The Gates of Rome

  Padacus placed a warm palm on Sulla's arm. "Are you wounded?"

  Sulla pulled his arm away in irritation. "I am fine. Gods, it was only one man. Marius must have a very low opinion of me."

  "We don't know it was only one man. I will set guards around your tent tonight."

  Sulla shook his head. "No. Let Marius think he has scared me? I'll keep those two whores you were bringing me and make sure one of them is awake through the night. Bring them in and get rid of everyone else. I believe I have worked up an appetite for a little vicious entertainment."

  Padacus saluted smartly, but Sulla saw the full lips pout as he turned, and made a note. The man was definitely a risk. He would not make it back to Rome. An accident of some kind—a fall from his glorious gelding. Perfect.

  At last he was alone and Sulla sat on a low bed, smoothing a hand over the soft material. There was a quiet, female cough from outside, and Sulla smiled with pleasure.

  The two girls that entered at his call were clean, lithe, and richly dressed. Both were beautiful.

  "Wonderful," Sulla sighed, patting the bed beside him. For all his faults, Padacus had an eye for truly beautiful women, a rather wasted gift in the circumstances.

  Marius frowned at his nephew.

  "I do not question your decision to be wed! Cinna will be a useful support in your career. It will suit you politically as well as personally to marry his daughter. However, I do question your timing. With Sulla's legion likely to arrive at the gates of the city tomorrow evening, you want me to arrange a marriage in such haste?"

  A legionary rushed up to the general, attempting to salute around an armful of scrolls and documents. Marius raised a hand to hold him off.

  "You discussed certain plans with me, if things didn't work out tomorrow?" Gaius asked, his voice quiet.

  Marius nodded and turned to the guard. "Wait outside. I'll fetch you when I'm finished here."

  The man attempted another salute and trotted out of the general's barracks room. As soon as he was out of earshot, Gaius spoke again.

  "If somehow things go wrong for us... and I have to flee the city, I won't leave Cornelia behind unmarried."

  "She can't go with you!" Marius snapped.

  "No. But I can't leave her without my name for protection. She may be pregnant." He hated to admit the extent of their relationship. It was a private thing between them, but only Marius could get the sacrifices and priests ready in the short time left to them, and he had to be made to understand.

  "I see. Does her father know of... your intimacy?"

  Gaius nodded.

  "Then we are lucky he is not at the door with a horsewhip. Fair enough. I will make ready for the briefest of vow ceremonies. Dawn tomorrow?"

  Gaius smiled suddenly, released from a tension he had felt pressing on him.

  "That's more like it," Marius laughed in response. "Gods, Sulla isn't even in sight yet and a long way from taking Rome back from me. You look too hard for the worst outcomes, I fear. Tomorrow evening your haste may seem ridiculous as we put old Sulla's head on a spike, but no matter. Go. Buy a wedding robe and presents. Have all the bills sent to me." He patted Gaius on the back.

  "Oh, and see Catia on the way out—a lady of mature years who makes uniforms for the men. She will think of a few things and where to get them in so short a time. Go!"

  Gaius left, chuckling.

  As soon as he had gone, Marius summoned his aide with a shout and spread the scrolls out on the table, anchoring the edges with smooth lead weights.

  "Right, lad," he said to the soldier. "Summon the centurions for another meeting. I want to hear any fresh ideas, no matter how bizarre. What have I missed? What does Sulla plan?"

  "Perhaps you have already thought of everything, General."

  "No man can think of everything; all we can do is to be ready for anything." Marius waved the man away on his errand.

  * * *

  Gaius found Cabera throwing dice with two of Marius's legionaries. The old man was engrossed in the game, and Gaius controlled his impatience as he made another throw and clapped his ancient hands together in pleasure. Coins were passed over and Gaius took his arm before another round could begin.

  "I spoke to Marius. He can arrange the ceremony for dawn tomorrow. I need help today to get everything ready."

  Cabera looked carefully at him as he tucked his winnings into his ragged brown robe. He nodded to the soldiers and one of them shook hands a little ruefully before walking away.

