"Iggulden, Conn - Emperor 3 - The Field of Swords" - читать интересную книгу автора (Iggulden Conn)

Brutus was standing as Julius came back through the outer rooms of the house. Octavian and Domitius were with him and Julius knew from their expressions that they had heard. Brutus was pale, his eyes dead, and Julius felt an involuntary shudder of fear as he looked at his friend.
"You hit her, Julius?" Brutus said.
Julius touched his bloody cheek. "I will not explain myself to you, even to you," he replied, beginning to walk past the three men.
Brutus dropped his hand to the gold hilt he had won, and Domitius and Octavian touched their own, moving to stand between him and Julius.
"Don't," Domitius snapped. "Take a step back!"
Brutus broke off his gaze from Julius to the men facing him with such menace.
"Do you really think you could stop me?" he said.
Domitius returned his glare. "If I have to. Do you think drawing your sword will change anything? What goes on between them is no more your business than it is mine. Let it go."
Brutus took his hand away from his sword. He opened his mouth to speak and then walked past them all out to the horses, leaping into the saddle and kicking his mount into a canter back toward the gates.
Domitius wiped sweat from his forehead with his hand. He glanced at Octavian and saw the worry there as the young man was caught between forces he could not stand.
"He'll calm down, Octavian, depend on it."
"The march will sweat it out of him," Julius said, looking after his friend. He hoped it was true. He touched his cheek again and winced.
"Not the best omen," he murmured to himself. "Let's go, gentlemen. I have seen enough of this city to last me for a long time. Once we step across the gate line, we are free of all of it."
"I hope so," Domitius replied, but Julius did not hear him.



As they trotted toward the Quirinal gate, Brutus was there in its shadow. Julius saw his eyes were bloodshot holes in a murderous expression, and he reined in by him.
"I made a mistake going back to her, Brutus," Julius said, watching him closely. He loved his friend more than anyone in the world, but if his hand moved for the hilt of his gladius, Julius was ready to kick his horse straight at him to spoil an attack. Every muscle of his legs was tense for the action as Brutus looked up.
"The legions are ready to march. It's time," Brutus said. His eyes were cold and Julius let out a slow breath, words dying in his throat.
"Then lead us out," he said softly.
Brutus nodded. Without a word, he rode under the gate and out onto the Campus, without looking back. Julius pressed his heels into his horse to follow him.
"Consul!" a shout came from the crowd.
Julius groaned aloud. Was there no end to it? The gate's shadow was so close, beckoning him. With a grim expression, he watched a group of men run up to the horses. Herminius the moneylender was at their head, and as Julius recognized him, he eyed the gate with real longing.
"Sir, I'm glad I caught you. You cannot be meaning to leave the city without making good on your loans, I am sure?" Herminius said, panting from his exertions.
"Come over here," Julius said, beckoning to the man. He walked his horse under the shadow of the gate and onto the Campus, and Herminius came with him, uncomprehending.
Julius looked down at the man.
"Do you see that line, where the gate has left a ridge in the stone?" he asked.
Herminius nodded blankly and Julius smiled.
"Good. Then I can tell you I have spent every last copper coin I could borrow or beg to fit my men for Gaul. The provisions alone and the oxen and asses to carry them cost a small fortune. Salt, leather, iron pigs, gold for bribes, horses, spears, saddles, tents, tools-the list is endless."
"Sir? Are you saying . . ." Herminius began, comprehension dawning.
"I am saying the moment I crossed that line, my debts were left behind me. My word is good, Herminius. I will pay you when I return, on my honor. But for today, you will not get a coin from me."
Herminius stiffened in impotent anger. He glanced at the silver armor of the men mounted at Julius's side. Then he sighed and attempted a smile.
"I will look forward to your return, Consul."
"Of course you will, Herminius," Julius replied, inclining his head in ironic salute.
When the moneylender had gone, Julius looked back through the gate for the last time. The problems of the city were no longer his, at least for a time.
"Now," he said, turning to Domitius and Octavian, "we go north."

CHAPTER 22

So why do you stay with him?" Cabera asked. The silver-armored warrior at his shoulder showed only flashes of the boy he had been, and few others in the camp would have dared to ask Brutus such a question.
They watched as Julius climbed oak steps to the archers' wall at the top of the barrier they had built. Brutus was too far away to make out details, though he could see the sun catch the breastplate Julius wore. Eventually Brutus looked away, then glanced at Cabera sharply as if he had remembered his presence.
"Look at him," he replied. "Less than two years ago he left Spain with nothing, and now he is a consul with a blank mandate from the Senate. Who else could have brought me to this place with my own legion to command? Who else would you have me follow?"
His voice was bitter and Cabera feared for the two men he had known as boys. He had heard the details of Julius's parting from Servilia, though her son had never spoken of it. He longed to ask Brutus, if only to judge the damage it had caused.
"He is your oldest friend," Cabera said, and Brutus seemed to stir himself at the words.
"And I am his sword. When I look calmly at what he has done, it staggers me, Cabera. Are they fools in Rome not to see his ambition? Julius told me of the bargain he made with them, and I still can't believe it. Does Pompey think he had the best of it, I wonder? The man may have the city, but he sits like a tenant waiting for the owner to come home. The people know it. You saw the crowds that came out to the Campus to see us off. Pompey must be a fool if he thinks Julius will be satisfied with anything less than a crown."
He broke off then, looking around automatically to see if anyone was within hearing. The two men leaned against the fortification that had taken months to build. Twenty miles of wall and earth and never less than the height of three tall men. It towered over the river Rhone and dominated its course around the northern border of the Roman province. It was as solid a barrier as the Alps to the east.
Enough stone and iron had been gathered on the wall to sink any army that tried to cross the river. The legions were confident as they maintained their watch, though not a man there believed Julius would be satisfied with a defense, not with the document he had brought.
Julius had shown it to the praetor of the tiny Roman province that crouched at the foot of the Alps, and the man had paled as he read, touching a reverent finger to the seal of the Senate. He had never seen such a vaguely worded command and could only bow his head as he considered the implications. Pompey and Crassus had not quibbled over the details; indeed, Brutus knew Julius had dictated the letter to Adрn and then sent it to them for their seals and the Senate vote. It was brief and complete in the powers it gave Julius in Gaul, and every legionary with him knew it.