The Gods of War. Conn Iggulden

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СКАЧАТЬ have said little of the communications we sent to Caesar. Why have we not discussed his offer to halt?’

      Pompey frowned at the nodding heads around him. He sensed they would not stand for a blustering answer.

      ‘His terms were unacceptable, Cicero, as he knew they would be. He seeks to drive a wedge between us with his promises. Do you really believe he will end his drive south simply because I have left the city? You do not know him.’

      Cicero folded his arms across his narrow chest, raising one hand until he could stroke the skin of his throat.

      ‘Perhaps, though this is the place to debate the issue. Better to have it out in the open than leave it to be discussed in private. Have you responded to his offer, Pompey? I recall you said you would answer him.’

      The two men locked gazes and Pompey gripped the rostrum more tightly as he struggled not to lose patience. Cicero was a subtle man, but Pompey had hoped he could depend on him.

      ‘I have done everything I said I would. I wrote under senate seal to demand he return to Gaul. I will not negotiate while his legions are within striking distance of my city and he knows it. His words are simply to confuse us and cause delay. They mean nothing.’

      Cicero raised his head. ‘I agree, Pompey, though I believe all information should be made available to us here.’ Choosing not to see Pompey’s surprise, Cicero turned his head to address the senators on the benches around him. ‘I do wonder if we are discussing a Roman general or another Hannibal who will be satisfied with nothing less than power torn from our hands. What right does Caesar have to demand that Pompey leave the city? Do we now negotiate with invaders? We are the government of Rome and we are threatened by a mad dog, leading armies we trained and created. Do not underestimate the danger in this. I concur with Pompey. Though it will hurt worse than anything we have suffered before, we must retreat to gather loyal forces in Greece. The rule of law must not bend for the whims of our generals, or we are no more than another tribe of savages.’

      Cicero sat down, after meeting Pompey’s eyes with a brief flicker of amusement. His support would sway a number of the weaker ones in the chamber and Pompey inclined his head in silent thanks.

      ‘There is no time for lengthy debate, gentlemen,’ Pompey said. ‘Another day will change nothing except to bring Caesar closer. I move we vote now and plan accordingly.’

      Under Pompey’s stern eye, there was little chance of rebellion, as he had intended. One by one, the senators rose to show their support, and no one dared abstain. At last, Pompey nodded, satisfied.

      ‘Alert your households and plan for a journey. I have recalled all the soldiers in Caesar’s path to the city. They will be here to help man the fleet and arrange our departure.’

      The sun shone on the back of Julius’ neck as he sat on a fallen tree in the middle of a wheatfield. Wherever he looked, he could see dark patches of his men as they rested amongst the golden crops and ate cold meat and vegetables. Cooking fires had been forbidden as they crossed into the lowlands of Etruria. The wheat was dry and rough to the touch and a single spark could send sheets of flame racing across the fields. Julius almost smiled at the peaceful scene. Fifteen thousand of the most experienced soldiers in the world and he could hear them laughing and singing like children. It was a strange thing to be there, out in the open. He could hear the calls of birds he had known as a boy and when he reached down and took a little of the leaf mulch in his hand, he was home.

      ‘It is a fine thing to be here,’ he said to Octavian. ‘Can you feel it? I’d almost forgotten what it is like to be on my own land, surrounded by my people. Can you hear them sing? You should learn the words, lad. They’d be honoured to teach them to you.’

      Slowly, Julius rubbed the damp leaves together in his hand and let them fall. The soldiers of the Tenth reached a chorus, their voices soaring over the fields.

      ‘I heard that song from the men who followed Marius, years ago,’ he said. ‘These things seem to survive somehow.’

      Octavian looked at his general, tilting his head as he assessed his mood. ‘I feel it. This is home,’ he said.

      Julius smiled. ‘I haven’t been this close to the city in ten years. But I can sense her on the horizon. I swear I can.’ He raised his hand and pointed over the low hills, heavy with wheat. ‘Over there, waiting for us. Fearing us perhaps, while Pompey threatens and blusters.’

      His eyes grew cold as the last words were spoken. He would have continued, but Brutus rode up through the crops, leaving a snaking path behind him. Julius rose to his feet and they clasped hands.

      ‘The scouts report eleven cohorts, maybe twelve,’ Brutus said.

      Julius’ mouth twisted irritably. Every legion post and road fort had been cleared before them as they moved south. His march had shaken them free like ripe fruit and now they were within reach. Whatever their quality, six thousand men were too many to leave at his back.

      ‘They’ve gathered in Corfinium,’ Brutus continued. ‘The town looks like someone kicked a wasp nest. Either they know we’re close, or they’re getting ready to move back to Rome.’

      Julius glanced around him, noticing how many in earshot were sitting up and listening, anticipating his order. The thought of unleashing them on Roman soldiers was almost a blasphemy.

      Pompey had done well to recall the guards. They would do more good on the walls of Rome than wasted against the Gaul veterans. Julius knew he should strike fast to blood the campaign and seal the decision made on the banks of the Rubicon. Brutus shifted at the delay, but Julius still did not speak, staring into nothing. The men in Corfinium were inexperienced. It would be a slaughter.

      ‘The numbers are accurate?’ Julius said, softly.

      Brutus shrugged. ‘As far as they can be. I didn’t let the scouts risk being seen, but it’s clear ground. There’s no ambush. I’d say these are the only soldiers between us and Rome. And we can take these. The gods know we have enough experience breaking into towns.’

      Julius looked up as Domitius and Ciro came out of the wheat with Regulus. Mark Antony was only a short way behind them and he felt the pressure to give the orders to spill Roman blood on Roman land. Once those first lives were taken, every loyal hand would be raised against him. Every legion would swear vengeance unto death against his name. The civil war would be a test of strength and numbers that he could very well lose. His mind searched feverishly and he wiped sweat from his forehead.

      ‘If we kill them, we will destroy any hope of peace in the future,’ he said, slowly. Domitius and Brutus exchanged a quick glance as Julius went on, testing the thoughts aloud. ‘We need … guile, as well as a strong arm, against our people. We need to win their loyalty, and that cannot be accomplished by killing men who love Rome as I do.’

      ‘They won’t let us through, Julius,’ Brutus said, colouring with irritation. ‘Would you, if an army wanted a path to your city? They’ll fight just to slow us down; you know they will.’

      Julius frowned with the anger that was always close to the surface. ‘These are our own, Brutus. It is no small thing to be talking of killing them. Not for me.’

      ‘That decision was made when we crossed the river and came south,’ Brutus replied, refusing to back down. ‘You knew the price then. Or will you go alone and give yourself up to Pompey?’

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