The Conquest of Spain (Book 11 of the Soldier of the Republic series)

By William Kelso

206 BCE. The 2nd Punic War has entered its twelfth year. In Spain the final contest for supremacy between Rome and Carthage is about to unfold as each side gears up for the decisive battle. Pushing west towards the last Punic strongholds Publius Cornelius Scipio stands on the brink of total victory. But deadly unseen forces are at work to try and thwart him. In the shadows an assassin lurks seeking an opportunity to arrest the rise of the one man who can bring Carthage to her knees. Tasked with protecting his patron, Julian, son of Flavius, a military tribune, must do his best to find the assassin before it is too late.

The Conquest of Spain is the final book in the Soldier of the Republic series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: William Kelso
• Release date: Dec 2, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005887797

William Kelso

Hello, my name is William Kelso.My books are all about ancient Rome, especially the early to mid-republic as this was the age of true Roman greatness. My books include, The Shield of Rome, The Fortune of Carthage, Devotio: The House of Mus, the eleven books of the Soldier of the Republic series and the nine books of the Veteran of Rome series - Caledonia (1), Hibernia (2), Britannia (3), Hyperborea (4), Germania (5), The Dacian War (6), Armenia Capta (7), Rome and the Conquest of Mesopotamia (8) and Veterans of Rome (9). Plus the 11 books of the Soldier of the Republic Series and Rome Divided (book one of the Guardian of Empire Series). So, go on. Give them a go.

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The Conquest of Spain

Book eleven of the Soldier of the Republic series

By: William Kelso

Visit the author's YouTube site

William Kelso is also the author of:

The Shield of Rome

The Fortune of Carthage

Devotio: The House of Mus

The Veteran of Rome series (9)

Soldier of the Republic series (11)

Published in 2022 by KelsoBooks Ltd. Copyright © William Kelso. First Edition

The author has asserted their moral right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work.

All Rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, copied, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written consent of the copyright holder, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

ABOUT ME

Hello, my name is William Kelso. I was born in the Netherlands to British parents. My interest in history and in military history started at a young age, when I was lucky enough to hear my grandfather describing his experiences of serving in the RAF in North Africa and Italy during World War 2. Recently my family has discovered that one of my Scottish/Northern Irish ancestors fought under Wellington at the Battle of Waterloo in 1815.

I love writing and bringing to life the ancient world of Rome, Carthage and the Germanic and Celtic tribes. It is my thing. My aim is to write 100 books in my lifetime. After graduation, I worked for 22 years in financial publishing and event management in the City of London, as a salesman for some big conference organizers. Working in the heart of the original Roman city of Londinium I spent many years walking its streets and visiting the places. The names of which still commemorate the 2,000-year-old ancient Roman capital of Britannia; London Wall, Watling Street, London Bridge and Walbrook. The City of London if you know where to look has many fascinating historical corners.

So, since the 2nd March 2017 I have freed myself from corporate life and become a full-time writer. It is one of the best decisions I have ever made. Stories as a form of entertainment are as old as cave man and telling them is what I want to do.

My books are all about ancient Rome, especially the early to mid-republic as this was the age of true Roman greatness. My books include, The Shield of Rome, The Fortune of Carthage, Devotio: The House of Mus, the eleven books of the Soldier of the Republic series and the nine books of the Veteran of Rome series - Caledonia (1), Hibernia (2), Britannia (3), Hyperborea (4), Germania (5), The Dacian War (6), Armenia Capta (7), Rome and the Conquest of Mesopotamia (8) and Veterans of Rome (9). So, go on. Give them a go.

I live in London with my wife and support the Help for Heroes charity, the Ukrainian military charity Come Back Alive and a tiger in India.

To: Victory

Dear Reader,

I hope that you will enjoy this book. The Conquest of Spain is the eleventh and final instalment of the Soldier of the Republic series. A twelfth book covering the Roman invasion of Africa and the battle of Zama was initially planned but 11 is a better place at which to finish the story.

The history this series is based on belongs to Livy and Polybius, the story and fictional characters are mine.

