Conn Iggulden - The Field Of Swords

The consul pressed him daily to move against those he had named as traitors. While Julius delayed, he was tormented by the thought that they could strike and the city would plunge into a chaos he could have prevented. He had spies watching their houses and it was clear enough that they met in private rooms and bathhouses where no listening ear could intrude. Still Julius did not act. To believe there was a plot of the magnitude Crassus had described seemed impossible when he looked out on the quiet streets around the campaign house. Yet he had seen war touch Rome before, and that was enough for him to send Brutus to scout where Crassus had pointed them.

This was the burden of the responsibility he had craved, Julius could acknowledge wryly to himself.

Though he could wish for someone else to risk their career and life, the decision had been left in his hands.

He did not underestimate the stakes. With nothing but a few names, Julius could not accuse senators of treason without putting his own neck on the line. If he failed to make a case, the Senate would turn against him without a moment’s regret. Worse, the people might fear a return to the days of Sulla, where no one knew who next would be dragged out of their homes for treason. Rome could be damaged more by error than if he had done nothing, and that pressure was almost too much to bear.

Alone for a few precious moments, Julius thumped his fist on the table, shaking it. How could he trust Crassus after such a revelation? As consul, he should have denounced Catiline’s conspiracy the moment he stepped into the Senate building. Of all the men in Rome, he had failed in his most basic duty, and despite his protestations of innocence, Julius found it hard to forgive him that weakness. Not since Sulla had an armed force threatened to enter the city, and the memory of that night still caused Julius to shudder. He had seen Marius brought down by soldiers in dark cloaks, swarming over him like the ants of Africa. Crassus should have known better than to listen to men like Catiline, no matter what they promised him.

Julius was startled from his thoughts by a commotion downstairs. His hand dropped to the gladius laid on the table before he recognized Brutus’s voice and relaxed. That was what Crassus had brought about, a return to the fear he had felt when Cato threatened him and every man had to be considered an enemy.

Anger swelled as he considered how Crassus had manipulated him, yet he knew the old man would have what he wanted. The conspirators had to be reined in before they acted. Could they be threatened? he wondered. A century of the Tenth sent with his best officers to their homes, perhaps. If the men realized their plans were known, the conspiracy could be allowed to die stillborn.

Brutus knocked and entered and Julius knew it was bad news as he saw his expression.

“I had my men scout the villages Crassus warned you about. I think he’s telling the truth,” Brutus said without preamble. There was none of his usual lightness of manner.

“How many swords do they have?” Julius asked.

“Eight thousand, maybe more, though they’re spread out. Every town up there is full of men, far too many to support. No legion marks or banners, just an awful lot of blades too close to Rome for comfort. If my lads hadn’t been looking for signs, they might have missed them completely. I think the threat is real,

Julius.”

“Then I must move,” Julius said. “It’s gone too far to warn them off. Take men to the houses we’ve been watching. Go to Catiline’s home yourself. Arrest the conspirators and bring them to the Senate meeting this afternoon. I’ll take the floor there and tell our senators how close they came to destruction.” He rose and buckled his sword onto his belt. “Be careful, Brutus. They must have supporters in the city for this to work. Crassus said they would start fires in the poor areas as the signal, so we must have men on the streets, ready for them. Who knows how many are involved?”

“The Tenth will be spread thinly if we try to cover the whole city, Julius. I can’t keep order and take the field against the mercenaries at the same time.”

“I will convince Pompey to use his men on the streets. He’ll see the need. After you have brought the men to the Senate, give me an hour to put the case and then march. If I’m not there to lead, go alone against them.”

Brutus paused for a moment, understanding what he was being asked to do.

“If I take the field without a Senate order, that could be the end of me, whether we bring victory or not,” he said softly. “Are you sure you can trust Crassus not to betray you in this?”

Julius hesitated. It would be enough to finish them all if Crassus refused to repeat his accusations in the Senate house. The old man was subtle enough to have created the conspiracy simply to remove a few of his opponents. Crassus could be rid of his competitors, while remaining unstained by all of it.

Still, what choice did he have? He could not allow a rebellion to begin while he had the chance to stop it.

“I can’t trust him, no, but no matter who is responsible for that gathering of soldiers, I cannot allow a threat to Rome. Arrest the men he has named before any more harm is done by waiting. I’ll take the responsibility if I can get to you. If I am not there, it’s your decision. Wait as long as you can.”

Brutus led twenty of his best with Domitius to take Catiline at his own home. To his fury, they were delayed crucial moments as they broke through his outer gate. By the time they reached the private rooms,

Catiline was warming his hands at a brazier filled with burning papers. The man seemed calm as he greeted the soldiers. His face was almost sculpted out of hard planes, and the breadth of his shoulders showed he was one who took care of his strength. Unusually for a senator, he wore a gladius at his side in an ornate scabbard.

Rushing in, Brutus threw a jug of wine on the flames. As the wet smoke hissed out, he rammed his hand into the sodden ashes, but there was nothing left.

“Your master has overstepped the mark, gentlemen,” Catiline remarked.

“My orders are to take you to the Curia, Senator, to answer charges of treason,” Domitius told him.

Catiline let his right hand rest on the pommel of the gladius, and both Brutus and Domitius stiffened.

“If you touch that sword again, you will die right now,” Brutus warned him softly, and Catiline’s eyes opened wide under the heavy lids as he assessed the danger facing him.

“What is your name?” he asked.

“Marcus Brutus of the Tenth.”

“Well, Brutus, Consul Crassus is a good friend of mine, and when I am free, I will discuss this with you in more detail. Now do as you have been told and take me to the Senate.”

Domitius put out a hand to hold the senator’s arm, and Catiline knocked it aside, his temper showing through the false calm.

“Do not dare to put hands on me! I am a senator of Rome. When this is over, do not think I will forget the insults to my person. Your master will not always be able to protect you from the law.”

Catiline swept out past them, his expression murderous. The soldiers of the Tenth formed up around him, exchanging worried glances. Domitius said nothing more as they reached the street, though he hoped for all their sakes that the other groups had found some proof with which to accuse the men. Without it,

Julius could well have created his own destruction.

The road outside was heaving with the morning crowds, and Brutus had to use the flat of his sword to clear the way for them. The press was too great for the citizens to move away easily, and progress was slow.

Brutus swore under his breath as they reached the first corner, and didn’t sense the change in the crowd until it was almost too late.