The Gods of War (7 page)

‘What?!’

‘You heard. What do you think Commodus and his gang are going to do. Forget you? And if you stay here, they’ll take it out on me, too. I haven’t spent all these years building a business to see it burnt out on your behalf.’ He stepped forward, poking his son in the chest. ‘You’re no good, d’ye hear?’

Fabius put a hand on his father’s ample belly and pushed him back. ‘If I’m no good, I get it from you. Don’t you walk in here getting pious with me, especially after what you’ve been doing.’

‘Shut up!’ snapped Demetrius, throwing a worried glance at Aquila.

‘Why should I?’ asked Fabius, with a sneer.
‘You don’t think it’s a secret do you? Go on, Aquila, ask him what he’s been up to.’ Fabius looked like a man who had gained the advantage, while Demetrius held up his fat hands, imploring his son to be silent. Aquila just looked from one to the other, confused. ‘Ask him why a daughter of Calpurnia’s age and looks isn’t married.’

Demetrius turned his frightened eyes towards Aquila. ‘I need her to help my wife in the shop.’

‘And at night, Papa. What do you need her for then?’

Aquila dropped the spear, so that the point was close to Demetrius’s huge belly. The man started to tremble and Fabius drove home the final nail.

‘You’ve ruined her life, you fat slob. He won’t give her a dowry and without that she can’t get a decent husband. Not that too many would want her after what you’ve done.’

‘Get out!’ Demetrius cried, but the words had no force.

She sobbed in his arms as he held her gently, letting her spill out her grief. The sun had come up and in the bakery below they could hear the noise of the first customers. The pressure from her arms, wrapped round him, seemed to increase with each revelation. It had been going on since she was a child, originally something playful, just

touching, but it had grown stronger as her mother’s health had deteriorated, and, like every child in the world, she was her father’s property.

‘Shall I take you away from here?’ he asked.

She looked up at him then, through tear-stained eyes, but she managed a smile and her hand ran over the eagle at his neck. ‘You have a destiny, Aquila, remember.’

‘All I have are dreams and prophecies. I’ve seen people blinded by those and die because of it. To me it is of no consequence.’

‘But it is. Fulmina knew. I think I do, too. Perhaps I’ve inherited her gift. You’re not meant for a life in the back streets of Rome.’

‘From what I’ve heard of this Commodus, I’m not destined to live at all.’

She gripped his arms and shook him. ‘Then get out of Rome.’

Aquila smiled, thinking that if Calpurnia did have second sight, it ran totally counter to the advice he had been given by Drisia. ‘Where to? Besides I’ve barely been here two months.’

Calpurnia looked at him closely, her wet eyes narrowing slightly. ‘You’ve already made up your mind to leave, haven’t you?’

He tapped her on the nose, which produced that smile he liked so much. ‘You’re too clever.’

She kissed him suddenly, taking him by
surprise, then with her hands round his neck and her eyes full of pleading, she spoke. ‘Once, Aquila. Just once.’

He knew what she meant and shook his head.

‘It would make me happy. I will ask for no more, I promise.’

He shifted uncomfortably, to try and hide the fact that though his mind considered it a bad idea his body did not.

‘I cannot have more, I know that. I have told you how I’ve suffered. Perhaps, now that it’s out in the open, my father will give me a dowry and I’ll find a husband, but once, Aquila, just once, it would be nice to hold someone I love inside me.’

Her kisses took away what little resistance he had, leaving her with no need to exert much strength when she pulled her conquest down onto the bed.

‘Go to Commodus.’

‘What do I say?’ asked Demetrius. He was plainly afraid of Aquila, his great fleshy jowl shaking even as he listened.

‘You will tell him that Fabius and I have left your house.’

The small eyes brightened as Fabius interrupted. ‘Where are we going?’

‘When you registered me with our tribe, so
that I could vote, which class did you put me in?’

‘The fourth class, like Fabius, not that he deserves it. On his own he would never qualify to vote.’

