The Blood of Gods A Novel of Rome - By Conn Iggulden Page 0,33
two centurions accompanied him, their armour shining and long dark cloaks sweeping against their ankles. The consul of Rome had come to hear the will of Caesar and if the senate house was blackened rubble, at least in his own person Mark Antony still represented the authority of the state. He could feel eyes on him as the crowd gathered, but there was no sense of danger, not that day. He was certain many of those crowding in had been involved in the riots, perhaps just hours before, but the dawn sun was cool and there was almost a sense of truce. The whole city wanted to hear the last words of Caesar to his people.
Mark Antony reached a spot in front of the circular temple, so that he could see the eternal flame flickering along the walls inside. His men took up positions around him, feeling no threat in the quiet crowd. Mark Antony looked for the remaining Liberatores and could not see them. He had spies reporting to him each day and he knew many of them had already left, to save their skins.
He kept his expression stern, though their absence was yet another sign that he had gained most from the slaughters and riots. If powerful men like Brutus and Cassius no longer dared to show their faces, how could they ever hope to regain their authority in Rome? It was a subtle victory. No doubt they had men in the crowd to report back every word, but their absence spoke volumes and he would not be the only one to remark on it. A month before, he could not have dreamed of anything like this day. Caesar had been alive then and the world had been set in ruts of stone, unable to do more than go forward on the path. The Liberatores had changed all that with their knives, but it was Mark Antony whose fortunes were on the rise. He triumphed, step by step, as they failed.
Taller than most, Mark Antony was able to look over the heads of the crowd. The forum was not full, by any means. Heat-scorched stones lay empty behind him, but at least three thousand men and women were there and still they walked out of every side road and down every hill, dark streams of citizens and slaves coming to the heart of Rome. There was order of a sort in most of the city; he had seen to that. The gates were open again and fresh produce flowed in, commanding ridiculous prices. There was a queue outside every baker and butcher as they worked through the night to make loaves and slice meat. There was not enough for all and he had been forced to set patrols at key points to stop fights breaking out. Starvation and disease were the enemies now, the violent energy of the rioters fading almost as quickly as it had sprung up. No one knew how many bodies had been dumped in the Tiber to tumble away to the sea.
His gaze snagged on a group of four men on his right, all armed and obviously together as they talked in low voices. Two of them looked vaguely familiar to the consul, slim figures against the massive shoulders of the man next to them, yet Mark Antony could not bring the names to mind. Hundreds in the crowd would have been clients to Caesar, men who owed their estates and rise to him and had accepted a small stipend each month for their support. The number of them was said to have been in the thousands. Rich and poor, they would all want to know if their patron had remembered them in his will.
Mark Antony continued to crane his neck around, peering particularly at anyone with their head covered. He recognised senators among those, many of them travelling with guards provided from the legions or mercenaries hired for the day. Still, the crowd grew with the sunlight, until the coolness of dawn faded and he could smell sweat and spiced food in the warming air. The spring sky was clear and the city would become unpleasantly hot by noon. He eased his weight from one foot to the other, waiting impatiently for the priestess to show herself.
The crowd stilled as they heard singing coming from the House of Virgins, straining to catch the first glimpse of the Vestal virgins. Mark Antony suppressed a smile as he saw them, more aware than most of