Conn Iggulden - The Death Of Kings

Julius sat silently in his mother's dressing room and watched while a slave applied the oils and paints that went some way toward hiding her wasted condition. The fact that she had allowed him to see her without the aids worried him as much as the actual shock of how thin and ill looking she had become. For so long, he had promised himself that he would reveal his understanding of her sickness and achieve a companionship of sorts from the rubble of his childhood. As the moment had come, he couldn't think how to begin. The woman sitting in front of the mirror was almost a stranger to him. Her cheeks had sunk into darkened hollows that resisted the paints the slave applied, showing through the lighter colors like a shadow of death that hung over her. Her dark eyes were listless and weary and her arms were so pitifully thin it made him wince to look at them.

Aurelia had known him, at least. She had greeted him with tears and a delicate embrace that he returned with infinite care, feeling as if he could break the fragile thing she had become. Even then, she gasped slightly as he held her, and guilt swept over him.

When the slave had packed her materials into an elegantly veneered case and bowed out of the room, Aurelia turned to her son and essayed a smile, though her skin crinkled like parchment under the applications of false colors.

Julius struggled with his emotions. Cabera had said his condition was different from his mother's, and he knew she had never suffered a wound like the one that had nearly killed him. Even so, they had something in common at last, though the gulf seemed unbridgeable.

“I… thought of you a great deal while I was away,” he began.

She didn't reply, seemingly transfixed by the examination of her face in the polished bronze. Her long, thin fingers rose to touch her throat and hair as she turned this way and that, frowning at herself.

“I was injured in a battle and ill for a long time,” Julius struggled on, “and afterward a strange fit would come over me. It… reminded me of your sickness and I thought I should tell you. I wish I had been a better son to you. I never understood what you were going through before, but when it happened to me it was like a window opening. I'm sorry.”

He watched her shaking hands smooth and caress her face as he spoke, their movements becoming more and more agitated. Worried for her, he half rose out of his seat and the movement distracted her so that she turned her face to him.

“Julius?” she whispered. Her pupils had widened darkly and her eyes seemed unfocused as they passed over him.

“I am here,” he said sadly, wondering if she had heard him at all.

“I thought you had left me,” she went on, her voice sending a shudder through him.

“No, I came back,” he said, feeling his eyes prickle with grief.

“Is Gaius all right? He's such a willful boy,” she said, closing her eyes and lowering her head as if to shut out the world.

“He is… well. He loves you very much,” Julius replied softly, bringing up his hand to clear the tears that stung him.

Aurelia nodded and turned back to her mirror and her contemplation. “I am glad. Would you send in the slave to tend me, dear? I will need a little makeup to face the house today, I think.”

Julius nodded and stood looking at her for a moment.

“I'll fetch her for you,” he said, and left the room.

As the noon shadow marked the sundial of the forum, Julius entered the great expanse with his guards, taking a direct route to the Senate building. As he crossed the open space, he was struck by the changes in the city since he'd left. The fortifications Marius had raised along the walls had been dismantled, and there were only a few legionaries to be seen. Even they were relaxed, walking with their mistresses or standing in small groups chatting, without a sign of the tension he had expected. It was a city at peace again and a shudder passed through him as he walked over the flat gray stones. He had brought ten soldiers of his command into the city, wanting them close while he was out of armor and in his formal robe. Such a precaution seemed unnecessary and he didn't know if he was pleased or sorry. The battle for the walls was as fresh in his mind as if he had never left, but the people enjoying the spring sunshine laughed and joked with each other, blind to the scenes that flashed into his mind. He saw Marius fallen again and the clash of dark figures as Sulla's forces cut down the defenders around their general.

His mouth twisted in bitterness as he considered how young and full of joy he had been that night. Fresh from the marriage bed, he had seen all their dreams and planning crushed and his own future altered forever. If they had beaten Sulla, if they had only beaten Sulla, Rome would have been spared years of brutality and the Republic might have regained some of its former dignity.

He halted his men at the bottom of the wide marble steps, and despite the contented mood in the forum, he told them to remain alert. After the death of Marius, he had learned it was ultimately safer to expect trouble, even by the Senate building.

Leaving his men to stand in the sun, Julius looked up at the studded bronze doors that had been unbarred for the assembly. Senators stood in pairs and threes, discussing the issues of the day as they waited for the gathering to be called. Julius saw his father-in-law, Cinna, with Crassus and walked up the steps to greet them. They had their heads close together as they talked, and Julius saw anger and frustration on their faces. Crassus was still the thin brown stick of a man Julius remembered, disdaining any sign of his wealth in his simple white robe and sandals. He had seen Cinna last at his wedding to Cornelia, and of the pair of senators, he had changed the most in the intervening years. As he turned to greet Julius, the younger man was struck by the wrinkles that had cut into his face, the visible effects of his worries. Cinna smiled tiredly at him and Julius returned it uncomfortably, never having got to know the man properly.

“‘The wanderer returns to us, his sword and bow at rest,' ” Crassus quoted. “Your uncle would be proud of you if he were here.”

“Thank you. I was just thinking of him,” Julius replied. “Seeing the city again is hard after so long, especially here. I keep expecting to hear his voice.”

“It was forbidden even to mention his name while Sulla was alive, did you know?” Crassus asked, watching him for a reaction.

Only a slight tightening of the mouth betrayed the young man's feelings. “Sulla's desires meant little to me while he lived; less so now,” he said flatly. “I would like to visit the tomb of Marius after the Senate meeting, to pay my respects.”

Crassus and Cinna exchanged glances and Crassus touched him on the arm in sympathy.

“I'm sorry, his remains were taken and scattered. It was some of Sulla's soldiers, though he denied it. I think that was why he left instructions to be cremated himself, though friends of Marius wouldn't stoop so low.”

He dropped his hand as Julius tensed with anger, visibly struggling to remain controlled. Crassus spoke calmly, giving him time to compose himself.

“The Dictator's legacy still plagues us in the form of his followers in Senate. Cato is first amongst them, and Catalus and Bibilus seem content to follow his lead in everything. I believe you know Senator Prandus, whose son you were captured with?”

Julius nodded. “I have some business to discuss with him after the meeting today,” he replied, once again giving the outward appearance of calm. Surreptitiously, he held his right hand in his left, suddenly worried that the emotions that swelled in him would begin a fit on the very steps of the Senate and disgrace him forever. Crassus affected not to notice anything was wrong, for which Julius was grateful.