yet. I’ll watch Gaius first.’
‘Of course.’ Tubruk walked away, still chuckling, and Marcus squinted at him through his one good eye.
Gaius clenched his fists and waited for Tubruk to reach him. His opponent had already taken the floor and was limbering up, stretching his muscular shoulders and legs.
‘He’s a big brute,’ he muttered as Tubruk came alongside.
‘True, but he’s not a boxer. You have a reasonable chance against this one, as long as you don’t get in the way of one of his big punches. He’ll put you out like snuffing a candle if he catches you. Stay back and use your feet to move around him.’
Gaius looked at him quizzically. ‘Anything else?’
‘If you can, punch him in the testicles. He’ll watch for it, but it isn’t strictly speaking against the rules.’
‘Tubruk, you do not have the heart of a decent man.’
‘No, I have the heart of a slave and a gladiator. I have two gold pieces on you for this one and I want to win.’
‘Did you bet on Marcus?’ he asked.
‘Of course not. Unlike Marius, I don’t throw money away.’
Marius came to the centre and signalled for silence once again.
‘After that disappointing loss, the money rides on the next bout. Decidus and Gaius, take your marks. Same rules. When you hear the horn, begin.’ He waited until both stood eyeing each other and walked to the wall, folding his great arms over his chest.
As the horn sounded, Gaius stepped in and slammed his fist up into Decidus’ throat. The bigger man gave out a choked groan and raised both his hands to his neck, in agony. Gaius threw a scything uppercut that caught Decidus on the chin. He went down onto his knees and then toppled forward, his eyes glassy and blank. Gaius walked slowly back to his stool and sat down. He smiled silently and Renius, watching, remembered the same smile on a younger boy’s face as he’d lifted him from the icy waters of a river pool. Renius nodded sharply in approval, his eyes bright, but Gaius did not see it.
The silence roared for a second, then the men released the breath they’d been holding and a rabble of voices broke out – mostly questions and spiced with a few choice swearwords as they realised the bets were all lost.
Marius walked over to the prostrate figure and felt his neck for a second. Silence fell again. Finally, he nodded.
‘His heart beats. He’ll live. Should have kept his chin down.’
The men gave a half-hearted cheer for the winner, though their spirits weren’t really in it.
Marius addressed the crowd, grinning.
‘If you have an appetite, there’s a feast waiting for you in the dining hall. We’ll make a night of it, for tomorrow it’s back to planning and work.’
Decidus was revived and taken out, shaking his head groggily. The rest trooped after him, leaving Marcus and Gaius alone with the general. Renius never left his seat and Cabera stayed back as well, his face alive with interest.
‘Well, boys, you’ve made me a lot of money today!’ Marius boomed, starting to laugh. He had to lean against a wall for support as the laughter shook his frame.
‘Their faces! Two beardless boys and one puts Fulvio on his backside …’ The laughter overtook him and he wiped his eyes as they streamed over his red face.
Renius stood up, swaying a little. He walked over to Marcus and Gaius and clapped a hand on each shoulder.
‘You’ve started making your names,’ he said quietly.
On the night before the Triumph the First-Born camp was anything but peaceful. Gaius sat around one of the campfires and sharpened a dagger that had belonged to his father. All around, the fires and noise of seven thousand soldiers and camp followers made the darkness busy and cheerful. They were camped in open country, less than five miles from the gates of the city. For the last week, armour had been polished, leather waxed, tears in cloth stitched. Horses were groomed until they shone like chestnuts. Marching drills had become tense affairs; mistakes were not tolerated and no one wanted to be left behind when they marched into Rome.
The men were all proud of Marius and themselves. There was no false modesty in the camp; they knew they and he deserved the honour.
Gaius stopped sharpening as Marcus came into the firelight and took a seat on a bench. Gaius looked into the flames and didn’t smile.
‘What’s the word?’ he said, angrily, without turning his head.
‘I leave at dawn tomorrow,’ Marcus replied. He too looked into the fire as he continued speaking. ‘This is for the best, you know. Marius has written a letter for me to take to my new century. Would you like to see it?’
Gaius nodded and Marcus passed a scroll over to him. He read:
I recommend this young man to you, Carac. He will make a first-rate soldier in a few years. He has a good mind and excellent reflexes. He was trained by Renius, who will accompany him to your camp. Give him responsibility as soon as he has proved he can handle it. He is a friend of my house.
Marius. Primigenia.
‘Fine words. I wish you luck,’ Gaius said bitterly as he finished, passing back the scroll.
Marcus snorted. ‘More than just fine words! Your uncle has given me my ticket into another legion. You don’t understand what this means to me. Of course I would like to stay with you, but you will be learning politics in the Senate, then taking a high post in the army and the temples. I own nothing except my skills and my wits and the equipment Marius has given me. Without his patronage, I would be pushed to get a post as a temple guard! With it, I have a chance to make something of myself. Do you grudge it of me?’
Gaius turned to him, his anger surprising Marcus.
‘I know it’s what you have to do, I just never saw myself tackling Rome alone. I always expected you to be with me. That is what friendship means.’
Marcus gripped his arm tightly.
‘You will always be my greatest friend. If ever you need me to be at your side, then call and I will come to you. You remember the pact before we came to the city? We look out for each other and we can trust each other completely. That is my oath and I have never broken it.’
Gaius did not look at him and Marcus let his hand fall away.
‘You can have Alexandria,’ Marcus said, attempting a noble expression.
Gaius gasped. ‘A parting gift? What a generous friend you are! You are too ugly for her, as she told me only yesterday.
