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 and healthy, and Julius clasped his arm, feeling it as an anchor in the world.
‘You looked a bit lost up here. How are you feeling?’ Tubruk asked.
‘Nervous. Proud. Amazed so many turned up.’
Tubruk looked with fresh interest at the crowd and turned back with eyebrows raised.
‘Most of the power in Rome is in this room. Your father would be proud of you. I’m proud of you.’ He paused for a moment, unsure of whether to continue. ‘Your mother did want to come, but she was just too weak.’
Julius nodded and Tubruk punched his arm affectionately before going back to his seat a few rows behind.
‘In my village, we just take a girl by the hair and pull her into our hut,’ Cabera muttered, shocking the priest out of his beatific expression. Seeing this, the old man went on cheerfully: ‘If it didn’t work, you’d give her father a goat and grab one of her sisters. Much simpler that way – no hard feelings and free goat milk for the father. I had a herd of thirty goats when I was a lad, but I had to give most of them away, leaving me without enough to support myself. Not a wise decision, but difficult to regret, no?’
The priest had flushed at these casual references to barbarian practices, but Julius only chuckled.
‘You old fraud. You just like to shock these upright Roman citizens.’
Cabera sniffed loudly.
‘Maybe,’ he admitted, remembering the trouble he’d caused when he had tried to offer his last goat upfront for a night of pleasure. It had seemed like sense at the time, but the girl’s father had taken a spear from his wall and chased the young Cabera up into the hills where he had to hide for three days and nights.
The priest eyed Cabera with distaste. He was nobilitas himself, but in his religious role wore a cream toga with a hood that left only his face bare. He waited patiently for the bride with the others. Julius had explained that the ceremony must be as simple as possible because his uncle would want to leave at the earliest moment. The priest had scratched his chin in obvious annoyance at this, before Julius slipped a small pouch of coins into his robe as an ‘offering’ to the temple. Even the nobilitas had bills and debts. It would be a short service. After Cornelia was brought in to be given away by her father, there would be prayers to Jupiter, Mars and Quirinus. An augur had been paid gold to predict wealth and happiness for them both. The vows would follow and Julius would put a simple gold ring on her finger. She would be his wife. He would be her husband. He felt sweat dampen his armpits and tried to shrug away the nervousness.
He turned again and looked straight into the eyes of Alexandria as she stood in a simple dress, wearing a brooch of silver. There were tears sparkling in her gaze, but she nodded at him and something eased within.
Soft