The Blood of Gods A Novel of Rome - By Conn Iggulden Page 0,91

at least for this year. When he reaches Rome, he will dig himself under the skin and it will take a hot knife to get him out once more.’

Suetonius was nodding at the summary of all his own fears as Pompey went on.

‘But he does not have the fleet at Brundisium. Not yet, at least. It is the last remaining power at your disposal, at your command and in your gift. I ask only that you seal orders putting me in charge of it. I will use it to bring terror and destruction to this new Caesar, in the name of this Senate. At the very least, I will take it out of his grasp. My name tells you I can be trusted, senators, as you sit in my father’s house.’

‘I am satisfied,’ Suetonius said weakly, resuming his seat.

The ballot passed quickly, with no more than a few abstentions and votes against. Sextus Pompey would command the fleet, an authority almost absolute in its lack of oversight and control. Even those who remembered his father knew it was a great risk, but they knew also that Caesar was marching south to Rome and this time he had eight legions with him. They could not let him have the fleet as well, or the entire Roman world would be at his mercy.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

The gates of Rome were closed and sealed as the sun rose. The male voting population of the city had come out in darkness to the Campus Martius. Every free citizen was there, arranged in centuries of class and wealth, while the city filled with the odour of tens of thousands of meals being prepared for their return.

In times past, the voting days would have had an air of festival, with street performers and food sellers making more money in a day than they could in a normal month. Yet across the Tiber, eight legions camped, a great sea of shining armour waiting for the result. The sight of such a force within range of Rome dampened the spirits of the citizens considerably.

The representatives of each voting century came to cast their votes in huge baskets, filling them slowly with wooden tokens. Octavian stood close by, wearing a simple white toga. He was aware of the awe in the crowds that milled around him and he smiled at anyone who approached, exchanging a few words and thanking them for their support. There were many of those. He looked across to where Bibilus stood and sweated, despite a slave fanning him and another holding a sunshade above his head. Years before, Bibilus had stood with Caesar as consul and Octavian knew the memories would be sharp in him that day. He had heard the stories and it was hard not to glance across to the Janiculum hill, where a flag was raised high. While it fluttered, the election continued, but if the men at the peak saw an army approach, it would drop and the entire city would be made ready to defend itself. When Bibilus had stood before, his friend Suetonius had arranged for the flag to fall when the results went against them. Caesar had planned for the treachery and his men had kept the signal high, long enough to make their master consul. Octavian smiled at the thought.

‘Forty-two Caesar and Pedius; forty-eight Bibilus and Suetonius!’ the diribitores called.

The Senate had used a lot of favours to get so many votes from the first voting centuries. Octavian smiled, unworried. They had less influence with the poorer classes, he knew, while the name of Caesar rang like a bell for all those who had been paid their silver legacy.

‘I had hoped for more by now,’ Pedius said at his side.

Octavian wondered again if he had made the right choice for his co-consul. Pedius was his senior by thirty years, a man with a deeply seamed face and a narrow chin that came almost to a point. Everything about him looked sharp, but Pedius was a nervous little man who chewed his inner lips when he was worried. It was true that he had once been a client and a friend of Caesar. That friendship had not been enough for Pedius to vote against the amnesty, but he was at least a man who had not sided too openly with the Liberatores. Octavian studied him, seeing Pedius as those who came to vote would and sighing to himself. He had been forced to flatter and bribe Pedius with little subtlety