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The man looked uncomfortable and Ahenobarbus realised he had not given his master’s name.
‘Some of the Senate did not see the need to travel, sir. My master was one of those.’
Ahenobarbus grinned. ‘Then you’d better run back and tell him Caesar is coming. He’s two, maybe three hours behind me. He’s bringing back the Republic, lad, and I wouldn’t stand in his way.’
CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_0822a169-587c-531a-9bce-705e7fb696b5)
The extraordinarii stood by their mounts, heaving at the great doors of the Quirinal gate in the north of the city. It had been left unbarred and the walls were empty of soldiers to challenge them. Now that the moment had come, there was a hush over the city and the streets by the gate were deserted. The Gaul riders exchanged glances, sensing eyes on them.
The tramp of the four legions was a muted thunder. The extraordinarii could feel the vibration under their feet and dust shimmered in the cracks between the stones. Fifteen thousand men marched towards the city that had declared them traitor. They came in ranks of six abreast and the tail of the column stretched back further than the eye could see.
At the head came Julius on a prancing dark gelding of the best bloodlines in Spain. Mark Antony and Brutus rode a pace to the rear, with shields ready in their hands. Domitius, Ciro and Octavian made up the spearhead and all of them felt the tension of the moment with something like awe. They had known the city as a home and a distant mother and as a dream. To see the gates open and the walls unguarded was a strange and frightening thing. They did not talk or joke as they rode in and the marching men of the column kept the same silence. The city waited for them.
Julius rode under the arch of the gate and smiled as its shadow crossed his face in a dark bar. He had seen cities in Greece and Spain and Gaul, but they could only ever be reflections of this place. The simple order of the houses and the neat lines of paving spoke to something in him and made him sit straighter in the saddle. He used the reins to turn his Spanish mount to the right, where the forum waited for him. Despite the solemnity of the moment, he was hard-pressed to keep his dignity. He wanted to grin, to shout a greeting to his people and his home, lost to him for so many years.
The streets were no longer empty, he saw. Curiosity had opened the doors of homes and businesses to reveal dark interiors. The people of Rome peered out at the Gaul legions, drawn by the glamour of the stories they had heard. There was not a man or woman in Rome who had not listened to the reports from Gaul. To see those soldiers in the flesh was irresistible.
‘Throw the coins, Ciro. Bring them out,’ Julius called over his shoulder and he did grin then at the big man’s tension.
Like Octavian beside him, Ciro carried a deep bag tied to his saddle and he reached into it to grasp a handful of silver coins, each bearing the face of the man they followed. The coins rang on the stones of the city and Julius saw children run from their hiding places to snatch them before they could come to rest. He remembered standing at Marius’ side in a Triumph long ago and seeing the crowd dip in waves to receive the offerings. It was more than the silver that they wanted and only the poorest would spend the coins. Many more would be kept for a blessing, or made into a pendant for a wife or lover. They carried the face of a man who had become famous through his battles in Gaul and yet was still a stranger to all but a very few.
The shrill excitement of the children brought out their parents. More and more of them came to reach for the coins and laugh with relief. The column had not come to destroy or loot the city, not after such a start.
Ciro and Octavian emptied the bags quickly and two more were passed forward to them. The crowd had begun to thicken, as if half of Rome had been waiting for some unseen signal. They did not all smile at the sight of so many armed men on the streets. Many of the faces were angry and dark, but as the column wound its way through the city, they grew fewer, lost amongst the rest.
Julius passed the old house of Marius, glancing through the gates to the courtyard he had seen first as a boy. He looked behind him for Brutus and knew that he shared the same memories. The old place was shuttered and bare, but it would be opened again and given life. Julius enjoyed the metaphor and tried to frame it into something appropriate for the speech he would make, choosing and discarding words as he rode. He preferred to be seen as a spontaneous speaker, but every phrase had been written in the wheatfields, with Adàn.
It was eerie to retrace the steps he had marched with the old Primigenia, before they had been scattered by the enemies of his family. His uncle had walked right up to the steps of the senate house and demanded the Triumph they owed him. Julius shook his head in amused memory as he recalled the bull of a man Marius had been. The laws had meant nothing to him and the city had worshipped his irreverence, electing him consul more times than any man in the city’s history. They were different, wilder days then and the world had been smaller.
