The Blood of Gods A Novel of Rome - By Conn Iggulden Page 0,106
slightly away. The bidding increased to a rapid tempo then, as the estate in the south was renowned for its vineyards and farmland. There was still money in Rome, Octavian thought. His task was to gather as much of it as he could for a campaign that would need an even greater war chest than the one Caesar had collected for Parthia.
He rubbed his eyes wearily as the price reached four million sesterces and most of the bidders dropped out. Agrippa’s secret fleet was proving to be an appalling drain on the state finances, but he could see no other choice but to pour more silver and gold into the ships. Without a fleet, the legions he controlled with Mark Antony were effectively useless. The price of bread had already tripled and though many of the citizens still hoarded much of the silver Caesar had given them, he knew it would not last much longer before they were rioting again, just to eat. Octavian shook his head at the thought.
The bidding came to an end at six million, four hundred thousand. He made a gesture to the auctioneer, who paled when he saw it, thinking it was a late bid. Octavian shook his head again and gestured to the batch of sealed papers that represented the estate he had bought. They would be sent on to one of his city houses, the funds disbursed by one of the hundreds of factors and servants working directly for him. The men in the room relaxed visibly as he left.
The auction house was high on the Quirinal hill and Octavian barely noticed the lictors who fell into step with him as he walked down towards the forum. The new senate house was almost complete and he had agreed to meet his co-consul Pedius at the temple of Vesta to oversee the laying of the final stone. Rome bustled around him as he made his way down the hill and his mouth quirked as he recalled previous times when he could hardly move for cheering crowds. They did not cheer him that day. He shivered as he walked. The air in Rome was growing colder as the year came to an end. In all ways, the new spring seemed very far away.
As he reached the forum, the sense of the energetic city all around him increased. The open space was filled with thousands of men and women on the business of Rome, from the administration of a thousand trading houses, to senators and specialists in law discussing every topic, many of them with crowds listening. Rome had been made and remade on words and ideas before swords and it still felt young, just as he did. The senators were not isolated from the citizens, at least at certain times each month. They walked among the crowds in the forum and listened to requests and appeals from those they represented. Anything from a problem with a neighbour to a murder charge could be brought to them, and as Octavian walked, he saw Bibilus deep in conversation with a group of wealthy merchants only slightly slimmer than himself. Like Octavian, Bibilus had increased his holdings during the proscription auctions. There was no doubt he had men in the room Octavian had just left, bidding on his behalf for the choicer properties.
Bibilus saw the stern lictors passing by and his cold eyes sought out Octavian walking in the centre of them. Despite his gains, Octavian knew there was no truce there, not from him. It was because of Octavian that Mark Antony had returned to the Senate with more power and fewer restraints than he had enjoyed before. Octavian could feel Bibilus’ dislike from a distance and he let it warm him. Bibilus did not call a greeting, preferring to pretend he had not seen him pass by.
Pedius was standing in the entrance to the temple of Vesta, in conversation with Quintina Fabia. Octavian brightened at the sight of the older woman, whose company he enjoyed. He had hardly spoken to her since becoming consul, but she was one of those he had begun to assume were among his supporters, at least for the sake of her nephew Maecenas.
To his surprise, Quintina Fabia came forward to him with open arms.
‘Caesar, I hear I should congratulate you,’ she said.
Octavian glanced at Pedius, who shrugged. He allowed himself to be embraced with surprising strength.