As an independently published author, I do not command huge marketing resources so, if you are so inclined, please do leave me a review or a rating. Or follow my book reviews on twitter at @williampkelso

For those visually inclined have a look at my short historical themed YouTube videos at

Feel free to contact me with any feedback on my books. Email: [e-mail]

Chapter One – The Man of Triumph

September 207 BCE

In the city of Rome under a glorious blue sky and a harsh glaring sun an excited and expectant mood gripped the crowds who had come to witness the triumphal procession. It was morning and the people were everywhere. Lining the streets in their tens of thousands. Perched on roof tops and hanging out of windows. Packed into every available space. Heads turned and craned in the direction of the approaching victory parade which for the moment was still out of sight behind the tall insulae apartment blocks of the Subura but whose approach could be heard. Steadily, irrevocably, drawing closer.

Standing patiently waiting at the base of the Capitoline Hill - just one man among a large group of army officers - Julian, twenty-eight, was clad in his military uniform, his tribune’s blood red cloak draped over his shoulder. His coat of chain-mail body armour gleaming in the fierce sunlight while a focale, a white neck-scarf was tightly wrapped around his neck. Judging from the swelling noise and excitement coming from the direction of the porta Triumphalis the march was about to appear imminently. For a moment he eyed the Sacred Way and the Roman forum with its market and sprawl of magnificent temples. The splendid colonnaded government buildings - the very living and beating heart of Rome. Then lifting his gaze he turned towards the hundreds of senators who had gathered nearby upon the broad stone steps that led up the slope of the Capitoline hill - towards the lofty summit where the great temple of Jupiter dominated the skyline. The senators too were waiting. Gathered together in groups. All clad in their elegant white toga’s with purple stripes running along the borders. All gazing out across the forum as they awaited the arrival of the conquering Roman heroes.

Observing the city fathers thoughtfully, Julian’s eyes lingered before he turned his attention towards the temple of Janus, the two faced God of beginnings and boundaries. His somberness contrasting with the jubilant and growing excitement around him. It was indeed a new beginning he thought as he eyed the temple. His father, Flavius, was dead as was his mother Agrippina and the old Gaul Victorix. A whole generation gone. Slain just a few months earlier. Rome may be celebrating a great triumph but there had been a price paid for that victory. Studying the temple of Janus - Julian sighed. Occupying the corner where the Argiletum, the street of the booksellers, merged into the forum - the doors into the small temple were open. As they had been for eighteen years. An unmistakable sign that the war against Carthage was not over. For the doors to the temple were only ever closed when Rome was at peace with its neighbours.

Suddenly the first of the marchers hove into view appearing at the bottom of the Sacred Way - parading straight towards the Capitoline Hill. Accompanied by the massed blaring of horns and trumpets. And as the crowds of spectators caught sight of them a great booming nearly hysterical roar of approval and joy rose up, drowning the city in noise and sending flocks of birds soaring away into the blue sky. Cheering wildly, jumping up and down, their arms raised triumphantly in the air the populace of Rome seemed to have lost their traditional stoic manners. Their unbridled joy a measure of how tense and worried the city had been as it had awaited news of the outcome of the decisive battle against Hasdrubal along the banks of the Metaurus river earlier that summer. But now all that pent up emotion was coming out. The immortal gods had blessed Rome with victory. Hasdrubal was dead and his army shattered. The Carthaginian threat from the north was destroyed. With the noise of the cheering crowds and blaring horns ringing out across the forum, Naevius, Julian’s bodyguard who was standing beside him, caught his eye and gave him a little amused smile.

On the marchers came. Slowly heading into the forum and towards the Capitoline and the spot where Julian was standing. Their journey having started on the fields of Mars just outside the city. Led by slavers and columns of Carthaginian prisoners of war chained together in leg irons, the miserable looking POW’s were followed by wagons displaying the spoils of war. Coats of splendid Gallic armour. Sturdy Iberian shields and weapons. Chests filled with gleaming gold and silver coins. Captured African and Carthaginian battle-standards. And then an elephant. The ponderous appearance of the huge beast with its ivory tusks drawing forth gasps of wonder from among the spectators as it was slowly led down the street. Then came the Italian allies. The smartly clad and unarmed soldiers from the Italian cities allied to Rome were carrying their shields as they slowly marched down the street in their close battle formations. Their hobnailed boots rasping over the paving stones. On they came through clouds of incense and flowers thrown onto the marching troops by the jubilant spectators.

