The Gates of Rome Page 18

  The men had begun cheering and only Gaius, Tubruk, and Cabera cheered for the younger fighter. Fulvio was smiling and Marcus began to think. The man was fast and difficult to hit. At present, Marcus was doing all the work, winning nothing for his efforts. He growled in rage and surged forward, his right arm cocked. He saw Fulvio steady himself and then pulled up suddenly, letting the blow that should have knocked him out go past his chin. Marcus punched fast and hard at Fulvio's nose and was gratified at the crunch of bones he felt. At that second, a cross caught him on the side of his head and he went down hard on the wooden floor, dazed and winded.

  He panted as he came up onto one knee and looked up at Fulvio standing a couple of paces away. Blood streamed from his nose again and he looked murderous.

  Marcus got up into a flurry of blows. He tried to stay away and fend off the worst of them, but Fulvio was all over him, thumping fists into his stomach and kidneys from all angles, chopping him to pieces and, when the pain made him hunch, catching Marcus with swift uppercuts to the head, rocking him back. He fell again and lay there, his chest heaving painfully. He tasted blood in his mouth and his left eye was swelling shut under the assault of Fulvio's straight right.

  This time he rose and took three quick steps backward to give him time to compose himself. Fulvio came at him remorselessly, moving his head and body from side to side as he looked for the best place to hit. The man resembled a snake about to bite, and Marcus knew the next time he went down he was unlikely to get up. Anger flooded him and he ducked the first punch on sheer reflexes, batting the follow-through away with his arm. He felt Fulvios forearm slide under his fingers and suddenly gripped the wrist. His right fist came into the man's stomach with all the power of his shoulders behind it, and he was rewarded with a slight whoosh of pain.

  Still holding the arm, he tried to repeat the punch, but Fulvio brought his left over and clipped him hard on the jaw. The world went black and he fell down, barely feeling the hard wooden boards underneath him. His legs seemed to have lost all strength, and he could only manage to get himself up onto all fours, panting like a beast.

  Fulvio waved a glove at him to get up, still unsatisfied. Marcus looked down at the floor and wondered if he should. Blood dribbled from between his lips and he watched it spatter into a small pool.

  Ah well, he thought. One more try.

  This time Fulvio didn't rush him. He was grinning again and beckoned with his hands for Marcus to come on. Marcus tightened his jaw. He was going to put the man on his back one more time if it killed him. He imagined each of Fulvio's fists held a dagger, so that any contact would mean death. He felt his spirits rise. He knew how to fight with swords and knives, so why was this so different? He let himself sway a little, wanting Fulvio to come in. Most of his knife training had revolved around counterstrikes, and he wanted the boxer to throw another punch. Fulvio quickly lost patience and came in fast, fists bobbing.

  Marcus watched the fists and when one exploded toward him, he blocked, lifting it with his forearm, and counterpunched into Fulvio's abdomen. Fulvio grunted and the left came over the top again in reflex, but this time Marcus dropped his head and the blow skidded over him, leaving Fulvio open for a split second. Marcus hammered everything into a straight left stopper, wishing it were his right. Fulvio's head rocked back and, when it came level, the right was ready and Marcus smacked it into the boxer's broken nose again. Fulvio took a sudden seat and fresh blood poured from his battered nose.

  Before Marcus could feel any pleasure, the man leapt up and poured out a string of blows, seeming to move twice as fast as he had before. Marcus went down after the first two and caught two more as he fell. This time he didn't get up and didn't hear the cheers or the horn as Marius nodded to end the match.

  Fulvio raised his hands in triumph and Marius ruefully signaled the first fifty of the hundred gold coins to be given back to the men. They gathered together in a momentary huddle and then, when silence had fallen, one of them offered the bag back to Marius.

  "We'll let the win ride for the next one, sir, if you're willing," he said.

  Marius grimaced in mock horror, but nodded and said he would cover the bet. The men cheered again.

  Marcus woke up as Tubruk threw a cup of wine in his face.

  "Did I win?" he said through smashed lips.

  Tubruk chuckled and wiped some of the blood and wine off his face.