  "I look forward to meeting this girl who has had such an impact on you. I suppose she is terribly beautiful?"

  "Of course! She is a young goddess. Sweet brown eyes and golden hair. You cannot possibly imagine."

  "No. I was never young. I was born a wrinkled old man, to the surprise of my mother," Cabera answered seriously, making Gaius laugh. He felt drunk with excitement, with the threatening shadow of Sulla's arrival pushed right to the back of his mind.

  "Marius has given me the purse strings, but the shops close so early. We have no time to waste. Come on!" Gaius pulled Cabera by the arm and the old man chuckled, enjoying the enthusiasm.

  As evening darkened over the city, Marius left the centurions and walked out to make another inspection of the wall defenses. He stretched as he walked, and felt and heard his back clicking, sore from bending over the plans for so many hours. A warning voice in his mind reminded him of how foolish it was to walk around in this city after dark, even with the curfew still in place. He dismissed it with a shrug. Rome would never hurt him. She loved her son too dearly, he knew.

  As if in response to his thoughts, he felt the freshening warm wind on his face, drying the sweat that had seeped from him in the cramped barracks. When Sulla was disposed of, he would see about building a greater palace for the Rome legion. There was a slum area adjoining the barracks that could be flattened by senatorial order. He saw it in his mind and imagined entertaining foreign leaders in the great halls. Dreams, but pleasant as he walked through the silent streets, with only the clack-clack of his sandals breaking the perfect stillness.

  He could see the silhouettes of his men against the star-filled night sky long before he reached them. Some were still and some walked their prescribed, overlapping routes at random. At a glance, he could see they were alert. Good men. Who knew what awaited them the next time night fell? He shrugged again to himself and was glad no one could see him in the dim streets. Sulla would come and he would be met with steel. There was no point in worrying and Marius took a deep, cleansing breath, putting it all away inside him. He smiled cheerfully as the first of many sentries stopped him.

  "Good lad. Hold that spear steady now, a pilum is a fearful weapon in a strong grip. That's it. I thought I would take a tour of this section. Can't stand the waiting, you know. Can you?"

  The sentry saluted gravely. "I don't mind it, sir. You may pass."

  Marius clapped his hand against the sentry's shoulder. "Good man. They won't get past you."

  "No, sir."

  The legionary watched him go and nodded to himself. The old man was still hungry.

  Marius climbed the steps to the new wall his legion had constructed over and around the old gates of Rome. It was a solid and massive construction of heavy interlocking blocks with a wide walkway at the top, where a smaller wall would protect his men from archers. Marius rested his hands on the smooth stone and looked out into the night. If he were Sulla, how would he take the city?

  Sulla's legions had huge siege engines, heavy crossbows, stone throwers, and catapults. Marius had used each type and feared them all. He knew that, as well as large stones to batter the wall, Sulla could load his machines with smaller shot that would rip through defenders too slow to duck. He would use fire, launching barrels of rock oil over the wall to ignite the inner buildings. Enough barrels and the men on the wall would be lit from behind, easy targets for archers. Marius had cleared some wooden buildings away from the wall, his men dismantling homes quickly and efficient
ly. Those he could not move had a huge supply of water at the ready, with trained teams to deal with it. It was a new idea for Rome and one he would have to look into when the battle was over. Every summer, fires gutted houses in the city, sometimes spreading to others before being stopped by a wide street or a thick stone wall. A small group ready with water could...

  He knuckled his eyes. Too much time spent thinking and planning. He hadn't slept for more than a few hours for weeks, and the drain was beginning to tell on even his vitality.

  The wall would have to be scaled with ladders. It was strong, but Roman legions were practiced in taking fortresses and castles. The techniques were almost mundane now. Marius muttered to himself, knowing the nearest sentry was too far away to hear his voice.

  "They have never fought Romans, especially Romans in defense of their own city. That is our true advantage. I know Sulla, but he knows me. They have the mobility, but we have the stronghold and the morale. My men are not attacking beloved Rome, after all."

