The Blood of Gods A Novel of Rome - By Conn Iggulden Page 0,137

while Octavian brought his own legions to Greece. Away from Rome, Mark Antony had been able to ignore the host of problems at home and concentrate only on deploying his forces and scouting the land ahead. It had seemed a small thing at the time, but allowing Mark Antony to land first had established the man’s legions as the vanguard without any formal decision. Octavian found himself biting his inside lip and gave a weary smile as he thought of Pedius back in Rome, no doubt doing the same thing.

‘Have you eaten?’ Maecenas said.

Octavian looked up, his eyes blank as he tried to think back. He remembered a bowl of oats and honey, but it might have been the previous day. Little details such as meals had sunk into the mass of things he was too tired to consider or remember.

‘I’m not hungry,’ he said, though he changed his mind as he spoke and realised he was. Some gleam of energy returned to him then and his gaze sharpened. ‘The last of the horses will be over by noon. I have the personal oath of the harbour master at Brundisium, for whatever that’s worth. It’s done at last, Maecenas. We’ll march today.’

Maecenas saw Octavian’s hands were shaking and his expression changed to one of concern as his eyes flicked back to Agrippa and then down once more, drawing the big man’s attention.

‘I think you should try to eat,’ he said. ‘Even if Mark Antony moves at this moment, we won’t be marching for hours yet. Get something hot and take a nap or something. Gods, Octavian, you look exhausted. You’ve done enough for the moment.’

‘Not exhausted,’ Octavian mumbled. ‘Need a new word.’ With an effort, he summoned his will and stood a little straighter, forcing his muddled thoughts back to clarity. ‘Yes, I’ll eat something,’ he said. ‘But, Agrippa, would you go back and fetch those clerks for me? I can’t just ignore them.’

‘You can; I keep telling you,’ Agrippa replied. ‘I’ll have a word with them and see if anything really can’t keep. I doubt there’s much at this point.’

‘All right,’ Octavian replied, unable to hide his relief. He was sick of the details. Like the soldiers in camp all around him, he wanted to get moving and he wanted to fight. Putting his seal to some legion arrangement to buy a thousand saddles from some Greek merchant was no longer on his list of priorities.

The three of them approached the command tent and Octavian’s heart sank as he saw another dozen men waiting for him, their faces lighting up as they spotted him.

Mark Antony was in a fine mood as he dismounted. His command post was right up at the leading edge of the host of legions that had landed in Greece. He’d made it a habit to ride along the outer perimeter each morning as the sun came up, knowing the men would see him in his polished armour and cloak and take heart from it. He liked as many of his men as possible to see him each day, to be reminded that they fought for an individual rather than a faceless Senate. He had long suspected such things mattered when it came to the morale of individual legions, and those he commanded were, for the most part, strangers to him. A few remembered him from campaigning with Julius and when they greeted him, he made a point of stopping and spending a moment with them that he knew they would remember for the rest of their lives. It was not much to ask of a commander and they were thrilled that he bothered to speak to common soldiers, especially when he truly recalled a name or a place from the distant past. Men who had been young when they fought Vercingetorix were now senior soldiers, many earning a higher rank in the intervening years. When his memory sparked a scene from those days, Mark Antony could hardly believe so much time had passed. It made him feel old.

‘Legates,’ he said in greeting to the men waiting for him. ‘What a beautiful morning. Have you news from the coast?’

He asked the same question each day and in all honesty he could not believe it was taking Octavian so long to land his forces. There had been times when he’d been tempted to take his legions inland and let Octavian catch him up, but good sense had overridden each impulse. He had spies and informers enough among