Abruptly the cheering and clapping increased and moments later Julian spotted the consul’s lictors stiffly marching down the street in a line abreast. Clad in their red war robes and holding up their fasces, long bundles of rods, adorned with the laurels of victory. They were followed by the consul Livius himself riding a four horsed chariot accompanied only by a single public slave. The victorious general was clothed in a splendid purple and golden toga. His head crowned by the laurels of victory. His face covered entirely with blood, making him look both menacing and unnatural. While moving along in single file on both sides of his chariot were black skinned men carrying and working ox-hide covered drums. The unfamiliar rhythmic drumming adding to the awe of the occasion as if Livius was claiming to have conquered Africa itself.

The consul was closely followed by his Roman troops. The soldiers marching in close formation and as they came on Julian could hear the men’s raised voices as they belted out a dirty marching song. The legionaries taking the piss out of their commander in chief as was their right on this day. But it was not the soldiers ribald marching song that suddenly drew Julian’s attention. For following on behind the consul Livius and his marching troops a solitary dignified looking horseman had appeared. The figure riding his horse slowly across the paving stones now bedecked with flowers. Without anyone to accompany him. And as the crowds recognised the man the cheering and applauding grew to fever pitch while here and there a few spectators surged forwards to try and touch the lone horseman, reverently reaching out to him as if he were a god.

Peering across the forum at the consul Gaius Claudius Nero as his triumphant commander slowly rode towards the Capitoline Hill through the ecstatic adoring crowds Julian carefully rubbed his chin. His boss appeared to be enjoying his moment of triumph. His fame now assured. His place in history secure. But few knew what a nightmare the negotiations had been on how the joint triumph of the two consuls was to be conducted. Few knew about the effort which had been needed to hammer out a compromise that would satisfy the competing demands of both consuls. A process which had taken most of the summer to resolve. For once the battle of the Metaurus river had been won and Hasdrubal had been killed both Nero and Livius had refused to go on cooperating with each other. Falling out with each other nearly immediately after the battle. Their hostility and loathing for each other reasserting itself now that the immediate Carthaginian threat had been dealt with. In the end after a huge amount of diplomatic efforts behind the scenes it had been agreed that both consuls would share the same triumph. The Senate stipulating that both should arrive in the city on the same day. But because the victory had been won in Livius’s province Livius would be granted a full triumph while Nero would only get a lesser ‘ovation’. But none of that seemed to matter to the populace of Rome Julian thought as he observed the reception Nero was getting. For by their enthusiasm the crowds were making it abundantly clear who out of the two consuls they thought deserved to receive the greater glory.

That prick has a knack of landing on his feet, Naevius said as if he had been reading Julian’s thoughts. See that. Look. Even Livius’s own troops are singing about Nero. That’s extraordinary.

Nero did well. It was his idea to switch our reserves to the left flank. He won the battle. He is the man of triumph, Julian replied with a shrug. He deserves this moment of fame. They say that today the consul will be king for a day. Or a god if you believe that.

No. He’s just an arrogant prick, Naevius responded decisively without taking his eyes off Nero. And you know it Julian. Nero is a dick.

Ignoring his big tough looking bodyguard Julian gazed at the marchers as they approached. Naevius was a generation older than himself. In his early fifties. An old acquaintance of his father. Once he had been a general. A hero of the siege of Capua and the victor of the battle of Apollonia in Illyria. Where he had driven King Philip of Macedonia back into the mountains with a numerically inferior Roman and allied force. But that had been before political opponents and jealous family members had succeeded in bringing him down. His enemies had brought a legal case against him - charging him with embezzlement of public funds - a case which he had lost. The guilty verdict had resulted in Naevius being dismissed from his command, demoted, and stripped of most of his property by his own family. A spectacular fall from grace. His reputation ruined.

As the victory parade came to an end and both consuls were received by the Senate on the steps leading to the temple of Jupiter, Julian lingered before at last he turned away. Across the forum the crowds were beginning to disperse. Heading home. But the jubilant, triumphant atmosphere remained. The victory celebrations across the city were only getting started he knew and they were going to go on well into the night.

