Emperor: The Field of Swords by Conn Iggulden Page A

anywhere. There are no second chances from that man.” Julius tapped his finger on the map over the tiny mark of the city he loved.
        “There are elections at the end of the year for two seats as consul. I’m going back to try for one of them.”
        Cabera shrugged, still testing. “And then? Will you fight a war for the city like Sulla?”
        Julius became very still for a moment and his eyes pinned Cabera.
        “No, old friend,” he said softly. “Then I will no longer be posted at Pompey’s whim. As consul, I will be untouchable. I will be at the heart of things again.”
        Cabera wanted to let the moment pass, but his stubbornness forced him to speak.
        “But after that? Will you have Brutus drill the Tenth while you write new laws the people will not understand? Will you lose yourself in maps and bridges as you have done here?”
        Renius reached out and gripped Cabera by the shoulder to make him stop, but the old man ignored the hand.
        “You can do more than that, if you have eyes to see it,” he said, wincing as Renius closed his hand on his thin muscles, hurting him.
        “If I am consul,” Julius said slowly, “I will take what I love to the wildest places I can find. Is that what you want me to say? That Spain is too quiet for me? I know it. I will find my path there, Cabera. The gods listen more closely to those who speak from Rome. They just can’t hear me out here.” He smiled to cover his anger and felt Servilia watching him over Octavian’s shoulder. Renius dropped his hand from the old man’s arm and Cabera scowled at him.
        Brutus spoke to smooth the moment over. “If we start holding ships tonight, how long before we have enough to move the Tenth?”
        Julius nodded his head a fraction in thanks. “A month at most. I have already sent word that we need captains for a large cargo. I think no more than thirty ships will be enough to land at Ostia. The Senate would never let me approach Rome with the whole legion as it is, so I’ll need a camp at the coast. I’ll take the gold with me on that first trip. We have enough for what I have in mind.”
        Servilia watched them argue and wrangle as the sun set behind them. They barely noticed the guard enter the room to light more lamps. After a while, she left to begin her own arrangements, the night air of the yard making her feel alive after the heat of the room.
        She could still hear their voices as she walked across the yard and saw the gate sentries stiffen as they saw her.
        “Is it true we’re going to Rome, madam?” one of them said as she passed him. It came as no surprise to find the man had heard a rumor. Some of her best information in Rome came from the lower ranks.
        “It’s true,” she said.
        The man smiled. “It’s about time,” he said.
        
        When the Tenth moved, they moved quickly. Ten of the largest ships in Valentia port had guards preventing their escape within a day of the meeting in the long room. To the fury of the merchant captains, their precious cargoes were unloaded and left in the warehouses on the docks to make more room for the vast stores of equipment and men that made up a legion.
        The gold at the fort was crated and taken out to the ships, with fully armed centuries attending every foot of the journey. The forges of the swordmakers were dismantled and tied on huge wooden pallets that took teams of oxen to lift into the dark holds. The great war ballistae and onagers were reduced to spars, and the heavy ships sank lower and lower in the sea as they were filled. They would need the highest tide to sail out of the harbor, and Julius set the day exactly one month after he had made the formal announcement. If all went well, they would reach Rome just over a hundred days before the consular elections.
        The quaestor Julius had promoted was ambitious and Julius knew he would work like a slave to keep his new