A child scrambled onto the street after a rolling coin and Julius pulled on the reins to avoid knocking him down. He saw the boy hold his treasure aloft in a moment of pure happiness before his mother yanked him out of harm’s way. Julius dug in his heels before the lines behind could close up and wondered how it would be interpreted by the readers of omens. No doubt the priests were up to their elbows in entrails in every temple, looking for guidance. Julius thought of Cabera and wished he had lived to come back with them. He had buried the old man in Gaul, in sight of the sea.
The crowd was swelling and somehow those that came later added to the mood of celebration, as if the word had already gone round the streets. The Gaul legions were not to be feared. They came in dignity, with offerings of silver and their weapons sheathed. The noise was growing in proportion to the numbers. Julius could already hear the cries of vendors selling their wares. He wondered how many of his coins would be exchanged for a cool drink in the sun or a slice of cold meat pie.
When he glanced behind him, Julius was pleased to see his men respond to the people lining the road. Those who had relatives looked for them, their faces holding that peculiarly intent expression of one who waits to smile.
The road eased downhill towards the forum and Julius could see the light of the open space long before he entered it. At the centre of the city, it was the single image he had remembered most clearly in all his years away. It was hard to hold his mount back. The road ended in wealthy houses and temples, but Julius did not see them, his gaze fixed ahead. The sun seemed to increase its heat as he rode through to the heart of Rome and he felt a rush of excitement that he could hardly believe.
There were people there, already in their thousands. Some of them were cheering, but though their mood was light, Julius knew they would demand to be entertained, to be given precious memories with which to impress their children.
They had left him a path through their midst to the new senate house and Julius glanced at the site of the old one before forgetting it. Rome was more than buildings, more than her history. She was made clean with the innocence of each new generation and he was part of this rebirth.
He looked straight ahead and smiled as the citizens raised their voices around him. He knew the legions marched at his back, but for a few moments in the sunlight it was almost as if he were coming in alone.
He could not resist the excitement any longer then, and kicked his heels in, his horse’s hooves clattering over the stones. The steps of the senate house rose before him and he sent his mount lunging up them in three great strides, turning to look back over the sea of faces. It had been more than ten years and he had known fear and pain and loss. But Rome was his, and he was home.
The legions continued to flow into the forum, forming great glittering squares like islands in the colours of the crowd. Slaves and citizens mingled and pressed closer to the senate house, eager to hear, to be part of it. The poorest of Rome were there in numbers and they were raucous, pushing and shoving to reach the senate house steps. Julius saw the column halt at last, as his officers decided against bringing them all into one space. It was chaotic and dangerous and Julius laughed with pleasure.
‘I have come home!’ he roared over their heads.
They cheered him and he sat back in his saddle, raising his hands for quiet. He looked down at Brutus and Mark Antony as they brought their horses to the bottom of the steps. Both were smiling and relaxed. Brutus leaned over to murmur a few words to Mark Antony and they chuckled together.
Gradually, the noisy crowd quieted and stood waiting.
‘My people, in this place,’ Julius said wonderingly. ‘I have waited ten years to stand here before you.’ His voice echoed from the temples. ‘I have shown the strength we have in Gaul, have I not? I have toppled kings and brought their gold back to be spent here.’
They bayed their enthusiasm for that idea and he knew he had judged the tone to please them. The more complex arguments would come later, when he had finished with this day.
‘I have built our roads on new lands and marked out farms for our citizens. If you have ever dreamed of owning land, I have it ready for you and for your children. I have crossed seas for you and made new maps.’ He paused, letting the noise swell. ‘I carried Rome with me through the years and I did not forget my city.’
Their voices crashed against him and he held up his hands again.
‘Yet even this moment is tainted. As I stand before you and breathe the air I love, I know there are some calling against me.’ His expression became stern and the silence was perfect.
‘I am here to answer any charges against my name. But where are those who accuse Caesar? Will they not stand forward when I call for them? Let them come; I have nothing to hide.’
Someone shouted a reply that Julius did not hear, though those around the speaker laughed and chattered.
‘Can it be true that Pompey has left my city? That the Senate you trusted to protect you has abandoned Rome? I tell you to judge them by their deeds. Rome deserves better men than they. You deserve better than men who slip away in the night when their lies are challenged! I am here to stand for consul, not to threaten or bluster. Who denies me my right? Which one of you will argue the law with me?’
