Gods of Rome (2021) Book 3 by Simon Turney & Gordon Doherty

Author:Simon Turney & Gordon Doherty
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Roman Historical Fiction
ISBN: 9781800242111
Publisher: Head of Zeus
Published: 2021-09-01T14:00:00+00:00

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The Coastal Road, 12th September 312 AD

I twisted in my saddle and looked back upon Ravenna’s parapets. The time of recuperation and planning was over, and the journey was afoot: my army was on the coast road now and there could be no doubt – Rome was the prize. The only thing left to be decided was who would be the victor and who the vanquished?

‘Come on, full step!’ Batius screamed at them – over seventeen thousand steel-clad legionaries and nearly two thousand lancers. I believed in them, and they in me. I had spared a small garrison of two cohorts to watch Ravenna, ever uncertain of Licinius’ motives. One thing was for certain, however: that bastard would have no share in my victory! I dared leave behind no more than that two cohorts, for I would need as many soldiers with me on this advance as I could muster. The rumours had grown stronger since this morning: the armies of Daia – that stinking vulture – had been sighted on the move, taking ship towards southern Italia. Was this what my one-time friend had stooped to? Bringing creatures like Daia into play?

I shook the thought away and sat tall in the saddle, looking ahead. The Mare Adriaticum stretched out on our left like a splendid cerulean infinity, spotted with gentle crystalline peaks, bright and fresh like the early autumn sky. We marched that day in good time, the vanguard riders and foot soldiers encased in steel, but the rest wearing just helm, spear and shield, having loaded their heavy ring and scale coats in the wagon train. I too wore just my old red military tunic and a white cape, the jewelled battle helm once given to me by Hisarnis resting on one of my saddle’s horns.

We saw nothing and nobody for three days: no armies, no scouts watching us and scattering back south to tell their master, no impediments – neither broken-up roads nor smashed bridges. Italia was stretching her arms to welcome me like a wanton lover. If we could make use of this road to forge as far south as possible, then we could pick our way across to the western side of the peninsula via the Capanum Pass – a short and direct route to the region of Latium. The men’s mood soared, sensing with every day unopposed the growing closeness of a golden triumph. Some even spread rumours that Maxentius had abandoned Rome and fled to the south of Italia, to hide in the toe of the peninsula with his new friend Daia like that ancient gladiator-rogue Spartacus. Others claimed he had taken ship to Africa to hide behind dune-ramparts and muster elephant brigades. Some swore he had been cut down by his own men – and given the Praetorians’ history, I suspected that this might just be the most plausible rumour. In truth, I realised that none of these things were real. I simply knew that our great game was not yet over, and in the pit of my heart I knew that the bleakest part of it had yet to play out.

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