  "Not even close, but you were still astonishing. You shouldn't have been able to touch him."

  "Touched him properly, though," he mumbled, smiling and wincing as his lips cracked. "Knocked him on his arse."

  Marcus looked around for somewhere to spit and, finding nothing handy, swallowed a gummy mixture of phlegm and blood.

  Every part of him hurt, worse than it had when he'd been tied up by Suetonius years before. He wondered if he'd be as good-looking when he'd healed, but his thoughts were interrupted by Fulvio coming over, taking off his gloves as he walked.

  "Good fight. I had three gold pieces on me, myself. You're very fast—in a few years, you could be seriously dangerous."

  Marcus nodded and put out his hand. Fulvio looked at it and then shook it briefly and walked back to the men, who cheered him all over again.

  "Take the cloth and keep dabbing as the blood drips," Tubruk continued cheerfully. "You'll need stitches over your eye. We'll have to cut it to get the swelling down as well."

  "Not yet. I'll watch Gaius first."

  "Of course." Tubruk walked away, still chuckling, and Marcus squinted at him through his one good eye.

  Gaius clenched his fists and waited for Tubruk to reach him. His opponent had already taken the floor and was limbering up, stretching his muscular shoulders and legs.

  "He's a big brute," he muttered as Tubruk came alongside.

  "True, but he's not a boxer. You have a reasonable chance against this one, as long as you don't get in the way of one of his big punches. He'll put you out like snuffing a candle if he catches you. Stay back and use your feet to move around him."

  Gaius looked at him quizzically. "Anything else?"

  "If you can, punch him in the testicles. He'll watch for it, but it isn't strictly speaking against the rules."

  "Tubruk, you do not have the heart of a decent man."

  "No, I have the heart of a slave and a gladiator. I have two gold pieces on you for this one and I want to win."

  "Did you bet on Marcus?" he asked.

  "Of course not. Unlike Marius, I don't throw money away."

  Marius came to the center and signaled for silence once again.

  "After that disappointing loss, the money rides on the next bout. Decidus and Gaius, take your marks. Same rules. When you hear the horn, begin." He waited until both stood eyeing each other and walked to the wall, folding his great arms over his chest.

  As the horn sounded, Gaius stepped in and slammed his fist up into Decidus's throat. The bigger man gave out a choked groan and raised both his hands to his neck, in agony. Gaius threw a scything uppercut that caught Decidus on the chin. He went down onto his knees and then toppled forward, his eyes glassy and blank. Gaius walked slowly back to his stool and sat down. He smiled silently and Renius, watching, remembered the same smile on a younger boy's face as he'd lifted him from the icy waters of a river pool. Renius nodded sharply in approval, his eyes bright, but Gaius did not see it.

  The silence roared for a second, then the men released the breath they'd been holding and a rabble of voices broke out—mostly questions spiced with a few choice swearwords as they realized the bets were all lost.

  Marius walked over to the prostrate figure and felt his neck for a second. Silence fell again. Finally, he nodded.

  "His heart beats. He'll live. Should have kept his chin down."

  The men gave a halfhearted cheer for the winner, though their spirits weren't really in it.

  Marius addressed the crowd, grinning. "If you have an appetite, there's a feast waiting for you in the dining hall. We'
ll make a night of it, for tomorrow it's back to planning and work."

  Decidus was revived and taken out, shaking his head groggily. The rest trooped after him, leaving Marcus and Gaius alone with the general. Renius never left his seat and Cabera stayed back as well, his face alive with interest.

  "Well, boys, you've made me a lot of money today!" Marius boomed, starting to laugh. He had to lean against a wall for support as the laughter shook his frame.

  "Their faces! Two beardless boys and one puts Fulvio on his backside..." The laughter overtook him and he wiped his eyes as tears streamed over his red face.

  Renius stood up, swaying a little. He walked over to Marcus and Gaius and clapped a hand on each shoulder.

  "You've started making your names," he said quietly.

