"Master Gaius?"
The old Roman turned, smiling genially. Three men approached him out of the crowd and the middle one-a stocky, balding white-haired "twenty-year man," if ever Gaius Julius had seen a Legion veteran trying to be inconspicuous in civilian clothes-was also carrying a krater of wine. The man's pockmarked face seemed habitually grim and his attention was in constant motion, watching the crowd for enemies. Gaius guessed the man was forty or fifty years old.
"I am Gaius Julius. Welcome to Rome. You must be Sergius."
The soldier nodded, flashing a bit of a wintry smile. "You're welcome sir. It was good to hear from you."
Gaius nodded, turning his attention to the other two men. Both of them were young and alert, with the air of those used to violent action. "This would be Nicholas and Vladimir?"
Sergius nodded, motioning the other two forward. "They are. A pair of right rascals, but I was never gladder than to find them alive after our disaster." The old soldier shook his head in dismay.
Gaius clasped wrists with the thinner one, a whipcord-lean man with dark brown hair and peculiar mauve eyes. The lad had powerful wrists, well-used and corded with muscle. Like his companion, he was wearing a nondescript military cloak over a tunic and some kind of armored shirt. The hilts of a heavy, spatha-style longsword rode at his trim waist. Nicholas grinned, matching Gaius' gaze, and made a little bow. The young man's mustaches were very sharp, twisted to points beside a thin nose. Gaius nodded in welcome. "Nicholas. Where are you from?"
"I don't know, sir. I was raised a slave in the Dannmark."
"But you are surely a Latin-taken in a raid by the Scandians?"
The young man shrugged. "I don't remember any of that, Master Gaius. My first memory is of a gray sky, and ravens crying, and then entering the fortress of Roskilde." His expression changed, growing feral. "Everything after that is rather cruel. At least, until I entered the service of Rome."
Sergius nodded, seemingly pleased with himself. "True enough, Master Gaius, and we've had good service of young Nicholas. He and Vladimir have gone into and come out of some tight places in the name of the Empire."
"So I have heard." Gaius maintained a lengthy correspondence with Sergius. The old centurion was a field officer for the Eastern Empire's Office of Barbarians. Over the years, Sergius had decided a close relationship was needed between-specifically-himself and the Western Office. Some small-minded men might have termed the stoutly built centurion a traitor, but Gaius thought of him as a man who could tell which side the loaf was going to fall on.
Before Gaius Julius involved himself in such matters, a woman-a beautiful, powerful woman named Anastasia De'Orelio-had been the secret master of the Western Office. Over a year ago, however, she abandoned her post and Gaius Julius-at something of loose ends at the time-took the opportunity to gather up some of the responsibilities she let fall. In fact, the small-minded might also accuse Gaius of theft and outright falsehood. Some privy letters, he allowed, might have gone astray, but if they did-well, the world was filled with troubles-and one of those letters led him to Sergius and then, in the full course of time, to these two admirable young men.
"You are Vladimir, then, the Walach." The corners of Gaius Julius' eyes crinkled up and he clasped wrists with the young barbarian. The Walach-a riot of dark curly hair, a creamy white complexion over rippling muscle, brilliant dark eyes-took his hand tentatively and Gaius could see the boy's nostrils flare. "We are all friends here, Vladimir, do not worry."
Ah, but I must smell strange to him, Gaius thought. I should not have met them here, in this public place… in private, I might allay their fears with honest words.
"Master… Gaius." Vladimir looked down, unwilling to meet Gaius' direct gaze. "Thank you for your patronage and support."
"My assistance," Gaius said, "is only what you deserve, for such loyal service."
All three men nodded and Gaius saw honest appreciation in their faces. With the collapse of the Eastern Empire, a huge flood of refugees hurried west. Rome was crowded with out-of-work ministers, logothetes, clerks and their families. The soldiers were immediately incorporated into the Western Legions, but everyone else was having a difficult time just finding food to eat and a place to sleep. As it happened, Gaius Julius had recently invested in blocks of apartments, warehouses, taverns, smithies, brick factories and all manner of other businesses. He could easily find lodgings for a few dozen Easterners at loose ends. Better, he had plenty of work for men like these three.
Gaius clapped a hand on Sergius' shoulder and looked down into the main hall of the Curia. "As it happens, my friends, I have great need for men who are swift and alert. Do you see that young man-the dark-haired fellow in the first row-sitting by the graybeard?"
Both Nicholas and Vladimir peered down through the screen.
"Yes," Nicholas said, squinting between the marble legs of a titan wrestling a giant serpent. "Thin-faced, long hair tied back, looks like he hasn't sleep in a week?"
"The very fellow." Gaius said. "His name is Maxian Atreus, the youngest brother of the Emperor Galen. He is a… powerful… young man, but not in the way most people think. He is also my patron, even my friend." Gaius Julius stopped, thinking about what he had just said. Is that true? Sometimes it seems that the boy is barely aware of me, as if I were a chair or a table. Does it matter? I am alive!
"As you might imagine, he has enemies." Gaius chuckled suddenly. "Some of them are very beautiful. He needs bodyguards and I think the two of you will do well in such a post."
"Bodyguards?" Vladimir's nose wrinkled up and he ran long sharp nails through his beard. The Walach seemed displeased by the prospect. "Don't the Praetorians handle such things? As the Faithful Guard did in the East? This sounds like a lot of standing around inside…"
"Sometimes." Gaius spread his hands, indicating things were different in the West. "I will surely sleep sounder at night if I know he has guardian spirits to watch over him. He has been attacked at least once before, and came close to death. Things would turn poorly for everyone if he were to die now."
Nicholas looked intrigued, thumbs hooked in his belt. "What kind of beautiful enemies does he have?"
Down on the floor of the Curia, Gregorius rose and spoke to the crowd. The other senators took the cue to sit and listen. Gaius Julius felt the pang of regret again-why couldn't he be the one to speak? The one to stand at the center of all attention, the world turning on the lever of his actions? He stifled the feeling, contenting himself with being the playwright, not the pantomime.
"Watch," Gaius Julius said, his expression changing subtly. All life seemed to leach out of him. "You will see more than you desire. Not all our enemies are fair to look upon."
Maxian felt his gut twist at the realization he would have to stand and speak. He didn't expect to be so nervous, but this was the Senate! The faces in the hall blurred into a mass of indistinguishable white ovals. Why can't Galen do this? He's the Emperor…
Suddenly a memory swam up out of the past and into waking thought. He was in the great teaching hall of the Asklepion, below the hill of old Pergamum, and a stocky, brown-bearded priest was speaking. Tarsus-his old friend, his teacher-was explaining a simple process all his students were to learn, a mnemonic pattern to induce a settled, focused mind. Maxian felt calm flow over him, just remembering the voice like a soft murmur in his ears. The words and the mental pattern became clear in his thoughts and the prince felt his anxiety fall away.