He swept his gaze over the crowd as they shifted and swirled like water in the forum. He loved them in all their vulgar, corrupt, violent glory. He loved them for their refusal to bow their heads and be docile, and he loved the exhilaration that came from riding their emotions. It had broken men before him, but there was no other risk worth taking.
‘For those of you who fear the future, I will say this. I have seen enough of war. I will try for peace with Pompey and the Senate and if I am refused, I will try harder. I will not take a Roman life unless I am forced. That is my vow.’
A scream sounded from somewhere in the crowd and Julius saw a dozen of the Tenth detach with Regulus to see to the disturbance. The forum was packed so fully as to make any movement difficult, and Julius wondered at those who would take even this day as an opportunity for theft or rape. He hoped Regulus would break the heads of those responsible.
‘If I must end Pompey’s Dictatorship on the field of battle, then I will do it far from here. While there is life in me, I will protect Rome. That is my oath and I swear it before all the gods in this place. I will stand for lawful election and if you make me consul, I will follow Pompey to the end of the earth to bring him down. He will not come here while I live.’
In one swift movement, Julius swung his leg over the saddle and knelt on the white marble, letting the reins fall from his hand. The crowd craned and shuffled to see him bow and kiss the stone. His armour shone in the sunlight as he rose to his feet.
‘I am loyal. My life is yours.’
Perhaps his legions began the roar of appreciation, but he could not be sure. For all the joys he had known, there was nothing to approach the unalloyed pleasure of his own people calling his name.
He took up the reins once more, quieting the horse with a gentle hand.
‘I have given you Gaul. The earth is black and rich there for your farms. Its gold will build a new Rome, greater than anything we have seen before. A new forum, courts, amphitheatres, racetracks, theatres and baths. All this is my gift to you. In return, I ask that you raise your heads and know you walk the streets of the centre of the world. All roads lead here, to us. All courts have their authority from us. Weigh every act with that in mind and be sure you act nobly, for we are the nobility of all cities. We hold the torch for Greece, Spain, Gaul and Britain to follow. To the least of you, to the poorest, I tell you to work and there will be food for your table. Struggle for justice and it will be there for you.’
He was aware that the soldiers under Regulus had caught whoever was responsible for the unseen crime. Three men were swiftly trussed and Julius swore privately that they would regret interrupting his speech. He glanced to where the heavy bronze doors of the senate house hung at angles. Despite himself, his mood was souring and he took a deep breath before speaking again.
‘You will elect a new Senate with the courage to stand and face the results of their actions. Those who have run are worthless men and I will tell them so, when I catch them.’ He nodded as laughter spread over the forum.
‘If Pompey refuses to accept the peace I offer, I will not desert you, or leave you without protection. I will leaven you with the best of my soldiers, so that there will be order and law behind me. My city is not to be abandoned. It is not to be risked.’
They hung on the words that came from him and he felt his spirits lift again.
‘That is far in the future. Tonight, and tomorrow, my men will want good wine and the company of beautiful women. I will buy every amphora in Rome and we will celebrate. Gaul is ours and I am home.’
Ciro and Octavian threw silver coins over the people as they cheered themselves hoarse as Julius turned away, gesturing to his officers to follow him inside the empty senate chamber.
Brutus turned at the doorway and looked back at the crowd. ‘What if Pompey had stayed?’ he said.
Julius shrugged, his smile vanishing. ‘I would have killed him. Rome is mine and always has been.’ He walked into the cool interior, leaving Brutus alone on the steps.
The echoing senate house was subtly different to the one Julius remembered. The sheath of creamy marble on the walls showed the attempt to recreate the old Curia, but it was not the chamber where he had seen Marius and Sulla argue, or heard Cato’s voice dominate the discussion. Though he had not thought the loss could touch him, there was a dull pain somewhere deep. All the foundations of his life were being removed and part of him would always want to go back.
He tried to stifle his thoughts as the men with him took seats on the benches. Marius would have berated him for that sort of weakness. The past was comforting because it was safe. It was also dead and gone; there were no mysteries to be found there. Facing the future, with all its uncertainty, took courage and strength. He inhaled deeply of the air in the chamber, smelling the oiled wood and clean plaster.
‘Fetch Adàn for me, Ciro. I will need a record of my orders,’ he said.
Ciro rose quickly and disappeared out into the sun. Julius looked at the others, and smiled. Octavian, Mark Antony, Brutus and Domitius. They were men he could trust. Men with whom he could begin an empire. Though the future had its fears, it was the place for dreams. He hardly dared think where his path could take him by the end.
