The Emperor Series: Books 1-5

by Conn Iggulden

  She smiled sweetly at him then and he opened his eyes and winked at her before shifting under the hands of the slave to guide her to a new place. Servilia shook her head at his games.

  ‘How is your new legion shaping?’ she asked.

  ‘Well enough, my dear. When my son, Publius, returns from Gaul, I may find a use for them. If I survive the current unrest.’

  ‘Is it that bad?’ she asked.

  Crassus propped himself up on his elbows, his expression becoming serious.

  ‘It is. These new men sway the mob of Rome and recruit more and more to their gangs each day. The streets are no longer safe even for members of the Senate, Servilia. We must be thankful that Milo occupies so much of Clodius’ time. If either one of them should destroy the other, the victor would be free to wreak havoc in the city. As it is, each man is the check on his colleague, at least for the moment. I have heard they consider parts of the city their own, so that the followers of Clodius may not cross certain streets without a beating, even in the day. Most of Rome cannot see the struggle, but it is there nonetheless. I have seen the bodies in the Tiber.’

  ‘And Pompey? Does he not see the threat?’

  Crassus shrugged. ‘What can he do against their code of silence? The raptores fear their masters more than anything Pompey can do to them. He at least will not attack their families after they are dead. When a trial is considered, the witnesses disappear or become unable to remember. It is a shameful thing to see, Servilia. It is as if a great sickness has come into the city and I do not see how it can be cut out.’ He sighed in distaste.

  ‘The senate house is the core of it and I spoke the truth when I said I was glad my business takes me away from it. Clodius and Milo meet openly to sniff and taunt each other before their animals terrorize the city at night. The Senate do not have the will to control them. All the little men have fallen in with one or the other and Pompey has less support than he realises. He cannot match their bribes, nor their threats. At times, I wish Julius would come back. He would not see Rome descend into chaos while he had life in him.’

  Servilia looked up at the bright evening star, trying to hide her interest. When she glanced at Crassus, she saw his eyes were open, studying her. There was little the old man didn’t know or guess.

  ‘Have you heard from Julius?’ she asked at last.

  ‘I have. He offers me trade concessions with the new lands in Gaul, though I think he paints a prettier picture than the full truth to tempt me in. Mind you, if half of what he says is true, I would be a fool to miss the opportunity.’

  ‘I saw the notices around the city,’ Servilia said softly, thinking of Julius. ‘How many will respond?’

  ‘With Clodius and Milo making life a misery with their struggle, I would think there will be thousands crossing the Alps in the spring. Land for the taking: who can resist such an offer? Slaves and trade for every man with enough energy to make the trip. If I were younger and poor, I might consider his offer myself. Of course, I am ready to provide the stores and supplies to anyone who wants to go to his fabulous new provinces.’

  Servilia laughed. ‘Always the merchant?’

  ‘A merchant prince, Servilia. Julius used the term in one of his letters and I rather like it.’ He waved away the slave girl and sat up on the long bench.

  ‘He is more useful than he knows, is Julius. When the city looks too long inward to its own affairs, we create men like Clodius and Milo, who care nothing for the greater events of the world. The reports Julius pays to be read on every street corner raise the spirits of the lowest tanner or dyer in the markets.’ He chuckled. ‘Pompey knows it, though he hates to see Julius so successful. He is forced to fight for him in the Senate whenever Suetonius objects to some little breach of the laws. Such a bitter draught for that man to swallow, but without Julius and his conquests, Rome would become a stagnant pool, with all the fish eating each other out of desperation.’

  ‘And you, Crassus? What does the future hold for you?’

  Crassus rose from the table and lowered himself into the warm bath set in the floor, oblivious of his nudity.

  ‘I find that old age is the perfect balm for raging ambition, Servilia. My dreams are all for my son.’ His eyes twinkled in the starlight and she did not believe him.

  ‘Will you join me?’ he asked.

