The Death of Kings

by Conn Iggulden

  The gate guards must have been told to expect them and waved the soldiers through without a halt. Once inside, though, with the heavy gate closed behind them, Julius found himself in a killing ground similar to the one between the walls at Mytilene. Any one of the buildings that faced the main yard could have been lined with archers, and with no way to retreat, the only forward path was a narrow one that was itself interrupted with wall slits for more. Julius shrugged as his centuries halted in order, dressing their ranks until they filled the yard in a perfect square.

  Julius wondered how long Brutus would keep him waiting. It was a difficult thing to predict after so long away from his oldest friend. The boy he had known would have been there already, but the man who led the remnants of Primigenia had changed a great deal in their time apart—perhaps enough to bury the boy; he didn't yet know.

  With no outward sign of his impatience, Julius stood impassively with his men as the minutes stretched. He did need the barracks, and from what Tubruk had said, they were as good as Brutus claimed. With Crassus behind the purchase, the purse was heavy enough to buy the best in the city, after all. While he waited, Julius considered buying part of the barracks out of Crassus's hands. Privately, he agreed with Tubruk that the relationship the rich senator was fostering could be a thorn for the future, no matter how friendly he appeared at present.

  Brutus strode out of the main building with Renius at his side. With interest, Julius saw the capped stump of Renius's left arm, though he kept his face still. Brutus looked furious and Julius's hopes died in him.

  As Brutus reached him, he halted stiffly, giving the salute from one equal to another. Julius returned it without hesitation. For a second, Julius felt pain at the space that separated them before his resolve firmed. He would not give way. Brutus wasn't someone he wanted to use his wits to flatter and control. That sort of manipulation was for enemies or formal allies, not for the boy he'd caught a raven with, so many years before.

  “Welcome to Primigenia barracks, Tribune,” Brutus said.

  Julius shook his head at the formal tone. A touch of irritation spiked in him and he spoke to Renius, ignoring Brutus. “It is good to see you, old friend. Can't you make him understand these men are not Primigenia?”

  Renius looked impassively back at him for a moment before replying.

  “This is not a time to split your strength, lad. The choosing day on the Campus is over this year—there'll be no extra men for another legion. You two should stop puffing your chests at each other and make peace.”

  Julius snorted in irritation. “By the gods, Brutus, what would you have me do? Primigenia can't have two commanders and my men are sworn to me alone. I found them in villages and made them into legionaries from scratch. You can't expect me to hand them over to another commander after everything they've been through with me.”

  “I thought . . . you of all people would want to see Primigenia strong again.”

  “As a tribune, I can levy troops for you. I'll send around the country for them. I swear we'll remake Primigenia. I owe Marius as much as you, and more.”

  Brutus's eyes searched his own, judging his words. “But will you be building your own legion as well? Will you apply for a new name to be added to the rolls?” he asked, his voice tight with tension.

  Julius hesitated and Renius cleared his throat to speak. The habit of years of obedience made them wait for him. He looked Julius in the eye, holding him.

  “Loyalty is a rare thing, boy, but Brutus risked his life for you when he had Primigenia put back on the rolls. Men like Cato stand against him now and he did it for you. There's no conflict. Primigenia is your legion, can't you see that? Your men can swear to service under a new oath and still be yours.”

  Julius looked at the two men and it was like looking back into his childhood. Reluctantly, he shook his head. “There cannot be two commanders,” he said.

  Brutus stared at him. “Are you asking me to take the oath to you? To hand over command?”

  “How else could you be my sword, Brutus? But I can't ask you to lay down the rank you always dreamed of having. It is too much.” Julius took his arm gently.

  “No,” Brutus murmured, suddenly firming his resolve. “It is not too much. We have older oaths between us and I always swore I would be there when you called. Are you calling now?”

  Julius took a long, slow breath, weighing his friend and feeling his heart thud in his chest with a sudden burst of speed.

  “I call,” he said quietly.

