Emperor: The Death of Kings E#2 Read Online Free PDF Page A

flesh in his nostrils.
    “I think that’s the last of them,” Gaditicus said, panting. He was pale with exhaustion and stood bent over with his hands on his knees for support.
    “We’ll wait for dawn before checking every doorway, in case a few more are hiding in the shadows.” He rose straight, wincing as his back stretched and clicked. “Your men were late in support, Caesar. We were naked for a while.”
    Julius nodded. He thought of saying what it had taken to get to the centurion at all, but kept his mouth tightly shut. Suetonius grinned at him. He was dabbing a cloth to a gash on his cheek. Julius hoped the stitches would hurt.
    “He was delayed rescuing me, Centurion,” a voice said. The governor had recovered consciousness, leaning heavily on the shoulders of the two men carrying him. His hands were purple and impossibly swollen, hardly like hands at all.
    Gaditicus took in the Roman style of the filthy toga, stiff with blood and dirt. The eyes were tired but the voice was clear enough, despite the broken lips.
    “Governor Paulus?” Gaditicus asked. He saluted when the governor nodded.
    “We heard you were dead, sir,” Gaditicus said.
    “Yes . . . it seemed that way to me for a while.”
    The governor’s head lifted and his mouth twisted in a slight smile.
    “Welcome to Mytilene fort, gentlemen.”
    *      *      *
    Clodia sobbed as Tubruk put his arm around her in the empty kitchens.
    “I don’t know what to do,” she said, her voice muffled by his tunic. “He’s been at her and at her all through the pregnancy.”
    “Shhh . . . come on.” Tubruk patted her back, trying to control the fear that had leapt in him when he first saw Clodia’s dusty, tearstained face. He didn’t know Cornelia’s nurse well, but what he had seen had given him an impression of a solid, sensible woman who would not be crying over nothing.
    “What is it, love? Come and sit down and tell me what’s going on.”
    He kept his voice as calm as he could, but it was a struggle. Gods, was the baby dead? It was due any time and childbirth was always risky. He felt coldness touch him. He had told Julius he would keep an eye on them while he was away from the city, but everything had seemed fine. Cornelia had been a little withdrawn in the last months, but many a young girl felt fear with the ordeal of her first birth ahead of her.
    Clodia allowed herself to be guided to a bench next to the ovens. She sat without checking the seat for grease or soot, which worried Tubruk even further. He poured a cup of pressed apple juice for her, and she gulped at it, her sobs subsiding to shudders.
    “Tell me the problem,” Tubruk said. “Most things can be solved, no matter how bad they might seem.”
    He waited patiently for her to finish drinking and gently took the cup from her limp hand.
    “It’s Sulla,” she whispered. “He’s been tormenting Cornelia. She won’t tell me all the details, but he has his men bring her to him at any time of the day or night, pregnant as she is, and she comes back in tears.”
    Tubruk paled in anger. “Has he hurt her? Hurt the child?” he pressed, stepping closer.
    Clodia leaned away from his intensity, her mouth quivering with returning force. “Not yet, but every time is worse. She told me he is always drunk and he . . . places his hands on her.”
    Tubruk closed his eyes for a moment, knowing he had to remain calm. The only outward sign was a clenched fist, but when he spoke again, his eyes glittered dangerously.
    “Does her father know?”
    Clodia took his arm in a sudden grip. “Cinna must not know! It would break him. He would not be able to meet Sulla in the Senate without accusations, and he would be killed if he said anything in public. He cannot be told!”
    Her voice rose higher as she spoke and Tubruk patted her hand reassuringly.
    “He won’t learn it from me.”
    “I have no one else to turn to but you, to help me protect her,” Clodia said brokenly, her eyes