  As an answer, Servilia stood and undid the single clasp that held the cool material to her. She was naked underneath and Crassus smiled at the unveiling.

  ‘How you do love drama, my dear,’ he said with amusement.

  Julius swore as the Roman squares faltered. After two days of pursuit, he had forced the Suebi to face them only a few miles short of the Rhine. He knew he should have expected the attack, but when it came, the reversal had been so sudden that the armies clashed before the Roman legions could even untie their spears.

  The warriors of Ariovistus were every bit as brutal as they had expected. They gave no ground unless it was over the corpses of their men and the cavalry swirled like smoke around the battlefield, with charges forming the instant the Romans broke their squares to attack.

  ‘Mark Antony! Support the left!’ Julius bellowed, glimpsing the general in the heaving mass. There was no sign of his order having been heard over the clash of arms.

  The battlefield was in chaos and, for the first time, he began to fear a defeat. Every Suebi rider ran with another man hanging on the horse’s mane and that speed of movement was making it almost impossible to counter them. Julius saw with horror that two of the Ariminum legions were close to being overwhelmed on the left flank and there was no sign of a supporting force arriving to help them. He could no longer see Mark Antony and Brutus was embroiled in the fighting, too far away to help. Julius tore a shield from a legionary’s grasp and raced on foot across the battlefield.

  The clash of arms and dying men grew in intensity as he neared them. Julius could feel the fear amongst his own legionaries and he began to call them by name. The chain of command seemed to have been broken in the attack and Julius was forced to gather optios and centurions to him to give his orders.

  ‘Join the Twelfth and Fifth together. Double the square!’ he told them, watching as they began to create order from the milling ranks around him. His extraordinarii were off on the flanks holding the Suebi from surrounding them. Where was Mark Antony? Julius craned around him, but could see no sign of him in the press.

  Under Julius’ constant barrage of orders, the two legions joined together and then wheeled to fight back to back as the Suebi crumbled the edges of their squares, picking men off with sudden flights of darts and stones. Again and again, the horses galloped at the legions only to halt in the face of the unbroken shield walls. The legionaries charged forward as the riders tried to turn and the carnage was horrific.

  With the Rhine behind them, the Suebi had nowhere to run and Julius knew panic when he saw the front ranks of his beloved Tenth being smashed down by spears thrown at the gallop. The shields saved many and they rose in a daze, brought back to their position by their friends around them.

  Still the legions forced themselves onward. The great ballistae and onagers were brought up and tore red ribbons in the enemy. The Tenth roared as Julius rejoined them, fighting all the harder under his watchful eye.

  Julius saw the left and right flanks were holding. Brutus controlled the right, and the extraordinarii and Aedui cavalry had blunted the Suebi’s attacks with wild courage. He advanced the centre and the Suebi were forced to fall back by the sheer ferocity of the legion formations.

  Julius saw with pride that his officers knew their business, even without orders. When the foot soldiers of the Suebi rushed them, they widened their line to bring as many swords as possible into the attack. When the cavalry charged, they clashed into squares and fought on. The ballistae and onagers launched again and again until they were too far behind to risk their missiles falling on the Roman troops.

  Julius saw Ariovistus gather his bodyguard around h
im, a thousand of the very best of the Suebi. Each one stood a head taller than the Romans and was marked with the strange ridges that frightened the legionaries. They charged the Tenth in the centre and Julius saw the square formed just too late to prevent the armoured warriors from reaching them.

  The centre buckled and then, with a roar, the Tenth fought back like maniacs in a blood rage. Julius remembered how they had been created from the deaths of those who had faltered and he smiled with a vicious pleasure. The Tenth were his and they would not be turned. They would never run.

  He surged forward with the soldiers around him, calling out for the flanks to form horns to compress the enemy. Julius caught a glimpse of the dark horses of the Aedui coming from the left and isolating a block of the Suebi from the main force. The Tenth climbed over bodies to reach the enemy. The ground was red and shining as they built speed into a charge and Ariovistus was forced to ride back from the front before the roaring Tenth and Third could reach him.