‘So, gentlemen, it was worth crossing the Rubicon, at least so far. It is a good place to start.’
Adàn came in and took a seat as he gathered his writing materials. He could not resist glancing around the chamber. For him, it was a place of legend, having never known the other. His eyes shone.
‘We must find barracks and homes for our men inside the city before tonight,’ Julius continued, once Adàn was settled. ‘Ciro, that is your task. Domitius, I want every drop of wine the city has to offer to be distributed freely. Get the best price you can, but I want the whole of Rome drunk by midnight. Spread the first taste of our gold into their pouches and tell them I want parties in every street and great house, open to all. Torches on the walls and crossroads. We’ll light the city from one end to the other – buy oil and use the Tenth to keep order for tonight, the Third for tomorrow. We must have some sober soldiers to keep the peace.
‘Octavian, you will send a century of the extraordinarii to Ostia, to make certain Pompey has left. We’ve no reason to doubt our informants, but the old fox has been cunning before.’
He paused to think and Mark Antony cleared his throat. ‘What about the senators who did not go to Greece?’
Julius nodded. ‘They must be courted. They will be the core that gives stability after the elections. Spread the word that they are brave men to have resisted Pompey. Make them all heroes. We will ask for their help in the new administration and give my word they will be safe. We need them.’
‘And the elections?’ Mark Antony continued. ‘I would want to hold them as soon as possible.’
‘Then you have the task. Consuls, magistrates, senators, quaestors and praetors for the new regions of Gaul – we must have them all. Begin the notices the day after tomorrow, when the hangovers start wearing off. I will leave the details to you, but I want the posts filled quickly. We will have two consuls to head the Senate, once I have seen who is left among the nobilitas. If they are the men I think they are, they should already be considering the benefits of staying behind.’
A frown crossed his face for an instant. ‘Not Bibilus, though. If he is still in the city, I do not want him. The man is not fit for authority of any kind.’
Mark Antony nodded and Adàn scratched on his tablets until Julius noticed.
‘Wipe that part clear, Adàn. I do not want every private opinion recorded. It is enough to have it said between us.’
He watched as the young Spaniard ran a callused thumb over the wax square and was satisfied.
‘This is a new start, gentlemen. It will take months to build a fleet and I intend to use that time to revise the laws of Rome from the very beginning. When we leave, the city will be peaceful and more secure than we found her – and the laws will apply to all. They will see that I have kept my word to them. I will begin with a reform of the courts. There will be no more bribery and favours. This is a chance to make the city work as it was meant to. As it did for our fathers.’
He stopped, looking around the echoing chamber and imagining it full once again of the lawmakers and rulers of Rome.
‘We have the whole of Gaul to administer. The roads and enclosures there must continue. Taxes must be paid and revenues collected for the public buildings. It will be hard work. I should think our legions in Gaul will be pleased to get the call home when we are ready.’ He grinned as he considered the enormity of the task before them.
‘When I have a fleet, I will call all but one legion south. Gaul will not rise again this generation, not after us.’
‘Will we have enough men to beat Pompey?’ Mark Antony said quietly.
Julius glanced at him. ‘If every legion in Greece goes over to him, we could be overwhelmed, but we pardoned the men of Corfinium, did we not? The word will spread, even to Greece. Pompey’s own men will take that piece of gossip to the legions there. Our people will wonder if they are on the right side in this. I expect many to come to me before the end.’ He paused to look around at the men who had come so far with him.
‘There can be only one ending between us after we meet in the field. Pompey will never be second to me. I will let it be known that any man who surrenders to my forces will be pardoned and honoured for his loyalty. I will be the symbol of the old Rome against the new and I will have my private letters copied and distributed, begging Pompey to choose exile over the death of Roman citizens.’ He grinned suddenly. ‘It will drive him mad.’
‘Who will rule Rome while you are away?’ Mark Antony asked.
Brutus glanced up and his hand gripped the wooden rest tightly. Julius did not look his way.
‘You have proved yourself, Mark Antony. I can think of none better to administer Italy while I fight the war in Greece. Stand for the second consul’s seat with me. I can trust you to remain loyal for my return.’
Mark Antony stood on shaking legs and embraced his general.
‘The gates will be open to you,’ he said.
Brutus too rose, his face pale with strong emotion. For a moment, it seemed as if he would speak and Julius turned to him, questioningly. Brutus shook his head and his mouth tightened.
