"Don't worry about the mess. I have two dogs that will love this when I let them in."

Marcus turned his head away and vomited helplessly. Primus tutted and rearranged the hands that held the arm. A white spike of bone was visible a hand's breadth up from the elbow.

Renius had begun to breathe in hard blasts from his nose, and Primus pressed a hand against his brother's neck, feeling for the pulse.

"I'll be as quick as I can," he muttered.

Renius nodded, unblinking.

Primus stood up and wiped his hands on a cloth. He looked his brother in the eyes and grimaced at what he found there.

"This is the hard part. You will feel the pain when I cut the bone, and the vibration is very unpleasant. I will be as fast as I can. Hold him very still. For two minutes, you must be like a rock. No more of this puking, understand?"

Marcus took deep breaths, miserably, and Primus brought out a thin-bladed saw, set in a wooden handle like a kitchen knife.

"Ready?"

They both muttered assent and Primus set the blade and began to cut, his elbow moving back and forth almost in a blur.

Renius went rigid and his whole body rose against the ropes holding him. Marcus gripped as if his life depended on it, and winced whenever the blood made his fingers slip and the saw snagged.

Without warning, the arm came free, leaning sideways and away from Renius. Renius looked down at it and grunted in anger. Primus wiped his hands and pressed a wad of cloth into the wound. He gestured to Marcus to hold it in place and fetched the iron bar that had been heating in the fire. The tip glowed and Marcus winced in anticipation.

When the cloth was removed, Primus worked quickly, stabbing the tip into every spot of welling blood. Each contact sizzled and the stench was horrible. Marcus dry-heaved onto the floor, a line of sticky yellow bile connecting him with it.

"Put this back in the fire, quickly. I will hold the cloth while it heats again."

Marcus staggered upright and took the bar, jamming it back into the flames. Renius's head lolled on his shoulders and the leather strip fell from his slack mouth.

Primus kept holding the cloth, then removing it to watch the blood come. He swore viciously.

"I've missed half the pipes at least. Used to be, I could hit each one with one go, but I haven't done this in a few years. It has to be done right, or the wound will poison itself. Is the iron ready yet?"

Marcus withdrew it, but the point was still black. "No. Will he be all right?"

"Not if I can't seal the wound, no. Get outside and fetch some wood to build up the fire."

Marcus was thankful for the excuse and left quickly, taking great gulps of sweet air as he stood outside. It was almost dark-gods, how long had they been in there? He noticed a couple of large hounds tied to a wall around the side, asleep. He shuddered and gathered heavy chunks of wood from the pile near them. They woke at his approach and growled softly, but didn't get up. Without looking at them, he went back inside, dumping two billets onto the flames.

"Bring me the iron as soon as the tip is red," Primus muttered, pressing the wad of cloth hard against the stump.

Marcus avoided looking at the detached arm. It seemed wrong, away from a body, and his stomach heaved in a series of quick spasms before he had the sense to gaze back at the flames.

Once more the bar had to be reheated before Primus was finally satisfied. Marcus knew he would never be able to forget the fsss sound of the burning and repressed a shudder as he helped bind the stump in clean cloth bandages. Together, they lifted Renius onto a pallet bed in another room, and Marcus sat on the edge, wiping the sweat out of his eyes, thankful it was over.

"What happens to… that?" He gestured toward the arm that was still tied to the chair.

Primus shrugged. "Doesn't seem right to give the whole thing to my dogs. I'll probably bury it somewhere in the woods. It would only rot and smell if I didn't, but a lot of men ask for them. There are so many memories wrapped up in a hand. I mean, those fingers have held women and patted children. It is a lot to lose, but my brother is strong. I hope strong enough even for this."

"Our ship leaves in four days, on the best tide," Marcus said weakly.

Primus scratched his chin. "He can sit a horse. He will be weak for a few days, but he's as strong as a bull. The problems will be with balance. He will have to retrain, almost from scratch. How long is the sea trip?"

"A month, with good winds," Marcus replied.

"Use the time. Practice with him every day. Of all men, my brother will not enjoy being less than capable."

CHAPTER 17

Marius paused at the inner doors of the Senate chamber.

"You are not allowed to enter until you are officially accepted as a citizen, and then only as my guest for the day. I will propose you and make a short speech on your behalf. It is a formality. Wait until I return and show you where you may sit."

Gaius nodded calmly and stood back as Marius rapped on the doors and walked through them as they opened. He was left alone in the outer chamber and paced up and down it for a while.

After twenty minutes, he began to fret at the delay and wandered over to the open outer doors, looking down onto the massed soldiers in the forum. They were an impressive sight, standing rigidly to attention despite the heat of the day. From the height of the Senate doors and with the open plaza ahead of him, Gaius had a good view of the bustling city beyond. He was lost in his inspection of this when he heard the creak of hinges from the inner doors and Marius stepped out.

"Welcome to the nobilitas, Gaius. You are a citizen of Rome and your father would be proud. Sit next to me and listen to the matters of the day. You will find them interesting, I suspect."

Gaius followed and met the eyes of the senators as they watched him enter. One or two nodded to him and he wondered if they had known his father, memorizing faces in case he had a chance to speak to them later on. He glanced around the hall, trying not to stare. The world listened to what these few had to say.

The arrangement was very like the circus in miniature, he thought as he took the seat Marius indicated. Five stepped tiers of seating curled around a central space where one speaker at a time could address the others. Gaius remembered from his tutors that the rostrum was made from the prow of a Carthaginian warship, and was fascinated to imagine its history.

The seats were built into the curving rows, with dark wooden arms protruding where they were not obscured by seated men. Everyone wore white togas and sandals and the effect was of a working room, a place that crackled with energy. Most of the men had white hair, but a few were young and physically commanding. Several of the senators were standing, and he guessed this was to show they wanted to raise a point or add to the debate at hand. Sulla himself stood at the center of it all, talking about taxation and corn. He smiled at Gaius when he saw the young man looking over at him, and Gaius felt the power of it. Here was another like Marius, he judged on the instant, but was there room in Rome for two of that kind? Sulla looked as he had when Gaius had seen him at the games. He was dressed in a simple white toga, belted with a band of red. His hair was oiled and gleamed in dark gold curls. He glowed with health and vitality and seemed completely relaxed. As Gaius took his seat next to his uncle, Sulla coughed into his hand delicately.

"I think, given the more serious business of the day, that this taxation debate can be postponed until next week. Are there any objections?" Those who were standing sat down, looking unperturbed. Sulla smiled again, revealing even, white teeth.