  Cheered by his thoughts, Marius walked on over the section of wall. He spoke to each man and, recalling names here and there, asked them about their progress and promotions and loved ones. There wasn't a hint of weakness in any he spoke to. They were like hard-eyed hunting dogs, eager to be killing for him.

  By the time he had walked the section and descended back into the dark streets below, Marius felt lifted by the men's simple faith in him. He would see them through. They would see him through. He hummed a military tune to himself as he strolled back to the barracks, and his heart was light.

  CHAPTER 27

  Gaius Julius Caesar smiled, despite the feeling of anxious weakness that fluttered in his stomach. With the help of Marius's seamstress, he had sent servants off to buy and organize for most of the night. He'd known the ceremony would have to be simple and was astonished at so many members of the nobilitas in attendance on a cold morning. The senators had come, bringing families and slaves to the temple of Jupiter. Every glance that met his was followed by a smile, and the soft odors of flowers and burning scentwood was strong in the air. Marius and Metella were there at the entrance of the marble temple, and Metella was dabbing tears from her eyes. Gaius nodded to them both nervously as he waited for his bride to arrive. He twitched the sleeves of his marriage robe, cut low around his neck to reveal a single amethyst on a slender gold chain.

  He wished Marcus were there. It would have helped to have someone who really knew him. Everyone else was part of the world he was growing into: Tubruk, Cabera, Marius, even Cornelia herself. With a pang, he realized that to make it all seem real, he needed someone there who could meet his eye and know the whole journey to that point. Instead, Marcus was away in foreign lands, the wild adventurer he always wanted to be. By the time he returned, the wedding day would just be a memory that he could never share.

  It was cool in the temple and for a moment Gaius shivered, feeling his skin prickle as the hairs stood up. With his back to the room, he felt alone and uncomfortable.

  If his father had lived, he could have turned to him as they all waited for Cornelia. They could have shared a smile, or a wink that said "Look what I've done."

  Gaius felt tears come into his eyes and he looked up at the domed ceiling, willing them not to spill onto his face. His father's funeral had been the end of his mother's moments of peace. Tubruk had shaken his head when Gaius asked if she was able to come. The old gladiator loved her as much as anyone, he knew. Perhaps he always had.

  Gaius cleared his throat and dragged his thoughts back to the moment. He had to put childhood behind him. There were many friends in the room, he told himself. Tubruk was like an uncle with his gruff affection, and Marius and Metella seemed to have accepted him without reserve. Marcus should have been there. He owed him that.

  Gaius hoped Cinna would be pleasant. He had not spoken to the man since formally asking for Cornelia's hand to be passed from father to husband. It had not been a happy meeting, though the senator had kept his dignity for her sake. At least he had been generous with the dowry for Cornelia. Cinna had handed him the deeds to a large town house in a prosperous area of Rome. With slaves and guards as part of the gift, Gaius had felt a worry ease from him. She would be safe now, no matter what happened. He frowned. He would have to get used to the new name, casting off the old with the other trappings of youth. Julius. His father's name. It had a good sound to the ear, though he guessed he would always be Gaius to those he had known as a boy. His father had not lived to see him adopt his adult name, and that saddened him. He wondered if the old man could see his only son and hoped so, wishing for just that one more moment to share pride and love.

  He turned and smiled weakly at Cabera, who regarded him with a sour expression, his thinning hair still tousled from being roused at what he considered an ungodly hour. He too was dressed in a new brown robe to mark the occasion, adorned with a simple pewter brooch, a design of a fat-faced moon standing proud on the metal. Julius recognized it as Alexandria's work and smiled at Cabera, who scratched an armpit vigorously in response. Julius kept smiling and after a few seconds, the ancient features cracked in cheerful response, despite his worries.

  The future was dark to Cabera as it always was when he was a part of a particular destiny. The old man felt afresh the irritation at being able to sense only the paths that had little bearing on his own life, but even the scratch of his misgivings couldn't prevent him taking pleasure in the youthful joy he felt coming from Julius like a warm wave.

  There was something wonderful about a wedding, even one as quickly arranged as this one. Everyone was happy and for at least this little while the problems to come could be forgotten, if only until dark.