‘Good!’ said Aquila, who was not interested in anything but Demetrius’s initial statement. He turned to Fabius. ‘You and I are off to join the legions, “Nephew”.’

Fabius shuddered. ‘Never.’

‘Thanks to the foresight of your father, we will be required to apply as
hastarii
, taking our own equipment.’

‘You go,’ replied Fabius with a dismissive sniff. ‘I’ll stay here.’

‘You’ll be dead in a week. Commodus will see to that.’

Fabius went pale, but Demetrius spoke. ‘You still haven’t told me what I am supposed to say to that robber and thief.’

‘You’re to tell him to leave you and your family alone.’

‘He’s not going to listen to me.’

‘He will, because you will say that in the next week, I will deliver him a message, one that will remove whatever desire he has for revenge on you, Fabius, or me. If, in seven days, he’s not satisfied, and prepared to say so publicly, then he
can do what he wishes. That is, as long as he’s prepared for the consequences.’

Demetrius scowled. ‘You seem pretty sure of yourself.’

‘You have two choices, Demetrius. Either wait here for Commodus, with his brother, to visit you, or go to him and deliver my message.’ The older man nodded, aware that there was no choice. ‘The other thing you’ll have to do is dig under your floorboards and get out some of that hidden money.’

The fat man was too frightened to ask how Aquila knew about that. ‘Why?’

‘To pay for our equipment, Demetrius. You wouldn’t want anyone from your family turning up for service in the legions improperly dressed.’

Demetrius puffed up angrily, as if he was about to explode in protest, but he saw the look in Aquila’s eye and the words died in his swollen throat. The young man walked over to him, towering over the fat baker.

‘Lay another hand on Calpurnia and I’ll castrate you personally. I’ll make you eat you own balls, d’you understand?’

The fat face held a look of absolute terror and his hands had, involuntarily, gone to cover the top of his portly thighs.

* * *

‘I want you to have the choice, Calpurnia.’ She moved her naked body closer to him, thrusting with her pelvis. The eagle slipped round her neck, brushing over her breast.

‘Again Aquila, please?’

He laughed. ‘Just once, you said, and that was two days ago.’

The vibrations of her words tingled on his neck. ‘That was before I knew it could be so nice. And I don’t want your money.’

He pulled himself away, pushing up on his elbows. ‘If Demetrius gives you a dowry, he can make it conditional on you marrying someone of his choice. If I give it to you, then you can decide for yourself.’

She lay silently, her head in the crook of his arm, and Aquila sensed she was crying. ‘Perhaps the gods will be kind.’

‘You deserve their kindness. Use the money to find somewhere else to live. Get out of here. When I’m not around, how can I be sure that Demetrius will keep his hands to himself?’

The wheel fell off Commodus’s cart the first day, tipping him into the street. He was still aching from the bruises the following morning when he woke to find the stone-cold body of Donatus in his bed. That day, as he walked through the
streets, on his way to tell Demetrius that he was a dead man, a whole pile of wooden scaffolding cascaded down. Commodus was as aware as anyone that the shout, coming from nowhere, had saved his life, giving him just enough time to duck into a doorway. He screamed and cursed at his men, especially his brother, for their inability to protect him, but he stayed away from the bakery. What finally convinced him were the three arrows that arrived the following day. They came through his open warehouse window, one near his right arm and another near his left, with the third thudding into the desk right in front of him. He went personally to see Demetrius, swore on all the gods that he would not take revenge, and even paid for his bread.

‘I’m enjoying this,’ said Fabius as they watched Commodus making his way home, surrounded by bodyguards, his eyes darting around the buildings.

‘I think it may be over,’ Aquila replied.

The vengeful look was quite gone from Commodus’s face, to be replaced with one of fear, as the gang leader’s head swept from side to side, to seek out his invisible attackers. Demetrius, who reluctantly handed over the funds they needed to buy their equipment,
confirmed that Calpurnia had taken lodgings with Donatus’s widow and that was their last port of call. She was brave; no tears or tearing of garments, and she even kissed Fabius on his podgy cheek.

‘I look forward to the day when you celebrate your triumph, Aquila.’

