recognised the face of Sulla, standing on the highest step. He stared straight at Marius without expression, his face like a mask. His hands were held behind his back, as if he was about to begin a lecture. His four legionaries had taken up position on the lowest step and Gaius could see that they at least were nervous of what would happen next.
Responsive to some invisible cue, the swelling crowd fell silent, broken here and there by mutters and curses as people struggled for better positions.
‘You all know me,’ Marius bellowed. His voice carried far in the silence. ‘I am Marius, general, consul, citizen. Here, before the Senate, I claim my right to hold a Triumph, recognising the new lands my legion has conquered in Africa.’
The crowd pressed closer and one or two came to blows, sharp yelps breaking the tension of the moment. They pressed against the soldiers and two had to raise their arms and shove figures back into the mass, with more angry shouts in response. Gaius could feel the ugly mood of the crowd. They had gathered as they did when the games were on, to see death and violence and be entertained.
Gaius noticed that the other senators looked to Sulla to respond. As the only other consul, it was his word that carried the authority of the city.
He took two steps down, closer to the soldiers. His face reddened with anger, but his words were quiet.
‘This is unlawful. Tell your men to disperse. Come inside and we will discuss this when the full Senate has convened. You know the law, Marius.’
Those in the crowd who could hear him cheered this, while others shouted vulgarities, knowing they were protected from being seen by the churning mass of people.
‘I do know the law! I know that a general has the right to demand a Triumph. I make that demand. Do you deny me?’ Marius too had taken a step forward and the crowd surged with him, pushing and shoving, spilling onto the Senate steps between the two men.
‘Vappa! Cunnus!’ They screamed abuse at the soldiers who rebuffed them and Marius turned to the front row of his fifty. His eyes were cold and black.
‘Enough. Make room for your general,’ he said, his voice grim.
The front ten men drew their swords and cut down the nearest members of the crowd. In seconds, gashed bodies spat blood over the marble steps. They did not stop, killing with a cold intensity, men and women falling before them. A wail went up as the crowd tried to back away, but those at the rear could not see what was happening and continued to push forward. Every man of the fifty soldiers drew his gladius and cut around him, careless of who fell under the blade.
It must have been only a few seconds from start to finish, but it seemed hours to Gaius and Marcus who could only watch in horror as the ranks of the crowd were sliced down like wheat. The bodies littered the forum and the crowd was suddenly fighting to get away, the message having finally got through. A few more seconds and there was a great ring around Marius and his men, growing wider as citizens and slaves alike ran from the red swords.
Not a word had been said. Blades were wiped on the dead and resheathed. The men returned to their positions and Marius looked up at the senators again.
The stones of the forum were slicked wet with blood. The other men on the steps had gone pale, taking involuntary paces backwards away from the slaughter. Only Sulla had held firm and his lips twisted into a bitter grimace as the stench of fresh blood and opened bowels came to him.
The two men looked at each other for a long moment, as if only they were in the forum. The moment stretched and Marius raised his hand as if to give another command to his waiting men.
‘One month from today,’ Sulla snapped. ‘Hold your Triumph, General, but remember you have made an enemy today. Savour the moments of joy that are due to you.’
Marius inclined his head.
‘My thanks, Sulla, for your wisdom.’
He turned his back on the senators and called the turn, walking through the ranks to take up position at the front again. The crowd held back, but anger was on every bitter face.
‘Forward,’ came the bellow and, once again, the crash of iron on stone was heard as the half-century followed their general out of the plaza.
Gaius shook his head in wonderment at Tubruk and Marcus, saying nothing. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a century of Sulla’s men enter the plaza from a side street, each man running with his sword out and in hand. He tensed and would have shouted a warning, but caught Tubruk’s shake of the head.
Behind them, Sulla had raised his hand to halt his men and they stood to attention, watching Marius leave with angry expressions. As Gaius reached the edge of the forum, he saw Sulla make a circle with his right hand in the air.
‘A little too close in timing for my liking,’ Tubruk whispered.
Marius snorted up ahead, overhearing. He strode forward, his voice carrying back.
‘Close formation in the streets, men. This is not over yet.’
The soldiers drew into a tightly packed unit. Marius looked back over his shoulder.
‘Watch the side streets. Sulla will not let us get clean away if he can help it. Keep your wits about you and your swords loose.’
Gaius felt dazed, carried along by events beyond his control. This was the safety of his uncle’s shadow? He walked along with the others, hemmed in by legionaries.
A short, barking scream sounded from behind and Gaius whirled, almost knocked off his feet by the soldier behind him. One of the men was lying on the cobbles, in the filth of the road. Blood pooled around him and Gaius caught a glimpse of three men stabbing and cutting in a frenzy.
‘Don’t look,’ Tubruk warned, turning Gaius forward with gentle pressure on his shoulder.
‘But the man! Shouldn’t we stop?’ Gaius shouted, astonished.
‘If we stop, we’ll all die. Sulla has unleashed his dogs.’
Gaius glanced into a side street as they passed and saw a group of men with daggers drawn, running towards them. By their bearing, they were legionaries, but without uniforms. Gaius drew his sword almost at one with all the others. His heart began to pound again and he felt sweat break out on his forehead.
‘Hold your nerve! We stop for nothing,’ Marius shouted back, his neck and back muscles rigid.
The knife men attacked the back row again as it passed, one of them going down with a gladius in his ribs before the others bore their man down onto the ground. He yelled in fear as his sword was wrenched from his grasp and then the yell was cut suddenly short.
As they marched on, Gaius could hear hoots of triumph from behind. He sneaked a look back and wished he hadn’t as the attackers raised a bloody head and howled like animals. The men around him swore viciously and one of them suddenly stopped, raising his sword.
‘Come on, Vegus, we’re nearly there,’ another urged him, but he shook off the hands on his shoulders and spat at the ground.
‘He was my friend,’ he muttered and broke rank, racing back towards the bloody group. Gaius tried to watch what happened. He could hear the cry as they saw him coming, but then men seemed to pour out of
