The Blood of Gods A Novel of Rome - By Conn Iggulden Page 0,53

across the camp as each layer of officers took charge of actions as familiar to them as breathing. The legionaries jogged to collect their kit for a march, laughing and talking among themselves as they went.

Legate Paulinius cleared his throat and Octavian looked at him.

‘Yes?’

‘Caesar, we were wondering what you wanted done with the war chest. The men have not been paid for a month and there has been no word from the Senate about using the funds.’

Octavian stood very still as the older man shifted from foot to foot, waiting for an answer. Julius Caesar had been preparing to leave Rome for years. Octavian had not even considered the gold and silver he would have gathered for the campaign.

‘Show me,’ Octavian said at last.

The legates led his small group across the camp to a heavily guarded tent. The legionaries there had not deserted their posts to see him and Octavian could see their pleasure. He smiled at them as he ducked inside.

There was more than just one chest. The centre of the tent was stacked with boxes of wood and iron, all locked. Flavius Silva produced a key, matched by another in the hands of Paulinius. Together, they opened a chest and heaved back the lid. Octavian nodded, as if the shining mass of gold and silver coins was no more than he had expected. In theory, the funds belonged to the Senate, but if they had not asked for them to be returned by then, there was a chance they did not even know of their existence.

‘How much is there?’ Octavian asked.

Flavius Silva did not have to check the amounts. Being in charge of such a sum in the chaos Rome had endured must have ruined his sleep for a month.

‘Forty million, in all.’

‘That is … good,’ Octavian said. He exchanged a brief glance with Agrippa, who was glassy-eyed at the sum. ‘Very well. Give the men what they are owed … and a bonus of six months’ pay. You are familiar with the bequest made by Caesar to the people of Rome?’

‘Of course. Half the city is still talking about it.’

‘I will ask for the funds from the Senate when we are in the forum. If they refuse, I will pay it from these chests and my own funds.’

Flavius Silva smiled as he closed the chest and locked it once more. Simply having such a fortune in his possession had gnawed at him like a broken tooth he could not leave alone. He felt a weight lift at being able to pass the responsibility to another.

‘With your permission, sir, I will see to the camp.’

‘But not your affairs, Legate.’

The older man flushed.

‘No, Caesar. Not my affairs. Not today.’

PART TWO

CHAPTER TEN

Mark Antony arrived at Brundisium after sunset, seeing the gleam of thousands of lamps and watchfires against the black horizon. He had known the numbers of men waiting there. Caesar had discussed the plans with him the previous winter, as they prepared the campaign against Parthia. The horsemen of that eastern empire had been a thorn in Roman skin for many years and Caesar had not forgotten the old enemy. There were debts to be paid, but that massive undertaking had been ruined by assassins’ blades, like so much else.

That forewarning had not prepared Mark Antony for the reality of six full legions of veterans camped around the city – and the navigation lamps of the fleet like fireflies on the dark sea. As the consul and his guards reached the outskirts of one Roman camp, they were challenged by alert legionaries. His consular ring allowed him to pass, though he was stopped and questioned again and again as they crossed the territory of the different legions. Any hope of travelling incognito was lost, so that by the time the sun rose, the entire city had been told the consul was coming and the wrath of the Senate was finally at hand. They had waited for a long time to know what would follow the chaos in Rome and the usual bustle of the city scraped to a halt in the face of potential disaster.

Mark Antony found lodgings in the town by the simple expedient of ordering every other patron out of their rooms. Some of them were senior officers in the legions, but not a word was raised in complaint and they hurried back to the main camps as fast and as unobtrusively as possible.

The consul ate a silent breakfast of porridge sweetened with honey and some