my person. Your master will not always be able to protect you from the law.’

  Catiline swept out past them, his expression murderous. The soldiers of the Tenth formed up around him, exchanging worried glances. Domitius said nothing more as they reached the street, though he hoped for all their sakes that the other groups had found some proof with which to accuse the men. Without it, Julius could well have created his own destruction.

  The road outside was heaving with the morning crowds and Brutus had to use the flat of his sword to clear the way for them. The press was too great for the citizens to move away easily and progress was slow. Brutus swore under his breath as they reached the first corner and didn’t sense the change in the crowd until it was almost too late.

  The children and women had vanished and the soldiers of the Tenth were surrounded by hard-looking men. Brutus glanced back at Catiline. The senator’s face had lit with triumph. Brutus felt himself shoved and hemmed in and, in a sickening flash of understanding, knew Catiline had been prepared for them.

  ‘Defend yourselves!’ Brutus roared. Even as he gave the order, he saw swords torn free from under cloaks and tunics as the crowd came alive with violence. Catiline’s men had been hidden among the passers-by, waiting to free their leader. The street seethed with swords and screams as the first soldiers of the Tenth were caught unawares and cut down.

  Brutus saw Catiline being drawn clear by his supporters and tried to grab him. It was impossible. Even as Brutus stretched out his arm, someone cut at it and he defended himself furiously. Pressed by bodies, he felt close to panic. Then he saw Domitius had cleared a bloody space in the street and moved to his side.

  The soldiers of the Tenth held their nerve, cutting Catiline’s supporters down with the grim efficiency of their training. There were no weak men amongst them, but each was faced with two or three swords swinging wildly. For all the attackers’ lack of skill, they fought with fanatical energy and even the legionary armour could turn only a few of the blows.

  Brutus grabbed a man by the throat with his left hand and jerked him into the path of two more, killing them with neat strokes as they struggled against each other. He felt his pounding heart settle then, giving him the chance to glance around him. He leaned back from a gladius aimed to cut through his sword arm and sent a riposte into the throat of the wielder. Throat and groin, the quickest deaths.

  Brutus staggered as something hit him low in the back and he felt one of the straps give on his chestplate, shifting the weight. He spun with
the sword at a sharp angle to cut into another man’s collarbone and drop him into the mess of filth and flesh at their feet. Blood spattered across him and he blinked quickly, looking for Catiline. The senator had gone.

  ‘Clear this damned street, Tenth!’ he shouted and his men responded, cutting their way through. The heavy gladius blades chopped into the enemy, cutting limbs free as easily as a butcher’s cleaver. With some of Catiline’s men retreating with the senator, the numbers were thinning and the legionaries were able to isolate those remaining, ramming their blades over and over into the bodies to repay the insult of the attack in the only coin it deserved.

  When it was done, the legionaries stood panting, their armour covered in dark blood that dripped slowly from the polished metal. One or two of them walked carefully to each of Catiline’s men and thrust their swords in one last time to be sure.

  Brutus wiped his gladius on a man he had killed and sheathed it carefully after checking the edge. There were no flaws on Cavallo’s work.

  Of the original twenty, only eleven of them stood, with two more dying. Without having to be ordered, Brutus saw his men lift their comrades up from the street and support them, exchanging a last few words as their lives bled away.

  Brutus tried to concentrate. Catiline’s men had been ready to steal him back from the Tenth. He could already be on the way to join the rebels, or they to him.

  Brutus knew he had to make a decision quickly. His men watched him in silence, waiting for the word.

  ‘Domitius, leave our wounded in the care of the nearest houses. Before you catch us up, take a message to Julius at the Senate. We can’t wait for him now. The rest of you, run with me.’

  Without another word, Brutus broke into a fast jog, his men falling in behind him as quickly as they were able.

  The senate house was in chaos, as three hundred senators fought to shout over the others. The protests were loudest in the centre of the floor as four of the men Julius had arrested were chained there, demanding proof of the accusations against them. The men had been resigned at first, but when they realised Catiline would not be dragged in to join them, their confidence quickly returned.

  Pompey waited impatiently for silence and finally was forced to add his own voice to the din, bellowing over them.

  ‘Take your seats and be still!’ he roared at the men, glaring around. Those nearest to him sat quickly enough and the ripple that followed restored some semblance of order.

  Pompey waited until the noise had sunk to whispers. He gripped the rostrum tightly, but before he could begin to address the unruly Senate, one of the four accused lifted his chains up in appeal.

  ‘Consul, I demand our release. We have been dragged from our homes on …’

  ‘Be silent, or I will have you gagged with iron,’ Pompey replied. He spoke quietly, but this time, his voice carried to the furthest reaches of the house. ‘You will have a chance to answer the charges Caesar has brought against you.’ He took a deep breath.

  ‘Senators, these men are accused of a plot to create riots in the city leading to full-scale rebellion and an overturn of the power of this body, culminating in the murder of our officials. Those of you crying so loudly for justice would do well to consider the seriousness of these offences. Be silent for Caesar, who accuses them.’

  As Julius walked towards the rostrum, he felt sweat break out on his skin. Where was Catiline? There had been enough time for Brutus to bring him with the others, but now Julius felt each step as a slow march to destruction. He had nothing except Crassus’ word with which to attack the men or to assuage his own doubts.

