The deck was clear of loose objects, as befitted a Roman war vessel. Everything that might cause injury in rough seas was lashed down securely. Steps led to the lower levels at various places in the planking, and each could be secured with a bolted hatch to prevent heavy waves from crashing down after the crew. It looked like a well-run ship, but until he met the captain, he wouldn't know how things would be for the next two years of his life. He could smell tar and salt and sweat, the scents of an alien world he did not know. He felt strangely nervous and almost laughed at himself.

Out of the deck shadows came a tall man in the full uniform of a centurion. He looked hard and neat, with gray hair cut short to his head and his breastplate shined to a bright bronze glow in the sun. His expression was watchful as he crossed the planks to the dockside and greeted the three waiting men.

"Good day, gentlemen. I am Centurion Gaditicus, nominal captain of this vessel for the Third Partica legion. We cast off on the next tide, so I cannot spare you a great deal of time, but the name of Consul Marius carries a lot of weight, even now. State your business and I'll see what I can do."

Straight to the point, without fuss. Julius felt himself warming to the man. He reached into his tunic and brought out the packet of papers Marius had given him. Gaditicus took them and broke the seal with his thumb. He read quickly, with a frown, nodding occasionally.

"These were written before Sulla was back in control?" he asked, his eyes still on the parchment.

Julius felt the desire to lie, but guessed he was being tested by this man. "They were. My uncle did not… expect Sulla to be successful."

Gaditicus's eyes were unwavering as he measured the young man in front of him. "I was sorry when I heard he was lost. He was a popular man and good for Rome. These papers were signed by a consul-they are perfectly valid. However, I am within my rights to refuse you a berth until your personal position vis-a-vis Cornelius Sulla is made clear to me. I will take your word if you are a truthful man."

"I am, sir," Julius replied.

"Are you wanted for criminal offenses?"

"I am not."

"Are you avoiding scandal of any sort?"

"No."

Again the man held his gaze for a few seconds, but Julius did not look away. Gaditicus folded the papers and placed them inside his own clothing.

"I will allow you to take the oath, on the lowest officer's rank of tesserarius. Advancement will come quickly if you show ability; slowly or not at all if you don't. Understood?"

Julius nodded, keeping his face impassive. The days of high life in Roman society were over. This was the steel in the empire that allowed the city to relax in softness and joy. He would have to prove himself again, this time without the benefit of a powerful uncle.

"These two, how do they fit in?" Gaditicus asked, motioning toward Tubruk and Cabera.

"Tubruk is my estate manager. He will be returning. The old man is Cabera, my… servant. I would like him to accompany me."

"He's too old for the oars, but we'll find work for him. No one loafs on any ship I run. Everyone works. Everyone."

"Understood, sir. He has some skill as a healer."

Cabera had taken on a slightly glassy-eyed expression, but agreed after a pause.

"That will serve. Will you be signing on for two years or five?" Gaditicus asked.

"Two, to begin with, sir." Julius kept his voice firm. Marius had warned him not to devote his life to soldiering under long contracts, but to keep his options open to gain a wider experience.

"Then welcome to the Third Partica, Julius Caesar," Gaditicus said gruffly. "Now get on board and see the quartermaster for your bunk and supplies. I'll see you in two hours for the oath taking."

Julius turned to Tubruk, who reached across and gripped his hand and wrist.

"Gods favor the brave, Julius," the old warrior said, smiling. He turned to Cabera. "And you, keep him away from strong drink, weak women, and men who own their own dice. Understand?"

Cabera made a vulgar sound with his mouth, "I own my own dice," he replied.

Gaditicus pretended not to notice the exchange as he once again crossed the planks onto his ship.

The old man felt the future settle as the decision was made, and a spot of tension in his skull disappeared almost before he had realized it was there. He could sense the sudden lift in Julius's spirits and felt his own mood perk up. The young never worried about the future or the past, not for long. As they boarded the galley, the dark and bloody events in Rome seemed to belong to a different world.

Julius stepped onto the moving deck and pulled a deep breath into his lungs.

A young soldier, perhaps in his early twenties, stood nearby with a sly look on his face. He was tall and solid with a pocked and pitted face bearing old acne scars.

"I thought it must be you, mudfish," he said. "I recognized Tubruk on the dock."

For a moment, Julius didn't recognize the man. Then it clicked. "Suetonius?" he exclaimed.

The man stiffened slightly. "Tesserarius Prandus, to you. I am watch commander for this century. An officer."

"You're signing on as one of those, aren't you, Julius?" Cabera said clearly.

Julius looked at Suetonius. On this day, he hadn't the patience to mind the man's feelings.

"For now," he replied to Cabera, then turned to his old neighbor. "How long have you been in that rank?"

"A few years," Suetonius replied, stiffening.

Julius nodded. "I'll have to see if I can do better than that. Will you show me to my quarters?"

Anger at the offhand manner colored Suetonius's features. Without another word, he turned away from them, striding over the decks.

"An old friend?" Cabera muttered as they followed.

"No, not really." Julius didn't say any more and Cabera didn't press for details. There would be time enough at sea to hear them all.

Inwardly Julius sighed. Two years of his life would be spent with these men, and it would be hard enough without having Suetonius there to remember him as a smooth-faced urchin. The unit would range right across the Mediterranean, holding Roman territories, guaranteeing safe sea trade, perhaps even taking part in land or sea battles. He shrugged at his thoughts. His experience in the city had shown that there was no point worrying about the future-it would always be a surprise. He would become older and stronger and would rise in rank. Eventually he would be strong enough to return to Rome and look Sulla in the eye. Then they would see.

With Marcus standing at his side, there would be a reckoning, and a payment taken for Marius's death.

CHAPTER 35

Marcus waited patiently in the outer chamber of the camp prefects rooms. To pass the time before he was admitted to the meeting to determine his future, he read the letter from Gaius again. It had been traveling for many months and had been carried from hand to hand by legionaries passing closer and closer to Illyria. Finally, it had been included in a bundle of orders for the Fourth Macedonia and passed on to the young officer.

Marius's death had come as a terrible blow. Marcus had wanted to be able to show the general that his faith in him had been well founded. He had wanted to thank him as a man, but that was impossible now. Although he had never met Sulla, he wondered if the consul would be a danger for himself and Gaius-Julius now.

He smiled at the news of the marriage and winced at the brief lines about Alexandria, guessing much more than Julius had revealed. Cornelia sounded like an angel to hear Julius write of her. It was really the only piece of good news in the whole thing.

His thoughts were interrupted by the heavy door to the inner rooms opening. A legionary came out and saluted. Marcus rose and returned the gesture smartly.