Read Online Emperor: The Field of Swords by Conn Iggulden - Free Book Online Page B

that one when they saw his oak wreath. My own men, honoring a stranger! You remember Marius well enough. We don’t want another one in the city, especially as consul.”
        Crassus didn’t reply for a long moment and Pompey chose to interpret the silence as assent.
        Below them on the track, Dacius came up behind the Spanish team and moved to lap them. The faltering driver swerved violently as Dacius passed him, losing control for a split second. It was long enough. With a crash that could be heard over the appalled howl of the crowd, both teams were fouled and the neat lines of horses became screaming chaos in an instant.
        The Thracian heaved his reins over to clear the wreckage. His whip snapped at the inner horses, forcing them to shorten their stride for a turn that nearly had him over. The crowd watched in agony as the little man guided them around, but then they were through and clear and many in the Circus rose to their feet to applaud his skill.
        Pompey swore under his breath as he saw Dacius lying still on the sand. One of his legs was twisted peculiarly. His knee had clearly been shattered, and though he still lived, he would not race again.
        “Signal the guards I gave you, Crassus. There will be fighting once they recover from the shock.”
        Crassus set his jaw in anger, catching the eye of a centurion and holding up a clenched fist. They moved down amongst the benches and it was not a moment too soon. After the excitement at the destruction of the horses and chariots, the crowd had become aware of their lost bets and howled as one in an orgy of frustration. The final laps went without incident, the Thracian first across the line to general indifference. Fights had already broken out and the legionaries acted swiftly, using the flats of their swords to separate struggling men from each other.
        Pompey signaled his personal guard that he was ready to leave, and they cleared a path for him. He exchanged a glance with Crassus as he left, and saw the man’s dislike, for once unmasked. As he reached the street, Pompey was lost in thought, barely hearing the growing disruption behind him.
        
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        Julius dismounted at the edge of the village, his horse gently snickering as it cropped at grass between the stones of an ancient road. He and Servilia had ridden far inland and there was no sign of life in the hills around them. It was a beautiful country, with vast swaths of forest and chalky cliffs that dropped into green valleys. The sun had moved past the noon point before they came to this place. They had seen mottled red deer and boars that ran squealing from their horses.
        Julius had taken long, looping trails to avoid all signs of people on their ride. He seemed content to be alone with her, and Servilia was flattered. At times, it seemed as if they were the only ones alive. The forests were full of shadows and silence, and they passed through the gloom almost as ghosts themselves. Then the trees would give way to bright sunlight and a grassy plain, and they would gallop recklessly away from the dark until they were panting and laughing together. Servilia could not remember a more perfect day.
        The village Julius led her into was a strange place at the foot of a valley. A river ran close by, but as in the forests, there were no voices to break the stillness. The houses were slumping with age and wild ferns and ivy grew out of windows from within. Everywhere there were signs of decay. Doors that had been hung on stiff leather hinges yawned open at them, and wild animals scuttled out of their sight as they led their horses along a street toward the center. The quiet of the empty village made speech difficult, as if it was an intrusion. Servilia was reminded of the echoing vaults of a temple and wondered why Julius had brought her to it.
        “Why did they leave?” she asked