So which party are we going to? Naevius said raising rubbing his hands together as he turned to look around at the assembled Roman officers. I need a drink and a squeeze.

Saying nothing Julian eyed the crowds. Then he turned towards the Curia Hostilia, the Senate House that flanked the forum. Hurrying up the broad steps into the magnificent building, passed the rostra where public announcements were made, were a gaggle of rich, well to do patricians, accompanied by their wives and family members. Their excited voices ringing out. The people ready for a party. To celebrate Rome’s grand victory. For a moment Julian gazed at the Senate House. Once long ago - Flavius - his father had been asked to deliver a speech to the Senate inside that very building. An honour bestowed on very few men. He himself had never been inside and it was unlikely he ever would for his rank would not allow him to attend the elite gatherings. Their parties would be strictly for the very top of society.

Come, Julian said at last reaching out to give the older man a friendly slap on his shoulder. I heard Nero has laid on a banquet and a boxing match between the champion of the 1st and the 3rd. We will go there first. My money is on the champion of the 1st.

So Nero is paying? Naevius said his wrinkled face lighting up.

He is, Julian replied as the two of them set off through the crowds towards the forum boarium, the ancient cattle market beside the Tiber. It’s his triumph so he pays.

Splendid, Naevius exhorted. But you are wrong about that bet. You are still young and foolish. I will show you how it is done Sir.

***

Looking battered and bruised, with one of his eyes swollen shut, the champion boxer of the 3rd was being carried around on his cheering supporters shoulders. The man’s fist raised triumphantly in the air. It was afternoon and in the packed city square the crowd of soldiers, civilians and officers were standing up, hollering and clapping in approval. The boxing match having gone down to an exciting, nail biting finish. Sitting at a small wooden table in the middle of the street, his cup of wine barely touched, Julian looked on as Naevius finally reappeared. His bodyguard pushing through the crowd of spectators and party-goers as he headed towards the spot where Julian was sitting. A broad grin plastered across his wily old face. While in his hand the older man was clutching a money pouch.

I was right. Did I not tell you to bet on the champion of the 3rd, Naevius cried out triumphantly holding up his winnings. It may not be fortune Sir but there is enough money here to last us all night. No need to worry about a shortage of wine or women. This party is going on until the first light of dawn, Naevius added as he plonked himself down beside Julian and slammed the pouch onto the table with a pleased satisfied look.

Well done, Julian said with a little restrained smile as he eyed his bodyguard. But like I told you. Nero is paying for everything today. That’s why the people are so pleased.

For a moment Naevius did not reply as his eyes swept the crowd of party goers celebrating the consul’s triumph in the street.

He is not paying for everything Sir, Naevius said as his eyes finally came to rest on an attractive young woman who was watching the festivities from a doorway. Not by a long mile.

Well here is to the consul, Julian responded raising his cup of wine in a toast. Here is to Nero and our great victory over Hasdrubal.

Yeah, Naevius said as he raised his own cup in a less than enthusiastic manner. If you say so Sir.

It was sometime later with gay happy music filling the street and the masses in a relaxed carnival mood when a sudden loud and authoritative cry rent the city square. Instantly a hush descended across the crowd as laughter ceased and conversations dried up and all turned to see what was going on. For a moment nothing more happened. Then a huge joyful roar rose up from the party goers as they spotted Nero moving through the crowd. The grinning consul was flanked by his lictors as he reached out to shake people’s hands. Pausing here and there to have a brief word with the bystanders. Instantly the party descended into chaos as the populace surged towards Nero, trying to get a look at him or better - to touch him. Their cries of adulation would have been embarrassing on any other occasion. Remaining seated Julian frowned as he observed the sudden undignified rush.

Oh great, Naevius muttered sourly as he reached out to down his cup of wine. Does he not have his own party to go to?

Observing his boss as Nero slowly made his way through the adoring cheering crowd Julian reached out to take a little sip of wine from his cup. Nero’s appearance among the common people was no surprise. His commander in chief was using the opportunity to promote himself. His presence here nothing more than a public relations exercise. A reminder to the people of Rome as to who had brought them this great victory and who was paying for their feast.

