Marius' Mules: Prelude to War by S.J.A. Turney Read Free Book Online

current mood and found himself praying that Paetus and the party he’d sent on ahead had the house in a state that would ease her aggravation.
     
    * * *
     
    Publius Clodius Pulcher, politician of note, pater familias of one of the largest and most dangerous private armies in Rome and loyal (insofar as loyalty were within his mental makeup) client of Julius Caesar, clicked his tongue and turned his horse’s head back to the main road. It was cold and dismal out here and he wanted nothing more than to return home and relax.
    The preceding couple of months had been fraught and constant, what with carrying out every tiny instruction that came down from Caesar in Aquileia, continually bothering with blocking the moves of Pompey’s creatures in the senate and the forum, spreading malicious gossip and maintaining a tight watch on that snake Milo and, of course, campaigning for his own praetorship.
    When the town council of Aricia had petitioned him - as a notable figure in Rome and a close associate of Caesar - to give them a ruling on a small matter, he had seen it as a chance to get away from the grind of the city and into the countryside for a time. An opportunity to relax briefly before the race for power heated up and the election of the praetors was called. And, of course, he owned a sizeable estate at Bovillae, to which he could retire after the official business in Aricia was done with. A short journey of four and a half miles and he could have been in the villa he had confiscated - by force - from an unfortunate impoverished senator.
    Now that he had reached the town, though, he was already chilled, uncomfortable and bored and the thought of settling into the estate and enduring the chilling cold while the house was warmed through and goods brought in was less than enticing. By the time the villa had heated enough to thaw his bones, he could just as easily be back in Rome where his town house would be welcoming, warm, and stocked with all manner of appetizing goods.
    Glancing at the side road ahead which led to the villa, he confirmed his decision. He would press on to Rome, and damn the countryside.
    As they approached the edge of the town, Clodius’ eyes were drawn to the fields off to the right and the sprawling complex that surrounded the temple of the Bona Dea some fifty paces from the road. He shuddered at the memory of that night a decade ago when he had drunkenly infiltrated the sacred, women-only rites on the understanding that Caesar’s wife lusted after him, only to be discovered, unmasked, tried and face the very real possibility of execution. Only judicious bribery, sneak tactics and a hastily assembled alibi had seen him acquitted. Stupid. He should have left well alone.
    Still, all that was far behind him. As a close client of Caesar now, he stood to gain ever more power and influence as that great rising star of the Roman world gradually outgrew and outlived his peers. Soon Caesar would have sole control of the Republic and then only the Gods would outdo him.
    ‘Problem, Publius?’
    Clodius turned to the speaker. His three travelling companions rode abreast directly behind him, with his two dozen henchmen each mounted at the rear, swords, axes and clubs in open evidence - the roads of Latium were not always safe to travel, especially for a man with as many enemies as he.
    ‘No problem, Caius,’ he smiled at Schola, one of the few men in the world he trusted intimately - a man who had supplied spurious evidence to save him after the Bona Dea scandal. ‘Roxana here thinks we are bound for the villa.’
    ‘We all thought that, Publius,’ laughed one of the others, and Clodius nodded. ‘Time to get back to the city, though. It’s warmer and better provisioned and who knows what that knob-nosed fat man Pompey has been up to while I’ve been away for a day.’
    Up ahead, a voice rang through the chilly afternoon air, cutting through the background hubbub of general town life in Bovillae.
    ‘Make