  The whole of the Roman lines saw the king retreat and they responded, raising their heads. Julius exulted. The Rhine was less than a mile distant and he could see the shining water. He called his cornicens to him and ordered spears to be thrown, watching as the mass of missiles hampered any attempt by Ariovistus to re-form. A gap opened between the armies and Julius urged them all forward, calling to the men he knew. As he mentioned their names, they stood a little straighter and forgot their weariness under his gaze.

  ‘Bring up the ballistae and scorpions!’ he ordered and his messengers weaved their way back to help the sweating teams over the rough ground.

  Without an apparent signal, the entire mass of the Suebi formed another charge and thundered down towards the Roman lines. Spears plucked some of them from their saddles and killed mounts that fouled those behind. Julius knew it was their last charge and his men moved into tight squares before he could order it.

  The long Roman shields were overlapped and the men behind braced themselves to take an impact, their swords ready. Not one part of the Roman lines fell back from the terrifying sight of the horses coming at them. When it faltered, the legions tore them apart.

  The army of Ariovistus began to be compressed against the river. Without the extraordinarii and the Aedui, Julius knew they could have overwhelmed the Romans, but though they hammered the flanks again and again, the legions continued their advance, killing anything that faced them.

  The banks of the Rhine seethed with men and horses as they risked their lives to cross against the current. The great river was almost a hundred yards wide and those without mounts to cling to were swept away and drowned. Julius could see tiny fishing boats crammed with desperate men and watched as one of them overturned, the dark bobbing heads of the Suebi disappearing under the water.

  On the left flank, a thousand of the enemy threw down their arms and surrendered to the Ariminum legions they had failed to break. Julius pushed on with his Tenth until they were standing on the banks of the river, looking at the mass of drowning men that choked the water from his side right to the deepest centre. Those of the Tenth who had been able to salvage or keep their spears threw them at the men in the water and Julius saw many struck in that way, slipping beneath the surface with no more than a single cry.

  On the far bank, Julius saw a boat make it into the shallows and watched as the figure of Ariovistus climbed out and collapsed onto his knees for a moment.

  ‘Ciro!’ Julius called. His voice echoed as the name went back into the ranks of the Tenth, producing the powerful figure of the legionary, still panting with the strain of the battle. Julius handed him a single spear and pointed to the figure on the far bank.

  ‘Can you reach him?’

  Ciro hefted the spear in his hand. The soldiers around him stood back to give him room as he stared across the wide river.

  ‘Quickly, before he rises,’ Julius snapped.

  Ciro took five steps back and then ran forward, heaving the spear into the air. The men of the Tenth watched it in fascination as it rose high into the sun and then fell.

  Ariovistus stood to face the Romans on the far bank and never saw it. The spear hammered him off his feet, puncturing his leather armour over the stomach. The king flailed limply as the survivors of his bodyguard dragged him into the trees.

  After a moment of awed silence, the legions cheered themselves hoarse. Ciro raised a single arm to them in salute and grinned as Julius clapped him on the back.

  ‘A hero’s throw, Ciro. By the gods, I have never seen a finer. Hercules himself could not have done better.’ Julius roared his triumph with the others then and felt the exultation that comes from victory, when the blood seemed to rush like fire through the veins and tired muscles surged with fresh strength.

  ‘My glorious Tenth!’ Julius shouted to them. ‘My brothers! Is there anything you cannot achieve? You, Belinus, I saw you strike down three of the warriors in the line. You, Regulus, you gathered in your century when poor Decidas fell. You will do him honour when you wear his plume.’

  One by one, he called the names of the men who were with him, praising their courage. He had missed nothing of the day’s fighting and they stood tall as his gaze swept the faces of his men. The other legions came closer to hear him and he could feel their pride and pleasure. He raised his voice to carry as far as it could.

