The Death of Kings. Conn Iggulden

twitching like a great cat. Julius leaned close to him.

      ‘Do you want to take up a sword? Cut me down?’ he whispered harshly.

      ‘No,’ Ciro replied, and the calm was back once more.

      ‘Why not?’ Julius asked, wondering how to reach him.

      ‘My father … said a legionary had to have control.’

      Julius stayed where he was, though his thoughts spun wildly. There was a lever here.

      ‘You didn’t have control in the settlement where we found you, did you?’ he said, hoping he had guessed correctly about Ciro’s relationship with the villagers. The big man said nothing for a long time and Julius waited patiently, knowing not to interrupt.

      ‘I wasn’t … a legionary then,’ Ciro said.

      Julius eyed him, looking for the insolence he had come to expect. It was missing and silently he cursed the Senate for wasting men like these, who dreamed of being legionaries while wasting their lives in a strange land.

      ‘You are not a legionary,’ Julius said slowly and saw the mouth begin to twist in response to the rejection, ‘but I can make you one. You will learn brotherhood with me and from me, and you will walk the streets of the distant city with your head high. If anyone stops you, you will tell them you are a soldier of Caesar.’

      ‘I will,’ Ciro said.

      ‘Sir.’

      ‘I will, sir,’ he said and stood tall.

      Julius stood back to address the recruits, standing with the waiting officers of Accipiter.

      ‘With men like you, what can’t we achieve? You are the children of Rome and we will show you your history and your pride. We will teach you the gladius and battle formations, the laws, the customs, the life. There will be more to come and you will train them, showing what it means to be of Rome. Now we march. The next village will see legionaries when they see you.’

      The line of pairs was ragged and out of step, but Julius knew that would improve. He wondered if Renius would have seen the need in the new men, but dismissed the thought. Renius wasn’t here. He was.

      Gaditicus waited with him, falling in beside as they brought up the rear of the column.

      ‘They follow you,’ he noted.

      Julius turned quickly to him. ‘They must, if we are ever to crew a ship and take back our ransoms.’

      Gaditicus snorted softly, clapping his hand on Julius’ armour.

      Julius faltered and stopped. ‘Oh no,’ he whispered. ‘Tell them we’ll catch them up. Quickly!’

      Gaditicus gave the order and watched as the double file of Romans marched away along the path. They were quickly out of sight around a bend and Gaditicus turned to Julius enquiringly. He had gone pale and shut his eyes.

      ‘Is it the sickness again?’ Gaditicus asked.

      Julius nodded weakly.

      ‘Before … the last fit, I tasted metal in my mouth. I can taste it now.’ He hawked and spat, his expression bitter. ‘Don’t tell them. Don’t …’

      Gaditicus caught him as he fell and held him down as his body jerked and twisted, his sandals cutting arcs in the undergrowth with the violence of their movement. The biting flies seemed to sense his weakness and swarmed around them. Gaditicus looked around for something to jam between Julius’ teeth, but the cloth they had used on Accipiter was long gone. He wrenched up a heavy leaf and managed to get the fibrous stalk across Julius’ mouth, letting it fall in as the mouth champed. It held and Gaditicus bore down with all his weight until the fit was over.

      Finally, Julius was able to sit up and spit out the stalk he’d almost bitten through. He felt as if he had been beaten unconscious. He grimaced as he saw his bladder had released and thumped his fists into the earth in fury, scattering the flies before they darted back at his exposed skin.