Oh shit now he is coming our way, Naevius groaned.

A few moments later Nero and his lictors were approaching the spot where Julian was sitting. Abruptly Julian rose to his feet.

Attention, Julian cried out in a loud voice as he rapped out a salute to his commander in chief. Quickly and silently Naevius did the same standing stiffly to attention as Nero came up to the two off-duty soldiers.

Julian, Nero growled as he recognised him. For a moment the consul paused as the eager crowd around him hung on his every word. The men and women gazing at him with respectful wonder.

Sir, Julian replied stiffly.

A word, Nero said as he took Naevius’s empty chair and sat down beside Julian gesturing for him to do the same.

Quickly the twelve lictors, the consul’s bodyguards, formed a tight circle around their boss allowing no one to approach. Stuck in the middle - alone with Nero - Julian sat down at the table.

Your father, Nero began in a grave manner. I am sorry to hear about his death. I am told he was a good man. A patriot. A true Roman. I trust that the funeral went well?

He was Sir, Julian replied. And yes it did. The people of Placentia showed great respect and appreciation.

Good, Nero said. So now you are back Julian. And I have a proposition for you. I can use a man with your military talent. We spoke about this before. The war against Carthage is not over. But you have proved your worth and I would like to include you as one of my clients. Come and work for me Julian. Show loyalty to me and I will make sure you will go far. So what do you say?

Work for you Sir?

Yes, that’s right. Work for the most famous man in the Republic, Nero said jutting out his chin in an aggressive manner. His bald head gleaming in the sunlight.

I am afraid that I already have a patron Sir, Julian replied. So my answer must be no but I thank you for the proposition.

Scipio! Nero snapped his face abruptly darkening. That young pretender! You prefer to work for him over me?

I gave Scipio my word Sir, Julian said keeping his tone even. I work for him. I am sorry Sir but I will not abandon my patron. The answer is no.

For a moment Nero was unable to speak. His genial expression melting away to be replaced with fury. His face darkening.

Goddamn you - Julian, the consul hissed at last. You don’t get to say no to me. This is my day. No one refuses me anything on this day. But if that remains your answer then you had better fuck off back to Spain and your master. I will have no further use for you in my command.

Sir, Julian said hurriedly saluting as Nero, bristling with rage rose to his feet accidentally knocking Naevius’s cup to the ground in the process.

You are dismissed, Nero snapped glaring at Julian. Stay loyal to Scipio then if you must but you are going to achieve nothing boy. Nothing! You are a nobody. And if I see you again in Rome I will set my dogs onto you!

As Nero accompanied by his lictors turned and started moving away through the crowd, Naevius came up to Julian. The bodyguard’s eyes fixed on the consul as he stooped to pick up his cup from the ground.

What was all that about? Naevius murmured.

I have just been sacked, Julian muttered. We are heading back to Spain at the earliest opportunity. I am going back to Scipio’s command.

Placing his cup back on the table Naevius said nothing as he watched Nero moving away through the crowd.

Alright, the bodyguard said at last with a shrug. So Spain it is then. But you and I - we’re still going to have a party tonight. I will be damned if I allow that arrogant prick to prevent me from having a good time. Come on. Let’s get out of here. I have another party in mind.

Chapter Two - Encounters with Women

Slowly and expertly the woman’s fingers worked his body, massaging and murmuring quietly as she carefully traced the outline of the faded LEG III tattoo across Julian’s left shoulder. Then pressing her soft welcoming body against his, she allowed her long, blond hair to drape and run across his well developed shoulders, tickling him and enveloping him in a cloud of cheap perfume. It was early evening and along the street the open air party was in full swing. The crowds were growing rowdier and more drunk as the daylight slipped away. The street was alive with singing and laughter and the enticing prospect of alcohol and sex.

