The Emperor Series Books 1-4. Conn Iggulden
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bit lost up here. How are you feeling?’ Tubruk asked.
‘Nervous. Proud. Amazed so many turned up.’
Tubruk looked with fresh interest at the crowd and turned back with eyebrows raised.
‘Most of the power in Rome is in this room. Your father would be proud of you. I'm proud of you.’ He paused for a moment, unsure of whether to continue. ‘Your mother did want to come, but she was just too weak.’
Julius nodded and Tubruk punched his arm affectionately before going back to his seat a few rows behind.
‘In my village, we just take a girl by the hair and pull her into our hut,’ Cabera muttered, shocking the priest out of his beatific expression. Seeing this, the old man went on cheerfully: ‘If it didn't work, you'd give her father a goat and grab one of her sisters. Much simpler that way – no hard feelings and free goat milk for the father. I had a herd of thirty goats when I was a lad, but I had to give most of them away, leaving me without enough to support myself. Not a wise decision, but difficult to regret, no?’
The priest had flushed at these casual references to barbarian practices, but Julius only chuckled.
‘You old fraud. You just like to shock these upright Roman citizens.’
Cabera sniffed loudly.
‘Maybe,’ he admitted, remembering the trouble he'd caused when he had tried to offer his last goat upfront for a night of pleasure. It had seemed like sense at the time, but the girl's father had taken a spear from his wall and chased the young Cabera up into the hills where he had to hide for three days and nights.
The priest eyed Cabera with distaste. He was nobilitas himself, but in his religious role wore a cream toga with a hood that left only his face bare. He waited patiently for the bride with the others. Julius had explained that the ceremony must be as simple as possible because his uncle would want to leave at the earliest moment. The priest had scratched his chin in obvious annoyance at this, before Julius slipped a small pouch of coins into his robe as an ‘offering’ to the temple. Even the nobilitas had bills and debts. It would be a short service. After Cornelia was brought in to be given away by her father, there would be prayers to Jupiter, Mars and Quirinus. An augur had been paid gold to predict wealth and happiness for them both. The vows would follow and Julius would put a simple gold ring on her finger. She would be his wife. He would be her husband. He felt sweat dampen his armpits and tried to shrug away the nervousness.
He turned again and looked straight into the eyes of Alexandria as she stood in a simple dress, wearing a brooch of silver. There were tears sparkling in her gaze, but she nodded at him and something eased within.
Soft music began at the back, swelling to fill the vaulted ceiling like the incense smoke that spilled from the censers. Julius looked round and caught his breath and everything else was forgotten.
Cornelia was there, standing tall and straight in a cream dress and thin golden veil, her hand on the arm of her father, who was clearly unable to keep a beaming smile from his face. Her hair had been tinted darker, and her eyes seemed of the same warm colour. At her throat was a ruby the size of a bird's egg, held in gold against the lighter tone of her skin. She looked beautiful and fragile. There was a small wreath on the crest of her head, made from verbena and sweet marjoram flowers. He could smell their scent as Cornelia and her father approached. Cinna let go of her arm as they reached Julius, remaining a pace behind.
‘I pass Cornelia into your care, Gaius Julius Caesar,’ he said formally.
Julius nodded. ‘I accept her into my care.’ He turned to her and she winked at him.
As they knelt, he caught again the scent of flowers from her and couldn't stop himself glancing over to her bowed head. He wondered if he would have loved her if he hadn't known Alexandria, or if he had met her before he had gone to the houses where women could be bought for a night or even an hour. He hadn't been ready for this, not back then, a year and a lifetime ago. The prayers were a peaceful murmur over their heads and he was content. Her eyes were soft as summer darkness.
The rest of the ceremony went in a blur for him. The simple vows were spoken – ‘Where you go, there go I.’ He knelt under the priest's hands for what seemed like eternity and then they were out in the sunshine and the crowd was cheering and shouting, ‘Felicitas!’ and Marius was bidding him goodbye with a great clap on his back.
‘You're a man now, Julius. Or she will make you one very soon!’ he said loudly, with a twinkle in his eye. ‘You have your father's name. He would be proud of you.’
Julius returned the grip strongly. ‘Do you want me on the walls now?’
‘I think we can spare you for a few hours. Report to me at four this afternoon. Metella will have finished crying about then, I think.’
They grinned at each other like boys and Julius was left in a space for a moment, alone with his bride in a crowd of well-wishers. Alexandria walked up to him and he smiled, suddenly nervous. Her dark hair was bound with wire and the sight of her made his throat feel tight. There was so much history in those dark eyes.
‘That's a beautiful brooch you are wearing,’ he said.
She reached up and tapped it with her hand.
‘You'd be surprised at how many people have asked about it this morning. I already have some orders.’
‘Business on my wedding day!’ he exclaimed and she nodded without embarrassment.
‘May the gods bless your house,’ she said formally.
She moved away and he turned to find Cornelia looking at him quizzically. He kissed her.
‘She is very beautiful. Who is she?’ she said, her voice betraying a touch of worry.
‘Alexandria. She is a slave at Marius’ house.'
‘She doesn't act like a slave,’ Cornelia replied, dubiously.
Julius laughed. ‘Do I hear jealousy?’
Cornelia did not smile and he took her hands gently in his.
‘You are all I want. My beautiful wife. Come to our new home and I'll show you.’
Cornelia relaxed as he kissed her, deciding to find out everything she could about the slave girl with the jewellery.
* * *
The new house was bare of furniture, or slaves. They were the only ones there and their voices echoed. The bed was a present from Metella, made of carved, dark wood. At least there was a mattress over the slats, and soft linen.
For a few minutes, they seemed clumsy, self-conscious with the weight of the new titles.
‘I think you might remove my toga, wife,’ Julius said, his voice light.
‘I shall, husband. You could unbind my hair, perhaps.’
Then their old passion returned and the clumsiness was forgotten through the afternoon, as the heat built outside.
Julius panted, his hair wet with perspiration. ‘I will be tired out tonight,’ he said between breaths.
A light frown creased Cornelia's forehead. ‘You'll be careful?’
‘Not at all, I shall throw myself into conflict. I may start a battle myself, just to impress you.’
Her fingers traced a line down his chest, dimpling the smooth skin. ‘You could impress me in other ways,’
He groaned. ‘Not right now I can't, but give it a little time.’
Her eyes glinted mischievously as she moved her delicate fingers.
‘I might be too impatient to wait. I think I can awake your interest.’
After a few moments, he groaned again, crumpling the sheets under his clenching fists.
At four o'clock, Julius was hammering at the barracks door, only to be told the general