Emperor: The Blood of Gods. Conn Iggulden

groups. With a raised hand, Mark Antony halted them all. He could not be seen to scurry away, as if he had something to hide.

      ‘What do you want?’ he snapped.

      Before him he saw a young man with grey eyes and dark blond hair bound at his neck. He supposed Octavian was in his early twenties, but he looked younger, with a smooth face and no sign of a beard. Somehow the sight of the young man served only to irritate Mark Antony further. He wanted nothing to do with some distant relative of Caesar intruding on him with his demands.

      Octavian drew to a sudden stop at the harsh tone, the smile dying on his lips. As the consul watched, Octavian straightened subtly, his eyes hardening.

      ‘Octavian …’ Agrippa muttered warningly at his side. The lictors with the consul were not just an affectation of power. With a word from Mark Antony, they would unstrap their axes and rods, driving anyone guilty of insult from the forum or killing them on the spot.

      ‘I thought I would greet an old friend,’ Octavian said. ‘Perhaps I was mistaken.’

      The reply seemed to rock Mark Antony. He closed his eyes for a moment, summoning his dignity.

      ‘I am in error, Octavian. I have not congratulated you on your adoption.’

      ‘Thank you,’ Octavian said. ‘I am pleased to see you thriving in such sad times. That is why I came to you. The will must be formally affirmed in Senate. I need a Lex Curiata. Will you propose it for me today?’

      Mark Antony smiled tightly, shaking his head.

      ‘You may have noticed the city is only now recovering from riots. There is more than enough business to occupy the Senate until the end of the month. Perhaps then I will ask for time for your request.’

      Octavian stood very still, aware of the lictors watching him.

      ‘It is just a formality. I thought that, for Caesar’s memory, you might move a little faster.’