The Blood of Gods A Novel of Rome - By Conn Iggulden Page 0,48
have forgotten him. And I am his son, a Caesar.’
Maecenas stood up and opened the door to the outer rooms. A fire crackled in the grate and two male slaves came over immediately to do his bidding. With a sharp gesture, Maecenas sent them outside, so that he could not be overheard. The steam had grown too thick and his senses swam just as he needed to be sharp. In the colder air, he drew deep breaths.
‘Join me in the plunge pool, Caesar. It will clear your head before you commit us to a course which can only see us all crucified for treachery.’
Octavian glared at him but rose with Agrippa and crossed the room to where a deep pool sat dark and undisturbed. The water was near freezing, but Maecenas stepped down into it without hesitation, his skin prickling in goosebumps as it tightened. Agrippa joined him with a hiss of breath and Octavian slid over the edge, bending his knees so that the chill water reached his neck. When he spoke again, his teeth chattered so much that he could barely be understood.
‘You think I should live in the sun, M-Maecenas? As you said Alexander would choose, if he could see his whole life laid out before him? I d-did not believe it then and I don’t now. I cannot rest until the Liberatores are all dead. Do you understand? I will risk your life and mine a thousand times until that is true. Life is risk! I feel the shade of Caesar watching me and who else will bring him justice? Not Mark Antony. It falls to me and I will not waste a single day.’
The cold bit to the heart of him and his arms were almost too numb to heave himself out and sit on the stone edge. Agrippa was just a moment behind, while Maecenas remained, his brown arms and legs in sharp contrast to the pale skin of the rest of his body. The cold had numbed him, but his heart raced even so.
‘All right,’ he said, putting out an arm. ‘Pull me up.’ Agrippa gripped his hand and lifted him out. ‘I do not desert my friends just because they have decided to infuriate the Senate and the legions of Rome.’
CHAPTER NINE
The group that mounted horses outside Caesar’s town house on the Esquiline was considerably larger than the four weary men who had entered the night before. Octavian had followed Maecenas’ advice and given orders to the most senior slaves to act as factors for him. They were visibly determined to do well for the new master. Bringing in legion-trained mounts from one of the other properties was just the first of a thousand tasks. A dozen other men had gone out from the house on errands to all the holdings of Caesar, including the garden estate on the Tiber, as it had not yet been passed to the people of Rome. What records and accounts existed would be found and made ready.
Maecenas had insisted Gracchus also bathe before accompanying them. The soldier was still damp-haired and flushed from his hurried wash, but they all felt better for being clean. It was as if they could put the mistakes and trials of the past behind them, scraped away like the black muck that came off with the brass strigils and oil.
Turning west down the hill, the wary group drew the attention of a few street boys. Octavian assumed they were after stray coins, but there were no outstretched hands and they kept their distance. He wondered if they had been sent by someone to keep an eye on his progress, the cheapest spies Rome had to offer. Yet every street they crossed added more to the crowd and the newcomers were not mere urchins. Men and women pointed him out in hushed tones, their eyes swivelling in interest as friends hissed the name of Octavian or, more often, Caesar. They too walked with him, until there were dozens then hundreds in the wake of the horses, all heading to the Campus Martius.
Octavian sat his mount stiff-backed, in a set of armour that had been fitted to him by the house staff. Maecenas was resplendent in armour and cloak, though as far as Octavian knew, he held no formal rank. For himself, he had considered a toga, but unlike Maecenas, he had commanded Roman soldiers, and the officer’s cloak sent a signal to those who watched for such things.