‘All right, go and get him,’ Teras said, biting his lip in worry.
‘Approaching the gate!’ a voice shouted below them. The guards stood to stiff attention as they had been trained.
‘We’re closed. Come back in the morning,’ one of the other sentries called, his companions stifling laughter.
There was one who should have been searched for drink before coming on watch, Teras thought bitterly. He could have hit the young fool in frustration, but the words had been spoken. Teras closed his eyes as he waited through a pregnant silence below.
‘I will find whoever said that and kick his backside into bloody tatters,’ the same voice replied, halfway between amusement and anger. ‘Now open the gate.’
Teras turned to the men on the locking bar below. There were times when he wished he’d stayed a merchant, despite losing more money than he’d ever earned.
‘Open it,’ he said. The young men below looked up with worried expressions.
‘Shouldn’t we wait for …’
‘Oh, just open it. It’s cold and they are Romans. If they were barbarians, do you really think they would be waiting for us to finish our argument?’
By the end, his voice had risen to a shout and the anger seemed to get through to them as nothing else could. The heavy locking bars were heaved away and the gate pulled smartly open.
Brutus rode through first and dismounted, handing the reins of his horse to the nearest guard.
‘Right. Now where’s that cheeky bastard on the wall?’
Teras saw another rider come through the gate, as heavily muffled as the guards above. He was an imposing figure nonetheless and Teras could see how the men behind him waited patiently for him to move through the gate. An officer; Teras could spot them a mile away.
‘We don’t have time,’ the man said clearly. ‘I’m late enough as it is.’
With a quick nod, Brutus threw a leg over his horse and heaved himself back into the saddle. The officer didn’t wait for him, but kicked in his heels and trotted on through the dark streets, the rest following without a word.
Teras counted a full century by the time Snapper came climbing up to the wall beside him. The gate was securely fastened once again and the young guards resumed their positions, not daring to catch their centurion’s eye.
Snapper was a veteran and if you believed all the stories the men told about him, he had been part of every major battle since the days of Carthage. Despite the fact that it would have made him centuries old, he would talk of those times as if he had been there personally, with a clear implication that only his presence had saved the Republic from invaders, poor discipline and, possibly, pestilence. Whatever the truth was, he was scarred, bad-tempered and deeply resentful of being given green recruits to turn into something approaching legionaries.
‘You, you and … you,’ the old soldier said grimly, pointing last to Teras. ‘I don’t know what you think you were doing tonight, but tomorrow you will be digging out the shithouse on Famena road. That I do know.’
Without another word, Snapper stomped down the slippery steps, still swearing under his breath. Teras could smell the sweetness of the alcohol on his breath for some time after he had gone.
The young legionary who had called out to Brutus shuffled over as Teras resumed his post by the brazier, warming his hands. He opened his mouth to say something.
‘Don’t,’ Teras said grimly. ‘Or I’ll kill you myself.’
Julius found the meeting place without too much difficulty. The cryptic message from Crassus had asked him to remember where they had once planned the defeat of Spartacus. Though Julius had not seen Ariminum for a decade, the city was simply laid out and the house was the only one showing a light in an empty street near the docks. He had tried for secrecy as far as possible, leaving Gaul without warning to fly ahead of informers and making the best speed he could with a century of the Tenth. They had covered the first sixty miles in a little over ten hours and not once had the men complained or asked to rest longer than the short stops for food and water. When he was sure that even the fleetest of spies must be behind them, Julius had allowed a slower pace over the Alp passes and, in truth, they could not have gone much faster in the bitter cold and thin air. By the time they had completed their descent, Julius was certain that anyone who followed would have to wait until spring.
Julius left Brutus with the century to block the road. He strode up to the doorway he remembered from the old campaign and knocked on the timbers, pulling his cloak tightly around himself against the cold.
A man he did not know opened it and Julius wondered if he was the owner of the house.
‘Yes?’ the man said, looking blankly at Julius.
