Fists of Iron: Barbarian of Rome Chronicles Volume Two Read Free Page A

regarding your diligence in these areas,” corrected Gaius. “It is other areas that I’m concerned about. In a year’s time you will be sixteen, a time when you will become a man and assume your Roman citizenship. And, you are my only son and heir.”
    Clodian’s eyes met his own, “Father, I want to reassure you that I have reverence for the gods, respect for the law, and give due obedience to authority.”
    “I see I must speak more plainly,” said Gaius, his expression now serious. “When you eventually take my place, your life will greatly change. The world that I live in is a dangerous one.” He paused, wanting his words to sink in. “There are powerful men who would see me dead, not because they hate me as a man, but because they envy the authority that I wield. I am always cautious, ever on my guard – alert to the knife in the busy street and the silent adder released into my bed-chamber. The threats are sometimes hidden and at other times they wear a smiling face, coming in the guise of a friends feigning to be of assistance. They would as soon poison the wine I sup with them. You must be ready for these dangers Clodian, in all its guises. As ready as I can make you.”
    “I see,” said Clodian, his voice now very quiet, his brow furrowed.
    “So, I have made some plans for the coming year. I know you have avoided your martial training whenever possible,”Gaius continued, in a tone that would brook no argument. “Your time with books is ended, for now. I have made enquiries to obtain the services of a personal trainer, a gladiator instructor of some repute. He will train you in the skills of the sword and other related skills to help you survive, and also. . .” Gaius paused to read his son’s expression, with Clodian looking decidedly glum, “the skills of the bed-chamber. It’s my guess that you have not as yet bedded a woman.”
    “No, I haven’t,” the boy’s face coloured red.
    “Well, that is something we must remedy before you don your toga virilis , as befits a grown man.”
    His son’s head dropped, and Gaius felt an old ache in his chest. He’s so like his mother, he thought, my dear, departed Helena . Has it been ten summers already since I last saw her sweet face? He placed his hand on his son’s shoulder and squeezed gently, a reassuring gesture.
    “Come, head up,” he said, his smile returning. “It cannot be so bad a thing that I ask?”
    Gaius knew his son would not take the news well. He reached up and plucked an apple from an over-hanging branch. Strong fingers broke the fruit in two. He held out a half to Clodian, who reached out to the fruit, still not looking up. Gaius noted how slim and delicate his son’s hands were, so unlike his own which were thick and calloused from years of campaigning and wielding a sword. His son would not have to earn his wealth and position in the same manner as he had, and he was glad about this.
    As a young Tribune he‘d served Caesar Augustus loyally in the civil wars and later in the conflict in Spain. Afterwards, Caesar had rewarded him for his support, by awarding him a senior position in his newly formed Praetorian Guard – nine thousand strong. He smiled inwardly when he recalled the sour envy of his peers in the regular army who envied the triple pay he received, which dwarfed their own, as well as the unrivalled prestige that the elite guard enjoyed. With promotion had come Augustus’s favour, and later the granting of a generous estate in Campania on his retirement from the army. It ensured his continued loyalty. In a way he’d been lucky regarding the side he’d picked, but, even in those early days he’d recognized in Augustus the special traits that would make him a great Caesar. When in power he’d broken the power of the corrupt army generals and brought peace to most of the Empire.
    Yes, he knew he’d been lucky, but he’d fought and shed his blood too. He took a bite from the apple.
    “Eat, it’s