The Emperor Series Books 1-4. Conn Iggulden
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toga and sandals came into the outer rooms to meet them as they passed through the door.
‘Renius! I heard it was you in the camp. The men are already talking about you losing your arm. Gods, it is good to see you!’ He beamed at them, the image of Roman efficiency, suntanned and hard, with a strong grip as he greeted each of them in turn.
Renius smiled back with genuine warmth.
‘Marius didn't tell me you were here, Carac. I am glad to see you well.’
‘You haven't aged, I swear it! Gods, you don't look a day over forty. How do you do it?’
‘Clean living,’ Renius grunted, still uncomfortable with the change Cabera had wrought.
The Prefect raised an eyebrow in disbelief, but let the subject drop.
‘And the arm?’
‘Training accident. The lad here, Marcus, cut me and I had it taken off.’
The Prefect whistled and shook Marcus' hand again.
‘I never thought I'd meet a man who could get to Renius. May I see the papers you brought with you?’
Marcus felt nervous all of a sudden. He passed them over and the Prefect motioned them to long benches as he read.
Finally, he passed them back. ‘You come very well recommended, Marcus. Who is the boy?’
‘He was on the merchant ship we took from the coast. He wants to be my servant and join the legion when he is older.’
The Prefect nodded. ‘We have many such in the camp, usually the bastard children of the men and the whores. If he shapes up there may be a place, but the competition will be fierce. I am more interested in you, young man.’
He turned to Renius. ‘Tell me about him. I will trust your judgement.’
Renius spoke firmly, as if reporting. ‘Marcus is unusually fast, even more so when his blood is fired. As he matures, I expect him to become a name. He is impetuous and brash and likes to fight, which is partly his nature and partly his youth. He will serve the Fourth Macedonia well. I gave him his basic training, but he has gone beyond that and will go further.’
‘He reminds me of your son. Have you noticed the resemblance?’ the Prefect asked quietly.
‘It had not … occurred to me,’ Renius replied uncomfortably.
‘I doubt that. Still, we always have need of men of quality and this is the place for him to find maturity. I will place him with the fifth century, the Bronze Fist.’
Renius took in a sharp breath. ‘You honour me.’
The Prefect shook his head. ‘You saved my life once. I am sorry I could not save your son's. This is a small part of my debt to you.’
Once again they shook hands. Marcus looked on in some confusion.
‘What now for you, old friend? Will you return to Rome to spend your gold?’
‘I had hoped there would be a place for me here,’ Renius said quietly.
The Prefect smiled. ‘I had begun to think you would not ask. The Fist is short of a weapons master to train them. Old Belius died of a fever six months ago and there is no one else as good. Will you take the post?’
Renius grinned suddenly, the old sharp grin. ‘I will, Carac. Thank you.’
The Prefect slapped him on the shoulder in obvious pleasure.
‘Welcome to the Fourth Macedonia, gentlemen.’ He signalled to a legionary standing to attention nearby. ‘Take this young man to his new quarters in the Bronze Fist century. Send the boy to the stables until I can assign duties to him with the other camp children. Renius and I have a lot of catching up to do – and a lot of wine to drink while we do it.’
Alexandria sat in silence, polishing grime from an ancient sword in Marius' little armoury. She was pleased he had been able to get back his town house. She'd heard the owner had rushed to make a gift of it to the new ruler of Rome. Much better than the thought of living with the rough soldiers in the city barracks – well, it would have been difficult at best. Gods knew, she wasn't afraid of men; some of her earliest memories were of them with her mother in the next room. They came in reeking of beer and cheap wine and went out with a swagger. They never seemed to last very long. One of them had tried to touch her once and she remembered seeing her mother properly angry for the first time in her young life. She'd cracked his skull with a poker and together they'd dragged him into an alleyway and left him. For days, her mother had expected the door to burst in and men to take her away to be hanged, but no one had come.
She sighed as she worked at the layers of crusted oil on the bronze blade, relic of some old campaign. At first, Rome had seemed a city with limitless possibilities, but Marius had taken control three months before and here she was still working all day for nothing and every day a little older. Others were changing the world, but her life remained the same. Only at night, when she sat with ancient Bant in his little metalwork room, did she feel she was making any progress in her life. He had shown her the uses of his tools and guided her hands through the first clumsy steps. He didn't speak much, but seemed to enjoy her company and she liked his silences and kind blue eyes. She had seen him first as he was shaping a brooch in the workshop and knew in that moment that it was something she could do. It was a skill worth learning, even for a slave.
She rubbed more vigorously. To be worth no more to a man than a horse, or even a good sword like the one she held! It wasn't fair.
‘Alexandria!’ Carla's voice, calling. For a moment, she was tempted to remain silent, but the woman had a tongue like a whip and her disapproval was feared by most of the female slaves.
‘Here,’ she called, putting the sword down and wiping her hands on a rag. There would be another task for her, another few hours of labour before sleep.
‘There you are, love. I need someone to run down to the market for me; would you do that?’
‘Yes!’ Alexandria stood up quickly. She had come to look forward to these rare errands over the previous few months. They were the only occasions when she was allowed to leave Marius' house and on the last few she had been trusted on her own. After all, where could she run?
‘I have a list of things for you to buy for the house. You always seem to get the best price,’ Carla said as she passed a slate over.
Alexandria nodded. She enjoyed bargaining with the traders. It made her feel like a free woman. The first time she hadn't been alone, but, even with a witness, Carla had been shocked at how much money the girl had saved the house. The traders had been charging over market value for years, knowing Marius had deep pockets. The older woman realised the girl had a talent and sent her out as much as possible, seeing also that she needed the little touches of freedom. Some never got used to the condition of slavery and were slowly broken down into depression and occasionally despair. Carla enjoyed watching Alexandria's face light up at the thought of a trip out.
She guessed the girl was keeping a coin or two from what she was given, but what did that matter? She was saving them silvers, so if she kept the odd bronze, Carla didn't begrudge them to her.
‘Go on with you. I want you back in two hours and not a minute later, understand?’
‘I do, Carla. Two hours. Thank you.’
The older woman grinned at her, remembering when she had been young and the world was such an exciting place. She knew all about Alexandria's visits to Bant the metalworker. The old man had taken quite a liking to her, it seemed. There was very little in the house that Carla didn't find out about sooner or later and she knew that in Alexandria's room was a small bronze disc that she had decorated with a lion's head using Bant's tools. It was a pretty piece.
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