The Gates of Rome. Conn Iggulden
the fingers over as he withdrew it.
‘You hold history, boy. Land that has seen things we cannot. You hold your family and Rome in your hand. It will grow crops for us and feed us and make money for us so that we can enjoy luxuries. Without it, we are nothing. Land is everything and wherever you travel in the world, only this soil will be truly yours. Only this simple black muck you hold will be home to you.’
Marcus watched the exchange, his expression serious. ‘Will it be home to me as well?’
For a moment, Tubruk did not answer, instead holding Gaius’ gaze as the boy gripped the soil tightly in his hand. Then he turned to Marcus and smiled.
‘Of course, lad. Are you not Roman? Is not the city as much yours as anyone’s?’ The smile faded and he returned his gaze to Gaius. ‘But this estate is Gaius’ own and one day he will be master of it and look down on shaded fig groves and buzzing hives and remember when he was just a little lad and all he wanted was to show new tricks on his pony to the other boys of the Campus Martius.’
He did not see the sadness that came onto Marcus’ face for a moment.
Gaius opened his hand and placed the earth back in the broken spot Tubruk had made, pressing it down thoughtfully.
‘Let us finish the marking then,’ he said and Tubruk nodded as he rose to his feet.
The sun was going down as the two boys crossed one of the Tiber bridges that led to the Campus Martius. Tubruk had insisted they wash and change into clean tunics before setting out, but even at the late hour the vast space was still full of the young of Rome, gathered in groups, throwing discuses and javelins, kicking balls to each other and riding ponies and horses with shouted encouragement. It was a noisy place and the boys loved to watch the wrestling tournaments and chariot practices.
Young as they were, they were both confident in the high saddles that gripped them at the groin and buttocks, holding them secure through manoeuvres. Their legs hung long over the ribs of the steeds, gripping tight in the turns for added stability.
Gaius looked around for Suetonius and was pleased not to see him in the crowds. They hadn’t met again after trapping him in the wolf pit, and that was how Gaius wanted to leave it – with the battle won and over. Further skirmishes could only mean trouble.
He and Marcus rode up to a group of children near their own age and hailed them, dismounting with a leg flung over the pony’s side. No one they knew was there, but the group parted as they approached and the mood was friendly, their attention on a man with a discus gripped in his right hand.
‘That’s Tani. He’s the champion of his legion,’ one boy muttered aloud to Gaius.
As they watched, Tani launched himself, spinning on the spot and releasing the disc at the setting sun. There were whistles of appreciation as it flew and one or two of the boys clapped.
Tani turned to them. ‘Take care. It’ll be coming back this way in a moment.’
Gaius could see another man run to the fallen disc and pick it up before spinning it into flight once more. This time, the discus was released at a wide angle and the crowd scattered as it soared towards them. One boy was slower than the rest and when the discus hit and skipped, it caught him in the side with a thump, even as he tried to dodge. He fell winded, and groaned as Tani ran up to his side.
‘Good stop, lad. Are you all right?’
The boy nodded, clambering to his feet, but still holding his side in pain. Tani patted him on the shoulder, stooping smoothly to pick up the fallen discus. He returned to his spot to throw again.
‘Anyone racing horses today?’ Marcus asked.
A few turned and weighed him up, casting gazes at the sturdy little pony Tubruk had chosen for him.
‘Not so far. We came to watch the wrestling, but it finished an hour ago.’ The speaker indicated a trampled space nearby where a square had been marked out on the grassy ground. A few men and women stood in clusters nearby, talking and eating.
‘I can wrestle,’ Gaius broke in quickly, his face lighting up. ‘We could have our own competition.’
The group murmured interest. ‘Pairs?’
‘All at once – last one standing is the winner?’ Gaius replied. ‘We need a prize, though. How about we all put in what money we have and last one standing takes the collection?’
The boys in the crowd discussed this and many began to search in their tunics for coins, giving them to the largest, who walked with confidence as the pile of coins grew in his hands.
‘I’m Petronius. There’s about twenty quadrantes here. How much have you got?’
‘Any coins, Marcus? I have a couple of bronze bits.’ Gaius added them to the boy’s handful and Marcus added three more.
Petronius smiled as he counted again. ‘A fair collection. Now, as I’m taking part, I’ll need someone to hold it for me until I win.’ He grinned at the two newcomers.
‘I’ll hold it for you, Petronius,’ a girl said, accepting the coins into her smaller hands.
‘My sister, Lavia,’ he explained.
She winked at Gaius and Marcus, a smaller but still stocky version of her brother.
Chatting cheerfully, the group made their way over to the marked square and only a few remained on the outside to watch. Gaius counted seven other boys in addition to Petronius, who began limbering up confidently.
‘What rules?’ Gaius said as he stretched his own legs and back.
Petronius gathered the group together with a gesture. ‘No punching. If you land on your back you are out. All right?’
The boys agreed grimly, the mood becoming hostile as they eyed each other.
Lavia spoke from the side: ‘I’ll call start. All ready?’
The contestants nodded. Gaius noted that a few other people were wandering over, always ready to view or bet on a contest in whatever form. The air smelled cleanly of grass and he felt full of life. He scuffed his feet and remembered what Tubruk had said about the soil. Roman earth, fed with the blood and bones of his ancestors. It felt strong under his feet and he set himself. The moment seemed to hold, and nearby he could see Tani the discus champion spin and release again, his discus flying high and straight over the Campus Martius. The sun was reddening as it sank, giving a warm cast to the tense boys in the square.
‘Begin!’ Lavia shouted.
Gaius dropped to one knee, spoiling a lunge that went over his head. He shoved up then, with all the strength of his thighs, taking another boy off his feet and leaving him flat on the dusty grass. As Gaius rose, he was hammered from the side, but spun as he fell so that his unknown attacker hit the ground first, with Gaius’ weight knocking the wind from him.
Marcus was locked in a grip with Petronius, their hands tight on each other’s armpits and shoulders. Another struggling combatant was shoved blindly into Petronius and the pair fell roughly, but Gaius’ moment of inattention was punished by an arm circling his neck from behind and tightening on his windpipe. He kicked out backwards and raked his sandals down someone’s shin, hacking back with an elbow at the same time. He felt the grip loosen but then they were both sent sprawling by a knot of fighting boys. Gaius hit the ground hard and scrambled to get to the side of the square, even as a foot clouted into his cheek, splitting the skin.
Anger swelled for a moment, but he saw his attacker hadn’t even registered him and he retired to the edge of the square, cheering on Marcus, who had regained his feet. Petronius was down and out, knocked cold, and only Marcus and two others were still in the competition. The crowd that had gathered to watch were yelling encouragement and making side bets. Marcus grabbed one of the pair by the crotch and neck and tried to lift him into the air for throwing. The boy struggled wildly as his feet came off the ground and Marcus staggered with him just as the last gripped him around his own chest