The Emperor Series: Books 1-5

by Conn Iggulden

  As a minor point, the Falernian wine Julius poured into his family tomb was so expensive that a cup of it cost a week’s salary for a legionary. Unfortunately, the grapes grew on Mount Vesuvius, by Pompeii and in AD 79, the taste was lost forever.

  The Catiline conspiracy was as important in its day as the Gunpowder Plot in England. The conspiracy was betrayed when one of them confided in a mistress who reported what she had heard. Julius was named, probably falsely, as one of the conspirators, as was Crassus. Both men survived the upheaval without stains on their characters. Catiline left the city to take command of the rebel army while his friends were to help create chaos and rioting in the city. Part of the evidence against them showed that a Gallic tribe had been approached for warriors. After a heated debate as to their fate, the lesser conspirators were ritually strangled. Catiline was killed in the field.

  The conquests of Gaul and Britain comprise most of the second part of this book. I have followed the main events that began with the migration of the Helvetii and the defeat of Ariovistus. It is worth mentioning that Julius Caesar himself is sometimes the only extant source for the details of this campaign, but he records mistakes and disasters as faithfully as his victories. For example, he tells quite candidly how a mistaken report made him retreat from his own men, believing them to be the enemy. In his commentaries, he puts the number of the Helvetii and allied tribes as 386,000. Only 110,000 were sent home. Against them, he had six legions and auxiliaries – 35,000 at most.

  His battles were rarely a simple test of strength. He formed alliances with lesser tribes and then came to their aid. He fought by night if necessary, on all terrains, flanking, bribing and outmanoeuvring his enemies. When Ariovistus demanded only cavalry at their meeting, Julius ordered the foot soldiers of the Tenth to mount, which must have been a sight to see.

  I did worry that the sheer distances he covered must have been exaggerated until my cousin took part in a sixty-mile trek. She and her husband completed it in twenty-four hours, but soldiers from a Gurkha regiment completed it in nine hours, fifty-seven minutes. Two and a third marathons, non-stop. One must be careful in this modern age where pensioners seem able to ski down Everest, but I think the legions of Gaul could have matched that pace, and like the Gurkhas, have been able to fight at the end.

  It was not such a great stretch to suppose that Adàn might have understood the language of the Gauls, or even the dialect of the Britons, to some extent. The original Celts came across Europe from an unknown place of origin – possibly the Caucasus mountains. They settled in Spain, France, Britain and Germany. England only became predominantly Romano-Saxon much later and of course maintains much of that difference into modern times.

  It is difficult to imagine Julius’ view of the world. He was a prolific reader and would have known Strabo’s works. He knew Alexander had travelled east and Gaul was a great deal closer. He would have heard of Britain from the Greeks, after Pytheas travelled there three centuries before: perhaps the world’s first genuine tourist. While we have lost Pytheas’ books, there is no reason why they should not have been available then. Julius would have heard of pearls, tin and gold to lure him over from Gaul. Geographically, he thought that Britain was due east of Spain rather than to the north, with Ireland in between. It could even have been a continent as big as Africa, for all he could be sure on that first landing.

  His first invasion of Britain in 55 BC was disastrous. Storms smashed his ships and ferocious resistance from blue-skinned tribes and vicious dogs was almost his undoing. The Tenth literally had to fight their way through the surf. He stayed only three weeks and the following year brought eight hundred ships back, this time forcing his way through to the Thames. Despite this vast fleet, he had stretched himself too far and would not return a third time. As far as we know, they never paid the tribute they promised.

  Vercingetorix would hold a similar place in history and legend as King Arthur if he had managed to win his great battle against Julius. Napoleon III did erect a statue to him in later times, recognising his achievement and place in history. He united the tribes and saw that scorching the earth and starving the legions was the only way to defeat them. Even his great host was eventually broken by the legions. The High King of Gaul was taken in chains to Rome and executed.

  The exact details of the triumvirate with Crassus and Pompey are not known. Certainly the arrangement benefited all three men and Julius’ term in Gaul went on for many years after his consular year had ended. Interestingly, when Pompey sent the order for him to return alone after Gaul, Julius had very nearly completed the ten-year hiatus the law demanded between seeking a consul’s post. If Julius had secured a second term at that point, he would have been untouchable, which Pompey must have feared.

  Clodius and Milo are not fictional characters. Both men were part of the chaos that almost destroyed Rome while Julius was in Gaul. Street gangs, riots and murder became all too common and when Clodius was finally killed, his supporters did indeed cremate him in the senate house, burning it to the ground in the process. Pompey was elected sole consul with a mandate to establish order in the city. Even then, the triumvirate agreement might have held if Crassus had not been killed fighting the Parthians with his son. With the news of that death, there was only one man in the world who could have challenged Pompey for power.

