The Sword of Revenge (45 page)

Lucius treated his son to a thin smile. ‘You will inherit from your father. Did she say how soon?’

‘No!’

‘No prophecy, ever given, is plain and clear.’

‘Nor are they always the truth, father. It is a trade full of charlatans.’

Lucius agreed with his son, but he still hated to be interrupted and it showed on his face. He had a paternal duty to perform, which was to give his son a faith that he himself had never possessed. He knew Marcellus to be different from him, despite all his years of training; the boy would always need something to believe in, other than the mere concept of Rome. Prophecies could fill a void and cause Marcellus to act wisely instead of emotionally. Despite the reforms he was about to introduce, the Republic would always be in danger, always need men to defend it against the threat of tyranny. As he opened his mouth to speak, his mind went back to that prophecy he had heard as a child,
with Aulus Cornelius. Lucius had seen that prediction off, had even survived an attempt to kill him. He was about to cap his life’s work with a triumph sweeter than any celebrated by a mere general.

‘You must look behind the words for the meaning. If they are not plain to you, they are to me. Perhaps approaching death gives one a clearer sight of things.’

He saw the look of consternation on his son’s face and pushed out a hand to touch his arm. ‘I have no fear of death, Marcellus. I had one fear, that all I’d striven for would disappear when I died; that the Republic would fall into the wrong hands, then disintegrate. As you know I have seen the Sibylline books in Rome. There are many portents in those, but they are written as verse riddles and difficult to comprehend. Only one thing seems clear. Rome will always be in danger, both from external foes and ambitious men, but the Republic will last and prosper, if the right men lead the state. I must have you accept that.’

‘I do, father.

‘This Sibylline prophecy, being spoken, has a clarity the books lack. One day you may get to see them and I’m sure you’ll be just as confused as I was.’ Lucius rubbed his ribs where the knife had struck, making his son wonder if he was still in pain. ‘This prophecy of yours has eased my mind.’

Marcellus frowned. ‘It is little enough.’

‘It is everything.’ His hand gripped Marcellus’s arm, and for the first time the boy noticed the translucent skin, over prominent bones, and the brown patches of age. ‘Despite what I’m about to do, there will still be work. My reforms will need to be protected. That is your task. The Sybil has said so.’

‘What about Quintus?’

‘You’ll be ten times the man he is, Marcellus. Trust Titus, but do not consult with him, for he will help you out of nobility. Quintus will help you too, but he will demand a price. You must pay that price, but slowly. In the cellar lies that chest of scrolls and in there is everything you will need…’ The voice trailed off for a few moments. Lucius lay back, again rubbing his chest. ‘I know you. I have raised you like the Romans of old, to be upright and honest. I was like you, Marcellus, until I realised that the Gods had given me a higher aim. What you find in that chest will not please you but I made you swear once to do as I did, and put Rome before everything. The Sybil has confirmed your oath. Do not think badly of me.’

His hand took an even firmer grip on Marcellus’s arm and he looked his son in the eye. ‘Rome first and always, Marcellus. Not pride, nor expediency and never a faint heart.’

Marcellus picked up the scroll, more as a way of
changing the subject than from any real interest. ‘They sent you this from Beneventum, father.’

‘What is it?’ Lucius asked, as his son unrolled the papyrus.

‘Whoever killed Hypolitas and the others was obviously acting out of vengeance. He wrote several names on the walls in blood.’

‘You’ve already told me that. Apart from Gadoric the names meant nothing to me.’

‘Apparently there was a drawing in each room, of an eagle in flight. They wondered if that might give us a clue as to who committed the murders.’

Marcellus held the open scroll before his father. He was looking at the drawing himself, so did not see the look of horror in Lucius’s eyes, but he heard him mouth the words and turned to look. What he saw shocked him, for what blood Lucius had had drained out of his father’s face.

Look aloft if you dare

Though what you fear cannot fly

Both will face it before you die.

At once Lucius was back in that cave in the Alban Hills, a mere boy alongside his friend Aulus Cornelius, both pretending to be men, and the words of the prophecy they had heard filled his mind, and the moment a piece of papyrus like the one he was looking at now had burst into spontaneous flames in his hands. With a vision only granted to a man on the verge of death he knew that
Aulus had seen this very thing at Thralaxas, that same blood-red eagle that was before him now, telling him that everything he had striven for all of his life might not now come to pass.

‘Call my litter,’ he gasped, clutching at his chest now. ‘I must get to Rome.’

Marcellus looked set to protest. His father, whose eyes never left the drawing of the eagle, shouted, ‘I am your father, boy, you must obey me!’

Lucius Falerius Nerva’s heart gave out before they had gone ten leagues. Marcellus had the body drained and embalmed, before loading it onto a chariot. By forcing his pace, and constant changes of horses, he was in the capital within three days. His father’s pyre would rise from Rome and his genius would disperse with the clouds of smoke, into the air above the city which had consumed his life.

About the Author

J
ACK
L
UDLOW
is the pen-name of writer David Donachie, who was born in Edinburgh in 1944. He has always had an abiding interest in the Roman Republic as well as the naval history of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, which he drew on for the many historical adventure novels he has set in that period. David lives in Deal with his partner, the novelist Sarah Grazebrook.

By Jack Ludlow

T
HE
R
EPUBLIC
SERIES

The Pillars of Rome
The Sword of Revenge
The Gods of War

T
HE
C
ONQUEST
SERIES
Mercenaries
Warriors
Conquest

T
HE
R
OADS
TO
W
AR
SERIES
The Burning Sky
A Broken Land

Written as David Donachie

T
HE
J
OHN
P
EARCE
SERIES

By the Mast Divided
A Shot Rolling Ship
An Awkward Commission
A Flag of Truce
The Admirals’ Game
An Ill Wind
Blown Off Course
Enemies at Every Turn 

Copyright

Allison & Busby Limited
13 Charlotte Mews
London W1T 4EJ
www.allisonandbusby.com

Hardback published Great Britain in 2008.
Paperback edition first published in 2008.
This ebook edition first published in 2011.

Copyright © 2007 by D
AVID
D
ONACHIE
(writing as J
ACK
L
UDLOW
)

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

All characters and events in this publication other than those clearly in the public domain are fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent buyer.

A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

ISBN 978–0–7490–4095–6