Swords of Rome (17 page)

The night air was cool and had a pleasant aroma of fresh rainfall, which for the time had washed the filth from the city, at least on the surface; in the morning, the smell of trash and excrement would return.

Gaius walked down one o
f the countless mazes that made up the streets of Rome. The night was dark, which made every step a careful one. A few torches lit his path, but they did not help his journey much. While he was a stranger to these streets, he did not have much trouble finding his destination. Varro’ estate stood along a stretch of road that was dominated by numerous wealthy homes and businesses. Currently, he was less than two blocks from the gates.

He did not entirely feel comfortable about being out alone. While the streets of Rome were relatively safe during the day, at night, it was a different story. These narrow corridors were famous for hunters
who emerged after dawn. Muggers and rape gangs preyed on the unsuspecting. A few hurried footsteps and peering eyes from within the surrounding darkness would from time to time catch Gaius’ attention. Most of them were harmless, but every few blocks, or so he could hear ominous whispers from the shadows.

He wore no armor of any kind but only a long red cloak, which signaled him to be a soldier.
This, for the most part, was what kept those prying eyes away from him, if any of the men behind those stares had other intentions, and if there was trouble, Gaius kept his right hand firmly on the hilt of his sword, which hung loosely down beside his hip. A small dagger also was kept behind his back, both of which he was more than comfortable using if he needed them.

There was a part of him, as he neared the estate of Senator
Varro that wanted to be attacked. He was young and had trained for years in the art of warfare and single combat. However, Gaius had never had the opportunity to test his abilities outside of training, nor had he killed a man since joining the Sixth. However, that didn’t mean that Gaius was a stranger to death. In ten years since joining the legion, he had witnessed a number of accidence and fights that ended in one or more men dead. He, himself had been cut a number of times that if not attended to by the camp doctor, he would have bled to death.

As it would stand, no one dared challenge him this night as the gates to
Varro’ home came in sight.

After Gaius knocked on the hard wooden gate, a small hinged door opened and allowed an old man’s eyes to peer out.

“Announce yourself, stranger,” the man demanded.

“I am Centurion Lucius Gaius,” a sense of pride filled his words. “I am here by invitation from
Antony, son of this manor and senator of Rome.”

When he finished his address, the small door closed with a hard
thud
as the old man backed away. A moment later Gaius listened as the sounds of heavy iron bars were removed from behind the gate, before it swung open, just enough for Gaius to enter.

Standing behind the gate
was a short man who bowed his head slightly as Gaius stepped inside.

“Greetings, and welcome Master Gaius; Master
Antony is expecting you. If you would please follow me, I will take you to him with haste,” the old servant now said with the utmost respect.

Gaius followed the slave through the courtyard. To his
right, he noticed several stables that currently held four horses of expensive breeding. Two boys tended to the animals, taking the moment to glance behind them and stare at the soldier who walked through the yard.

Slave living quarters were set to the far left of the high stone wall that surrounded the whole property. The estate, like many in the city was built like a small fortress, meant to keep people in as much as out.

Six guards patrolled the grounds. One man, whom had a long scar running across his face, kept his eyes on Gaius as he stood in front of the main entrance. The men were big and burly, meant to intimidate on sight. Gaius noted that the man by the door had a brand on his inner right arm, indicating that he once was a gladiator; a normal practice by Rome’s wealthy elite to hire the famed champions of the arena as bodyguards.

The slave then turned before leading Gaius further inside, and held out his hands, palms up.
“I will require you to relinquish your weapons, sir.”

Gaius was hesitant for a moment, but the slave’s old eyes were firm as he did not budge from his posture.

Gaius did as he was asked, first removing his sword from his waste, and then pulling his dagger out from behind his belt before handing each over to the slave carefully.

The man’s expression returned to his normal cheerful demeanor as he turned and handed the weapons over to a female slave
who stood by the doorway.

“Thank you, sir. You are free to enter. Master
Antony is expecting you and should greet you shortly.”

“What of the lady of the house?” Gaius asked.

The old man smiled oddly, as if he was in on some privet joke.

“Lady Julia is present.”

Gaius nodded as he stepped over the threshold, glancing behind him for a moment as the slave went back outside to his post, probably waiting for the rest of the guests to arrive.

The air was warm and com
fortable contrary to the stiff breeze outside, and while Gaius had been in the house once before, ten years ago he was still easily impressed with the elaborate and tasteful décor of the interior, which seemed to have been remodeled, perhaps several times over since he last walked through these halls.

Gold-capped columns were placed throughout the large interior that received all guests. The cleanliness was heavenly as the stone marble floor gleamed brilliantly from the numerous torches that cast their flickering light across the open spaces. Opulent furniture, tables and statues were scattered throughout the front room, while a low-lying marble pool, touched with floating flower peddles center the floor.

Along the far wall, leading into another set of rooms were the death masks of generations past, decadents of Antony and Julia’s family. Gold and copper bowls of fresh fruit, and scented oils filled the room with a sweet aroma that swirled around Gaius, begging him to enter further.

“Gaius!”
Antony called out as he turned the corner, where a cheerful chorus of voices could be heard behind him. A big smile quickly formed on his face as he raced over towards his waiting guest.

“It does my heart wonders to see my brother back in Rome,”
Antony exclaimed with a beaming smile as he embraced Gaius; a full cup of wine in one hand, which he was careful to hold away from Gaius’ fine red cloak.

