The Blood of Gods A Novel of Rome - By Conn Iggulden Page 0,38
their wake.
As Mark Antony watched the priestess talk with the young man, he shook his head, feeling sweat break out on his skin. It was too much to take in. The Senate had summoned him for a meeting at noon and he wanted to bathe first, so that he could face them fresh and clean. He turned away, his lictors and centurions all around him. He heard his title called across the forum but ignored it. He had barely gone twenty paces before the bristling awareness of his men made his temper rise. The group of four were pushing closer as he reached the edge of the crowd.
‘Consul!’ Octavian called again.
Mark Antony hunched his shoulders. His lictors were tense at being approached from behind and the two centurions had drifted back to put themselves between the groups. With a raised hand, Mark Antony halted them all. He could not be seen to scurry away, as if he had something to hide.
‘What do you want?’ he snapped.
Before him he saw a young man with grey eyes and dark blond hair bound at his neck. He supposed Octavian was in his early twenties, but he looked younger, with a smooth face and no sign of a beard. Somehow the sight of the young man served only to irritate Mark Antony further. He wanted nothing to do with some distant relative of Caesar intruding on him with his demands.
Octavian drew to a sudden stop at the harsh tone, the smile dying on his lips. As the consul watched, Octavian straightened subtly, his eyes hardening.
‘Octavian …’ Agrippa muttered warningly at his side. The lictors with the consul were not just an affectation of power. With a word from Mark Antony, they would unstrap their axes and rods, driving anyone guilty of insult from the forum or killing them on the spot.
‘I thought I would greet an old friend,’ Octavian said. ‘Perhaps I was mistaken.’
The reply seemed to rock Mark Antony. He closed his eyes for a moment, summoning his dignity.
‘I am in error, Octavian. I have not congratulated you on your adoption.’
‘Thank you,’ Octavian said. ‘I am pleased to see you thriving in such sad times. That is why I came to you. The will must be formally affirmed in Senate. I need a Lex Curiata. Will you propose it for me today?’
Mark Antony smiled tightly, shaking his head.
‘You may have noticed the city is only now recovering from riots. There is more than enough business to occupy the Senate until the end of the month. Perhaps then I will ask for time for your request.’
Octavian stood very still, aware of the lictors watching him.
‘It is just a formality. I thought that, for Caesar’s memory, you might move a little faster.’
‘I see. Well, I will do what I can,’ Mark Antony replied carelessly. He turned and walked away quickly.
Octavian would have spoken again, but both Agrippa and Maecenas laid hands on him, holding him still.
‘Don’t say another word!’ Agrippa said. ‘Gods, you will get us all killed if you can’t rule your mouth. You’ve made your request; now let him go.’
Maecenas was a study in concentration as he watched the consul depart the forum. He looked over at Gracchus, standing uncomfortably as if he were not sure of his place in the small group.
‘I believe your part in this is at an end, Gracchus,’ Maecenas said. ‘I think it is time for you to report back to your master in Brundisium, is it not?’
Gracchus glowered at him.
‘That’s not for you to decide,’ he said. ‘Liburnius told me to keep your friend safe. I can send a message back along the road.’
Maecenas dropped his hand from Octavian’s shoulder and stepped right up to the legionary.
‘How can I put this, so you will understand?’ he said. ‘I would like to talk to my friend before he gets himself killed. I do not want your ears flapping while I do. You know we will be at the House of Virgins at noon – you heard the priestess yourself. So why don’t you walk over there and wait for us?’
Gracchus stared back impassively, too old a hand to be intimidated. Without another word, he stalked off, his sandals clacking on the stones of the forum. Maecenas relaxed slightly. He raised his hands and moved his two friends into a clear spot. The crowd had thinned to avoid the consul’s party of lictors, so it was not hard to find a place where they could not be overheard.