‘Gaul,’ Julius replied and the man stood back for him to enter.
Julius could hear the crackle and snap of a large wood fire before he entered the room. Pompey and Crassus rose to greet him and Julius felt a wave of affection for both of them as he clasped hands. They too seemed to feel it and the smiles were genuine.
‘It’s been a long time, my friend. Did you bring my son?’ Crassus said.
‘As you asked me to, yes. Shall I have him brought in?’
Julius watched Crassus struggle for a moment before replying.
‘No, not until we have spoken,’ he said reluctantly. ‘There’s food on the table and hot wine by the fire. Come and sit down and warm yourself.’
With a stab of guilt, Julius thought of his men shivering in the night outside. Crassus had asked for privacy for their meeting, but they would still need to find food and shelter before morning. He wondered how many men could be packed into the rambling Ariminum house or whether they would end up sleeping in stables.
‘Have you been in the city for long?’ Julius asked. Both men shook their heads.
‘Just a few days,’ Crassus replied. ‘Much longer and I would have had to return to Rome. I’m glad you came.’
‘How could I not after that mysterious note? Passwords and night marches across the north. All very exciting.’ Julius smiled at the older men. ‘In truth, I am glad to be here rather than in Gaul in winter. You have no idea how bitter it is in the dark months.’
The two former consuls exchanged glances and Julius saw that much of the friction between them had eased over time. He waited patiently for them to broach the reason for the meeting, though now he was actually with them, neither man seemed sure how to begin. Julius chewed on a piece of cold lamb as he waited.
‘You remember our agreement?’ Pompey said at last.
Julius nodded. ‘Of course. You have both honoured it as I have.’
Pompey grunted agreement. ‘But time has moved on. We must review the terms,’ he said.
‘I assumed as much,’ Julius replied. ‘There are new consuls now and you are wondering if there is still profit to be had from me. Tell me what you need.’
Crassus gave out a dry chuckle.
‘Always so direct, Julius. Very well. The Senate has changed a great deal in the years you have been away.’
‘I know it,’ Julius replied and Crassus smiled.
‘Yes, I’m sure you have your own sources. There is talk of recalling you from Gaul, you know. Your attacks over the Rhine did you no favours with the senators. The Germanic tribes were never part of your orders and Pompey was hard-pressed to protect you.’
Julius shrugged. ‘Then you have my thanks. I considered it necessary to hold the Rhine border there.’
Pompey leaned forward on his chair and warmed his hands against the flames.
‘You know how fickle they are, Julius. One year they are cheering you and the next calling for your head. It has always been that way.’
‘Will you be able to prevent the recall?’ Julius asked, holding himself absolutely still. Much depended on the answer.
‘That is why we are here, Julius,’ Pompey replied. ‘You want to have your time in Gaul extended and I can give you that.’
‘There was no talk of limits when
I first set off,’ Julius reminded him.
Pompey frowned. ‘But now the situation has changed. You are no longer consul and none of us can stand again for years to come. There are too many new men in the Senate who know you only as a general somewhere impossibly distant. They look for some end to your reports, Julius.’
Julius looked calmly at him without replying.
Pompey snorted. ‘You left the north bare when you took the legions at Ariminum. That cost you a great deal of support and we’re hardly up to strength even now. Your debtors pursue you through the Senate. There is even talk of bringing a trial against you for killing Ariovistus. All of these things would require you to give up your command and return home.’
‘So the price for me staying will be what? My daughter is already promised to you,’ Julius said softly.
Pompey forced a smile onto his face and Julius could see how tired he was. Crassus spoke first.
‘You understand, Julius. I am glad. For me, the price of my support is the return of my son to lead my legion. Pompey will secure a province for me and I will continue the education of my son there, now that you have trained him. He speaks well of you in his letters.’
‘Where did you have in mind?’ Julius asked with genuine interest.
‘Syria. The Parthians are refusing to allow my ships to trade with them. The general of a legion can go where no mere merchant dares.’