“It is good to see you as well, my brother,” Gaius replied.
              Antony stood back and shook his head, amused as he looked Gaius over, taking in every detail as if his eyes could barely believe what he was seeing.

“I still cannot get over seeing you like this. How can this be the boy
whom I beat at every turn with our wooden swords?” Antony laughed with a delightful grin.

“Oh, your memory is deluded with fantasy, my friend. I do recall that I won more than my share of engagements,” Gaius smiled.

Antony laughed again as he clapped his arms around Gaius once more, unable to hold back his excitement to see his friend finally after ten years apart.

“I think that military stew has clouded your mind,”
Antony added.

“Then perhaps we can test our skills again and renew our contest.”

“I would welcome the challenge. Come, you must regale me with the many marvelous adventures you’ve been on since last we saw one another,” Antony said as he escorted Gaius further into the house, leading him to where the other party-goers were gathered.

“There isn’t much to tell, I’m afraid. I
eat. I sleep. I train, and then I repeat it all the next morning.”

“Oh come now, I’m certain there is more to a soldier’s life than that. The details of your womanly conquests alone must be worthy of tales written by Homer.”

Gaius couldn’t help but burst out laughing at the serious tone in Antony’s voice.

“Well, I suppose it would be worthy of a poem or two. There were the Brutus sisters a few winters ago.”

The two old friends continued to talk before Antony led Gaius to the arboretum, where a dozen men and their wives and daughters were gathered, talking, drinking and eating small morsels of fruit and nuts. However, before Antony took Gaius further, he stopped him and looked his friend over, seemingly searching for something.

“What is it?” Gaius asked.

“Oh, nothing; I’m just trying to see if you’ve brought a knife. After more than an hour with this crowd you’re bound to want to slice your wrists open,” Antonym used with a somber tone.

“It cannot be that serious, can it?” Gaius asked with a puzzled expression.

“Trust me. Drink as much as you can, or kill yourself now. These are my father’s friends, either by choice or by purse.”

Gaius managed a cheerful smile, wondering how much of his friend’s words
was genuine.

“Gentlemen, I would like to welcome our new arrival, the finest soldier in Rome, Centurion of the famed
wolves of Rome, Lucius Gaius, and my oldest and dearest friend I might add,” Antony announced with beaming pride as he escorted Gaius, presenting him before the gathering guest of his father.

“Rome’s greatest soldier
, eh?”

“Well, behind you that is,”
Antony smiled as he nodded towards his relative, Fabius Maximus.

“Sir, it is
a pleasure to see you again,” Gaius said as he extended his hand, greeting his superior.

“Oh, have we met before this evening?” Fabius asked, trying to place Gaius’ face.

“Apologies, sir. You visited the camp of the Sixth Legion a number of years ago, and we spoke only briefly that day.”

Fabius laughed.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t say that I recall such a day. I do tend to see many of our legion barracks. Regardless, it is always a pleasure to be introduced to our next generation of officers. I’m sure you are making your legion proud and Rome as well.”

“I do my best, sir. And thank you.”

Antony took a big swig of his wine before he moved to the next group of guests, introducing Gaius to each of them. All personal friends and or patrons to his father, they greeted Gaius with pleasant smiles, most of which seemed false as they had little care to know one of Antony’s friends in detail. Regardless, Gaius kept his smile firm.

Gaius wasn’t introduced to the group of women who sat together, further down from the men; most of whom were younger or the same age
as, he. They were the wives, daughters and concubines of Varro’ guests. Most were very beautiful and dressed in expensive gowns, adorn with jewels, silver or gold.

Many of the
teenage ladies eyed Gaius with curious expression as they sized the youthful and handsome Roman officer up; wanting to remember his face, for future interest.

As
Antony had been introducing Gaius to the party guests, his eyes had been secretly scanning each of the women’s faces, looking to see if he could identify Julia among them. He had no idea what she might look like. He barely recalled her face as it was. Ten years was a long time, and she would be sixteen now, a woman, so any one of the females of the party could have been her as far as he knew.

As Gaius was standing, facing away from the main entrance,
Antony directed his gaze behind him as another guest arrived. With a careful glance, Antony said without words for Gaius to turn around, which he carefully did, not knowing what to expect.

Gaius could smell the wonderful scent of perfume before he turned and saw who was standing behind him. The rose oil swirled around him like a storm at sea, demanding that he take notice of the person wearing it. And as he turned, the woman
whom he had dreamt of every night for ten years was standing before him.

It took no effort for Gaius to recognize Julia as she stood in the entranceway, poised as all eyes turned towards her.

He paused, suddenly feeling at a loss for words, staring for a long while, completely dumbfounded as to what he should say to her.

Gaius had imagined her many times over the years
. He had pictured wonderful images, and horrid ones as well as those that were unrealistic; whatever his mind needed to do to keep his heart in check. However, even he could never have believed that the little frightened girl who cried in his arms the day he left home could have grown into the vision of beauty that stood before him.

Her hair was long, nearly down to her waist and was as black as a moonless sky, glistening against the torchlight, which reflected the oils that coated the finely woven braids and curls. Strands of her curled hair hung freely over her youthful face. Her lips were rose red and glittered with sparkles of gold dust. Julia’s arms were bare, as her neckline was exposed as long purple silk dress that glided along the marble floor dropped loosely off of her shoulders.