The Blood of Gods A Novel of Rome - By Conn Iggulden Page 0,25

I will arrange it. At dawn, if you wish.’

‘And my wife? My children? My slaves? I will not leave them to be torn apart.’

Cassius showed a glint of his anger then, his voice cold.

‘You sound frightened, Pella. Of course they can travel with you. This is Rome and we are both senators. Most of the unrest is in the western half. Do not make it sound worse than it is. In a dozen days at most, there will be order again. I will send for …’

‘You said three days at the beginning,’ Pella interrupted, too dulled by wine to see the deadly stillness of Cassius.

‘Go home now, Pella. Ready your family and gather your possessions. You will be spared any further attack on your dignity.’

Pella blinked at him, his mind wandering.

‘Go home?’ he said. ‘The streets are not safe. I thought you said it was too dangerous to leave after dark.’

‘Nonetheless, you have made your point. Walk with your head held high and if someone stops you in the road, tell him you are a senator. I am sure they will let you pass.’

Pella shook his head nervously.

‘Cassius, I’m sorry. I should not have said such things. It was the wine. I would prefer to stay here with you, at least until dawn. I can …’

He broke off as Cassius crossed to the door that led out to stairs and the street. As it opened, the constant noise of shouts and crashes in the background grew louder.

‘Go home,’ Cassius said. He wore a dagger on his belt and he deliberately dropped a hand to the hilt.

Pella stared open-mouthed. He looked to Brutus but saw no pity there.

‘Please, Cassius …’

‘Get … out!’ Cassius snapped.

Pella’s shoulders drooped and he did not look at either man as he left. Cassius tried hard not to slam the door after him.

‘Do you think he will get through?’ Brutus asked, turning back to the open window.

‘It is in the hands of the gods,’ Cassius said irritably. ‘I could not bear his babbling weakness any longer.’

Brutus would have replied, but in the distance he saw a new bloom of fire spreading. He cursed under his breath and Cassius came to stand by him.

‘That’s the Quirinal, isn’t it?’ Cassius asked. He knew Brutus had property on that hill and his voice was dismayed on his behalf.

‘I think so. They never touch Caesar’s properties, did you know that?’ He rubbed the back of his neck, unutterably weary. ‘It’s hard to tell distances in the dark. I’ll know in the morning, if I can find enough men to walk with me.’ He spoke through gritted teeth at the thought of the people of Rome pawing his possessions. ‘We need those legions from Brundisium, Cassius! Another thirty thousand men could cut through these mobs. We need to smash them, to show enough force that it stops their mouths.’

‘If I could have brought them, I would have. Caesar’s officers won’t answer the messages of the Senate. When this is over, I will have them decimated, or their eagles struck down and made into cups for the poor, but for now, I cannot make them move.’

Somewhere in the streets near the house, a man screamed long and loud. Both of them started at the sound, then deliberately ignored it.

‘I could go to them,’ Brutus said after a time.

Cassius laughed in surprise. ‘To Brundisium? You’d be slaughtered as soon as they heard your name. You think I am unpopular, Brutus? Your name is the one the mobs chant loudest when they are calling for Caesar’s vengeance.’

Brutus blew air out, frustrated to the point of shaking.

‘Perhaps it is time to leave, then. To have your Senate make me governor of some city far from here. I have not seen the rewards you promised me, not yet …’ He caught himself, unwilling to beg from the hand of Cassius. Yet Brutus had no civil post and no wealth of his own. His private funds were already dwindling and he wondered if a nobleman like Cassius even understood his predicament. ‘Caesar would be laughing if he could see us hiding from his people.’

Cassius stared into the night. The fires on the Quirinal had spread at breathtaking speed. In the distance, hundreds of burning houses lit the darkness, like red cracks in the earth. There would be blackened bodies by the thousand in the morning and Pella was right, disease would follow, rising from the dead flesh and entering the lungs of healthy men. He made a sound