A Pillar of Iron: A Novel of Ancient Rome

by Taylor Caldwell

Marcus rose slowly, and Julius seized him by the upper arms in a buoyant embrace, and kissed his cheek affectionately. “My dear Marcus!” he exclaimed. “I never see you without joy and pleasure!” “And I never see you without amazement,” said Marcus. Julius laughed heartily and struck him on his shoulder; he gave Marcus a sly wink. Julius, though not of notable height, yet gave the impression of grandeur in his snowy toga, his golden armlets set with many gems, his jeweled and fringed golden Egyptian necklace, his glittering rings, his golden girdle and shoes. His gay black eyes, wanton and ancient, sparkled as if at a huge jest. His aspect, as always, was dissolute and depraved yet curiously buoyant and joyously youthful. He wound his arm through that of Marcus, and turned to Sulla. “Lord,” he said, “I have learned more wisdom from our Marcus than from all the tutors who afflicted me. He was my childhood mentor.”