The Blood of Gods A Novel of Rome - By Conn Iggulden Page 0,103
looked at his friend, seeing the weariness but also the pride. Agrippa had wood shavings in his hair and his cheek was white with sawdust, but his eyes gleamed and he was sun-browned and healthy.
‘You are enjoying the work,’ Maecenas said, smiling.
Before Agrippa could reply, they both heard a carriage approach, rattling down the road that led the ten miles to Neapolis.
‘Who’s that?’ Agrippa said suspiciously.
‘Just a friend. He wanted to see the ships.’
‘Maecenas! How can I keep this site secret if you invite your friends to see what I’m doing? How did he even get past the guards on the road?’
Maecenas flushed slightly.
‘I gave him a pass. Look, Virgil is a poet and he knows how to keep secrets. I just thought he could write a few verses about this place.’
‘You think I have time for poets? Will you be bringing painters and sculptors out here? This is a secret fleet, Maecenas! Send him back. He’s already seen too much just by being here. I see he has a driver. Well, I’m keeping him now. I’ll put him on the payroll with the others, but no one leaves until spring.’
‘I’ll take Virgil back myself then,’ Maecenas replied.
They both watched the poet step down, staring around him at the massive structures. There was dust in the air and Virgil sneezed explosively, wiping his nose with a square of expensive silk.
‘Over here,’ Maecenas called to him. His friend saw the two men and waved briefly, walking towards them. ‘Look,’ Maecenas murmured to Agrippa. ‘He really is good, and Octavian likes him. He’s already famous in the cities. It will not hurt to be pleasant to such a man. He’ll make you immortal.’
‘I don’t want to be immortal,’ Agrippa snapped. ‘I want to get this fleet built before Sextus Pompey starves the country to death.’
The man who approached was portly and short, his face framed in black curls. As he came close, he sneezed again and moaned softly to himself.
‘I swear, Maecenas, I thought the air here would be good for me, but the dust is very unpleasant. You must be Agrippa, the genius shipbuilder. I … am Virgil.’ He paused, visibly disappointed when Agrippa just stared blankly at him. ‘Ah. I see my small fame does not precede me out here. Never mind. Maecenas has told me you have some sort of new design for the galleys?’
‘Maecenas!’ Agrippa said in disbelief. ‘How many more have you told? At this rate I’ll have Pompey’s fleet waiting for me when I come out.’
Maecenas looked embarrassed, but he held up his hands.
‘I told him a few details to catch his interest, that’s all. Virgil understands not to say a single word to anyone else, don’t you?’
‘Of course,’ Virgil replied immediately. ‘Poets know many secrets. In any case, I suspect I am not long for this world. I grow weaker every day.’
He blew his nose with great energy and Agrippa looked irritably at him.
‘Well, I’m keeping your driver,’ he said curtly. ‘Maecenas will take the horse team back to the city with you.’
Virgil blinked. ‘He’s exactly as you said, Maecenas. Stern and Roman, but built like a young Hercules. I like him.’ He turned to Agrippa. ‘So, given that I have already seen your fleet in the making, will I be trusted with a tour?’
‘No,’ Agrippa replied, barely holding his temper in check. ‘I am busy.’
‘Caesar said I should look over the detailed plans, Agrippa,’ Maecenas said. ‘I choose to have Virgil with me to make notes. You have my word he is trustworthy.’
Agrippa raised his eyes in frustration and guided Maecenas a dozen paces further off, too far for Virgil to overhear.
‘He does not strike me as a … manly sort, Maecenas. I have heard those kinds of men cannot be trusted. They gossip like women.’
‘What men do you mean?’ Maecenas asked innocently.
Agrippa blushed, looking away.
‘You know what I mean. At least tell me he is, you know …’ his throat seemed to choke him as he forced the words out, ‘… a giver, not a taker.’
‘You’ve lost me now,’ Maecenas said, though his eyes gleamed with amusement. Agrippa would not look at him.
‘A sword, not a scabbard! Gods, I don’t know how you say such things. You know what I mean!’
‘Yes, I do,’ Maecenas replied, laughing. ‘I just wanted to see how you would phrase it. Virgil! My friend here wants to know if you are a sword or a scabbard?’
‘What? Oh, a sword, definitely. Good Roman steel, me.’