Sitting opposite Julian at their table, Naevius was balancing a pretty young woman on his lap. Chuckling as his hands fondled and squeezed her bare breasts while the girl pretended to nibble on his ear. The woman was young enough to be Naevius’s granddaughter. For a moment longer Julian tolerated the scent of the cheap perfume. Then sighing he reached out and pushed the blond woman’s hand away before breaking free from her embrace. Rising from his seat he took a step towards Naevius and the young woman sitting on his lap before quickly and forcefully catching hold of the girl’s wrist. Preventing her nimble searching fingers from stealing Naevius’s money pouch. Yanking the startled woman to her feet - tightly gripping her wrist, Julian calmly retrieved the little coin bag from her hand. Then slipping it back into his own tunic pocket, he turned to give the girl a warning look. As the two women started to splutter in protest, Julian rounded on the older woman who had been massaging him and yanked her long hair from her head, revealing that she had been wearing a blond wig.

Thieves! You are thieves! Try to steal from us again and I will not be so kind, Julian cried out as the two women broke into howls of outrage. Now get out of here. Go on! Go and rob someone else.

His words silencing them - the two women hurriedly departed as people turned to stare at the commotion. For a moment Julian watched them vanish off into the crowd. Then he sat back down in his seat and turned to eye Naevius, slowly shaking his head in disapproval.

What is the matter with you? Julian blurted out. You dirty old man. You have a wife and a family and here you are consorting with some cheap tart.

I do have a wife, Naevius said suddenly, looking philosophical. But a squeeze and a tumble now and then doesn’t do any harm. She will never know. She is far away in Placentia.

It’s not right, Julian retorted reaching out to take another sip of wine from his cup. She was about to steal all your money.

Oh come on, Naevius said leaning forwards and reaching for his own cup. You too have a wife. Sicounin. I have met her. But don’t tell me that you have never been tempted by another woman.

Tempted. Sure, Julian replied as he turned to gaze out down the street at the partying crowds. But I am in control of myself, he added sternly reaching up to tap the amulet to the goddess Venus that hung around his neck on a cord. So the answer is no. One woman is enough for me.

Oh this is going to be a fun night, Naevius groaned as he turned to look away. Can I have my money pouch back now please.

No, Julian said, shaking his head. I am going to keep it for tonight. You are getting sloppy in your old age, Naevius. Those women would have taken it all if I had not been alert. And I thought you were supposed to be my bodyguard. Maybe I should have brought a dog instead.

Sorry Sir, Naevius said suddenly, looking crestfallen. You are right.

Julian was about to speak again when he suddenly heard a voice calling out his name over the din of the street party. Moments later, a boy of around sixteen or seventeen appeared, hastening towards his table. Recognising the youth, Julian frowned. It was one of the slaves who worked down at the city army barracks in which he and Naevius were temporarily quartered.

Sir. Sir, the boy called out as he came up. I have been looking all over for you.

What is it? Julian said.

A message arrived for you Sir, the boy said hastily, producing a tightly rolled scroll and handing it to Julian. It was delivered this morning to the barracks. It is addressed to you Sir. So I thought I would come and find you and give it to you in person.

Frowning Julian gazed at the scroll. Then turning it over in his hand he carefully studied the wax seal and imprint.

The house of the Cornelia, Julian said quickly as Naevius leaned closer to get a better look. Scipio’s clan. It has to be. This is their seal. Then Julian looked up at the slave boy. The person who delivered the message, he said hurriedly. Did you get a look at them?

Just another household slave Sir, the boy replied, shaking his head. All he said was that his mistress told him to deliver this letter to the barracks. There was no name given.

Turning his eyes back to the letter, Julian hesitated.

Good lad, he said at last slipping the scroll into his inner tunic pocket. Before pressing a copper coin into the slave’s hand. Thank you, Julian said, for bringing this to me so swiftly.

But at his side the boy was not paying attention. His eyes were fixed on a couple of girls laughing and lounging about nearby. His cheeks flushed as if in awe. Noticing the look on the youth’s face, Julian sighed. Reaching out he added a silver coin to the copper one - placing it on the table.

Go on, have yourself a good time, Julian said.

Spotting the silver coin the slave’s eyes bulged and hurriedly he scooped it from the table. Then he was gone.

Oi, you know that is my money you are giving away, Naevius protested.

I know.

So what - you are not even going to read the letter? Naevius blurted out. It could be something important.

It can wait until tomorrow, Julian said as he reached for his cup of wine. Its from a woman and that can only mean its business. It can wait. I am not some puppet on strings who jumps at the beck and call of the powerful. Not even for Scipio. You are right Naevius. Tonight is our night. You and I. We are soldiers. Tonight we party. We celebrate our great victory against Hasdrubal.