  Finally, I have made one or two claims in the book that may annoy historians. It is debatable whether the Romans had steel or not, though it is possible to give a harder sheath to soft iron by beating it in charcoal. Steel, after all, is only iron with a fractionally higher carbon content. I do not think this was beyond them.

  I did worry that having Artorath, a Gaul, described as close to seven feet tall would be too much for some, but Sir Bevil Grenville (1596–1643) had a bodyguard named Anthony Payne who was seven feet, four inches tall. I dare say he could have put Artorath over his shoulder.

  There are hundreds more little facts that I could put in here, if there were space. If I have changed history in the book, I hope it has been deliberate rather than simple error. I have certainly tried to be as accurate as I could be. For those who would like to go further than these few pages, I can recommend Caesar’s Legion by Stephen Dando-Collins, which was fascinating, and also The Complete Roman Army by Adrian Goldsworthy, or anything else by that author. The Twelve Caesars by Suetonius should be required reading in every school. My version is the translation by Robert Graves and apparently which one of the Emperors you like the most is quite revealing about your own character. Lastly, for those who want more of Julius, you could not do better than to read Christian Meier’s book Caesar.

  Conn Iggulden

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Part of the pleasure of writing a series of four books is being able to thank all those who need thanking before the story ends. Susan Watt is one of those – a great lady whose expertise and energy made the rough run smooth.

  In addition, I would like to thank Toni and Italo D’Urso, who let me use the old Amstrad computer in their corridor for years and years without a word of complaint. Eventually, out of good manners, I married their daughter. I owe them.

  Copyright

  Harper

  An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

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  Hammersmith, London W6 8JB

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  First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2005

  Copyright © Conn Iggulden 2005

  Conn Iggulden asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

  A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the require
d fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

  Source ISBN: 9780007437146

  Ebook Edition © December 2013 ISBN: 9780007321773

  Version: 2013-12-05

  EMPEROR

  THE GODS OF WAR

  CONN IGGULDEN

  To my wife

  ‘Great men are necessary for our life, in order that the movement of world history can free itself sporadically, by fits and starts, from obsolete ways of living and inconsequential talk.’

  Jacob Burckhardt

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Epigraph

  Map

  Part One

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Part Two

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Part Three

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Historical Note

  Acknowledgements

  Copyright

  PART ONE

  CHAPTER ONE

  Pompey pronounced each word as a hammer blow. ‘Therefore, by his actions, Caesar is today declared Enemy of Rome. His titles and honours are revoked. His right to command legions is struck from the records. His life is forfeit. It will be war.’

  The senate chamber was finally still after the storms of debate, the tension showing in every face. The messengers who had killed horses to reach them had no way of knowing the pace of those who followed. The Rubicon line had been crossed and the legions of Gaul were racing south.

  Pompey had aged visibly over two days of strain, yet he stood before them with a straight back, his experience giving him the strength to dominate the room. He watched as the senators slowly lost their frozen expressions and saw dozens of them meet each other’s eyes in private communication. There were many there who still blamed Pompey for the chaos in the city three years before. It had been his legion that failed to maintain order then and his dictatorship that had arisen from that conflict. He knew there were more than a few voices muttering for him to put aside the position and elect consuls once again. The very building in which they sat was a constant reminder, with its smell of fresh lime and wood. The ashes of the old site had been cleared, but the foundations remained as a mute testament to the destruction and rioting in the city.

  In the silence, Pompey wondered whom he could trust in the struggle. Who amongst them had the strength he needed? He had no illusions. Julius was coming south with four veteran legions and there was nothing in Rome to stand against them. In just a few days, the commander of Gaul would be hammering at the gates of the city and some of the men before Pompey would clamour to let him in.

  ‘There are hard choices to be made, gentlemen,’ he said.

  They watched him closely, judging his strength, his weaknesses. One slip, he knew, and they would tear him apart. He would not give them the chance.

  ‘I have legions in Greece who have not been infected by the enthusiasms of the mob in Rome. Though there may be traitors in this city, the rule of law has not lost its voice in our dominions.’

  How closely he watched them then to see who looked away, but every eye was on him.

  ‘Gentlemen, there is no other option but to leave Rome for Greece and gather our armies there. At present, the bulk of Caesar’s forces remain in Gaul. Once they join him, the whole country could fall before we have a sufficient presence in the field. I do not wish to lose a race to reinforce. Better to be certain and go to our armies. There are ten legions in Greece waiting for the call to defend against this traitor. We must not disappoint them.

