better. I have taken the liberty of discussing your future with him.’
The visitor smiled at him and there was a silky tone to his voice as he spoke; the words were designed to please the parent rather than the child. ‘I am bound to say that I like what I hear, Marcellus. Both Timeon and Macrobius have commended your progress. Would that my own sons had the same degree of skill.’
‘I have taken Quintus Cornelius fully into my confidence, Marcellus, and I intend to bend all my efforts to ensuring his rise to the consulship.’ The man was beaming now; with Lucius Falerius Nerva behind him he was certain to succeed. ‘He and I see things the same way, which is gratifying.’
‘I would be a fool not to follow your advice in all things, Lucius Falerius.’
Both men bowed their heads slightly, as if to emphasise the truth of what Quintus had said. ‘I think we have concluded our business, Quintus. Could I beg you for a little time alone with my son?’
It was polite, but it was, nevertheless, a command from a man who knew that it would be obeyed, yet Quintus hesitated slightly before standing, forcing Lucius to get to his feet first, making the point that he was more than a mere supplicant client. Marcellus watched, fascinated, as the two men said their farewells, noting every nuance of the way they dealt with each other; watched as Quintus edged Lucius into a position where he had to show his guest the door himself. All proper respect was shown, as befitted the difference in their ages and standing, but Quintus made it clear they were now the only things that separated them. Lucius was not offended by this; he was smiling, and seemingly reinvigorated, when he returned.
‘That young man has his father’s brain, Marcellus, and he puts it to better use. Even as a child, I noticed that he was destined to be more than a mere soldier.’
His son was wondering what Titus would have made of such a remark; the second son of Aulus Cornelius Macedonicus was content to be just that. In Marcellus’s eyes he was, for that reason, the better of the two. When his father mentioned that very name, his son jumped as though he had been caught with an impious thought.
‘Titus is always harping on about Spain, complaining that we don’t prosecute the war with enough vigour, especially about the hill-forts. He seems fixated by this Brennos, just as his father was before him. We have, as you know, discussed it.’
Marcellus would not look at him, caught as he was between his admiration for a brave soldier and his fear of being seen to have doubts regarding his father’s policy. ‘I taxed Quintus on that score, wondering whether his brother’s pessimism would colour his judgement, but, on that at least, he was as clear as he was clever. Let the tribes do their worst. He sees, as we do, Marcellus, that Rome has more pressing concerns than such banditti.’
‘What did he actually say, father?’ asked Marcellus, curious in spite of himself, half-suspecting that Quintus’s opinion carried with it a good deal of malice.
‘That Titus has placed himself too close to the problem and cannot see that we have time. Let Brennos and his allies raid the frontier. Nothing, Marcellus, will force Rome to attack him, until Rome sees it as necessary.’
Lucius sat down, still clearly pleased, and Marcellus wondered if his seeming exhaustion of a few moments ago had been an act. His face showed no sign of fatigue now; it was as lively as it had ever been.
‘Quintus had some trouble with his father’s debts, which have held him back for a while. Most fortunate, since it gave me time to wean him off some of his wilder notions. He might be sound on the problem of Spain, but he was less so on the path we Optimates must follow. I’ve often worried that everything I’ve worked for could fall apart but with Quintus committed to the cause and eager to carry the torch, I think I can rest easier at night, and so can you.’
Lucius fixed his son with that enquiring look, which demanded that Marcellus guess the conclusion to be drawn from that remark. ‘You do not see what I’m driving at?’
‘No, Father.’
‘What would happen if I dropped dead?’
Marcellus protested quickly. ‘Surely you cannot expect me to take such an event into consideration. It would be impious to contemplate your death.’
Even though he continued to smile, there was just a hint of asperity in Lucius’s voice. ‘You’ve inherited some of your mother’s sentimentality. I am mortal like other men. I will die and, given my age, I shall very likely do so long before you can think of occupying the higher offices of state.’
‘I hope that is not true, Father.’
Lucius looked at the low ceiling, his gaze dream-like. ‘So do I, Marcellus. I have often seen you in my dreams as you sacrificed your bull, then taking your place as senior consul in the Senate.’ He looked at his son again, and the eyes held something like love; at any rate it was an expression Marcellus had never seen before. ‘I don’t praise you, nor do I encourage others to do so, but both Timeon and Macrobius have furnished me with glowing reports of your progress. You’ve a long way to go yet and the path you will follow is strewn with pitfalls, but I want you to know that, at this moment, I am proud of you.’
Marcellus dropped his head, aware that he was blushing.
‘Quintus was here while they spoke and I think he was frankly amazed at their words, which is just as well, since if anything should happen to me, it is to Quintus you must look for assistance.’ Marcellus looked up again as his father continued. ‘As you heard I have promised to aid him to the consulship. He could well do it without my help, of course, given that he has talent and money, but you, of all people, will know what my blessing means.’
‘He cannot fail!’
‘I have offered him more than that. The Senate is full of aspiring and ex-consuls who lack either power or true dignity. I intend that Quintus will be different. He’ll inherit the task I have laboured at all these years. Not only will he become consul, but he’ll assume the leadership I hold. Men who are my clients now will become his, should I, either through death or illness, be unable to continue.’
‘Are you ill, Father?’ asked Marcellus anxiously.
‘I ache from increasing age, but no more than that.’ The boy’s enquiry had touched him and he turned away slightly, just for a second. ‘Back to the subject of Quintus. As a quid pro quo for my assistance, Quintus has taken an oath to assist you in turn. He will not seek to advance his own sons in place of you. Everything I have built, he will hold in trust, until you are old enough to assume responsibility.’
‘Will he keep his word?’ asked Marcellus. He didn’t trust Quintus, and the expression on his face made that plain.
He had rarely seen his father laugh, but Lucius did now, the thin body shaking with mirth. He bent down to the floor and when he returned to an upright position he held a small leather bag in his hand. Lucius untied the thong that held it closed, tipped it up and emptied a ball into his palm, holding it up, between finger and thumb, for Marcellus to see. The light from the oil lamps flashed in the object, multiplying and moving as Lucius twiddled with it.
‘I had this made for you, Marcellus.’
Unused to presents from his father, his expression was a mixture of surprise and pleasure. He had never seen anything like this glittering object. ‘What is it?’
‘I should have thought that was plain.’
‘It looks like glass.’
‘It is. And it is a perfectly shaped sphere.’
‘How did the glassmaker do it?’
‘Only the Gods know. Greek, of course.’
‘What is it for, Father?’
‘Is it not the same size as the leather ball with which you play?’ Marcellus nodded. ‘Then that is what it’s for. Macrobius tells me you are a winner at the sport, the best he’s ever witnessed, tells me that he’s never seen you drop the ball all the time he’s been tutoring you.’
‘Everyone drops the ball at some time, Father.’
Lucius frowned. ‘You’d best not drop this one, boy. If you do it could break into a thousand pieces.’
‘Then I can’t play with it?’
Lucius suddenly smiled again and sat back in his chair, his finger arched before his mouth in that familiar way, with the glass ball touching his lips. ‘Why not?’
‘I could be the best player in the world, but I cannot have a game without involving other people.’
Lucius nodded, still with that slight smile on his lips. ‘True!’
‘What I am saying is that I don’t need to drop the ball myself. Any one of my friends could be the one to