  CHAPTER 15

  On the night before the Triumph, the First-Born camp was anything but peaceful. Gaius sat around one of the campfires and sharpened a dagger that had belonged to his father. All around, the fires and noise of seven thousand soldiers and camp followers made the darkness busy and cheerful. They were camped in open country, less than five miles from the gates of the city. For the last week, armor had been polished, leather waxed, tears in cloth stitched. Horses were groomed until they shone like chestnuts. Marching drills had become tense affairs; mistakes were not tolerated and no one wanted to be left behind when they marched into Rome.

  The men were all proud of Marius and themselves. There was no false modesty in the camp; they knew they and he deserved the honor.

  Gaius stopped sharpening as Marcus came into the firelight and took a seat on a bench. Gaius looked into the flames and didn't smile.

  "What's the word?" he said angrily, without turning his head.

  "I leave at dawn tomorrow," Marcus replied. He too looked into the fire as he continued speaking. "This is for the best, you know. Marius has written a letter for me to take to my new century. Would you like to see it?"

  Gaius nodded and Marcus passed a scroll over to him. He read:

  I recommend this young man to you, Carac. He will make a first-rate soldier in a few years. He has a good mind and excellent reflexes. He was trained by Renius, who will accompany him to your camp. Give him responsibility as soon as he has proved he can handle it. He is a friend of my house.

  Marius. Primigenia.

  "Fine words. I wish you luck," Gaius said bitterly as he finished, passing back the scroll.

  Marcus snorted. "More than just fine words! Your uncle has given me my ticket into another legion. You don't understand what this means to me. Of course I would like to stay with you, but you will be learning politics in the Senate, then taking a high post in the army and the temples. I own nothing except my skills and my wits and the equipment Marius has given me. Without his patronage, I would be pushed to get a post as a temple guard! With it, I have a chance to make something of myself. Do you grudge it of me?"

  Gaius turned to him, his anger surprising Marcus. "I know it's what you have to do, I just never saw myself tackling Rome alone. I always expected you to be with me. That is what friendship means."

  Marcus gripped his arm tightly. "You will always be my greatest friend. If ever you need me to be at your side, then call and I will come to you. You remember the pact before we came to the city? We look out for each other and we can trust each other completely. That is my oath and I have never broken it."

  Gaius did not look at him and Marcus let his hand fall away.

  "You can have Alexandria," Marcus said, attempting a noble expression.

  Gaius gasped. "A parting gift? What a generous friend you are! You are too ugly for her, as she told me just yesterday. She only likes your company for the contrast. You make her look more beautiful when your monkey face is around."

  Marcus nodded cheerfully. "She does seem to want me only for sex. Perhaps you can read poetry to her while I run her through the positions."

  Gaius took a quick breath of indignation, then smiled slowly at his friend. "With you gone, I will be the one showing her the positions." He chuckled to himself at this, hiding his thoughts. What positions? He could think of only two.

  "You will be like a bullock after me, with all the practice I have been getting. Marius is a generous man."

  Gaius looked at his friend, trying to judge how much of his boasting was just that. He knew Marcus had proved a favorite with the slave girls of Marius's house and was rarely to be found in his own room after dark. As for himself, he didn't know what he felt. Sometimes he wanted Alexandria so much it hurt him, and other times he wanted to be chasing the girls along the corridors as Marcus did. He did know that if he ever tried to force her as a slave, he would lose all that he found precious. A silver coin would buy him that kind of union. The idea that Marcus might have already enjoyed what he wanted made his blood thump in irritation.

  Marcus broke in on these thoughts, his voice low. "You will need friends when you are older, men you can trust. We've both seen what sort of power your uncle has, and I think both of us would like a taste of it."

  Gaius nodded.

  "Then what good will I be to you as a penniless son of a city whore? I can make my name and fortune in my new legion, and then we can make real plans for the future."

  "I understand. I remember our oath and I will stick to it." Gaius was silent for a moment, then shook his head to clear it of thoughts of Alexandria. "Where will you be stationed?"