  ‘If he remains in our city, we will return to tear him out, exactly as Cornelius Sulla did to his uncle. The battle must be joined with him. He has made that clear by ignoring the lawful orders of this Senate. There can be no agreements, no peace while he lives. Rome cannot have two masters and I will not allow a rogue general to destroy what we have all built here.’

  Pompey’s voice softened slightly and he leaned forward on the rostrum, the smell of wax and oil strong in his nostrils.

  ‘If, through our weakness, he is allowed to live, to triumph, then every general we send out from Rome will wonder if he cannot do the same. If Caesar is not crushed, this city will never know peace again. What we have built will be worn down by constant war over generations until there is nothing left to show that we were once here under the eyes of the gods, and that we stood for order. I defy the man who would steal it from us. I defy him and I will see him dead.’

  Many of them were on their feet, their eyes bright. Pompey barely looked at those he despised, men filled more with air than courage. The Senate had never been short of speakers, but the rostrum was his.

  ‘My legion is not up to strength and only a fool would deny the value of the battles in Gaul to his men. Even with the guards from the road forts, we do not have sufficient force to guarantee a victory. Do not think I enter into this lightly. I greet the news with pain and anger, but I will not scorn him from our gates and then lose my city under me.’

  He paused and waved his hand lightly at those who had risen. Confused, they sat down, frowning.

  ‘When he comes, he will find this senate house empty, with the doors broken from their hinges.’

  He waited through the uproar as they understood at last that he did not intend to leave alone.

  ‘With his legions raping your wives and daughters, how many of you will stand against him if you are left behind? He will come in looking for blood and will find nothing! We are the government, the heart of the city. Where we are, is Rome. He will be nothing more than a ruthless invader without you to put the seal of law on his words and actions. We must deny him our legitimacy.’

  ‘The people will think …’ someone began from the back.

  Pompey shouted over the voice, ‘The people will endure him as they have endured all their history! Do you think it would be better to leave you here while I gather an army on my own? How long would you last under torture, Marcellus? Or any of you? This Senate would be his and the final barrier would be overcome.’

  Out of the corner of his eye, Pompey saw the orator Cicero rise and suppressed his irritation. The senators looked at the small figure and then at Pompey, seeing him hesitate. Cicero spoke before he too could be waved down.

  ‘You have said little of the communications we sent to Caesar. Why have we not discussed his offer to halt?’

  Pompey frowned at the nodding heads around him. He sensed they would not stand for a blustering answer.

  ‘His terms were unacceptable, Cicero, as he knew they would be. He seeks to drive a wedge between us with his promises. Do you really believe he w
ill end his drive south simply because I have left the city? You do not know him.’

  Cicero folded his arms across his narrow chest, raising one hand until he could stroke the skin of his throat.

  ‘Perhaps, though this is the place to debate the issue. Better to have it out in the open than leave it to be discussed in private. Have you responded to his offer, Pompey? I recall you said you would answer him.’

  The two men locked gazes and Pompey gripped the rostrum more tightly as he struggled not to lose patience. Cicero was a subtle man, but Pompey had hoped he could depend on him.

  ‘I have done everything I said I would. I wrote under senate seal to demand he return to Gaul. I will not negotiate while his legions are within striking distance of my city and he knows it. His words are simply to confuse us and cause delay. They mean nothing.’

  Cicero raised his head. ‘I agree, Pompey, though I believe all information should be made available to us here.’ Choosing not to see Pompey’s surprise, Cicero turned his head to address the senators on the benches around him. ‘I do wonder if we are discussing a Roman general or another Hannibal who will be satisfied with nothing less than power torn from our hands. What right does Caesar have to demand that Pompey leave the city? Do we now negotiate with invaders? We are the government of Rome and we are threatened by a mad dog, leading armies we trained and created. Do not underestimate the danger in this. I concur with Pompey. Though it will hurt worse than anything we have suffered before, we must retreat to gather loyal forces in Greece. The rule of law must not bend for the whims of our generals, or we are no more than another tribe of savages.’

  Cicero sat down, after meeting Pompey’s eyes with a brief flicker of amusement. His support would sway a number of the weaker ones in the chamber and Pompey inclined his head in silent thanks.

  ‘There is no time for lengthy debate, gentlemen,’ Pompey said. ‘Another day will change nothing except to bring Caesar closer. I move we vote now and plan accordingly.’