He could see the silhouettes of his men against the star-filled night sky long before he reached them. Some were still and some walked their prescribed, overlapping routes at random. At a glance, he could see they were alert. Good men. Who knew what awaited them the next time night fell? He shrugged again to himself and was glad no one could see him in the dim streets. Sulla would come and he would be met with steel. There was no point in worrying and Marius took a deep cleansing breath, putting it all away inside him. He smiled cheerfully as the first of many sentries stopped him.
‘Good lad. Hold that spear steady now, a pilum is a fearful weapon in a strong grip. That's it. I thought I would take a tour of this section. Can't stand the waiting, you know. Can you?’
The sentry saluted gravely.
‘I don't mind it, sir. You may pass.’
Marius clapped his hand against the sentry's shoulder. ‘Good man. They won't get past you.’
‘No, sir.’
The legionary watched him go and nodded to himself. The old man was still hungry.
Marius climbed the steps to the new wall his legion had constructed over and around the old gates of Rome. It was a solid and massive construction of heavy interlocking blocks with a wide walkway at the top, where a smaller wall would protect his men from archers. Marius rested his hands on the smooth stone and looked out into the night. If he were Sulla, how would he take the city?
Sulla's legions had huge siege engines, heavy crossbows, stone throwers and catapults. Marius had used each type and feared them all. He knew that, as well as large stones to batter the wall, Sulla could load his machines with smaller shot that would rip through defenders too slow to duck. He would use fire, launching barrels of rock oil over the wall to ignite the inner buildings. Enough barrels and the men on the wall would be lit from behind, easy targets for archers. Marius had cleared some wooden buildings away from the wall, his men dismantling homes quickly and efficiently. Those he could not move had a huge supply of water at the ready, with trained teams to deal with it. It was a new idea for Rome and one he would have to look into when the battle was over. Every summer, fires gutted houses in the city, sometimes spreading to others before being stopped by a wide street or a thick stone wall. A small group ready with water could …
He knuckled his eyes. Too much time spent thinking and planning. He hadn't slept for more than a few hours for weeks and the drain was beginning to tell on even his vitality.
The wall would have to be scaled with ladders. It was strong, but Roman legions were practised in taking fortresses and castles. The techniques were almost mundane now. Marius muttered to himself, knowing the nearest sentry was too far away to hear his voice.
‘They have never fought Romans, especially Romans in defence of their own city. That is our true advantage. I know Sulla, but he knows me. They have the mobility, but we have the stronghold and the morale. My men are not attacking beloved Rome, after all.’
Cheered by his thoughts, Marius walked on over the section of wall. He spoke to each man and, recalling names here and there, asked them about their progress and promotions and loved ones. There wasn't a hint of weakness in any he spoke to. They were like hard-eyed hunting dogs, eager to be killing for him.
By the time he had walked the section and descended back into the dark streets below, Marius felt lifted by the men's simple faith in him. He would see them through. They would see him through. He hummed a military tune to himself as he strolled back to the barracks and his heart was light.
Gaius Julius Caesar smiled, despite the feeling of anxious weakness that fluttered in his stomach. With the help of Marius' seamstress, he had sent servants off to buy and organise for most of the night. He'd known the ceremony would have to be simple and was astonished at so many members of the nobilitas in attendance on a cold morning. The senators had come, bringing families and slaves to the temple of Jupiter. Every glance that met his was followed by a smile, and the soft odours of flowers and burning scentwood was strong in the air. Marius and Metella were there at the entrance of the marble temple and Metella was dabbing tears from her eyes. Gaius nodded to them both nervously as he waited for his bride to arrive. He twitched the sleeves of his marriage robe, cut low around his neck to reveal a single amethyst on a slender gold chain.
He wished Marcus was there. It would have helped to have someone who really knew him. Everyone else was part of the world he was growing into: Tubruk, Cabera, Marius, even Cornelia herself. With a pang, he realised that to make it all seem real, he needed someone there who could meet his eye and know the whole journey to that point. Instead, Marcus was away in foreign lands, the wild adventurer he always wanted to be. By the time he returned, the wedding day would just be a memory that he could never share.
It was cool in the temple and for a moment Gaius shivered, feeling his skin prickle as the hairs stood up. He was in a room full of people who didn't know him.
If his father had lived, he could have turned to him as they all waited for Cornelia. They could have shared a smile, or a wink that said, ‘Look what I've done.’
Gaius felt tears come into his eyes and he looked up at the domed ceiling, willing them not to spill onto his face. His father's funeral had been the end of his mother's moments of peace. Tubruk had shaken his head when Gaius asked if she was able to come. The old gladiator loved her as much as anyone, he knew. Perhaps he always had.
Gaius cleared his throat and dragged his thoughts back to the moment. He had to put childhood behind him. There were many friends in the room, he told himself. Tubruk was like an uncle with his gruff affection and Marius and Metella seemed to have accepted him without reserve. Marcus should have been there. He owed him that.
Gaius hoped Cinna would be pleasant. He had not spoken to the man since formally asking for Cornelia's hand to be passed from father to husband. It had not been a happy meeting, though the senator had kept his dignity for her sake. At least he had been generous with the dowry for Cornelia. Cinna had handed him the deeds to a large town house in a prosperous area of Rome. With slaves and guards as part of the gift, Gaius had felt a worry ease from him. She would be safe now, no matter what happened. He frowned. He would have to get used to the new name, casting off the old with the other trappings of youth. Julius. His father's name. It had a good sound to the ear, though he guessed he would always be Gaius to those he had known as a boy. His father had not lived to see him adopt his adult name and that saddened him. He wondered if the old man could see his only son and hoped so, wishing for just that one more moment to share pride and love.
He turned and smiled weakly at Cabera, who regarded him with a sour expression, his thinning hair still tousled from being roused at what he considered an ungodly hour. He too was dressed in a new brown robe to mark the occasion, adorned with a simple pewter brooch, a design of a fat-faced moon standing proud on the metal. Julius recognised it as Alexandria's work and smiled at Cabera, who scratched an armpit vigorously. Julius kept smiling and after a few seconds, the ancient features cracked in cheerful response, despite his worries.
The future was dark to Cabera as it always was when he was a part of a particular destiny. The old man felt afresh the irritation at only being able to sense the paths that had little bearing on his own life, but even the scratch of his misgivings couldn't prevent him taking pleasure in the youthful joy he felt coming from Julius like a warm wave.
There was something wonderful about a wedding, even one as quickly arranged as this one. Everyone was happy and for at least this little while the problems to come could be forgotten, or at least ignored until dark.
Julius heard footsteps sound on the marble behind him and he turned to see Tubruk leaving his seat to approach the altar. The estate manager looked his usual self, strong, brown