The Blood of Gods A Novel of Rome - By Conn Iggulden Page 0,77

no sign of tension and Hirtius realised with prickling irritation that the young man was handsome, with broad shoulders and long hair tied into a club at his neck. It was the first time they had ever met, but there was no mistaking the confidence in the grey eyes watching the consuls.

Hirtius and Pansa walked up the steps together. The evening was soft and warm and the air smelled of cut hay. Hirtius took a deep breath of it, feeling some of his tension ease.

‘This is a splendid house, Caesar,’ Hirtius said. ‘Is it yours?’

‘It belongs to a friend, Consul,’ Octavian said. ‘You will meet him tonight and you can tell him then, though he is already too proud. You are welcome here. I give you my oath and my protection while you remain in Arretium. There are rooms for your lictors and followers if you wish. If you’ll follow me inside, I have had food laid out for you.’

Pansa stepped forward immediately at the thought of a meal. Hirtius looked askance at his companion but walked in behind, sending the waiting lictors away with a flick of his fingers. There were times when a man had to trust his host and constant suspicion insulted them both. He reminded himself that Octavian could have slaughtered the Senate but had not.

The legates had gathered in the banqueting hall to greet the consuls from Rome. When Hirtius and Pansa entered, all the men rose, including Maecenas and Agrippa. They stood like soldiers in the presence of senior officers and Hirtius nodded to them, accepting Octavian’s invitation to sit at their table. He and Pansa had been placed together at the head and he wasted no time in taking his seat. As nobody had been sure when the consuls would arrive, the meal was cold, but it was still much better than they had eaten on the road north.

‘Sit, sit, gentlemen,’ Hirtius said. ‘Your manners do you credit, but we have much to discuss.’ He hesitated at the sight of Pansa already heaping thin slices of cured ham onto his plate, but the other consul was oblivious.

A slave approached with a jug of wine and Hirtius noticed the delicate glass vessels on the table. He raised his eyebrows slightly, aware that he was being treated as an honoured guest. He sipped the wine and his eyebrows went further up.

‘Excellent,’ he pronounced. ‘I prefer the table to couches. It feels … delightfully barbaric. I take it, then, you have received the missive from the Senate?’

‘Yes, Consul,’ Octavian replied. ‘I can tell you it was something of a relief to be offered formal rank.’

Consul Pansa nodded, smacking his lips and draining his cup of wine.

‘I imagine it was, Caesar. Whatever our differences in the past, I’m sure the news of a true mutiny, by no less a name than Mark Antony, was as shocking to you as it was to the senators.’

‘As you say, Consul,’ Octavian replied, inclining his head to Pansa in agreement as the man began to work his way through a plate of melon slices sprinkled with ginger.

Hirtius spent a moment cleaning a fingernail with one of the others. He would have preferred outright command, of course, but Pansa was theoretically his equal and not easily dismissed. Either way, the young rebel seemed to bear no animosity towards his guests. Hirtius nodded stiffly, choosing dignity over rubbing Octavian’s face in his failures. He cleared his throat as Pansa dug in to the main dishes, spearing the carcasses of some small birds fried in olive oil.

‘Very well, then. To the task at hand. Mark Antony is perhaps a week on the march ahead of us. We know his path and his destination. We know his strengths very well – I believe some of you were with him in Brundisium?’ Buccio and Liburnius nodded uncomfortably. ‘Then you may have some insight worth hearing. I will send men to record your thoughts, though I doubt there is anything new to say. I have known Mark Antony for many years. He is an impressive speaker, but if you remember, Caesar did not trust him with many men in Gaul. He is more suited to governing a city. I do not expect his four legions to cause us too much difficulty.’ Hirtius looked around the table as he spoke, drawing them all into his confidence.

‘Do we know what forces Decimus Junius has at his disposal?’ Flavius Silva asked.

Hirtius smiled at his contribution, sensing they were trying hard