Pedius was standing in the entrance to the temple of Vesta, in conversation with Quintina Fabia. Octavian brightened at the sight of the older woman, whose company he enjoyed. He had hardly spoken to her since becoming consul, but she was one of those he had begun to assume were among his supporters, at least for the sake of her nephew Maecenas.
To his surprise, Quintina Fabia came forward to him with open arms.
‘Caesar, I hear I should congratulate you,’ she said.
Octavian glanced at Pedius, who shrugged. He allowed himself to be embraced with surprising strength.
‘On what?’ he asked when she released him.
‘Your betrothal, of course,’ she said.
‘Ah. I do not take much joy from the prospect of a twelve-year-old wife, Quintina.’
He had met Mark Antony’s daughter only once since returning to Rome and the marriage to come was little more than a bargaining piece in their negotiations. He felt sorry for Claudia, if anything, but marriages were a currency of Rome and a statement of their mutual support. It would not interfere with his current popularity among the noble mistresses of the city. Octavian was slim and young and in power, a powerful cocktail that led to a different partner every night, if he chose. He suspected Quintina knew that very well and was teasing him, so he tried to take it with good grace.
‘I have other things on my mind at the moment, Quintina; I apologise.’
‘Of course. Young men are always in love,’ she replied.
‘Perhaps, I cannot say. I dream of new legions, trained and hardened over a winter.’
He looked to Pedius, who seemed embarrassed by the exchange and somewhat flustered by the attentions of the priestess.
‘Report, Pedius. I have not come here to talk of love, not today.’
The older man cleared his throat.
‘With regret, Lady Fabia, I must leave our conversation to another time.’
‘Oh very well, though I know a few Roman widows who would be thrilled to meet a mature man as well, Pedius. They are deeper pools than these young girls Caesar favours. Their rivers have not run dry in the years without a man. In fact, the opposite is true. Think on that while you talk away a fine morning.’
She strolled back into the temple then, leaving the two of them staring after her. Pedius shook his head, caught between the suspicion he was being mocked and genuine interest.
‘We’ve raised six new legions and placed their names on the Senate rolls. At the moment, they are little more than farmers and shop boys. They are training around Arretium, but they have to share swords and shields on a rota.’
‘So buy more,’ Octavian said.
Pedius blew air out, exasperated.
‘I would if I had the gold to do it! Have you any idea what it costs to make equipment for five thousand men, never mind thirty? The swords must come overland from Spain while Sextus blockades the western coast. A thousand miles, Caesar! Instead of a month at sea, it takes four times as long, but until then, they must train with sticks and mismatched weapons more than a century old. Yet wherever I look for funds, I am told Caesar has been there before me and the chests are all empty.’
Octavian hardly needed another reminder that Sextus Pompey was harassing the coasts. With Cassius and Brutus growing stronger all the time in Greece and Macedonia, he was only too aware of the strangling grip cutting the life’s blood from the country.
‘I have gold coming by land as well, from mines in Spain – and I am working on a solution to the fleet with Sextus Pompey. It is draining the treasury, but I have to be able to protect legions as they cross.’
‘I would prefer it if you’d share more of your planning with me,’ Pedius said. ‘Though the proscriptions have silenced some of your enemies, the main problems persist. We cannot begin a campaign without more legions to keep Rome safe and of course ships to carry them. Until we have those, we are trapped on our own mainland.’
‘All right, Consul. There is no point in labouring over our difficulties. I have been in worse positions, believe me.’
To his surprise, Pedius smiled, chewing at the insides of his lips as he looked up.
‘Yes you have, haven’t you? And you have come through them. The city still looks to you to make everything right, Caesar, as if you can bring cheap grain once more with just a wave of your hand.’ He leaned a little closer, so the ever present lictors could not overhear. ‘But everything you have won can be taken away, if men like Brutus, Cassius and Sextus Pompey can find another ally in Rome.’
Octavian looked sharply at the older man, watching his moving jaw.
‘Are you seeking to warn me? Mark Antony has cast his lot with me, Pedius. He would not be such a fool as to risk an alliance with men like those.’
‘Perhaps,’ Pedius replied. ‘I hope you are right. Perhaps I am just a suspicious old man, but it is sometimes a good idea to be suspicious. You are very young, Caesar. The future is longer for you than it is for me. It might be an idea to think of those years as you make your choices.’
Octavian considered for a moment. He knew Caesar had been warned many times about assassins and always ignored the threat.
‘I will be ready for anything, Pedius. You have my word on it.’
‘Good.’ Pedius smiled. ‘I have come to enjoy being consul with you, young man. I don’t want it to come to an end too soon.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Brutus smothered his anger, which was more at his own failing stamina than the Greek who danced around him with the training sword. There had been a time when he could have humiliated the younger man with ease, but a large part of his speed had vanished over the years. Only his daily routine of sparring kept his fitness from disappearing completely.