  Brutus nodded firmly, the decision made. “Then I will take the vow with these Wolves of yours, and we will begin this day with Primigenia reborn.”

  * * *

  Keeping a guard of only five of his men, Julius strode through the busy city streets following the directions Tubruk had supplied. His spirits were light as he moved through the crowds. He had his uncle's house safe in his possession and well guarded by twenty soldiers. Even more important, the problem of what to do with Primigenia had been resolved. Silently, he blessed Brutus and Renius for their loyalty to him. Even in his pride, part of him whispered that in the end he had manipulated their love for him as coldly as any enemy. There had been no other way, he told himself, but the inner voice would not be still.

  Not far from Marius's house, Julius found Tabbic's shop easily. As he came close to it, excitement filled him. He hadn't seen Alexandria since his wedding day and at first had been frightened to ask Tubruk if she'd survived the vicious fighting that followed his own flight from the city. As he put his hand to the door, he hesitated, experiencing a touch of the old nervousness that had plagued him in her presence. He shook his head in amusement as he recognized the feeling, then went in, his men blocking the narrow walkway outside.

  Alexandria was standing only a few paces from the door, and she turned to greet whoever had entered. She laughed at seeing him, with the simple pleasure of meeting an old friend. She was standing with a gold necklace around her throat, with Tabbic working on the catch behind her.

  Julius drank in the sight of her. The gold lit her throat with its reflection, and she seemed to have found a poise or a confidence that had been missing when he knew her before.

  “You look beautiful,” he said, closing the shop door behind him.

  “That's because I'm standing next to Tabbic here,” she said lightly.

  Tabbic grunted, looking up from his work. The jeweler took in the man who had entered the shop, and straightened with a hand pressed into the small of his back.

  “Are you buying or selling?” he asked, removing the necklace from Alexandria's neck as he spoke. Julius was sorry to see it go.

  “Neither, Tabbic. Julius is an old friend,” Alexandria replied.

  Tabbic nodded in guarded welcome. “The one who's looking after Octavian?”

  “He's doing well,” Julius said.

  Tabbic sniffed, quite failing to hide a brief smile of affection. “I'm glad of it,” he said quietly, before going into the back of the shop with the necklace, leaving them alone.

  “You are looking thin, Julius. Is that beautiful wife of yours not feeding you?” Alexandria asked artlessly.

  Julius laughed. “I've only been back a couple of days. I have Marius's old place as a town house.”

  Alexandria blinked in surprise. “Quick work,” she said. “I thought Sulla's general was living there.”

  “He was. I'll have to go to the forum court to keep it, but it will give me a chance to clear Marius's name in this city.”

  Her smile disappeared at this reminder of harder times, and she busied her hands with removing an apron, cursing as the knot resisted her fingers. Julius wanted to step forward and help her, but resisted with an effort of will. He had been shocked to feel a surge of the old attraction to her as he came into the shop. It worried him enough to stand well clear until she had finished untying the strings herself.

  You are a married man, he told himself firmly, yet he found himself blushing as she looked at him again.


  “So why have you come to our humble little shop? I doubt it's just to look me up, Julius.”

  “It could be. I was pleased when Tubruk said you had survived. I heard about Metella taking her life.” As he always had with her, he found himself fumbling for words, annoyed by his own lack of fluency.

  Alexandria turned to him, her eyes glittering. “I wouldn't have left her if I'd known what she was going to do. Gods, I would have taken her with me to Tabbic's place. She was a victim, as much as the men that bastard Sulla killed on the streets. I'm only sorry he died quickly, so they say. I would have wanted it slow, for him.”

  “I haven't forgotten, for all the Senate seems to want to,” Julius agreed, his voice bitter. A look of silent communication passed between them, a memory of those they had lost and an intimacy between them that was fresher than they could have guessed.

  “You'll make them pay, Julius? I hate the thought of the gutter filth I saw then still roaming free. Rome's a dirtier place than you can see from the forum, I know.”