  ‘What can we not achieve, after this?’ They cheered the words. ‘We are the sons of Rome and I tell you this land will be ours! Every man who has fought for me will have land and gold and slaves to work it for him. You will be the new nobilitas of Rome and drink wine good enough to make you weep. I swear it before you all, on my honour. I swear it as consul. I swear it as Rome in Gaul.’

  Julius reached down into the churned mud of the river bank, mixed with the blood of the Suebi. He grasped a handful and held it up to the assembled men.

  ‘You see this clay? This bloody clay I hold? I say it is yours. It belongs to my city as much as the chariot races or the markets. Take it, hold it in your hands. Can you not feel it?’

  He watched with wild pleasure as the legions copied his action, joking and laughing as they did so. They grinned at him as they held up their pieces of the land and Julius squeezed his fist closed, so that the clay dripped from between his fingers.

  ‘I may never go home,’ he whispered. ‘This is my time. This is my path.’

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Tabbic and Alexandria wrapped their cloaks tight against the cold as they approached the locked door of the shop. The streets were rimed with dirty ice, making every step a danger. Alexandria held on to Tabbic’s arm to help steady them both. Her two guards made their habitual inspection of the area as Tabbic pushed his key into the lock and swore under his breath when it jammed. All around them, the workers of Rome went to their jobs and shops and one or two nodded stiffly to Alexandria as they passed, miserable in the biting wind.

  ‘Lock’s frozen,’ Tabbic said, pulling out the key and thumping his fist against the ornate door plate.

  Alexandria rubbed her arms while she waited, knowing better than to offer advice. Tabbic may have been an irritable old man, but he had made the lock himself and if anyone could open it, he could. While she tried to ignore the wind, Tabbic reached for his jewellery tools and used a tiny pick to clear the ice. When that failed, he tried a few drops of oil and pressed one hand after another against the metal in an attempt to warm the mechanism, blowing on his fingers as they froze on contact.

  ‘There she goes,’ he said as the lock clicked at last and the door swung open to reveal the dark recesses of the workshop.

  Alexandria’s teeth chattered and her hands shook. It would be some time before she was warm enough to attempt any fine work and as usual she wished Tabbic would employ a slave to come in early and light the forge for them. He wouldn’t hear of it. He had never owned slaves and had been irritated at Alexandria’s suggestion, saying she of all people should know better.

  If that hadn’t been enough, it was even po
ssible that the slave would be provided by one of the gangs and all their precious stock would disappear into the coffers of Clodius or Milo. The same reason prevented them from hiring a night guard, and Alexandria was thankful every morning when they found the shop untouched. For all Tabbic’s traps and locks, they had been lucky so far. At least it wouldn’t be long before they completed the purchase of a spacious new place in an area less troubled by the raptores. Tabbic had agreed to that at last, if only to fill the large orders that were the backbone of their business.

  Tabbic hurried over to light the forge and Alexandria shut the door securely against the wind, unclenching her stiff fingers in something like ecstasy.

  ‘We’ll be going then, mistress,’ Teddus said.

  As always after the morning walk to the shop, his leg was barely holding him and Alexandria shook her head. Teddus never changed from one morning to the next and though she had never sent him straight back into the cold, he still gave her the opportunity.

  ‘Not until you have something hot inside you,’ she said firmly.

  He was a good man, though his son might as well have been mute for all the interest he took in those he guarded with his father. In the mornings, he was particularly sullen.

  They could all hear the welcome crackle of the spills and wood chippings in the furnace as Tabbic nursed it into life. With the great iron block to warm them, the shop needed no other fire. Alexandria broke the ice on a water bucket she had filled the day before and poured it into the old iron kettle Tabbic had made in that same forge. The routine was comforting and the three men with her began to relax as the room temperature eased above freezing.

  Alexandria was startled when the door opened behind them.

  ‘Come back later,’ she called, then fell silent as three hard-looking men entered the confined space and carefully shut the door behind them.

  ‘I hope we won’t have to,’ the first said.