  "I'm with the Fourth Macedonia, so Renius and I are going to Greece—the home of civilization, they say. I'm looking forward to seeing alien lands. I have heard that the women run races without clothes on, you know. Makes the mind bulge a bit. Not just the mind, either." He laughed and Gaius smiled sickly, still thinking of Alexandria. Would she have given herself to him?

  "I'm glad Renius is your escort. It'll do him good to take his mind off his troubles for a while."

  Marcus grimaced. "True, though he won't be the best of company. He's been out of sorts ever since he turned up drunk at your uncle's, but I can understand why."

  "If the slaves had burned my house down, I'd be a bit lost as well. They even took his savings, you know. Had them under the floor, he said, but they must have been found by looters. That was not a glorious chapter in our history, slaves stealing an old man's savings. Mind you, he's not really an old man anymore, is he?"

  Marcus looked sideways at him. They had never discussed it, but Gaius hadn't seemed to need telling.

  "Cabera?" Gaius said, catching his eye.

  Marcus nodded.

  "I thought so; he did something similar for me, when I was wounded. He is certainly a useful man to have around."

  "I am glad he's staying with you. He has faith in your future. He should be able to keep you alive until I can come back, covered in glory and draped with beautiful women, all of whom will be the winners of footraces."

  "I might not recognize you underneath all that glory and those women."

  "I'll be the same. I'm sorry I'll miss the Triumph tomorrow. It should really be something special. You know he's had silver coins printed with his face? He's going to throw them to the crowds in the streets."

  Gaius laughed. "Typical of my uncle. He likes to be recognized. He enjoys fame more than winning battles, I think. He's already paying the men with those coins so the money gets spread around Rome even faster. It should annoy Sulla at least, which is probably what he really wants."

  Cabera and Renius came out of the darkness and took up the spaces on Marcus's bench.

  "There you are!" Renius said. "I was beginning to think I couldn't find you to say goodbye."

  Gaius noted again the fresh strength of the man. He looked no more than forty, or a well-preserved forty-five. His grip was like a trap as he put out his hand and Gaius took it.

  "We'll all meet again," Cabera said.

  They looked at him.

  He held his palms up and smiled. "It's not a prophecy, but I feel it. We haven't finished our paths yet."

  "I'm glad you're
staying, at least. With Tubruk back at the estate and these two off to Greece, I would be all on my own here," Gaius said, smiling a little shyly.

  "You look after him, you old scoundrel," Renius said. "I didn't go to all the trouble of training him to hear he's been kicked by a horse. Keep him away from bad women and too much drink." He turned to Gaius and held up a finger. "Train every day. Your father never let himself become soft and neither should you if you are to be of any use to our city."

  "I will. What are you going to do when you have delivered Marcus?"

  Renius's face darkened for a second. "I don't know. I don't have the funds to retire anymore, so we'll see... It is in the hands of the gods as always."

  For a moment, they all looked a little sad. Nothing ever stayed the same.

  "Come on," he continued gruffly. "Time for sleep. Dawn can't be more than a few hours away, and we all have a long day ahead of us."

  They shook hands in silence for the last time and returned to their tents.

  When Gaius awoke the following morning, Marcus and Renius were gone.

  By him, folded carefully, was the toga virilis, a man's garment. He looked at it for a long time, trying to recall Tubruks lessons on the correct way to wear one. A boy's tunic was so much simpler, and the low toga hem would become dirty very quickly. The message was clear in its simplicity: A man did not climb trees and throw himself through muddy rivers. Boyish pursuits were to be put behind him.

  In daylight, the large ten-man tents could be seen stretching into the distance, the orderly lines showing the discipline of the men and their general. Marius had spent most of the month mapping out a six-mile route along the streets that ended, as before, at the Senate steps. The filth had been scrubbed from the stones of the roads, but they were still narrow, winding courses, and the legion could get only six men or three horses across. There were going to be just under eleven hundred rows of soldiers, horses, and equipment. After a lot of argument with his engineers, Marius had agreed to leave his siege weapons at the camp—there was just no way to get them around the tight corners. The estimate was that it would take three hours to complete the march, and that was without holdups or mistakes of any kind.