  “I'll do what I can. I'll start by making them honor Marius, which should stick hard in a few throats,” he replied seriously.

  She smiled again at him. “Gods, I am glad to see your face after so long. It brings the past back to me,” she said, and his blush returned, making her chuckle with memory. Her confidence as a freewoman had made her almost unrecognizable, but still he felt that she was someone he could trust simply because she had been part of the old times. The more cynical voice in him suspected he was being hopelessly naive. They had all changed and Brutus should have been enough of a reminder of that already.

  “I never thanked you for the money you left with Metella for when I was free,” she said. “I bought a part share in this shop with it. It meant a lot to me.”

  He waved her thanks away with his hand. “I wanted to help you,” he replied, shifting his feet.

  “Did you come to the shop to see how I'd spent it?”

  “No, I know I said I could have come to see you just for friendship, but as it happens . . .” he began.

  “I knew it! You want a pendant for your wife, or a beautiful brooch? I'll make you something special to match her eyes.” Her cheerfulness contrasted his more serious mood, so different from the stumbling boy she'd known.

  “No, it's for the trial and after. I want to commission bronze shields to honor Marius; his likeness, his battles, even his death when the city fell. I want them to tell the story of his life.”

  Alexandria rubbed a hand over her bound hair, leaving a tiny smudge of gold filings on the edge. The flecks caught the light as she moved, and despite himself, Julius would have liked nothing more than to rub his thumb gently against her skin to remove them. He concentrated, irritated with himself.

  She frowned in thought, taking a stylus and wax slate from a shelf.

  “They should be large, maybe three feet across to be clear at a distance.”

  She began to scratch sketches into the pane of wax, squinting one eye almost closed. Julius watched as she brushed back a loose tendril of hair from her forehead. Tubruk had said she was good and the man's judgment was usually to be trusted.

  “The first one should be a likeness. What do you think of this?”

  She turned the slate around and Julius relaxed as he saw a face he recognized. The features had something of the strength he remembered, though the simple lines could never be more than an echo of the life that had filled Marius.

  “It's him. I didn't know you could do that sort of thing.”

  “Tabbic loves to teach. I can make your shields for you, but the metal alone will be expensive. I don't want to bargain with you, Julius, but you are talking about months of work. This is the sort of thing that could make my name in the city.”

  “The cost isn't important. I'll trust you to set a fair price, but I'll need them in weeks, not months. The Senate won't let the trial wait for long, with Antonidus raging about his lost house. I need the best you can make as fast as you can produce them.”

  “Tabbic?” Alexandria called.

  The grizzled metalsmith strolled out from the back room, still holding tools. She explained quickly and Julius smiled as the man's face lit with interest. Finally, he nodded.

  “I can take the normal work of the shop, but the brooches on order will have to be put off. Mind you”—he rubbed his chin thoughtfully—“it might raise the price of the ones you've finished, which couldn't hurt. We'll have to hire bigger premises and a much larger forge. Let's see . . .” He took another slate from the shelf and together the two of them wrote and talked in low voices for a long time while Julius watched in exasperation. Finally they reached agreement and Alexandria turned back to him, the gold in her hair still bright against her skin.

  “I'll take the work. The price will depend on how many failures we have to recast. I'll have to discuss which scenes you want when you have a couple of hours free.”

  “You know where I am,” he said. “You can always come out there if you need to see me.”

  Alexandria fiddled idly with her stylus, suddenly uncomfortable. “I'd prefer it if you came to me,” she said, unwilling to explain how the old estate had tested her strength the last time she'd passed through the gate. Julius understood what she didn't say.

  “I'll do that. I might even bring that boy in when I come. Tubruk says he's always talking of you and, er . . . Tabbic.”

  “You must. We both miss him around here. His mother goes when she can, but it must be hard on him to be away from her,” she replied.