‘I must check the men,’ he said at last, his voice choked. He walked into the sun and was gone.
Mark Antony looked troubled, decency forcing him to voice his thoughts. ‘Did you consider Brutus, sir? He deserves it as much, if not more.’
Julius smiled wryly. ‘You will keep Rome in order, Mark Antony. You will respect the law and take satisfaction from the thousand problems each day will bring. However, do not be offended when I say you are not the general I need to beat Pompey in the field. You have different strengths and I’ll need Brutus in the battles to come. He has a talent for death.’
Mark Antony flushed, unsure if he was receiving a compliment. ‘I think you should tell him that, sir.’
‘I will, of course,’ Julius replied. ‘Now, to business, gentlemen. I want the city to sing tonight. By all the gods, we are home at last.’
Outside, the light of day seemed to claw at Brutus as he came onto the steps. He found himself breathing heavily as he looked over the drifting crowd. If they saw him, they did not respond and he was struck by the image of being invisible to them all, like a ghost. He was almost tempted to call out, just to hear his own voice and break the spell. He felt strangely cold, as if he stood beneath a shadowed arch on stones always hidden from the sun.
‘I am owed a little more than this,’ he said, his voice a breath. He opened his right hand to find it cramped and yellow with tension. He had not felt the grip tighten as Julius gave Mark Antony everything that mattered in the world. If Brutus had known how the man would become a rival, he would have taken him aside one dark night in Gaul and cut his throat. The picture was a sweet thing in his mind and it brought a righteous anger to the fore. On the Rubicon, he had believed he was needed, that the generals would risk it all together. Julius had spoken to the crowd as if he had come south on his own.
Brutus watched the people of Rome and found their ignorance of his presence was a sort of freedom. He felt bonds fall away and almost staggered in relief and pain. He looked for the boy holding his horse and walked down the white steps, dazed. The crowd melted around him like smoke and in a few moments, he was lost amongst them.
CHAPTER FIVE (#ulink_b663a3d9-ad4a-5da4-805f-c7906834a567)
Regulus frowned as he saw Brutus appear once more. The silver-armoured figure stood like a statue by the white columns and Regulus shivered, surprising himself. There was something eerie in the general’s stillness as he looked over the milling crowd. Even from a distance, Brutus looked pale and Regulus broke suddenly into a fast walk towards him, convinced something was wrong. The path was dense with citizens, but Regulus ignored the shouts of those he sent sprawling, his eyes never leaving Brutus. He saw the general take his horse and swing himself into the saddle without a glance or word for those around him. Fear touched Regulus then. He called out as Brutus dug in his heels, knocking down a young boy who had clustered too close to his hooves.
Brutus did not stop or even turn at the cry. He rode stiffly and his face was bloodless and grim. They passed within feet of each other and Brutus didn’t feel the hand grasp desperately for his reins, nor hear his name.
Regulus swore under his breath as the horse clattered by out of reach. He looked up at the senate building and was caught between ordering his men to stop Brutus and finding out what had happened. He had nothing solid to support the feeling of dread that had stolen his peaceful mood. The moment of indecision passed with torturous slowness and Regulus found himself marching up the steps.
He heard their calm voices before he saw the generals of Gaul and Regulus shook his head in confusion. His mind had filled with violent images, but there was Adàn with his tablets and Ciro rising slowly with a questioning gaze.
‘What is it?’ Julius said.
Regulus hesitated, unwilling to voice what seemed like childish fears. What had he been thinking to allow such flights of fancy? ‘I … saw Brutus leave, sir. I thought there might be further orders.’
A subtle tension went out of the men as he spoke and Regulus saw Mark Antony too showed strain on his patrician features.
‘Join us, Regulus,’ Julius said. ‘Have one of your men keep order in the forum. You know Pompey as well as anyone and I want you to be part of the planning.’
Regulus felt a weight lift. He had been mistaken and chose not to mention his moment of superstitious fear. Yet as he seated himself he recalled the wildness in Brutus’ eyes and decided to seek him out before the day was over. Regulus did not enjoy mysteries, and he had never been a trusting man. With the decision made, he was able to turn to the business of the meeting and the incident slipped from his conscious thought.
Servilia’s house had hardly changed in the time Brutus had been away from the city. The three-storey building was clean and well-kept, with a single torch burning over the doorway at all hours of the day and night.