‘A merchant prince,’ Julius murmured. Crassus grinned at him.
‘Even he needs a good legion on occasion.’
Julius turned in his seat to look at Pompey.
‘So Crassus has Syria to subdue for Rome. I give him his son to lead them. What could Pompey need from me? I have heard that Clodius and Milo create riots in the streets. Do you want my support? You would have it, Pompey. If you need me to vote for you as Dictator, I would return with my Tenth to deal with whatever may follow. On my word, I would. I still have friends there and I could carry it for you.’
Pompey smiled tightly at the younger man.
‘I have missed your energy around the city, Julius. I really have. No, I have put shackles on Clodius and Milo is a spent force. Your reports are out of date. My needs are simpler.’
He glanced again at Crassus, and Julius wondered at the friendship that had sprung up between them. It was strange how much men changed over the years. Julius would never have believed they could be anything but reluctant allies at best, but they seemed as comfortable with each other as brothers. He wondered if Pompey had ever learned the truth of Crassus’ involvement with Catiline. There were always secrets in Rome.
‘I need gold, Julius,’ Pompey said. ‘Crassus tells me you have found great wealth in Gaul, much more than the city ever sees in taxes.’
Julius glanced at Crassus with interest, wondering how good his sources were in their estimates. Pompey continued, the words spilling out now that he had begun.
‘My private income is not enough to rebuild the city, Julius. Parts have been damaged in rioting and the Senate does not have the funds. If you have, it would be used to finish the temples and houses we have begun.’
‘Surely Crassus could advance you the money?’ Julius asked.
Pompey flushed slightly. ‘I told you, Crassus,’ he snapped to his colleague. ‘I will not come like a beggar …’
Crassus interrupted, laying a hand on Pompey’s arm to soothe him.
‘It is not a loan, Julius, but a gift that Pompey is asking.’ He smiled wryly. ‘I have never understood how money can be so uncomfortable a subject in so many quarters. It is simple enough. The senate treasury is not fat enough to supply the millions needed to rebuild parts of the city. Another aqueduct, temples, new streets. It all costs. Pompey does not wish to create new debts, even to me.’
Julius thought ruefully of the ships that waited on his payment. He suspected Pompey did not know the full content of the letter Crassus had sent him, but at least he had come prepared. Sometimes, Crassus’ bluntness was a blessing.
‘I have it,’ he said. ‘Though in return, I want the Tenth and Third added to the senate payroll. I cannot continue to fund their salaries out of my own purse.’
Pompey nodded. ‘That is … acceptable,’ he said.
Julius took another piece of cold meat from the table and ate it as he thought.
‘I would need my orders confirmed in writing, of course. Another five years in Gaul, bound as solidly as you can make it. I do not want to have to renegotiate the terms next year. Crassus, your son is ready for command. I am sorry to lose such a fine officer, but that was our agreement and I will hold to it. I wish you luck with your new province. Believe me when I say it is no easy task to cut new paths for Rome.’
Pompey said nothing, so with a smile Crassus spoke for him.
‘And the gold, Julius?’
‘Wait here,’ Julius replied, standing.
He returned with Publius and Brutus, the three men struggling with a long cedar chest that had been bound with strips of iron. Both Pompey and Crassus stood as they entered the room and Crassus went to embrace his son. Julius opened the box and revealed enough fat yellow coins to impress even Crassus, so that he stepped away from his son and ran a hand over the gold.
‘I have three more of these with me, gentlemen. More than three million sesterces by weight. Is it enough?’
Pompey too could not seem to look away from the precious metal.
‘It is,’ he said, his voice barely above a whisper.
‘Then we have an agreement?’ Julius said, looking from one to the other. Both senators nodded.
‘Excellent. I will need rooms for my men tonight, here or in a tavern, if you can recommend a few places. They’ve earned the right to some hot food and a bath. I will return here at dawn to go through the details with you both.’
