Conn Iggulden - The Field Of Swords

“Examining the rotting parts of soldiers is worth another two sesterces to anyone,” Cabera told her cheerfully. “I would also like some of these cushions.”

Servilia gritted her teeth. “They cost more than your services, old man. Twelve, then, but the cushions stay.”

Cabera clapped his hands in pleasure. “First month’s pay up front and a cup of wine to seal the agreement, I think?” he said.

Servilia opened her mouth to reply and heard a throat delicately cleared behind her. It was Nadia, one of the new ones she had brought to the house, a woman with kohl-rimmed eyes as hard as her body was soft.

“Mistress, there is a messenger from the legion at the door.”

“Bring him to me, Nadia,” Servilia said, forcing a smile. As the woman disappeared, she spun to Cabera.

“Out of there, now. I will not be embarrassed by you.”

Cabera clambered out of the silken pit, his long fingers slipping one of the cushions under his robe as she turned back to greet the messenger.

The man was blushing furiously and Servilia could see from Nadia’s grin at his shoulder that she had been talking to him.

“Madam, Caesar wants you at the barracks.” His eyes swiveled to Cabera. “You too, healer. I’m to be your escort. The horses are outside.”

Servilia rubbed the corner of her mouth in thought, ignoring the way the messenger watched her.

“Will my son be there?” she asked.

The messenger nodded. “Everyone is being called in, madam. I have only Centurion Domitius to find.”

“That’s easily done, then. He’s upstairs,” she said, watching with interest as the man’s blush spread down his neck into his tunic. She could practically feel the heat coming off him.

“I’d leave it a little while if I were you,” she said.

As they seated themselves in the long room overlooking the yard, every one of them felt hollow twinges of excitement as they caught each other’s eyes. Julius dominated the room as he stood by the window, waiting for the last to arrive. The breeze off the hills spun slowly through the room and cooled them, but the tension was almost painful. Octavian laughed nervously as Cabera pulled a silk cushion from under his robe, and Renius held his wine cup in too tight a grip.

As the guard closed the door and went down the stairs, Brutus drained his wine and grinned. “So, are you going to tell us why we’re here, Julius?”

They all watched the man who faced them. The familiar tiredness had vanished from his features and he stood straight, his armor shining with oil.

“Gentlemen, Servilia. We are finished here. It’s time to go home,” he said.

There was a moment of silence and then Servilia jumped in her seat as the others cheered and laughed together.

“I’ll drink to that,” Renius said, tilting his cup.

Julius unrolled a map on his desk and they crowded around him as he laid weights at the corners.

Servilia felt excluded and then Julius caught her eye and smiled at her. It would be all right.

As Julius discussed the problems of moving five thousand men, she began to calculate. The Golden Hand was barely started, and who would run it if she left? Angelina didn’t have the iron in her. She’d be running a free house within a year if Servilia left her in charge. Nadia, possibly. A heart of flint and experienced enough, but could she be trusted not to steal half the profits? Hearing her own name snapped her back from her thoughts.

“… not by land then, in the time. Servilia gave me the idea when we met the merchant captain she uses. I’ll write orders to commandeer every ship on the passage. That is not to be discussed except between ourselves. If they hear we’re going to use their ships, they’ll put to sea and stay there.”

“Why are you leaving before you’re finished here?” Cabera said softly.

The conversation around the table died to nothing and Julius paused with his finger on the map.

“I am finished here. This is not where I should be,” he replied. “You told me that yourself. If I wait out my term, Pompey will send me somewhere else well away from my city, and if I refuse, that will be my last posting anywhere. There are no second chances from that man.” Julius tapped his finger on the map over the tiny mark of the city he loved.

“There are elections at the end of the year for two seats as consul. I’m going back to try for one of them.”

Cabera shrugged, still testing. “And then? Will you fight a war for the city like Sulla?”

Julius became very still for a moment and his eyes pinned Cabera.

“No, old friend,” he said softly. “Then I will no longer be posted at Pompey’s whim. As consul, I will be untouchable. I will be at the heart of things again.”

Cabera wanted to let the moment pass, but his stubbornness forced him to speak.

“But after that? Will you have Brutus drill the Tenth while you write new laws the people will not understand? Will you lose yourself in maps and bridges as you have done here?”

Renius reached out and gripped Cabera by the shoulder to make him stop, but the old man ignored the hand.

“You can do more than that, if you have eyes to see it,” he said, wincing as Renius closed his hand on his thin muscles, hurting him.

“If I am consul,” Julius said slowly, “I will take what I love to the wildest places I can find. Is that what you want me to say? That Spain is too quiet for me? I know it. I will find my path there, Cabera. The gods listen more closely to those who speak from Rome. They just can’t hear me out here.” He smiled to cover his anger and felt Servilia watching him over Octavian’s shoulder. Renius dropped his hand from the old man’s arm and Cabera scowled at him.

Brutus spoke to smooth the moment over. “If we start holding ships tonight, how long before we have enough to move the Tenth?”

Julius nodded his head a fraction in thanks. “A month at most. I have already sent word that we need captains for a large cargo. I think no more than thirty ships will be enough to land at Ostia. The Senate would never let me approach Rome with the whole legion as it is, so I’ll need a camp at the coast. I’ll take the gold with me on that first trip. We have enough for what I have in mind.”

Servilia watched them argue and wrangle as the sun set behind them. They barely noticed the guard enter the room to light more lamps. After a while, she left to begin her own arrangements, the night air of the yard making her feel alive after the heat of the room.

She could still hear their voices as she walked across the yard and saw the gate sentries stiffen as they saw her.

“Is it true we’re going to Rome, madam?” one of them said as she passed him. It came as no surprise to find the man had heard a rumor. Some of her best information in Rome came from the lower ranks.

“It’s true,” she said.

The man smiled. “It’s about time,” he said.

When the Tenth moved, they moved quickly. Ten of the largest ships in Valentia port had guards preventing their escape within a day of the meeting in the long room. To the fury of the merchant captains, their precious cargoes were unloaded and left in the warehouses on the docks to make more room for the vast stores of equipment and men that made up a legion.

The gold at the fort was crated and taken out to the ships, with fully armed centuries attending every foot of the journey. The forges of the swordmakers were dismantled and tied on huge wooden pallets that took teams of oxen to lift into the dark holds. The great war ballistae and onagers were reduced to spars, and the heavy ships sank lower and lower in the sea as they were filled. They would need the highest tide to sail out of the harbor, and Julius set the day exactly one month after he had made the formal announcement. If all went well, they would reach Rome just over a hundred days before the consular elections.