He wanted to argue, to tell her he was a mere mortal and point out that legionaries were not awarded triumphs, but the look in her eyes precluded that, so he bent and kissed her softly.

‘Take care, Calpurnia.’ Then he spun round to face Fabius, slapping him on his spreading stomach. ‘Come along, “Nephew”. Time to get some of that weight off you.’

His ‘nephew’ insisted on one last sweep through the rich houses on the Palatine Hill, certain that the gods would not let him go off to war empty-handed, and he was right. They caught a vintner delivering ampoules of wine to the Cornelii villa, a man foolish enough to leave his cart unattended while he lifted the clay containers into the rear of the house. Not that his eye was off his possessions for more than two seconds, but that was enough for Fabius. He was spotted, of course, which led to a commotion, as well as a hue and cry.

* * *

‘Remarry?’ asked Quintus Cornelius, ignoring the noise of shouting that suddenly erupted from just outside the kitchens.

Claudia thought that his eyebrows were arched in a rather theatrical way. Quintus was like that, always behaving as if there was part of his personality outside his body observing his actions. They had been at loggerheads ever since the day she had married his father, not least because he esteemed his own dead mother, but also as she had been younger than her prospective stepson at the time of the nuptials. Quintus could never accept that Claudia had loved his father, as well as admiring the most famous general in the Roman world, and, after his conquest of Macedonia, one of the richest men in Rome. The twenty-year age gap had not made any difference to their relationship either; that had changed after she had been taken prisoner by the Celt-Iberians.

It was Quintus who had found her, and he was one of the few people who knew her secret. Not that he would say anything; the Cornelii name and his political ambitions meant too much to him. She did not doubt that her intention to remarry had surprised him. On top of that, he had the air of a man who was anticipating the pleasure he could gain from a negative response.
Time to disabuse him of that notion!

‘I am aware that I don’t really require your permission.’

‘Oh, I think you do, Claudia. I am the head of the Cornelii household.’

‘Which your father saw fit to place me outside.’

Quintus bristled. ‘As long as you reside under this roof…’

Claudia cut him off sharply. ‘I can move today if you wish it, Stepson, and buy a house of my own.’

‘I will not let you do this, Claudia!’

‘Yes, you will,’ she said softly.

The eyebrows shot up again; he was unused to that tone of voice from his stepmother. ‘I don’t think so.’

‘Not even if you were to have a hand in my choice of husband?’

There was nowhere left for his face to go, being shocked and surprised already, so it seemed as if her words had failed to register. But she knew her stepson too well for that; he was not stupid, despite his manifest faults. He would have covered all the possibilities relating to his personal advantage in a split second. After all, he was, since the death of Lucius Falerius Nerva, the titular leader of the
optimates
, the faction that
Lucius had led, but he lacked the authority of his predecessor. His hold on power was shaky and his position, to his mind, was perilously assailable.

‘I am aware of my responsibilities to the family, just as you are.’

Quintus treated that remark with a mocking smile. ‘Then it is a sudden and somewhat overdue conversion, Lady.’

Claudia let the insult pass; her goal was far too important for that. ‘You may draw up a list of candidates, Quintus, men who stand to gain by an alliance with the Cornelii. I will not let you choose, but I shall certainly take a husband from the names you provide.’

‘I find this hard to believe.’

‘Why? I want to remarry, preferably without a public fuss.’

‘Which I could most certainly cause,’ said Quintus coldly.

‘So let it be a person who will give you something in return, like more vocal support in the Senate.’

They stood, eyes locked, for what seemed an age, while Quintus ran through the pros and cons in his mind. Finally, he nodded abruptly. ‘I agree, but on one condition.’

Claudia’s heart was pounding fiercely; she was
afraid he had guessed her motives and would make her swear an oath that would block them off. ‘Which is?’

‘That you make a will, returning, on your death, all the money my father left to you to the Cornelii family coffers.’

Claudia felt, and heard, the breath she had built up escape from her body. ‘I agree!’

CHAPTER FOUR