‘There is something else that might interest you, Caesar,’ Crassus said, his eyes twinkling. He glanced at Brutus as he spoke, then shrugged.
‘A friend travelled up from Rome with us. I will show you the way.’
Julius raised an eyebrow, but Pompey too seemed to share some inner amusement as their eyes met.
‘Lead on, then,’ Julius said, following Crassus out into the colder corridors of the house.
Pompey was uncomfortable with the men Julius had brought into the room. Publius felt it and cleared his throat.
‘I should bring in the rest of the gold, Consul, with your permission.’
‘Thank you,’ Pompey replied. He pulled a cloak from a peg on the door and went out with them into the night.
Crassus took a lamp from a wall bracket and led Julius down a long hall to the rear of the property.
‘Who owns this house?’ Julius asked, looking around at the richness of the furnishings.
‘I do,’ Crassus said. ‘The owner fell into difficulties and I was able to acquire it at an excellent price.’
Julius knew that the owner would have been one of those who suffered under the monopoly of trade that had been Crassus’ part of their original agreement. He was interested that the old man hadn’t tried to have his licence extended, but the province Pompey had offered him would be enough to occupy his time. Julius hoped Crassus would have the sense to let his son make the decisions. Though he liked the old senator, the man was no sort of general, whereas his son could very well be a fine one.
‘In here, Julius,’ Crassus said, handing him the lamp.
Julius could see a childish delight on Crassus’ wrinkled features that baffled him. He opened the door, closing it on the darkness behind.
Servilia had never looked more beautiful. Julius froze when he saw her and then fumbled for a place to hang the lamp, the simple process suddenly seeming difficult.
The room was warmed by a fire in a hearth big enough to stand in. No touch of the howling winter reached them and Julius drank in the lines of her as she watched him without speaking. She lay on a long couch and wore a dress of dark red cloth, like blood against her skin. He did not know wha
t to say and only gazed in silence for a long time.
‘Come here,’ she said, holding out her hands to him. Silver bangles chimed on her wrist as she moved. He crossed the room and as he touched her hands, he folded into her embrace and they were kissing. There was no need for words.
Pompey regretted leaving the warmth of the house for the winter street but a nagging curiosity would not leave him. As the boxes of gold were heaved up and carried into the house, he walked along the line of silent soldiers, falling naturally into his role as an officer of Rome. They had stood to attention and saluted as soon as he appeared and now his inspection was natural, almost expected.
In truth, Pompey felt a responsibility for the Tenth. It had been his own order to merge Primigenia with a legion who had shamed themselves in battle and he had felt a proprietary interest when reading Julius’ reports in the Senate. The Tenth had become Julius’ most trusted men and it was no surprise to see them in the ranks Julius had chosen for the meeting.
Pompey spoke to one or two of them and they responded to his questions nervously, staring straight ahead. One or two were shivering, but they clenched their jaws as he passed, unwilling to show any weakness.
Pompey stopped in front of the centurion and congratulated him on the discipline of his men.
‘What is your name?’ he asked, though he knew it.
‘Regulus, sir,’ the man replied.
‘I have had the pleasure of telling the Senate how well the Tenth have been doing in Gaul. Has it been difficult?’
‘No, sir,’ Regulus replied.
‘I’ve heard it said that a legionary finds the waiting the hardest part of war,’ Pompey said.
‘It is no hardship, sir,’ Regulus said.
‘I am glad to hear that, Regulus. From what I have heard, you haven’t had a chance for your swords to grow rusty. No doubt there will be more battles ahead.’
‘We are always ready, sir,’ Regulus said and Pompey moved on, speaking to another soldier a few places down the line.
Crassus came back into the warm room. His son was there waiting for him, and the old senator crossed to him, beaming.
‘I have been so proud of you, lad. Julius mentioned your name twice in reports to the Senate,’ Crassus said. ‘You have done well in Gaul, as well as I could have wanted. Now are you ready to lead a legion for your father?’
The Emperor Series: Books 1-5 Page 123