I winked at her. “Thank you. Save the magic to your clients.”
They looked at me unfavorably.
I bit my tongue.
I hated women with sight.
I usually ended up in trouble because of them.
Pompeia put a hand on Kemsit’s shoulder and shook her head. Then she smiled at me coldly. “Republic, and our families restored,” said Pompeia. “It is the dream. We use Set to frighten our clients into silence, and gladiators. So far we have had remarkable success. But still, thus far, our enemy had been too strong indeed. It is weak now. And you said you knew them well. We could use you.”
“You will kill Tiberius,” I said dully. “And Livia. Does any of that family meet you? Surely they have prayers too? Have they tried to hire you to do what you so much desire to do anyway?”
She grinned. “Agrippina, and one other have been here. But you see, Kemsit listens to their pitiful prayers for marriages and better position, but truly, we want them all dead. If anything, Agrippina told us how weak the family is now. And as you said; you know them.”
Agrippina had not tried to poison Tiberius.
None in the family had.
“We shall start,” she said softly. “We will work together. You dreamt of peace and freedom after you killed Ulrich, but we offer you more. Help us, and see Rome healed.”
I looked at the bodies.
It was an odd way to heal Rome. I decided she was mad. And that Kemsit was stoking the fires of that madness.
“You will, first of all, tell Kemsit here everything,” Pompeia said softly. “And then, we will figure out a way to kill him.”
I grunted. “I know a way to kill him.”
They blinked.
“I said I know how he might be lured to his death,” I told her.
Pompeia smiled at the sulking girl next to her. “I told you.”
I looked back and saw Ox and Lucius were gone.
Brutus was still sitting on the steps, holding an ax.
Pompeia leaned close to me. Her breath stank of wine. “He is always guarded. So are the rest. He has been even more careful for this past year. Everyone has.”
“Tiberius,” I said, “is careful, I know. He is paranoid. With good reason, it seems.”
“Even careful men,” said Pompeia, “can die.”
“He has a weakness,” I said. “There is one thing that makes him careless.”
Pompeia chuckled. “What would make him careless?”
I smiled. “Love.”
And so, I explained to them what I was thinking about, and when I was done, Pompeia smiled.
“It is a risk,” she whispered.
“But he will be there, and he won’t wait for his guards, most of them, and he will be utterly careless,” I told her. “And then, you, with all your many secrets, will be able to guide it to its freedom.”
She placed a hand on mine. “Stay here. Tell my young lady here everything. Make her smile again. You were rude to her. She doesn’t like being called a charlatan, even if she is, as am I. And a day before the games, the day before Quinquatrus, we shall act. It is time. I have waited for fifty years.”
She left, and I watched Kemsit who walked to the corridor. At the end of it burned a light.
Set. She followed Set, for, once, it had rained in the desert.
She also lied.
About everything. I knew a liar when I saw one.
And still, her gods were useful. As useful as the gladiators.
She and Pompeia. Both clever, last vestiges of dead and dying families, though I was sure Kemsit was no relative of Marc Antony, but Pompeia was to Pompey.
The two wanted to heal Rome. At least Pompeia did. I thought the other one was just there to make coin.
They were fools.
They would not heal Rome.
I watched the bodies in the corner and felt sick to my belly.
I would heal Rome of them.
I had many tools. I did not know how to use them yet. But I would start by making sure Pompeia’s plans would fail, and the murders would end.
I felt a sour taste in my mouth as I thought of the poison in the cup of Tiberius, and knew there were things I couldn’t see.
Sejanus would be bitterly disappointed Agrippina was not guilty of a thing, except for wish to live her life, and for love for her sons.
CHAPTER 11
Aurelia’s, or Pompeia’s, house was a den of music, and calm, if you forgot the deadly room below it.
Clients came to see the patron each morning, filling the front of the house long before the people in the domus sat down for a breakfast. They met them, granted favors, and visited friends.
They seemed perfectly normal.
But still, she had spent decades killing.
It was hard to believe that at evenings, Kemsit listened to people with grudges, and they chose some of them, and then killed people for power and coin.
Her coin was well hidden. It must have been a huge fortune by then. It was spread in many a business, of course, and invested wisely, but there must have been a lot of it somewhere.
With the death of Germanicus, and no doubt prodded by her age, she was going to see her grand plot through. That she had not tried to kill Octavian, and the others years past, was still odd to me.
I wondered how much power the husband and his brothers, and Kemsit, and Kemsit’s mother had had over her, in the past.
They might have enjoyed the riches that came with their dark empire too much to risk them.
But now Pompeia was taking risks. I had given her an idea.
I was sure part of it was for Marcellus. The young girl had once been in love, before Livia and hers had pushed her aside.
