The Blood of Gods A Novel of Rome - By Conn Iggulden Page 0,95

would honour me if you would call the vote to overturn the amnesty.’

Pedius nodded immediately. Octavian had agreed to fund a new home for him in the sea town of Herculaneum, a place where only the richest men of Rome dwelled. Pedius appreciated the delicacy and politeness, but he knew his support had been bought and was nothing more than a formality. Yet he had known divine Caesar and admired him for years. The shame of failing to vote against the original amnesty still stung in him. Though Octavian did not know it, the house by the sea was just froth compared to that.

‘It would be a pleasure, Caesar,’ he said.

Octavian smiled. Rome was his. In the weeks of preparation, one man had never doubted he would become consul on a wave of public acclaim. Mark Antony had written to him, asking for a meeting in a neutral place where they might plan a campaign against the Liberatores. It would begin today.

PART THREE

CHAPTER NINETEEN

The river Lavinius wandered across the north. Near Mutina, it had formed a dozen small islands in the water, ranging from rocky outcrops with a single tree to patches of dense woodland surrounded by the current and cut off from the world.

Octavian looked across the flowing waters to where Mark Antony waited for him. Neither man trusted the other completely, which made the island a perfect meeting place. On the other bank, two Gaul legions stood patiently in square formation, but they were helpless to intervene if Octavian planned treachery, just as the Seventh Victrix and Ninth Macedonia would not be able to help, if Mark Antony planned to kill him.

Simply reaching that point had been like an elaborate dance, with the two sides exchanging messages and promises as they came together. Both had guaranteed safe passage for the other, but the reality always involved a final gamble. Octavian looked at Agrippa and Maecenas. They had crossed once before to search the island for hidden soldiers or traps of any kind. It was impossible to be too cautious, Octavian thought. He took a deep breath, looking dubiously at the rocking boat.

‘I think, if we have missed something, if this does not go well, I would like to go to my death with the certain knowledge that Mark Antony will not be long behind me,’ he said. ‘Those are my orders. If I am killed, he is not to leave that island alive.’

He judged the distances, seeing that Mark Antony had picked a spot out of reach of legion spear-throwers.

‘Bring up the scorpion bows and have the teams aim out over the river,’ Octavian said.

His legions had been able to assemble the massive weapons over the previous day and it gave him some relief to watch them dragged up by teams of oxen and aimed at the island. On the far bank, he saw the same thing happening and wondered what it would be like to stand on that small isle and hear the snap of the bows as they sent iron bolts streaking across the water.

‘Are you ready?’ he asked his friends.

Agrippa answered by clambering down into the boat and checking ropes with a tug. Maecenas shrugged, still staring out at the figures waiting for them.

‘You’ve done all you can. If it’s a plot, he won’t live through it, I can promise that much.’

‘Unless he isn’t even there,’ Agrippa said as he settled himself. ‘The big man with the armour could be just an officer to draw us in to a place he can strike with his own catapults and bows.’

‘Always the optimist, Agrippa,’ Maecenas said.

Even so, Maecenas climbed into the boat and took a grip on the tall prow, preferring to stand. There were four rowers already in place in the skiff, all veteran swordsmen with weapons at their feet that they could grab at a moment’s notice. As one, they looked up at Octavian and he nodded to them.

‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Let’s see what he wants.’ He climbed in and sat against the wooden rail of the skiff, his gaze already focused on their destination. ‘Cast off, or row, or whatever the command is,’ he said.

Agrippa looked pained, but the rowers pushed away from the bank and the boat turned into the current. With four oars stroking through the water, it accelerated quickly towards the island. Octavian was surprised to find he was enjoying himself. Agrippa saw his expression change and smiled.

‘There is a magic to small boats,’ he said. ‘But galleys are better