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

way… make way for Titus Annius Milo! Make way, I said .’
    Schola raised his eyebrows in surprise. ‘What in Venus’ shapely arse is Milo doing out here?’
    Clodius, his jaw suddenly set firm, snorted into the cold air in a manner reminiscent of his horse. ‘Whatever he’s up to, he’s got another thing coming if he thinks I’m going to make way for him!’
     
    * * *
     
    Paetus leaned on the wooden rail of a balcony that belonged to one of the few two-storey buildings that fronted onto the Via Appia this far from the centre of the town. He’d felt sure this was the place to be, roughly at the point where the side road forked from the main way and ran up to Clodius’ villa. Plus, if his plans happened to go awry, he could always skirt round and ride on to Lanuvio, carrying out his assigned tasks.
    Since his ignominious departure from Caesar’s army in Gaul he had changed immeasurably, both inside and out, but the one thing that never altered was the dead weight he carried in his heart. The weight of his family, dead because of Caesar’s reneging on a promise and because of Clodius’ vicious criminal activity. Between the pair they had utterly ruined any hope of a future for Paetus and so he had filled that empty hole with revenge.
    In those early days, back in Rome and hollow, lost and seething, he had known that for now, Caesar was out of his reach, either surrounded by the army or tucked away in the palace at Aquileia, but Clodius had been a viable target in the city. And he had tried. Oh, how he had tried. Again and again he had attempted to get close enough to the villainous scum to end his bile-and-hate filled life. But for all his newfound energy and physique, the burning need for vengeance and the funds of his family, it had gradually become apparent that he was on a fool’s errand. He was simply one man, while Clodius commanded a virtual army from a townhouse with the aspect of a fortress.
    He had realised after two years of attempts that he needed allies. As the money had run out, he had signed on as one of the hired thugs in Milo’s faction, knowing that with the bottomless pit of animosity that Milo harboured for Clodius, he was more likely to find an opportunity with him than without.
    But if anything, Clodius was even more guarded whenever Milo was in close proximity, and despite their mutual hate, neither man was willing to start trouble in Rome’s streets, given their high political profiles. And so things had settled once more into a hell of inaction, waiting for the impossible opportunity to present itself.
    As the months stretched agonisingly on, Paetus had ingratiated himself with Milo, moving higher up the perceived ranks of the hired thugs until he had become one of the more important and influential men in the private army, with control over a small group of men. Not the gladiators who formed the bulk of Milo’s force, of course. They had their own loyalties and would never take well to Paetus’ control. But he’d been given a few small tasks to begin with and a few men to help him. Then, as he proved himself again and again, the tasks assigned to him became more and more important or personal, and the number of men he controlled had risen from three to twelve. More importantly, as time progressed, and ‘accidents’ or ‘troubles’ lost him men to the blade or to other, more insidious ends, he had been given the privilege of hiring his own replacements, albeit vetted by his master. Consequently he now controlled a small force of men who, while Milo’s in name, were loyal to Paetus first and foremost.
    Additionally, he had managed to pull together a few sources of income skimmed from the top of Milo’s lesser, peripheral business interests, and was gradually acquiring a sizeable pot of coins which he periodically distributed to keep his men’s loyalty secure.
    He smiled. All morning he had worried that their timing would be wrong, and it had been so troublesome to set up. It