He knew his face and bare chest were red as he heated up. Each breath felt as if it came from an oven and sweat poured off him while his opponent still looked fresh. It was galling and ultimately pointless, but he wished for just a moment of his youth to return so he could batter the Greek into quick submission.
Cleanthes was still wary of the Roman governor who had challenged him to a sparring bout. For all the difference of thirty years in their ages, he had not been able to land a crippling blow, only to stripe the man’s arms with the red ink daubed on his wooden blade. Even so, he felt the bout turning in his favour and it did not hurt to have his friends calling their encouragement from the side of the training ground. Athens may have been ruled by Rome, but the crowd were open in their support for the young Greek.
Driven on by their cheering, Cleanthes blocked an attack with his buckler shield and lunged at the Roman’s throat. It was a dangerous blow, one of the few that could be fatal with the wooden weapons. Brutus tensed with anger as he knocked it aside, launching a series of strikes that forced Cleanthes back step by step. He had once been very, very good and his form was still impressive, though he was panting and sweat spattered from his wet hair.
Cleanthes hesitated rather than press back. Everything he had learned in the sparring classes had failed to break through the man’s guard. Yet he did not want to win by virtue of exhausting his opponent. He faced Brutus squarely and brought his sword back to the scabbard position on his hip. They wore only leggings and there was no strap to hold the weapon, but his intention was clear. Brutus curled his lip, yet he too had been arrogant once. He accepted the threat and stepped in close, watching Cleanthes carefully as he brought his own sword back to his hip, ready for a single strike. It was the sort of thing that appealed to young men, a test of draw speed alone. Brutus watched the eyes of the younger man, relaxing himself completely.
The attack came without warning, a blow that Cleanthes had practised a thousand times in his young life. He made the decision to move and his hand whipped the sword up fast. To his shock, Cleanthes felt a line sear across the side of his throat, leaving a red stain that mingled with his sweat and dripped down his bare chest. Brutus followed it with two more quick strikes, one to the inner thigh, where a man would bl
eed to death quickly, and another to the Greek’s side. It happened in a heartbeat and Brutus grinned unpleasantly at him as he stepped back.
‘The second man to move is often faster; did they not teach you that?’ Brutus said. ‘If he is trained, his reaction is swifter than a planned blow.’
Cleanthes reached up to his throat and the red stain that came away on his fingers. He looked down to see the ink dripping down his right leg. The crowd had fallen silent and he bowed stiffly to the Roman governor.
‘I will remember the lesson,’ Cleanthes said. ‘Once more?’
Heads jerked round at the sound of clapping hands echoing in the training yard. Brutus saw Cassius at the rail, looking fresh and fit. He recognised Suetonius and Gaius Trebonius with him and tensed his jaw. With a quick gesture, Brutus tossed the training sword to Cleanthes, who was forced to catch it.
‘Not today,’ Brutus called over his shoulder. ‘It seems I have guests.’
He walked over to the group of three waiting for him.
‘Will you join me in the baths? I need to wash the sweat off.’
Cassius nodded, though Suetonius looked uncomfortable and wiped a hand across his hair. Gaius Trebonius was staring around him with unabashed interest. They followed Brutus to the training house baths and all four men stripped, handing their clothes to slaves to be brushed and steamed clean. Brutus ignored the others, knowing they would wait on him, whatever it was they wanted. He stood stoically as buckets of water were emptied over him, then headed into the hottest steam room to sweat out the dirt from his skin. Surrounded by strangers, Cassius could hardly discuss their plans and as a group the men sat in silence as the steam billowed around them, then followed Brutus through the cold plunge and finally onto the tables, where other slaves worked oil into their skins and scraped them clean with lengths of ivory, wiping black muck onto their waistcloths.
A good hour passed before they were left alone. Some men preferred to doze for a while afterwards, while many more wished to discuss their business in private. The slaves left discreetly, though they would be waiting at the outer door in the hope of a few extra coins when the customers went out to the street.
Suetonius was not aware that his hair had become thin snake tails in the steam and oil, doing nothing to hide his baldness. He lifted his head from the table where he lay and saw the others resting with their eyes closed.
‘As pleasant as it is to find a competent Roman house in Athens, there is much to discuss,’ he said.
Brutus made a sound close to a groan, but he sat up even so. The others did the same, though Suetonius rested his hands over his sagging paunch and wrinkled thighs. The baths stripped away dignity and he wished for his toga to be returned.
‘So what has brought you to me here?’ Brutus said. ‘I was hoping to catch the orator Thenes when he speaks in the agora.’
‘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.
The Emperor Series: Books 1-5 Page 201