Conn Iggulden - The Gods of war

Julius stood on the steps of the Senate house in front of a packed forum. He lifted his arms for silence, but it would not come. He signaled two of his men to blow the legion horns above the tumult, and even then the crowd was slow to become still. He looked across at Mark Antony and the two men shared a grin.

When at last they were quiet, Julius was content merely to stand and enjoy the sight of Rome around him, drinking it in. The steps were packed with faces of men he had known for years. The temples and buildings around the forum shone in the light of late summer.

"Nowhere else in the world is home as this city is home," he said at last. His voice echoed across the crowds as they watched with faces raised up to him. "I have seen Gaul. I have seen Asia Minor. I have seen Greece and Spain and Britain. I have walked in Alexander's cities and seen jewels and strange gods. I have found Roman voices in all those lands, cutting the soil, trading, and making a life for themselves. I have seen our laws and our honor in countries so distant as to seem like dreams. This city nourishes the world."

He bowed his head as they cheered, and when it seemed that they would not stop, he had his soldiers crash the butts of their spears on the stones of the forum.

"It gives me grief to bring Pompey's remains home with me. He did not die by my hand and his passing is a black day for Rome. Those who killed him have been punished and the gods will not let them forget the price of a consul. Let them weep forever for laying a hand on a man of Rome. In the years to come, they will remember the answer we gave them! Those of you who travel and trade will carry that protection of this city with you. If you are taken by enemies, tell them you are a Roman citizen and let them fear the storm that will answer a single drop of your blood. The storm will come in your defense. This I pledge to you all."

He raised his hands before they could cheer again, impatient to tell them more. In his mind, he could see the reality he could make with Cleopatra, so bright and perfect as to make words base in comparison.

"I grant an amnesty to all those who raised arms against me in this civil war. As I pardoned the men of Corfinium and Greece, I pardon all others who have followed their duty and their honor as they saw it. We are brothers and sisters of the same blood. We will begin afresh from this day, and let the past go. I am not another Sulla to be seeking enemies behind every door. I have other dreams for Rome."

He paused, aware of the senators who strained to hear every word.

"The gods have blessed my line with a son, of the blood of royal Egypt. I have brought him home for you to welcome him, as you have welcomed me."

One of Cleopatra's midwives stepped forward with the child and Julius took his son in his arms. The boy began to scream with astonishing ferocity, the sound echoing back and forth across the forum. It tore at the heart of Calpurnia as she watched the pride of the man she adored. She had lost him, and she turned away.

The citizens of Rome roared their approval as Julius turned in place to show them all. Their emotions had always been his to command and he knew they loved a show above all things. Julius laughed aloud with delight at their response, before passing his son back to the disapproving nurse. The crowd's reaction had frightened the child and there was no comforting him as she bustled away.

"I have dreams of a world where Roman courts judge the laws from the furthest edges of Africa to the frozen lands of the north. You will tell your children that you were here when Caesar returned. You will tell them the new world began on that day. We will make it new, and greater than that which has gone before."

He quietened them once more, patting empty air with his hands.

"These things do not come without a cost, or without labor. Good Roman sweat and even blood will be shed before we can make an age of gold for our children and theirs. I do not fear the price. I do not fear the work. I do not fear these things because I am a Roman citizen, of the greatest city in the world."

He turned away from the crash of their cheers, almost glowing with pleasure. The senators at his back had lost the smiles of reflected glory. Their eyes had hardened and grown cold as the words spilled out over the forum, lighting flames in the hearts of the mob. More than one of the older men wondered whether he could be controlled at all.

After the applause and grandiloquent speeches, the Senate house seemed to be filled with echoing ghosts as evening came. The celebrations would continue for days, and as Cicero stood alone in shadows he could hear muted laughter and old songs in the forum. There would be little time for peace or contemplation in the days ahead, at least until the wine had run dry. He wondered how many children would be conceived across the city and how many of them would be named for the man Rome honored.

He sighed to himself. An amphora of good red lay at his feet, unopened. He had intended to be among the first to toast Caesar, but somehow he had forgotten it as he witnessed the new breeze blowing through the city. The Republic had died at last, and the tragedy was that no one seemed to have noticed. What men like Pompey or Sulla could not achieve with fear and force of arms, Caesar had with indifference, shattering the traditions of centuries.

Cicero had known hope at first, when Julius stood to address the members of the nobilitas. Pompey's death had not stained him and Cicero thought the old compact with the citizens could still be remade.

That thin faith had lasted only moments. The laws of Rome were there to limit power and prestige, so that no man could rise too far above his fellows. Even in the dying days, there was strength enough to rein in Marius or Sulla. Somehow, Caesar had dragged himself above the rest, away from Rome. He had addressed the Senate as if they were supplicants, while the mob chanted his name outside.

Cicero could not find it in himself to love the people of his city. In the abstract, he took pride in the earnest voting that was the foundation of the Republic. The powers of the Senate had always been granted rather than taken. Yet in the end, those same citizens had found themselves a champion. There was no holding Caesar now, if there ever had been.

Cicero shook his head as he remembered how Julius had accepted the trite speeches of senators. He had let them talk, but when he rose, the Republic fell away from him like an old skin. The scribes had been aching by the time he had finished and the senators who had welcomed him could only sit in stunned awareness.

Cicero rose slowly to his feet, wincing as his knees cracked. The noise of the city seemed to surround the Senate house and he shuddered at the thought of going out through the drunken crowd. Would it have been different if they could have heard Caesar speak? He had promised to remake Rome: a new forum, great temples and roads, coins minted fresh from the gold of Gaul. His supporters would all have places in the Senate, his legions would be given the best lands and made wealthy. He planned four Triumphs over the months to come, more than any general of Rome had ever had. Gods, there was no end to it! In the midst of all the promises, Cicero had been desperate to hear some sign that Julius needed the Senate. Just a word to salve their dignity would have been enough, but it did not come. He told them the future and it never occurred to him that every word he spoke went further to cut himself free of them.

It was not how they had planned it, Cicero remembered. When Mark Antony had read the letters Julius sent from Egypt, they had discussed how they might honor the greatest general under Rome. In private, they had wondered whether he would accept the Senate at all. Cicero had voted with the others to bestow a Dictatorship of ten years, unheard of in history. The balanced scales of the Republic had been thrown down. It was all they could do.