Marcus looked at the older man and understood what couldn't be said openly in front of the boy.

"There's enough," he replied, his voice low.

Peritas looked away and nodded to himself.

As dawn broke, Marcus and the others waited grimly for the assault, bleary-eyed from lack of sleep. Every man of them stood on the walls, swinging their heads nervously at the slightest movement of a bird or rabbit down on the scrubland. The silence was frightening, but when a sword falling over interrupted it, more than a few swore at the soldier who'd let it slip.

Then, in the distance, they heard the brassy horns of a Roman legion, echoing in the hills. Peritas jogged along the narrow walkway inside the walls and cheered as they watched three centuries of men come out of the mountain trails at a double-speed march.

It was only a few minutes before a voice sounded, "Approaching the fort," and the gates were thrown open.

The legion commanders had not been slow in sending out a strike force when the caravan was late returning. After the recent attacks, they wanted a show of strength and had marched through the dark hours over rough terrain, making twenty miles in the night.

"Did you see any sign of the blueskins?" Peritas asked, frowning. "There were hundreds around the fort when we arrived. We were expecting an attack."

A centurion shook his head and pursed his lips. "We saw signs of them, smoldering campfires and rubbish. It looks like they all moved out in the night. There is no accounting for the way savages think, you know. One of their magic men probably saw an unlucky bird or some kind of omen."

He looked around at the fort and caught the stench of the bodies.

"Looks like we have work to do here. Orders are to man this place until relieved. I'll send a Fifty back with you to permanent camp. No one moves without a heavy armed force from now on. This is hostile territory, you know."

Marcus opened his mouth to reply and Peritas turned him deftly around with an arm on his shoulder, sending him off with a gentle push.

"We know," he said, before turning away to ready his men for the march home.

CHAPTER 31

The street gang was already draped in expensive bolts of cloth, stolen from a shop or seamstress. They carried clay vessels that sloshed red wine onto the stone street as they wove and staggered along.

Alexandria peered out of the locked gates of Marius's town house, frowning.

"The filth of Rome," she muttered to herself. With all the soldiers in the city engaged in battle, it had not taken long for those who enjoyed chaos to come out onto the streets. As always, it was the poor who suffered the most. Without guards of any kind, houses were broken into and everything of value carried away by yelling, jeering looters.

Alexandria could see one of the bolts of cloth was splashed with blood, and her fingers itched for a bow to send a shaft into the man's drunken mouth.

She ducked back behind the gatepost as they went past, wincing as a burly hand reached out to rattle the gate, testing for weakness. She gripped the hammer she had taken from Bant's workshop. If they tried to climb the gates, she was ready to crack someone's head. Her heart thudded as they paused and she could hear every slurred word between them.

"There's a whorehouse on Via Tantius, lads. We could get a little free trade," came a rough voice.

"They'll have guards, Brac. I wouldn't leave a post like that, would you? I'd make sure I got paid for my service as well. Those whores would be glad to have a strong man protecting them. What we want is another nice little wife with a couple of young daughters. We'll offer to look after them while the husband's away."

"I'm first, though. I didn't get much of a turn last time," the first voice said.

"I was too much for her, that's why. After me, a woman don't want another."

The laughter was coarse and brutal and Alexandria shuddered as they moved away.

She heard light footsteps behind her and spun, raising the hammer.

"It's all right, it's me," Metella said, her face pale. She had heard the end of it. Both women had tears in their eyes.

"Are you certain about this, mistress?"

"Quite certain, Alexandria, but you'll have to run. It will be worse if you stay here. Sulla is a vengeful man and there is no reason for you to be caught up in his spite. Go and find this Tabbic. You have the paper I signed?"

"Of course. It is the dearest thing I own."

"Keep it safe. The next few months will be difficult and dangerous. You will need proof you are a free woman. Invest the money Gaius left for you and stay safe until the city legion has restored order."

"I just wish I could thank him."

"I hope you have the chance one day." Metella stepped up to the bars and unlocked them, looking up and down the street. "Go quickly now. The road is clear for the moment, but you must hurry down to the market. Don't stop for anything, you understand?"

Alexandria nodded stiffly, not needing to be told after what she had heard. She looked at Metella's pale skin and dark eyes and felt fear touch her.

"I just worry about you in this great house, all alone. Who will look after you, with the house empty?"

Metella held up a hand in a gentle gesture. "Have no fear for me, Alexandria. I have friends who will spirit me away from the city. I will find a warm foreign land and retire there, away from all the intrigue and pains of a growing city. Somewhere ancient appeals to me, where all the struggle of youth is but a distant memory. Stay to the main street. I can't relax until the last of my family is safely away."

Alexandria held her gaze for a second, her eyes bright with tears. Then she nodded once and passed through the gates, closing them firmly behind her and hurrying away.

Metella watched her go, feeling every one of her years in comparison to the young girl's light steps. She envied the ability of the young to start anew, without looking back at the old. Metella kept her in sight until she turned a street corner, and then looked inward to her empty, echoing home. The great house and gardens were empty at last.

How could Marius not be here? It was an eerie thought. He had been gone so often on long campaigns, yet always returned, full of life and wit and strength. The idea that he would not return once more for her was an ugly wound that she would not examine. It was too easy to imagine that he was away with his legion, conquering new lands or building huge aqueducts for foreign kings. She would sleep and, when she awoke, the awful sucking pain inside her would be gone and he would be there to hold her.

She could smell smoke on the air. Ever since Sulla's attack on the city three days before, there had been fire, raging untended from house to house and street to street. It had not reached the stone houses of the rich yet, but the fire that roared in Rome would consume them all eventually, piling ashes on ashes until there was nothing left of dreams.

Metella looked out at the city that sloped away from the hill. She leaned against a marble wall and felt its coolness as a comfort against the thick heat. There were vast black plumes of churning smoke lifting into the air from a dozen points and spreading into a gray layer, the color of despair. Screams carried on the wind as the marauding soldiers fought without mercy and the raptores on the streets killed or raped anything that crossed their path.

She hoped Alexandria would get through safely. The house guards had deserted her the morning they heard of Marius's death. She supposed she was lucky they had not murdered her in her bed and looted the house, but the betrayal still stung. Had they not been treated fairly and well? What was left to stand on in a world where a man's oath could vanish in the first warm breeze?