Conn Iggulden - The Death Of Kings

“Julius? Do you want to speak to them?” Gaditicus said, breaking into his thoughts and making him jump. Guiltily, he realized he hadn't heard anything the older officer had said. He stood slowly, marshaling his thoughts.

“I know most of you hoped to see Rome, and you will. My city is a strange place: marble and dreams, borne up with the strength of the legions. Every legionary is bound by oath to protect our people anywhere you find them. All a Roman has to do is say ‘I am a Roman citizen' and be guaranteed our shelter and authority.” He paused and every eye in the storehouse was on him.

“But you have not taken that oath and I cannot compel you to fight for a city you have never seen. You have more wealth than most soldiers would see in ten years. You must make a free choice-to serve under oath, or to leave. If you leave us, you will go as friends. We have fought together and some have not made it this far. For others of you, it may be far enough. If you stay, I will give Celsus's treasure into the care of Captain Durus, who will meet us on the west coast when Mithridates is beaten.”

Another low rumble of voices filled the room as he paused again.

“Can you trust Durus?” Gaditicus asked him. Julius thought for a moment, then shook his head.

“Not with so much gold. I will leave Prax to keep him honest.” He searched out his old optio and was pleased to see him signal consent. With that settled, Julius took a deep breath as he looked over the seated men. He could name them all.

“Will you take the legion oath and be sworn to my command?”

They roared their agreement at him. Gaditicus whispered harshly, leaning close to Julius's ear.

“Gods, man. The Senate will have my balls if I do!”

“You should leave, then, Gadi, join Suetonius back at the ship while I give them the oath,” Julius replied.

Gaditicus looked at him coolly, weighing him up. “I wondered why you left him there,” he said. “Have you thought where you will lead them?”

“I have. I'm going to raise an army and lead them straight down Mithridates' throat.”

He held out his hand and Gaditicus hesitated, then took it in a brief grip that was almost painful.

“Then our path is the same,” he said, and Julius nodded his understanding.

Julius raised his arms for quiet, smiling as it came. His voice carried clearly in the sudden silence. “I never doubted you,” he said to the men. “Not for a moment. Now stand and repeat these words.”

They rose as one and stood to attention, with heads raised and backs straight.

Julius looked round at them and knew he was committed to his course. There was nothing in him to say turn back, but with the oath, his life would change until Mithridates was dead.

He spoke the words his father had taught him when the world was simple.

“Jupiter Victor, hear this oath. We pledge our strength, our blood, our lives to Rome. We will not turn. We will not break. We will not mind suffering or pain.

“While there is light, from here until the end of the world, we stand for Rome and the command of Caesar.”

They chanted the words after him, their voices clear and firm.

Alexandria tried to watch without being obvious as Tabbic explained a technique to Octavian, his voice a constant low murmur accompanying each movement of his powerful hands. On the workbench in front of them, Tabbic had laid a thick piece of gold wire on a square of leather. Both ends of the wire were trapped in tiny wooden clamps, and Tabbic was gesturing to show how Octavian should move a narrow wooden block over the wire.

“Gold is the softest metal, boy. To make a pattern in the wire, all you have to do is press the marking block gently against it and run it back and forth, keeping your arm very straight, as I showed you. Try it.”

Octavian brought the block down slowly, letting the ridged teeth of the underside rest on the fragile-looking line of precious metal.

“That's the way, now use a little more pressure. That's it, back and forth. Good. Let's see it, then,” Tabbic continued. Octavian lifted the block clear and beamed as he saw the regular series of beads that had been formed by the pressure. Tabbic peered at it, nodding.

“You have a light touch. Too much pressure will snap the wire and you have to go back to the beginning. Now I'll free the clamps and turn it over for you to finish the beading. Line the block up carefully and be as gentle as you can this time; the joints will be thin as the hairs of your head.”

Tabbic caught Alexandria's eye as he stretched his back, aching after bending so long at the low bench he had made for Octavian. She winked at him and he blushed slightly, clearing his throat gruffly to hide a smile. She knew he had begun to enjoy the lessons with Octavian. It had taken a long time for him to lose a portion of his mistrust for the little thief, but she had known from his work with her how much he enjoyed teaching his skill.

Octavian cursed as the narrow wire gave under his hand. Ruefully, he lifted the block to reveal three cut pieces. Tabbic brought his heavy eyebrows together and shook his head, gathering the broken pieces up carefully to be melted and rolled once more.

“We'll try again later, or tomorrow. You nearly had it that time. When you can mark the full wire neatly, I'll show you how to fix it as a rim for one of the ladies brooches.”

Octavian looked downcast, and Alexandria held her breath as she waited to see if he would throw one of the violent tantrums with which he'd plagued them for the first few weeks. When it didn't come, she let the air out of her lungs with a slow rush of relief.

“All right. I'd like that,” he said slowly.

Tabbic turned away from him, searching through the packages of finished work that had to be taken back to their owners.

“I have another job for you,” he said, handing over a tiny pouch of leather, folded and tied. “This is a silver ring I repaired. I want you to run over to the cattle market and ask for Master Gethus. He runs the sales, so he won't be hard to find. He should give you a sestertius for the work. You take the coin and run straight back here, stopping for nothing. Understand? I'm trusting you. If you lose the ring or the coin, you and I are finished.”

Alexandria could have laughed out loud at the little boy's earnest expression. Such a threat would have been worthless for the first weeks of the apprenticeship. Octavian wouldn't have minded being left alone. He had struggled mightily against the combined efforts of his mother, Tabbic, and Alexandria. Twice she'd had to search the local markets for him, and the second time she'd dragged him to the slave blocks to have him valued. He hadn't run again after that, instead adopting a sullenness Alexandria thought might be permanent.

The change had come midway through the fourth week of work, when Tabbic showed him how to make a pattern on a sheet of silver with tiny droplets of the molten metal. Though the little boy had burned his thumb when he tried to touch it, the process had fascinated him and he'd missed his dinner that night, staying to watch the final piece being polished. His mother, Atia, had arrived at the shop with her tired face full of apology. Seeing the tiny figure still working with the graded polishing cloths had left her speechless, but Alexandria woke the next morning to find her clothes had been cleaned and mended neatly in the night. No other thanks were necessary between them. Though the two women saw each other only an hour or two each day before sleep, they had both found friendship of the kind that can surprise two reserved and private people, working so hard that they never realized they were lonely.

Octavian whistled as he trotted through the crowds at the cattle market. When the farmers brought their animals into the city for bidding and slaughter, it was a busy place, rich with the warm scents of manure and blood. Everyone seemed to be shouting to each other, making complicated gestures with their hands to bid when they couldn't be heard.