The Gods of War. Conn Iggulden

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      A slave entered and bowed to Julius before speaking. ‘Master, there are visitors at the gate,’ he said.

      ‘Excellent,’ Julius replied, turning to Servilia. ‘I asked Domitius, Octavian and Ciro to bring their promotion lists to me.’ He seemed uncomfortable for a moment and the amusement faded from his face. ‘We have had to make changes since Brutus left for Greece. Will you sit in on the discussion?’

      ‘No, you don’t need me here,’ Servilia replied, raising her chin. Had she been summoned only to be ignored? Even for a leader of Rome, Julius was capable of the most appalling breaches of courtesy. It was more than possible that he thought the brief exchange was enough to fulfil his obligations to her. She folded her arms with slow care, and he looked at her then, seeing the irritation. His eyes lost their distracted blankness and she could almost feel the full force of his attention.

      ‘I should have kept the afternoon for you,’ he said, taking her hands. ‘Shall I send them away, Servilia? We could take horses out to the racetrack, or sit by the Tiber and enjoy the sun. I could teach you to swim.’

      It was an effort not to fall under the charm of the man. Despite all that had happened between them, Servilia could still feel the glamour he cast.

      ‘I can already swim, Julius. No, you see your men and go to Ostia. Perhaps you will still have a chance to visit your young wife tonight.’

      He winced at that, but they could both hear the clatter of his officers as they came into the main house. His time for her was coming to an end.

      ‘If there were two of me, it would not be enough for all I have to do,’ he said.

      ‘If there were two of you, you would kill each other,’ she retorted, as Domitius came into the room. He beamed at seeing Servilia and she acknowledged him with a smile before excusing herself. In a moment, only her fragrance remained in the air and Julius was busy welcoming the others and calling impatiently for food and drink.

      In her own house, Servilia relaxed, the soft footsteps of her slaves hardly interrupting her thoughts.

      ‘Mistress? The man you wanted is here,’ her slave announced.

      Servilia rose from her couch, her gold bracelets chiming gently in the silence. The slave retired quickly and Servilia regarded the man she had summoned with careful interest. He was not richly dressed, though she knew he could mimic any one of the classes of Rome if he chose to.

      ‘I have another task for you, Belas,’ she said.

      He bowed his head in response and she saw that he had grown bald on the crown. She remembered when he had worn his hair down to his shoulders in heavy blond locks and she grimaced at the unfairness of it. Age touched them all.

      ‘I am playing Dionysus for three more days,’ he said without preamble. ‘The performance has been described as sublime by those who know the theatre. After that, my time is yours.’

      She smiled at him and saw to her pleasure that he was still a little in love with her. It may have been that he saw her through a gauze of memory, but he had always been faithful in his adoration.

      ‘It will not be difficult work, Belas, though it will take you out of the city for a while.’

      ‘Out? I do not like the towns, Servilia. The peasants would not know a fine play by Euripides if it ran around them shouting vulgar obscenity. I haven’t left the city for almost twenty years and why would I? The world is here and there are some who come to every performance that has a part played by Belas, no matter how small.’

      Servilia did not laugh at his vanity. Though he claimed a genius as yet unrecognised, he could be a hard and cunning man and he had been reliable in the past.

      ‘Not even the towns, Belas. I want you to watch an estate outside the city for me, a woman there.’

      Belas took in a sharp breath. ‘Is there a tavern near this place? Surely I am not required to lie in stinking ditches for you? Dionysus should not be reduced to such a level.’

      ‘There is no tavern, my fox, and I suspect you have already guessed the place I will send you. As I remember the play, Dionysus would lie anywhere for a few good pieces of gold as well.’

      Belas shrugged and his face changed subtly, his features a mask for the man within. ‘It can only be this new wife of Caesar’s. The whole city is talking of the girl. No courtship, I noticed, or poems bought from the writers of such lines, not for him. He must have spent her weight in gold, judging by the estate her father is suddenly looking at buying.’

      He watched her closely as he spoke and could not resist smiling smugly as her face showed the accuracy of his chatter.

      ‘It has been a month since the hasty ceremony and still no announcement of a swelling belly,’ he went on. ‘Did he not sample her before the wedding? Pompeia comes from a fertile family and I have been waiting for the happy news and more free wine to drown our envy. He may be bald under those leaves, but he has had a daughter before, so perhaps she is barren?’

      ‘You are a malicious little gossip, Belas, did I ever tell you?’ Servilia replied. ‘He is not bald yet and not every marriage is blessed with children from the first night.’

      ‘I have heard he tries valiantly, though. Stallions have done less with mares in heat, from what I …’

      ‘Enough, Belas,’ she said, her expression growing cold. ‘An aureus a week, until the army leaves for Greece. Will you tell me you can do better in a playhouse somewhere?’

      ‘Not better than the payment, but my public will forget me. I may not get work as easily afterwards. They are fickle, you know, in their affection and prices have risen with all the gold Caesar brought from Gaul. Two gold pieces a week would keep me alive long enough to find work, when you are finished with old Belas.’

      ‘Two it is, but I will want your eyes on that house at all times. I do not want excuses from you, or one of your wild stories about gambling games that dragged you in against your will.’

      ‘My word is good, Servilia. You have always known that.’ His tone was serious and she accepted it.

      ‘You have not said what I am looking for,’ he went on.

      ‘She is very young, Belas, and the young can be fools almost as much as the old. Watch she does not stray or be tempted by some fine boy in the city.’

      ‘And your interest in this, my beautiful queen? Could it be that you are hoping she will be tempted? Perhaps I should put temptation in her path for her to stumble over. Such things could easily be arranged.’

      Servilia bit her lip as she thought, before shaking her head. ‘No. If she is a fool, it will not come through me.’

      ‘I am curious to know why you would spend gold on another man’s wife,’ Belas said, tilting his head as he watched her reactions. To his astonishment, spots of colour appeared on her cheeks.

      ‘I … will help him, Belas. If to be useful is all I can be to him, then I will be useful.’

      At her words, his face softened and he approached her, taking her in his arms. ‘I have been as hopeless, once or twice. СКАЧАТЬ