The Emperor Series Books 1-4. Conn Iggulden
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Caesar, stand forward,’ Gaditicus ordered, startling Julius out of his thoughts. Julius moved quickly and saluted. Gaditicus looked him over, his expression unreadable.
Paulus disappeared into his home with his family and all the ranks waited patiently for him, happy enough to stand in the warmth of the afternoon sunshine with no jobs to be done.
Julius' mind churned, wondering why he had been ordered to stand out alone and how Suetonius would feel if it was a promotion. The governor was not able to order Gaditicus to give him a new post, but his recommendation was unlikely to be ignored.
At last Paulus returned, his wife walking out with him. He filled his lungs to address all the men together and his voice was warm and strong.
‘You have restored me to my position and my family. Rome thanks you for your service. Centurion Gaditicus has agreed that you may take a meal here. My servants are preparing my best food and drink for you all.’ He paused and his gaze fell on Julius.
‘I witnessed great bravery last night, from one man in particular who risked his own life to save mine. To him, I award the honour wreath, to mark his courage. Rome has brave sons and I stand here today to prove it.’
His wife stepped forward and lifted a circlet of green oak leaves. Julius unfroze and when Gaditicus nodded at him, removed his helmet to accept it. He blushed and suddenly the men cheered, though whether it was at the honour to one of their own or the food to come, he wasn't sure.
‘Thank you, I …’ he stammered.
Paulus' wife put her hand on his own and Julius could see where face paint had covered dark circles of worry under her eyes.
‘You brought him back to me.’
Gaditicus barked out the orders to remove helmets and follow the governor to where his staff were setting up the meal. He held Julius back for a moment and, when it was quiet, he asked to see the circlet. Julius handed it to him quickly, trying not to shout out loud with the excitement he felt.
Gaditicus turned the band of dark leaves over in his hands.
‘Do you deserve it?’ he asked quietly.
Julius hesitated. He knew he had risked his life and rushed two men on his own down in the lowest room of the fort, but it was a prize he had not expected.
‘Not more than a lot of the men, sir,’ he replied.
Gaditicus looked closely at him, then nodded, satisfied.
‘That's a good line, though I will say I was pleased to see you when you flanked the bastards last night.’ He grinned at Julius' rapidly changing expressions, from delight to embarrassment.
‘Will you wear it under your helmet, or perched on top?’
Julius felt flustered. ‘I … I hadn't thought. I suppose I will leave it on the ship if there's action.’
‘Are you sure, now? Pirates will run scared of a man with leaves on his head, perhaps?’
Julius flushed again and Gaditicus laughed, clapping him on the shoulder.
‘I'm only teasing you, lad. It is a rare honour. I'll have to promote you, of course. I can't have a lowly watch officer with an honour wreath. I will give you a twenty to command.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ Julius replied, his spirits lifting even further.
Gaditicus rubbed the leaves between his fingers thoughtfully.
‘You will have to wear this in the city some time. It will be expected of you, at least once.’
‘Why, sir? I don't know the ritual.’
‘It's what I would do, anyway. The laws of Rome, lad. If you walk into a public event with an honour wreath, everyone must stand. Everyone, even the Senate.’
The centurion chuckled to himself. ‘What a sight that would be. Come in when you're settled. I'll make sure they keep some wine for you. It looks like you could do with a drink.’
In the grey evening light, Brutus scrambled down the side of the building, tearing most of the climbing roses with him. His foot caught in a loop of thorns at the bottom and he fell flat, his sword skidding over the cobbles with a clatter. Wincing, he freed himself before struggling to his feet. He could hear another roar of anger above his head as Livia's father approached the window and glared down at the intruder. Brutus looked up at him as he tugged at his bracae, yelping as the cloth snagged on a thorn deep in his thigh.
Livia's father was a bull-like man who carried a heavy axe like a hatchet and was obviously considering whether he could hit Brutus with a good throw.
‘I'll find you, whelp!’ the man bellowed down at him, practically frothing through his beard in rage.
Brutus backed away out of range and tried to pick up his fallen gladius without taking his eyes off the red-faced Greek. He hitched up his bracae with one hand and found the hilt with the other, wishing he had kept his sandals on for the athletic tumbling about with Livia. If her father was trying to protect her innocence, he was about three years too late, Brutus thought. He considered sharing the information with the man out of spite, but she'd played fair by the young Roman, though she really should have checked the house before dragging him into her room as he passed. As she'd been naked, it had seemed only politeness for him to remove his sandals before they collapsed on the bed, though that courtesy would make escape through the sleepy town something of a problem.
No doubt Renius was still snoring in the room for which Brutus had paid. After five days sleeping in the open, both men had been happy enough to break the journey with a chance for a hot bath and a shave, but it looked as if only Renius would be enjoying those comforts while Brutus went for the hills.
Brutus shifted from one foot to the other uncomfortably as he considered his choices. He cursed Renius under his breath, partly for sleeping during a crisis, but mainly for convincing him that a horse would eat through their savings by the time they reached the coast and found a berth for Rome. Renius had said that a legionary could march the distance without any trouble, but even a thin pony would have been handy for a quick escape.
The angry beard vanished above and while Brutus hesitated, Livia appeared at the window, her skin still flushed from their activities. It was a good healthy glow, Brutus noted idly, appreciating the way she rested her breasts on the sill.
‘Get away!’ she called in a harsh whisper. ‘He's coming down after you!’
‘Throw my sandals down, then. I can't run like this,’ he hissed back. After a moment, the articles came flying at him and he laced them in a frenzy, already able to hear the clump of her father's tread as he came to the door.
Brutus heard the man's pleased exclamation on finding him still in the yard. Without looking back, he sprinted away, skidding as the iron studs of his soles met the cobbles. Behind, Livia's father shouted for the town to stop him, which seemed to cause a stir of excitement amongst the locals going about their business. Brutus groaned as he ran. Already there were answering yells and he could hear a number of others had joined the pursuit.
Feverishly, he tried to remember the streets he'd wandered through only hours before, thankful to find anything with cheap rooms and hot food. Livia's father had seemed pleasant enough then, though he hadn't been carrying the axe when he showed the tired men to his cheapest room.
Brutus thumped into a wall as he turned a corner at full speed, dodging round a cart and knocking away the grasping hands of its owner. Which way to get out? The town seemed like a labyrinth. He took roads to the left and right without daring to look back, his breath rasping in his throat. So far, Livia had been worth his trouble, but if he was killed, she wasn't his choice for the last woman in his life. He hoped the father would take his anger out on Renius and wished them both luck.
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