  “He's a terror around the estate. Tubruk caught him riding my horse in the fields a few days ago.”

  “He didn't beat him?” Alexandria asked too quickly.

  Julius shook his head, smiling. “He wouldn't. Luckily Renius didn't find the boy, though how he could thrash him with only one hand, I don't know. Tell his mother not to worry about him. He's my blood, I'll look after him.”

  “He never had a father, Julius. A boy needs one more than a girl.”

  Julius hesitated, not wanting the responsibility. “Between Renius and Tubruk, I daresay he'll grow straight.”

  “They are not his blood, Julius,” she replied, holding his gaze until he looked away.

  “All right! I'll keep him with me, though I haven't had a moment's peace since coming back to the city. I'll look after him.”

  She grinned impishly at him. “‘There is no greater exercise to a man's talents than the upbringing of his son,' ” she quoted.

  Julius sighed. “My father used to say that,” he said.

  “I know. And he was right. There's no future for that boy running on the streets of this city. None at all. Where would Brutus be if your family hadn't taken him in?”

  “I have agreed, Alexandria. You don't need to beat it to death.”

  Without warning, she raised her hand to touch the white scar that crossed his forehead. “Let me look at you,” she said, standing closer and whistling softly. “You're lucky to be alive. Is that why your eye is different?”

  He shrugged, ready to turn the conversation away. Then the story spilled out of him, the fight on Accipiter, the head wound that took months to heal, the fits that remained with him.

  “Nothing is the same since I left,” he said. “Or everything is and I have changed too much to see it. Cabera says the fits could be with me for the rest of my life, or stop tomorrow. There is no way of telling.” He held up his left hand and squinted at it, but it was steady.

  “I sometimes think life is nothing more than pain with moments of joy,” she replied. “You are stronger than before, Julius, even with the wound. I've found the trick is to wait through the pain and take the moments of happiness without worrying about the future.”

  He dropped his hand, suddenly ashamed that he had talked so intimately of his fears. It was not a burden for her, or anyone except himself. He was the head of a family, a tribune of Rome, and the general of Primigenia. Strange how he couldn't muster the sort of
pleasure he knew such a dream would once have given him.

  “Have you . . . seen Brutus?” Julius asked after a pause. She turned away and busied her hands with clearing up the tools on Tabbic's workbench.

  “We are seeing each other,” she said.

  “Oh. I haven't told him we . . . um . . .”

  Alexandria laughed suddenly, looking at him over her shoulder. “You'd better not. There's enough competition between you two without putting me in the middle.”

  To his astonishment, Julius recognized a spike of jealousy enter his thoughts. He struggled with it. She was not his and, except for a frozen perfect moment years before, never had been. She didn't seem to sense the private whirl of his memories as he looked at her.

  “Keep him close to you, Julius. Rome is more dangerous than you know,” she said.

  Julius almost grinned at the thought of what he had survived just to return to it, but the fact that his life mattered to her at all sobered him.

  “I'll keep him close,” he said.

  * * *

  Julius dismounted from his horse to walk the last two miles to the estate outside the city. Plans swirled around his head as he strolled along with the reins wrapped around his arm. Since his return, events had moved too quickly to grasp. Gaining the tribune post, taking Marius's house and command of Primigenia, meeting Alexandria again. Julia. Octavian. Cornelia. She was like a stranger to him. He frowned as he walked along, lulled by the clicking of hooves in the dust at his side. Her memory had helped him through the worst of the captivity. The desire to return to her was a secret strength in him that overcame injury, sickness, and pain. Yet when he had finally held her, it was as if she were someone else. He hoped it would ease with time, but part of him still yearned for the wife he loved, though she was only a mile away and waiting for him.

  The law case to come worried him not at all. He'd had more than six months of monotony in a ship cell to hone a defense of Marius, and if Antonidus hadn't given him the chance, he knew he would have forced the issue in some other way. Having his uncle continue as a figure of shame in the city was not something he could stand.