Staring at Julian from across the table Naevius eyed him warily for a split second before a broad pleased grin appeared across his face and he lifted his cup of wine in another toast.

To Nero’s cock, the old man called out in a loud voice. May it shrivel and fall off!

To us. Veterans of the war against Carthage, Julian responded as he broke into a grin.

For a moment the two of them did not speak as they finished their wine.

Now can I have my money pouch back please? Naevius exclaimed as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

No, Julian replied.

***

It was night and out in the dark city street, lit only by flickering torches, the Roman soldiers voices were raised in song. Their party had finally descended into a drunken public sing along. The large crowd of celebrating men were standing about. Their arms were clasped around each others shoulders in a comradely fashion as they belted out their favourite army song at the top of their voices. Oblivious and uncaring to the annoyed cries and shouts of protest coming from the buildings around them where the local inhabitants were trying to get some sleep. But none dared disturb the soldiers or force a confrontation. Standing among them Julian was clasping his cup of wine in one hand. His other was wrapped around a comrade’s shoulder; his voice raised as he too sang from the heart.

At last the sing along died down and the crowd broke up with a smattering of laughter, whistles and wolf howls. Moving back across to the small table outside the tavern which had been forced to remain open by the partying soldiers, Julian sank back down in his seat. Looking content. Before glancing at his bodyguard. Sitting leaning back against a wall, his boots resting on the table top, Naevius was nursing his own cup of wine, looking slightly inebriated. His eyes were fixed on something further down the street.

There is a man standing over there, Naevius said at last, speaking slowly and carefully without pointing, who has been watching you for a while now. See - just beneath that lamp over there.

Swearing softly, Julian turned to look down the street in the direction Naevius was looking. His bodyguard appeared to be right. Standing alone, casually leaning against the wall in the circle of light cast by the burning torch was a bearded man. Clad in a long cloak, his hood drawn down around his neck. The man appeared to be watching him.

Do you know him? Naevius asked quietly.

Nope, Julian replied as he studied the stranger. Never seen him before. Do you think he is trouble?

Possibly, Naevius replied. I don’t know. But he sure seems interested in you Julian. He has been eyeing you for a while. He’s either an assassin or a pervert. Maybe those two thieves from earlier set him onto us.

Well lets go and find out what he wants, Julian said, boldly rising to his feet and starting out across the street towards the watcher. As Naevius swiftly joined him and the two of them bore down on the stranger, the man remained at his post, making no effort to move or hide.

You, Julian called out in an aggressive voice as he approached. You looking for me. Can I help you with something?

In reply the man said nothing. Eyeing Julian with a sober look. Then he reached up to stroke his beard as if it were a secret signal and as he did Julian noticed that the man only had four fingers on his hand.

Julian, that’s your name isn’t it, a female voice said suddenly from the darkness. Julian, son of Flavius the carpenter from the colony of Placentia.

Coming to a startled halt - a moment later to Julian’s surprise a woman stepped out from the shadows where she had been waiting, carefully concealed by the darkness. Her eyes regarding him coolly and without fear as she joined her bearded companion.

Trouble Sir, Naevius muttered.

Taken aback, Julian stared at the woman. She appeared to be in her early thirties. Beautiful and elegant and from her demeanour and clothing it was instantly clear that she was high born. A proper patrician lady used to being obeyed and getting what she wanted.

That’s right, Julian replied at last in a guarded voice - recovering. My father was a carpenter. Among other things. Lucky guess. Who are you and how do you know my name?

I am called Aemilia, the woman said, her voice strong and confident. Of the patrician house of the Aemilia. My uncle was the consul killed at Cannae and my brother is Trebonius, magistrate of Rome.

Sounds impressive, Julian replied guardedly. But you did not answer my question. How do you know my name and my father?

I see your father did not tell you about me, Aemilia said sounding a little disappointed. "Well

Reviews for The Conquest of Spain (Book 11 of the Soldier of the Republic series)

[R J · Rating: 5 out of 5 stars]

An excellent and riveting story, I cannot wait to read more from this author!