The Emperor Series Books 1-5. Conn Iggulden

Чтение книги онлайн.

      Julius stood with Cabera and Tubruk at the docks, his face grey and cold. In contrast, as if to mock the grim events of his life, the day was hot and perfect, with only a light breeze coming off the sea to bring relief to the dust-stained travellers. It had been a hectic flight from the stinking city. At first he had been alone and on a sway-backed pony that was all he could buy for a gold ring. Grimacing, he had skirted around the firepits filled with flesh and trotted onto the main stone road west to the coast.

      Then he heard a familiar hail and saw his friends step out from the trees ahead. It had been a joyous reunion to find each other alive, though the mood darkened as they told their stories.

      Even in that first moment, Julius could see Tubruk had lost some of his vitality. He looked gaunt and dirty and told briefly of how they had lived as animals in streets where every sort of horror happened in the day and grew worse at night, where screams and shouts were the only clues. He and Cabera had agreed to wait a week on the road to the coast, hoping Julius could win free.

      ‘After that,’ Cabera said, ‘we were going to steal some swords and cut you out.’

      Tubruk laughed in response and Julius could see they had grown closer in their time together. It failed to lighten his mood. Julius told them of Sulla’s whimsical cruelty and his fists clenched in fresh anger as the words spilled from him.

      ‘I will come back to Rome. I will cut off his balls if he touches my wife,’ he said quietly at the end.

      His companions could not hold his gaze for long and even Cabera’s usual humour had vanished for a while.

      ‘He has the pick of women in Rome, Gaius,’ Tubruk murmured. ‘He’s just the sort of man who likes to twist the knife a little. Her father will keep her safe, even get her out of Rome if there’s a danger. That old man would set his guards on Sulla himself if there was a threat to her. You know this.’

      Julius nodded, his eyes distant, needing to be persuaded. At first, he had wanted to try to get to her under cover of night, but the curfew was back and moving in the streets would mean instant death.

      At least Cabera had managed to get hold of a few valuable items in the days he had spent on the streets with Tubruk. A gold armlet he had found in ashes bought them horses and bribes to pass the wall guards. The drafts that Julius still carried against his skin were too large to change outside a city and it was infuriating to have to rely on a few bronze coins when paper wealth was so close, but useless to them. Julius was not even sure that Marius’ signature would make them good any more, but guessed the wily general would have thought of that. He had prepared for almost anything.

      Julius had spent a couple of their valuable coins sending letters, giving each to legionaries on their way back to the city or outwards to the coast and Greece.

      Cornelia would know he was safe, at least, but it would be a long time before he could see her again. Until he could return with strength and support, he was not able to return at all and the bitterness of it twisted and ate at him, leaving him empty and tired. Marcus would hear of the disaster in Rome and not come blindly back to look for him when his term of service ended. That was only a small comfort. As never before, he felt the loss of his friend.

      A thousand other regrets taunted him as they came into his mind, too painful to be allowed to take root. The world had changed fundamentally for the young man. Marius could not be dead. The world was empty without him.

      Weary after days on the road, the three men trotted their horses into the bustling coastal port west of Rome. Tubruk spoke first, after they had dismounted and tied their horses to a post outside an inn.

      ‘The flags of three legions are here. Your papers will get you a commission in any of them. That one is based in Greece, that one in Egypt and the last is on a trade run up to the north.’ Tubruk spoke calmly, showing his knowledge of the empire’s movements had not waned in the time he had spent running the estate.

      Julius felt uncomfortable and exposed on the docks, yet this was not a decision to be hurried. If Sulla changed his mind, even now there could be armed men on their way to kill them or bring them back to Rome.

      Tubruk could not give much advice. True, he had recognised the banners of the legions, but he knew he was fifteen years out of date when it came to the reputations of the officers. He felt frustrated to have to put such a serious decision in the hands of the gods. At least two years of Julius’ life would be spent with whichever unit they decided upon and they could end up flipping coins.

      ‘I like the sound of Egypt, myself,’ Cabera said, looking wistfully across the sea. ‘It is a long time since I shook its dust from my sandals.’ He could feel the future bending around the three of them. Few lives had such simple choices, or maybe all did but most could not see them when they came. Egypt, Greece or the north? Each beckoned in different ways. The lad must make a choice on his own, but at least Aegyptus was hot.

      Tubruk studied the galleys rocking at their moorings, looking for one to rule out. Each was guarded by alert legionaries, and men swarmed over the wallowing vessels, repairing, scrubbing or refitting after voyages all over the world.

      He shrugged. He assumed that after the fuss had died down and Rome was peaceful he would return to the estate. Someone had to keep the place alive.