  Julius heard footsteps sound on the marble behind him, and he turned to see Tubruk leaving his seat to approach the altar. The estate manager looked his usual self, strong, brown, and healthy, and Julius clasped his arm, feeling it as an anchor in the world.

  "You looked a bit lost up here. How are you feeling?" Tubruk asked.

  "Nervous. Proud. Amazed so many turned up."

  Tubruk looked with fresh interest at the crowd and turned back with eyebrows raised. "Most of the power in Rome is in this room. Your father would be proud of you. I'm proud of you." He paused for a moment, unsure of whether to continue. "Your mother did want to come, but she was just too weak."

  Julius nodded and Tubruk punched his arm affectionately before going back to his seat a few rows behind.

  "In my village, we just take a girl by the hair and pull her into our hut," Cabera muttered, shocking the priest out of his beatific expression. Seeing this, the old man went on cheerfully, "If it didn't work, you'd give her father a goat and grab one of her sisters. Much simpler that way—no hard feelings and free goat milk for the father. I had a herd of thirty goats when I was a lad, but I had to give most of them away, leaving me without enough to support myself. Not a wise decision, but difficult to regret, no?"

  The priest had flushed at these casual references to barbarian practices, but Julius only chuckled.

  "You old fraud. You just like to shock these upright Roman citizens."

  Cabera sniffed loudly. "Maybe," he admitted, remembering the trouble he'd caused when he had tried to offer his last goat up front for a night of pleasure. It had seemed like sense at the time, but the girl's father had taken a spear from his wall and chased the young Cabera up into the hills, where he had to hide for three days and nights.

  The priest eyed Cabera with distaste. He was nobilitas himself, but in his religious role wore a cream toga with a hood that left only his face bare. He waited patiently for the bride with the others. Julius had explained that the ceremony must be as simple as possible because his uncle would want to leave at the earliest moment. The priest had scratched his chin in obvious annoyance at this, before Julius slipped a small pouch of coins into his robe as an "offering" to the temple. Even the nobilitas had bills and debts. It would be a short service. After Cornelia was brought in to be gi
ven away by her father, there would be prayers to Jupiter, Mars, and Quirinus. An augur had been paid gold to predict wealth and happiness for them both. The vows would follow and Julius would put a simple gold ring on her finger. She would be his wife. He would be her husband. He felt sweat dampen his armpits and tried to shrug away the nervousness.

  He turned again and looked straight into the eyes of Alexandria as she stood in a simple dress, wearing a brooch of silver. There were tears sparkling in her gaze, but she nodded at him and something eased within.

  Soft music began at the back, swelling to fill the vaulted ceiling like the incense smoke that spilled from the censers. Julius looked round and caught his breath and everything else was forgotten.

  Cornelia was there, standing tall and straight in a cream dress and thin golden veil, her hand on the arm of her father, who was clearly unable to keep a beaming smile from his face. Her hair had been tinted darker, and her eyes seemed of the same warm color. At her throat was a ruby the size of a bird's egg, held in gold against the lighter tone of her skin. She looked beautiful and fragile. There was a small wreath on the crest of her head, made from verbena and sweet marjoram flowers. He could smell their scent as Cornelia and her father approached. Cinna let go of her arm as they reached Julius, remaining a pace behind.

  "I pass Cornelia into your care, Gaius Julius Caesar," he said formally.

  Julius nodded. "I accept her into my care." He turned to her and she winked at him.

  As they knelt, he caught again the scent of flowers from her and couldn't stop himself glancing over to her bowed head. He wondered if he would have loved her if he hadn't known Alexandria, or if he had met her before he had gone to the houses where women could be bought for a night or even an hour. He hadn't been ready for this, not back then, a year and a lifetime ago. The prayers were a peaceful murmur over their heads, and he was content. Her eyes were soft as summer darkness.

  The rest of the ceremony went in a blur for him. The simple vows were spoken—"Where you go, there go I." He knelt under the priests hands for what seemed like eternity, and then they were out in the sunshine and the crowd was cheering and shouting, "Felicitas!" and Marius was bidding him goodbye with a great clap on his back.