Free The Gods of War by Conn Iggulden Page A

the shop. He hit me once,” he said in a rush.
    Brutus chuckled and let him take the coin. On impulse, he reached into his pouch and brought out a gold aureus. The boy’s expression changed the instant he saw it, going from confidence to frightened anger.
    â€œDo you want it?” Brutus said.
    The child scrambled away at high speed, leaving Brutus bemused behind him. No doubt the boy had never seen gold before and thought it would mean his death to own such a thing. Brutus sighed. If the local wolves found out he had such a treasure, it probably would. Shaking his head, he put the coin back in the pouch.
    â€œI thought it was you, General,” a voice came.
    Brutus looked down at Tabbic as the jeweler strolled onto the road and patted his horse’s neck. His bald head gleamed from the forges and white chest hairs tufted over the apron he wore, but he was still the same steady figure Brutus remembered.
    â€œWho else?” Brutus replied, forcing a smile.
    Tabbic squinted upwards as he rubbed the horse’s muzzle, seeing eyes still red with tears and anger. “Will you come in and try a drink with me?” Tabbic said. “I’ll have a boy stable this fine mount of yours.” When he saw Brutus hesitate, he went on. “There’s spiced wine on the forge, too much for me.”
    He looked away as he asked, making it easy to refuse. Perhaps that was why Brutus nodded and swung a leg over the saddle.
    â€œJust the one then, if you can make it strong. I’m going far tonight,” he said.
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â 
    The interior of the shop was subtly different from how Brutus remembered it. The great forges still stood solidly, a banked fire gleaming red under the grates. The benches and tool racks were new looking, though the smell of oil and metal was like stepping back into old memories. Brutus breathed in, smiling to himself and relaxing a fraction.
    Tabbic noticed the change as he crossed to the heavy iron kettle on the edge of the forge. “Are you thinking of the riots? Those were black days. We were lucky to get out with our lives. I’m not sure I ever thanked you for helping us.”
    â€œYou did,” Brutus replied.
    â€œDraw up a seat, lad, while you taste this. Used to be, it was my winter brew, but it warms a summer evening just as well.” Tabbic ladled steaming red liquid into a metal cup, wrapping it in cloth before handing it over.
    Brutus took it gingerly, breathing in the fumes. “What’s in it?” he asked.
    Tabbic shrugged. “A few things from the markets. To be honest, it depends on what I have to hand. It tastes different every year, Alexandria says.”
    Brutus nodded, accepting the old man’s lead. “I saw her,” he said.
    â€œYou would have done. Her husband came to bring her home just before I saw you,” Tabbic replied. “She’s found a good man, there.”
    Brutus almost smiled at the old jeweler’s transparent worry. “I’m not back to pick at old scabs. All I want is to get as far away as I can. I’ll not trouble her.”
    He hadn’t noticed the tension in Tabbic’s shoulders until the old man relaxed. They sat in peaceful silence then and Brutus sipped at the mug, wincing slightly. “This is sour,” he grumbled.
    Tabbic shrugged. “I wouldn’t waste good wine on a hot cup. You’ll find it has a bite, though.”
    It was true that the bitter warmth was easing some of the tightness in his chest. For a moment, Brutus resisted, unwilling to let go of even a part of his anger. Rage was something he had always enjoyed as it flooded him. It brought a kind of freedom from responsibility and to feel it ebb was to face the return of regret. Then he sighed and offered his cup for Tabbic to refill.
    â€œYou don’t have the face of a man who came home this morning,” Tabbic observed, almost to himself.
    Brutus looked at him, feeling