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 music began at the back, swelling to fill the vaulted ceiling like the incense smoke that spilled from the censers. Julius looked round and caught his breath and everything else was forgotten.
Cornelia was there, standing tall and straight in a cream dress and thin golden veil, her hand on the arm of her father, who was clearly unable to keep a beaming smile from his face. Her hair had been tinted darker, and her eyes seemed of the same warm colour. At her throat was a ruby the size of a bird's egg, held in gold against the lighter tone of her skin. She looked beautiful and fragile. There was a small wreath on the crest of her head, made from verbena and sweet marjoram flowers. He could smell their scent as Cornelia and her father approached. Cinna let go of her arm as they reached Julius, remaining a pace behind.
‘I pass Cornelia into your care, Gaius Julius Caesar,’ he said formally.
Julius nodded. ‘I accept her into my care.’ He turned to her and she winked at him.
As they knelt, he caught again the scent of flowers from her and couldn't stop himself glancing over to her bowed head. He wondered if he would have loved her if he hadn't known Alexandria, or if he had met her before he had gone to the houses where women could be bought for a night or even an hour. He hadn't been ready for this, not back then, a year and a lifetime ago. The prayers were a peaceful murmur over their heads and he was content. Her eyes were soft as summer darkness.
The rest of the ceremony went in a blur for him. The simple vows were spoken – ‘Where you go, there go I.’ He knelt under the priest's hands for what seemed like eternity and then they were out in the sunshine and the crowd was cheering and shouting, ‘Felicitas!’ and Marius was bidding him goodbye with a great clap on his back.
‘You're a man now, Julius. Or she will make you one very soon!’ he said loudly, with a twinkle in his eye. ‘You have your father's name. He would be proud of you.’
Julius returned the grip strongly. ‘Do you want me on the walls now?’
‘I think we can spare you for a few hours. Report to me at four this afternoon. Metella will have finished crying about then, I think.’
They grinned at each other like boys and Julius was left in a space for a moment, alone with his bride in a crowd of well-wishers. Alexandria walked up to him and he smiled, suddenly nervous. Her dark hair was bound with wire and the sight of her made his throat feel tight. There was so much history in those dark eyes.
‘That's a beautiful brooch you are wearing,’ he said.
She reached up and tapped it with her hand.
‘You'd be surprised at how many people have asked about it this morning. I already have some orders.’
‘Business on my wedding day!’ he exclaimed and she nodded without embarrassment.
‘May the gods bless your house,’ she said formally.
She moved away and he turned to find Cornelia looking at him quizzically. He kissed her.
‘She is very beautiful. Who is she?’ she said, her voice betraying a touch of worry.
‘Alexandria. She is a slave at Marius’ house.'
‘She doesn't act like a slave,’ Cornelia replied, dubiously.
Julius laughed. ‘Do I hear jealousy?’
Cornelia did not smile and he took her hands gently in his.
‘You are all I want. My beautiful wife. Come to our new home and I'll show you.’
Cornelia relaxed as he kissed her, deciding to find out everything she could about the slave girl with the jewellery.
* * *
The new house was bare of furniture, or slaves. They were the only ones there and their voices echoed. The bed was a present from Metella, made of carved, dark wood. At least there was a mattress over the slats, and soft linen.
For a few minutes, they seemed clumsy, self-conscious with the weight of the new titles.
‘I think you might remove my toga, wife,’ Julius said, his voice light.
‘I shall, husband. You could unbind my hair, perhaps.’
Then their old passion returned and the clumsiness was forgotten through the afternoon, as the heat built outside.
Julius panted, his hair wet with perspiration. ‘I will be tired out tonight,’ he said between breaths.
A light frown creased Cornelia's forehead. ‘You'll be careful?’
‘Not at all, I shall throw myself into conflict. I may start a battle myself, just to impress you.’
Her fingers traced a line down his chest, dimpling the smooth skin. ‘You could impress me in other ways,’
He groaned. ‘Not right now I can't, but give it a little time.’
Her eyes glinted mischievously as she moved her delicate fingers.
‘I might be too impatient to wait. I think I can awake your interest.’
After a few moments, he groaned again, crumpling the sheets under his clenching fists.
At four o'clock, Julius was hammering at the barracks door, only to be told the general was back up on the walls, walking section after section. Julius had exchanged his toga for a legionary's simple uniform of cloth and leather. His gladius was held to his belt and he carried a helmet under one arm. He felt slightly light-headed after the hours spent with Cornelia, but he found he was able to leave that longing in a compartment inside himself. He would return to her as the young lover, but at that moment he was a soldier, nephew of Marius, trained by Renius himself.
He found Marius talking to a group of his officers and stood a few paces away, looking over the preparations. Marius had split his legion into small mobile groups of sixteen men, each with assigned tasks, but more flexible than having each century man the wall. All the scouts reported Sulla making a straight line for the city, with no attempt to feint or confuse. It looked as if Sulla was going to risk a direct attack, but Marius still suspected some other plan to make itself evident as the army hove into view. He finished giving his final orders and gripped hands with each of his officers before they went to their posts. The sun had dropped past the zenith point and there were only a few hours until evening began.
He turned to his nephew and grinned at the serious expression.
‘I want you to walk the wall with me, as fresh eyes. Tell me anything you could improve. Watch the men, their expressions, the way they hold themselves. Judge their morale.’
Julius still looked grim and Marius sighed in exasperation.
‘And smile, lad. Raise their spirits.’ He leaned in closer. ‘Many of these men will
