CHAPTER 21

The summer had come and gone with its long, busy days, but winter was still far off as Julius mounted his horse at the Quirinal gate, ready to join the legions in the Campus. He looked around him as he took the reins, trying to fix this last picture of the city in his mind. Who knew how long it would have to sustain him in distant Gaul? Those travelers and merchants who had been to the small Roman camp at the far foot of the Alps said it was a bitter place, colder than any they had known. Julius had punished his lines of credit for furs and provisions for ten thousand soldiers. Eventually, he knew there would have to be a reckoning, but he did not allow the thought of debt to spoil the final moments in his city.

The Quirinal gate was open and Julius could see the Campus Martius through it, with his soldiers waiting patiently in shining squares. Julius doubted there was a legion anywhere to equal the Tenth, and Brutus had worked hard to make something greater out of the men he had conscripted. Not one of them had been allowed leave in almost a year, and they had used their time well. Julius was pleased with the name Brutus had chosen for them. The Third Gallica would be hardened in the land for which they had been named.

Brutus and Octavian mounted up beside him, while Domitius checked his saddle straps for tightness one last time. Julius smiled to himself at their silver armor. All three men had earned the right to wear it, but they made an unusual sight in the streets by the gate and already there was a crowd of urchins come to point and gawk at them. As well they might. Every part of their armor shone as brightly as polish and cloths could make them, and Julius felt a thrill at riding for Rome with these men.

If Salomin had come with them, it would have been perfect, Julius thought. It was just one more nagging regret in a sea of them that he had not been able to persuade the little fighter to make the trip to Gaul. Salomin had spoken for a long time about Roman honor, and Julius had listened. It was all he could offer after Pompey’s shameful treatment of him, but he had not pressed him after the first refusal.

The months in Senate had exceeded Julius’s hopes, and the triumvirate was holding better than he had any right to expect. Crassus had begun his domination of trade and his great fleet already rivaled anything Carthage had ever put to sea. His fledgling legion had been hammered into some sort of shape by the best officers in the Tenth, and Pompey would continue that work when they were gone. The three men had developed a grudging respect for each other in their months together, and Julius did not regret the bargain he had struck with them.

After the night of the election, Bibilus had not been seen in the Senate house for a single meeting.

Rumors of a long-term illness had spread through the city, but Julius maintained his silence about what had happened. He had kept his promises to the children, sending them to be raised in loving families far in the north. His private shame at profiting from their distress had prompted him to buy them free, though it bled his funds even whiter on top of everything else. Strangely, that simple act had given him more satisfaction than almost anything else in his months as consul.

“Brutus!” a voice called, shattering the moment.

Julius turned his horse in a tight circle and Brutus laughed aloud at the sight of Alexandria struggling through the crowds to the gate. As she reached him, she stood on tiptoe to be kissed, but Brutus reached down and heaved her into the saddle. Julius looked away, not that they would have noticed. It was difficult not to think of Servilia as he saw their happiness together.

When Alexandria was lowered to the road, Julius noticed she carried a cloth package. He raised his eyebrows as she held it out for him, blushing with embarrassment from the embrace he had witnessed.

Julius took the bundle and unwrapped it slowly, his eyes widening as he revealed a helmet worked with extraordinary skill. It was polished iron and shining with oil, but the strangest thing was the full face of it, shaped to resemble his own features.

Reverently, Julius lifted it above his head and then lowered it, pressing the hinged face back until it clicked. It fitted like a second skin. The eyes were large enough to see out easily, and he knew from the reactions of his companions that it achieved the effect Alexandria had wanted.

“It has a cold expression,” Octavian murmured, gazing at him.

Brutus nodded and Alexandria reached up to Julius’s saddle to speak privately to him.

“I thought it would protect your head better than the one you usually wear. There is a slide on the top for a plume, if you want one. There is nothing like it in Rome.”

Julius looked out through the iron mask at her, wishing for one painful moment that she was his and not his friend’s.

“It is perfect,” he said. “Thank you.” He reached down and hugged her, smelling the rich scent she used. An impulse struck him then and he removed the helmet as she stood back, his face flushed with more than just the heat. The legion would wait a little longer, after all. Perhaps there was still time to visit Servilia before he left.

“Alexandria, I must ask you to excuse us,” Julius said. “Gentlemen? I have an errand to run in the city before we join the men.”

Domitius vaulted into his saddle as an answer and the other two formed up. Alexandria blew a kiss to Brutus as Julius dug his heels into the horse’s flanks and they trotted down the road, the crowd scattering before them.

As they neared Servilia’s house, Brutus lost some of the glow Alexandria had imparted. If anything, he was relieved that the relationship between Julius and his mother had ended. But now, seeing his friend’s eager expression, he groaned inwardly. He should have known Julius wouldn’t give up so easily.

“Are you sure?” Brutus asked him as they dismounted at the door and passed the horses into the hands of her slaves.

“I am,” Julius replied, striding in.

As consul, he could go where he pleased in the city, but all four of them were known to the house in various fashions, and Octavian and Domitius paused in an outer chamber to say their own goodbyes to their favorites while they had the chance. Brutus threw himself onto a long couch and settled down to wait.

He alone of them had never visited the house for anything except to see his mother. There was something vaguely incestuous about the idea and he ignored the interest of the girls she kept there. Anyway, there was Alexandria, he told himself virtuously.

Julius strode through the corridors to Servilia’s private rooms. What would he say to her? They had not spoken in months, but there was a magic to leaving, a lack of consequence that might help them find some sort of friendship, at least.

His spirits lifted as he saw her. She wore a dark blue wrap that left her shoulders bare and he smiled as he saw his black pearl set in gold against the first gentle swell of her breasts. Alexandria deserved her reputation, he thought.

“I’m leaving, Servilia,” he said, walking toward her. “For Gaul. I was at the gate when I thought of you.”

He thought he saw a smile touch her mouth as he reached her, and took heart from it. She had never looked so beautiful as she did then, and he knew he would have no difficulty remembering her face on the long march ahead. He took her hands in his and pressed them, looking into her eyes.

“Why don’t you come?” he said, “I could have the best carriage in Rome brought to the column. There’s a Roman settlement in the south of Gaul, and you could be with me.”

“To save you finding your own whores, Julius?” she said softly. “Are you worried what you’ll do without a woman so far from home?”