The Emperor Series Books 1-4 - Conn Iggulden

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      ‘My answer is no. Make an end of it.’

      Sulla blinked in surprise and then laughed out loud.

      ‘What a strange family! Do you know how many men have died in this very room over the last few days? Do you know how many have been blinded, castrated and scarred? Yet you scorn my mercy?’ He laughed again and the sound was harsh under the echoing dome.

      ‘If I let you go free, will you try to kill me?’

      Julius nodded. ‘I will devote my remaining years to that end.’

      Sulla grinned at him in genuine pleasure. ‘I thought so. You are fearless, and the only one of the nobilitas to refuse a bargain of mine.’ Sulla paused for a moment, raising his hand to signal to the torturer, who stood ready. Then his hand dropped listlessly.

      ‘You may go free. Leave my city before sunset. If you come back while I live, I will have you killed without trial or audience. Cut his ropes, gentlemen. You have bound a free man.’ He chuckled for a moment, then was still as the ropes fell in twisted circles by Julius' feet. The young man rubbed his wrists, but his expression was as still as stone.

      Sulla stood from his throne.

      ‘Take him to the gates and let him walk.’ He turned to look Julius in the eye. ‘If anyone ever asks you why, tell them it was because you remind me of myself and perhaps I have killed enough men today. That's all.’

      ‘What about my wife?’ Julius called as his arms were taken again by the guards.

      Sulla shrugged. ‘I may take her as a mistress, if she learns to please me.’

      Julius struggled wildly, but could not break free as he was dragged out.

      The scribe lingered by the door.

      ‘General? Is that wise? He is Marius’ nephew after all …'

      Sulla sighed and accepted another cup of cold liquid from the slave girl.

      ‘Gods save us from little men. I gave you my reason. I have achieved anything I ever wanted and boredom looms. It is good to leave a few dangers to threaten me.’

      His gaze focused far away.

      ‘He is an impressive young man. I think there may be two of Marius inside him.’

      The scribe's expression showed he understood none of it.

      ‘Shall I have the next one brought in, Consul?’

      ‘No more today. Are the baths heated? Good, the Senate leaders will be dining with me tonight and I want to be fresh.’

      Sulla always had his pool as hot as he could possibly stand it. It relaxed him wonderfully. His only attendants were two of his house slave girls and he rose naked out of the water without self-consciousness in front of them. They too were naked, except for bangles of gold on their wrists and around their necks.

      Both had been chosen for their full figures and he was pleased as he allowed them to rub the water from his body. It was good for a man to look on beautiful things. It raised the spirit above the level of the beasts.

      ‘The water has brought my blood to the surface, but I feel sluggish,’ he murmured to them, walking a few paces to a long massage bench. It was soft under him and he felt himself relax completely. He closed his eyes, listening to the two young women as they tied the thin, springy wands of the birch tree, gathered fresh that morning and still green.

      The two slaves stood over his heat-flushed body. Each held a long bunch of the cut branches, almost like a brush, three feet long. At first they almost caressed him with the birch twigs, leaving faint white marks on his skin.

      He groaned slightly and they paused.

      ‘Master, would you like it harder?’ one of them asked, timidly. Her mouth was bruised purple from his attentions the night before, and her hands trembled slightly.

      He smiled without opening his eyes and stretched out on the bench. It was splendidly invigorating.

      ‘Ah yes,’ he replied dreamily. ‘Lay on, girls, lay on.’

       CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

      Julius stood with Cabera and Tubruk at the docks, his face grey and cold. In contrast, as if to mock the grim events of his life, the day was hot and perfect, with only a light breeze coming off the sea to bring relief to the dust-stained travellers. It had been a hectic flight from the stinking city. At first he had been alone and on a sway-backed pony that was all he could buy for a gold ring. Grimacing, he had skirted around the firepits filled with flesh and trotted onto the main stone road west to the coast.

      Then he heard a familiar hail and saw his friends step out from the trees ahead. It had been a joyous reunion to find each other alive, though the mood darkened as they told their stories.

      Even in that first moment, Julius could see Tubruk had lost some of his vitality. He looked gaunt and dirty and told briefly of how they had lived as animals in streets where every sort of horror happened in the day and grew worse at night, where screams and shouts were the only clues. He and Cabera had agreed to wait a week on the road to the coast, hoping Julius could win free.

      ‘After that,’ Cabera said, ‘we were going to steal some swords and cut you out.’

      Tubruk laughed in response and Julius could see they had grown closer in their time together. It failed to lighten his mood. Julius told them of Sulla's whimsical cruelty and his fists clenched in fresh anger as the words spilled from him.

      ‘I will come back to Rome. I will cut off his balls if he touches my wife,’ he said quietly at the end.

      His companions could not hold his gaze for long and even Cabera's usual humour had vanished for a while.

      ‘He has the pick of women in Rome, Gaius,’ Tubruk murmured. ‘He's just the sort of man who likes to twist the knife a little. Her father will keep her safe, even get her out of Rome if there's a danger. That old man would set his guards on Sulla himself if there was a threat to her. You know this.’

      Julius nodded, his eyes distant, needing to be persuaded. At first, he had wanted to try to get to her under cover of night, but the curfew was back and moving in the streets would mean instant death.

      At least Cabera had managed to get hold of a few valuable items in the days he had spent on the streets with Tubruk. A gold armlet he had found in ashes bought them horses and bribes to pass the wall guards. The drafts that Julius still carried against his skin were too large to change outside a city and it was infuriating to have to rely on a few bronze coins when paper wealth was so close, but useless to them. Julius was not even sure that Marius' signature would make them good any more, but guessed the wily general would have thought of that. He had prepared for almost anything.

      Julius had spent a couple of their valuable coins sending letters, giving each to legionaries on their way back to the city or outwards to the coast and Greece.

      Cornelia would know he was safe, at least, but it would be a long time before he could see her again. Until he could return with strength and support, he was not able to return at all and the bitterness of it twisted and ate at him, leaving him empty and tired. Marcus would hear of the disaster in Rome and not come blindly back to look for him when his term of service ended. That was only a small comfort. As never before, he felt the loss of his friend.

      A thousand other regrets taunted him as they came into his mind, too painful to be allowed to take root. The world had changed fundamentally for the young man. Marius could not be dead. The world was empty without him.

      Weary after days on the road, the three men trotted their horses into the bustling coastal port west of Rome. Tubruk spoke first, after they had dismounted and tied their horses to a post outside an inn.

      ‘The flags of three legions are here. Your papers

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