Emperor: The Blood of Gods (Special Edition) (Emperor Series, Book 5) Read Free Page A

remembered how he had smiled when the local praetor said there were places in Greece where a young Roman had about as much chance of survival as a tax gatherer. It had been an exaggeration, but not by much.
    He stopped to wipe sweat from his face. The land itself was wild, with canyons that seemed to drop for ever. Octavian took a deep breath, suddenly certain he’d be walking out. Nothing would give the local boys more pleasure than seeing three footsore Romans searching for stolen mounts.
    Octavian stayed alert as he climbed, looking for some sign of the group of ragged men they followed. The trail had been easy at first, until it split and split again. Octavian didn’t know if the bandits knew they would be pursued or had just taken different routes home, vanishing into the cauldron of mountains as their ancestors had done for thousands of years. He felt an itch and craned his neck to see as far as he could. It was too easy to imagine a bowman leaning over the lip of some crag and attacking before they even knew he was there.
    ‘Call out if you see anything,’ he said.
    Maecenas snorted, waving a hand at bare rocks. ‘I’m not a tracker,’ he replied. ‘For all I know, they could have passed through here with a herd of goats just an hour ago. Why don’t we go back to the main group and take up the search from there? This is not how I expected to spend my leave. I imagined more wine and less … climbing.’ He grunted as they reached a great step in the rocks.
    There was no sign of a path and each man heaved himself up, their sandals skidding and scrambling as they went. The sun was fierce above and the sky was an aching blue. All three were sweating heavily and the single flask of water was already empty.
    ‘At least the men from the town know these hills,’ Maecenas went on. ‘They know where to search.’
    Octavian didn’t have the breath to respond. The slope grew steeper and steeper until he had to use his hands to steady each step, then really climb. He was panting lightly as he reached the top of a crag and stared, judging the best route down the other side. The maze of grey rocks stretched into the distance, empty of life beyond the lizards that skittered away with every step.
    ‘You’d have me stand by and watch, doing nothing to help them?’ Octavian said suddenly. ‘A rape and a murder, Maecenas. You saw her body. What honour would there be in letting a few farmers chase them down while we stand and watch, confirming everything they say about idle Romans?
Come
on.’
    He jerked his head at a route that would take them to the floor of the canyon and began climbing down. At least the shadowed clefts were cooler, until they climbed back into the burning sun once more.
    ‘Why should I care what Greek peasants say?’ Maecenas muttered, though he pitched his voice too low to be heard. Maecenas was of such ancient lineage that he refused to claim descent from the twins who suckled at a she-wolf and went on to found Rome.
His
people, he said, had owned the wolf. When they’d first met, he’d assumed Octavian had known Caesar, so a mere Roman noble could not impress him. Over time, he’d realised Octavian took Maecenas at the value he set for himself. It was slightly galling to have to live up to his own sense of superiority. Maecenas felt that Octavian had rather missed the point of noble families. It wasn’t who you were – it was who your ancestors had been that mattered. Yet somehow that simple faith was something he could not shatter in his friend. Octavian had known poverty, with his father dying early. If he thought a true Roman noble would be brave and honourable, Maecenas didn’t want to disappoint him.
    Maecenas sighed at the thought. They wore simple tunics and darker leggings. Any clothing was too hot for climbing in the noon sun, but the leggings were terrible, already dark with perspiration. He was convinced he’d rubbed himself raw under them. He could smell his own sweat as he