Conn Iggulden - The Field Of Swords

“I need gold, Julius,” Pompey said. “Crassus tells me you have found great wealth in Gaul, much more than the city ever sees in taxes.”

Julius glanced at Crassus with interest, wondering how good his sources were in their estimates.

Pompey continued, the words spilling out now that he had begun.

“My private income is not enough to rebuild the city, Julius. Parts have been damaged in rioting and the Senate does not have the funds. If you have, it would be used to finish the temples and houses we have begun.”

“Surely Crassus could advance you the money?” Julius asked.

Pompey flushed slightly. “I told you, Crassus,” he snapped to his colleague. “I will not come like a beggar-”

Crassus interrupted, laying a hand on Pompey’s arm to soothe him.

“It is not a loan, Julius, but a gift that Pompey is asking.” He smiled wryly. “I have never understood how money can be so uncomfortable a subject in so many quarters. It is simple enough. The Senate treasury is not fat enough to supply the millions needed to rebuild parts of the city. Another aqueduct, temples, new streets. It all costs. Pompey does not wish to create new debts, even to me.”

Julius thought ruefully of the ships that waited on his payment. He suspected Pompey did not know the full content of the letter Crassus had sent him, but at least he had come prepared. Sometimes Crassus’s bluntness was a blessing.

“I have it,” he said. “Though in return, I want the Tenth and Third added to the Senate payroll. I cannot continue to fund their salaries out of my own purse.”

Pompey nodded. “That is… acceptable,” he said.

Julius took another piece of cold meat from the table and ate it as he thought.

“I would need my orders confirmed in writing, of course. Another five years in Gaul, bound as solidly as you can make it. I do not want to have to renegotiate the terms next year. Crassus, your son is ready for command. I am sorry to lose such a fine officer, but that was our agreement and I will hold to it. I wish you luck with your new province. Believe me when I say it is no easy task to cut new paths for Rome.”

Pompey said nothing, so with a smile Crassus spoke for him.

“And the gold, Julius?”

“Wait here,” Julius replied, standing.

He returned with Publius and Brutus, the three men struggling with a long cedar chest that had been bound with strips of iron. Both Pompey and Crassus stood as they entered the room, and Crassus went to embrace his son. Julius opened the box and revealed enough fat yellow coins to impress even Crassus, so that he stepped away from his son and ran a hand over the gold.

“I have three more of these with me, gentlemen. More than three million sesterces by weight. Is it enough?”

Pompey too could not seem to look away from the precious metal. “It is,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Then we have an agreement?” Julius said, looking from one to the other. Both senators nodded.

“Excellent. I will need rooms for my men tonight, here or in a tavern, if you can recommend a few places. They’ve earned the right to some hot food and a bath. I will return here at dawn to go through the details with you both.”

“There is something else that might interest you, Caesar,” Crassus said, his eyes twinkling. He glanced at Brutus as he spoke, then shrugged.

“A friend traveled up from Rome with us. I will show you the way.”

Julius raised an eyebrow, but Pompey too seemed to share some inner amusement as their eyes met.

“Lead on, then,” Julius said, following Crassus out into the colder corridors of the house.

Pompey was uncomfortable with the men Julius had brought into the room. Publius felt it and cleared his throat.

“I should bring in the rest of the gold, Consul, with your permission.”

“Thank you,” Pompey replied. He pulled a cloak from a peg on the door and went out with them into the night.

Crassus took a lamp from a wall bracket and led Julius down a long hall to the rear of the property.

“Who owns this house?” Julius asked, looking around at the richness of the furnishings.

“I do,” Crassus said. “The owner fell into difficulties and I was able to acquire it at an excellent price.”

Julius knew that the owner would have been one of those who suffered under the monopoly of trade that had been Crassus’s part of their original agreement. He was interested that the old man hadn’t tried to have his license extended, but the province Pompey had offered him would be enough to occupy his time.

Julius hoped Crassus would have the sense to let his son make the decisions. Though he liked the old senator, the man was no sort of general, whereas his son could very well be a fine one.

“In here, Julius,” Crassus said, handing him the lamp.

Julius could see a childish delight on Crassus’s wrinkled features that baffled him. He opened the door, closing it on the darkness behind.

Servilia had never looked more beautiful. Julius froze when he saw her, and then fumbled for a place to hang the lamp, the simple process suddenly seeming difficult.

The room was warmed by a fire in a hearth big enough to stand in. No touch of the howling winter reached them, and Julius drank in the lines of her as she watched him without speaking. She lay on a long couch and wore a dress of dark red cloth, like blood against her skin. He did not know what to say and only gazed in silence for a long time.

“Come here,” she said, holding out her hands to him. Silver bangles chimed on her wrist as she moved.

He crossed the room and as he touched her hands, he folded into her embrace and they were kissing.

There was no need for words.

Pompey regretted leaving the warmth of the house for the winter street, but a nagging curiosity would not leave him. As the boxes of gold were heaved up and carried into the house, he walked along the line of silent soldiers, falling naturally into his role as an officer of Rome. They had stood to attention and saluted as soon as he appeared, and now his inspection was natural, almost expected.

In truth, Pompey felt a responsibility for the Tenth. It had been his own order to merge Primigenia with a legion who had shamed themselves in battle, and he had felt a proprietary interest when reading Julius’s reports in the Senate. The Tenth had become Julius’s most trusted men, and it was no surprise to see them in the ranks Julius had chosen for the meeting.

Pompey spoke to one or two of them and they responded to his questions nervously, staring straight ahead. One or two were shivering, but they clenched their jaws as he passed, unwilling to show any weakness.

Pompey stopped in front of the centurion and congratulated him on the discipline of his men.

“What is your name?” he asked, though he knew it.

“Regulus, sir,” the man replied.

“I have had the pleasure of telling the Senate how well the Tenth have been doing in Gaul. Has it been difficult?”

“No, sir,” Regulus replied.

“I’ve heard it said that a legionary finds the waiting the hardest part of war,” Pompey said.

“It is no hardship, sir,” Regulus said.

“I am glad to hear that, Regulus. From what I have heard, you haven’t had a chance for your swords to grow rusty. No doubt there will be more battles ahead.”

“We are always ready, sir,” Regulus said, and Pompey moved on, speaking to another soldier a few places down the line.

Crassus came back into the warm room. His son was there waiting for him, and the old senator crossed to him, beaming.

“I have been so proud of you, lad. Julius mentioned your name twice in reports to the Senate,” Crassus said. “You have done well in Gaul, as well as I could have wanted. Now are you ready to lead a legion for your father?”