The Blood of Gods A Novel of Rome - By Conn Iggulden Page 0,74

of Rome, but if the new consuls returned victorious, it would be a formality. Hirtius turned to Pansa and raised his eyebrows.

‘It seems you and I are in for a long ride, Consul.’

Pansa grinned at the new title. Just the thought of getting away from the endless bickering of the Senate brought contentment. The prospect was invigorating. Pansa scrubbed a hand through the white bristle of his hair, wondering whether his armour would need polishing when he had it brought out of storage.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Arretium was a military town, barely a hundred miles north of Rome. Whatever Maecenas’ reasons for recommending it, it had the benefit of being within swift range of the capital, while far enough away to give the Senate the sense that they were not immediately threatened.

The Fabii property Maecenas owned was indeed a delight, a low complex of buildings and gardens that stretched up a hill on various levels, each host to a bewildering display of imported fruit trees and statues in white stone. It felt like a place to rest and enjoy the end of summer, with the struggle safely behind them. A banqueting hall led out onto the gardens and Maecenas had agreed to host the legates of four legions in rooms on the estate. Twenty thousand legionaries had descended on the town itself and doubled its population, so that prices went up and those who could not afford rooms camped in fields.

Legates Silva and Paulinius had welcomed Liburnius and Buccio like old friends. In fact, the four men had met before on campaigns, but they could all take comfort in knowing they had not risked the wrath of the Senate alone.

Octavian said a brief prayer to Ceres as he sat at the table, thanking the goddess for producing the meal that lay before them. Maecenas had produced the Falernian and Octavian had to admit it was superior to the sour wine Silva had served before.

‘So are you going to tell us?’ Maecenas asked, pulling a cooked goose apart with his fingers. He saw Octavian frown. ‘There are no surprises with twenty thousand men camped all around the town, Caesar. A messenger from Rome cannot be kept secret. Are we to be branded traitors, then? Have they sent a demand for our heads?’

‘I would know how to react to that,’ Octavian replied.

He looked around the table at the six men who had risked everything for him. Agrippa was watching every change of expression on his face, as if trying to read his thoughts. Liburnius kept his gaze on the food, still very aware of the change in their respective statuses since their last meeting. Yet he too had done what mattered and marched men north to follow Caesar. Octavian had welcomed the newly promoted legate with only a dry comment on the rising value of the favour he still carried. Presumably, Gracchus would catch up with him eventually, though Octavian was amused at the thought of the dour legionary still searching for his lost commander.

From his tunic, Octavian withdrew a scroll and unrolled it, ignoring the spots of grease his fingers left on the dry surface.

‘I have orders here,’ he said, ‘orders to report to consuls Hirtius and Pansa and to put myself under their authority.’ His eyes scanned the page yet again. ‘They are coming north with four legions and it seems I have been made a propraetor, by will of the Senate.’

The men around the table gaped at him in rising excitement. In just a few words, they had gone from standing outside the law to being welcomed back. Liburnius and Buccio looked up together, the same thought striking them both. It was Buccio who managed to speak first.

‘If they have appointed consuls before the year is up, it can only mean Mark Antony is out.’

Liburnius nodded as he speared a piece of slow-cooked lamb with his knife and chewed slowly.

‘Will you do it?’ Agrippa asked for all of them. ‘Will you accept Senate authority after all that has happened? Can you even trust them, Caesar? For all we know, this is some ruse to get close enough to attack.’

Octavian waved a hand, almost overturning his cup of wine and then gripping it to keep it steady.

‘How many legions could they have summoned at such short notice? Even if it is a trap, they would just smash themselves against our men. I am inclined to believe them, gentlemen, but that does not solve my problem, does it? Why would they make such an