  He faced the ranks of his colleagues, noting the rebellious expressions of many of them. Suetonius sat almost opposite with Bibilus. The two of them were practically quivering with interest at the proceedings. Cinna was there, his expression unreadable as he nodded to Julius. Since the death of his daughter, he had rarely been seen in the Senate. There could be no friendship between them, but Julius did not judge him an enemy. He wished he could be as sure about the other men of the Senate.

  Julius took a calming breath as he arranged his thoughts. If he was wrong about any of it, it was all over for him. If Crassus had placed him at this point intending to leave him for the wolves, he faced disgrace and possibly even banishment.

  Julius met Crassus’ eyes, looking for a sign of triumph. The old man touched himself lightly on the chest and Julius gave no sign he had seen.

  ‘I accuse these men and one other, by the name of Lucius Sergius Catiline, of treason against the city and her Senate,’ Julius began, the words echoing in the dead silence. The breath seemed to shudder out of him. There was no going back.

  ‘I can confirm that an army has been assembled in towns north of the city, eight to ten thousand strong. With Catiline as their leader, they were to attack on the signal of fires set on the hills of Rome, coupled with general unrest. This was to have been fomented by supporters within the city.’

  Every eye turned on the four men who were chained at their feet. They stood together defiantly, glaring back. One of them shook his head as if in disbelief at Julius’ words.

  Before Julius could continue, a messenger in senate livery ran to his side and handed up a wax tablet. Julius read it quickly, frowning.

  ‘I have further news that the leader of these men has escaped those I sent to arrest him. I ask now for a senate order to take the Tenth north against the brigands they have assembled. I must not delay here.’

  A senator stood slowly from the seated ranks. ‘What proof do you offer us?’

  ‘My word and that of Crassus,’ Julius replied quickly, ignoring his own doubts. ‘It is the nature of a conspiracy not to leave too many traces, Senator. Catiline escaped by killing nine of my men. He approached Consul Crassus with these four before you, offering the death of Pompey and a new order in Rome. More will have to wait until I have dealt with the threat to the city.’

  Crassus stood then and Julius met his eyes, still unsure whether he could trust him. The consul looked down at the chained conspirators in front of him and his expression showed a deep anger.

  ‘I name Catiline as traitor.’

  Julius felt a great wave of relief as Crassus spoke. Whatever the old man was doing, at least he was not the one to fall. Crassus glanced over at him before continuing and Julius wondered how much the man understood of his thoughts.

  ‘As consul, I give my consent for the Tenth to leave Rome and take the field. Pompey?’

  Pompey rose, his glance snapping to each man in turn. He too could feel there was more to the story than he was being told, but after a long pause, he nodded.

  ‘Go then. I will trust the need is as great as I am told, Julius. My own legion will guard against a rebellion in the city. However, these men you call conspirators will not be sentenced until you return and I am satisfied the issue is clear. I will question them myself.’

  A storm of whispering broke out on the benches at this terse exchange and the three men took silent stock of each other’s positions. There was no give in any of them.

  Crassus broke first and called for a scribe to write the order, handing it into Julius’ hands as he came down from the rostrum.

  ‘Do your duty and you will be safe,’ he murmured.

  Julius stared at him for a moment before hurrying out into the forum.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Brutus rode with his extraordinarii at the head of the Tenth, covering many times the distance of the marching ranks as they scouted ahead and to the sides of the column. Of necessity, they were north and west of the city as the bulk of the legion had to be summoned from the camp near the coast and make their way across country to meet the single century Brutus had brought from the old Primigenia barracks.

  When they had joined, some of the nerves that had affected Brutus vanished in the excitement of leading the legion against an enemy for the first time. Though he hoped to see Julius coming up behind them, another part of him wanted to be left alone
to lead them in battle. His extraordinarii wheeled at his order as if they had fought together for years. Brutus revelled in the sight and felt more than a little reluctance at the thought of giving it up to anyone.

  Renius had stayed at the coast with five centuries to protect the equipment and gold from Spain. It had to be done, but Brutus begrudged every man lost while the numbers of the enemy were unknown. As he cast a professional eye back down the column, he felt a thrill of pride at the men who marched for him. They had started with nothing more than a gold eagle and a memory of Marius, but were once again a legion, and they were his.

  He cast an eye up to the position of the sun and remembered the maps his scouts had drawn. Catiline’s forces were more than a day’s march away from the city and he would have to decide whether to make a fortified camp, or to march through the night. The Tenth were undoubtedly as fresh as they could ever hope to be, long recovered from the sea journey that had brought them home. As well as that, a rebellious thought reminded him that Julius would be able to catch them if they camped and the command would shift to him once more. The broken ground would be treacherous in the dark, but Brutus resolved to drive his men on until they met the enemy.

  The region of Etruria, of which Rome formed the southernmost point, was a land of hills and ravines, difficult to cross. The Tenth were forced to spread into wider lines to negotiate their way around ancient tors and valleys and Brutus was pleased to see the formations change with speed and discipline.

  Octavian galloped across his line of vision, turning his gelding in a flashy display of skill as he came abreast.

  ‘How much further?’ he called over the jingle and tramp of the ranks.