It was personal as well as for the greater good.
She was striking against Livia, as much as for Rome and the high principles of her family.
I did not join them for more than breakfast.
I spilled my stories on Kemsit for most of the day and night, though not when Kemsit was receiving clients in the name of the damned Set.
Those four days, I ate with them, while Kemsit told them all the squalid shit I had shared the night before. They would stare at her in wonder, the killers with hundreds of lives to their name, and still they wondered at what I had done previously.
They did not trust me.
I was guarded by Ox, and Lucius, and the priestess.
There were alarming signs around us, too. That things were about to change, and risks taken.
Many men, guards from their other establishments, were arriving in the house. Some kept an eye on me. I no longer had cages, but I was far more closely watched than I had been in the ludus.
Tiberius was in a grave danger.
And I had no way to get the message out.
I was a prisoner, though it did not seem like a terrible prison.
At nights, I sat in the cells below and let Kemsit question me. I told her most all. I would not matter. Horrified, the girl’s golden eyes were shining with tears, as I told her of Julia, and of Gaius, and Livilla. She was weeping, as I told her of Germania, and of Drusus, and she bit her jaws together, as I spoke of Livia.
She was an odd creature, well versed in deceit, but even she couldn’t fake a tear.
She wept without any.
She leaned on her hands, that night before the one we were supposed to try to kill Tiberius. More men were arriving and taking their place in cells near us, in the corridors.
That night, she was deep in her thoughts, and asked few questions.
“Who are they?” I asked as she was startled from her deep thoughts.
She shook her head. “Mercenaries. Men who do not speak Latin. Well-paid ones. From my home.” She smiled. “We will not tell you about the family who sheltered us,” she said. “They have power. They approved of what we are trying to do. It was Pompeia and my mother who came up with a plan to change things. I am not proud of being Marc Antony’s blood. But I am,” she whispered, �
��proud of that, of Cleopatra.”
“She slept with your enemies, once, and would have happily—”
She waved my objections down. “I am not her. I simply wish to fix what was broken.”
“Set,” I said. “It truly frightens your clients.” I smiled at her with amusement.
She looked at me oddly and was not happy. “You didn’t believe me. You don’t. You think I lie about Set.”
“I know you do,” I said. “I don’t mind. You lie about everything. I think you are the sort of a woman who has trouble being herself even when she is alone.”
She shook her head. “I…I don’t lie about everything.”
“Aha!” I said, laughing. “You are happy here. You have power, and coin and riches.”
“I am,” she said with anger. “But I don’t have coin. I make it for her, but most of it is hidden by her. She does it herself, did you know? Not even I may follow her.”
“She must be very strong,” I said. “Carrying coins around Rome.”
“She is,” she insisted. “Brutus helps her. I admit I would like my share of it. Perhaps more. One day.”
“Are you here for riches, and enjoy this power you have been given?” I said. “Or do you truly believe in the gods and her cause?”
She sulked. She struggled to speak the truth. “I worry about this plan of hers. She and mother both believed in it. I am young. I don’t feel…I feel we have a good thing going. But I didn’t lie abut the gods. Set shows me things. Your god shows you how to fight. I see things, sometimes.”
I shrugged. “They all see things sometimes. Your kind. But never the right things, or clear things, eh?”
She closed her eyes. “I guess what I see in my dreams, is the hint of a truth. Rome will burn. Now, later, much later? It will.”
“All cities will burn,” I murmured. “Charlatan.”
“And you will kill Tiberius, and Livia,” she said, upset with me. “I admit I don’t see when, or where? Call me charlatan. I think you have known many. And I do fear, my friend, for Tiberius is a mighty foe, and gods have ever been on their side. She will try, anyway.” She looked sad suddenly, and this time there was a tear.
“What?” I asked. “Truly? How do you do that?”
She rubbed her face. “There will be many tears, I think, soon. You suffer a great deal, also.”
I snorted. “I think I might suffer less, if I had not killed the boy. And if you would just stop trying to fool me, eh? Just be a scoundrel.”
She flinched. “I have… There have been many dead boys. There is a boneyard of boys, Hraban, that we have sacrificed for Rome. If I occasionally take a coin here and there for myself, it is deserved. She keeps the most of it, I said. Millions of it.”
“She seems very clever, does she not, Pompeia,” I said, watching her. “I think, dear, that she is not right in the head, and her childhood was terrible, and someone was taking an advantage of her, and you keep doing that.”
She did not blink. “My sight,” she said sternly, “is no lie. She doesn’t believe in Set either. If she did, she would not dare try this. You emboldened her. Tiberius’s own blade appearing in her ludus? It was a far greater sign than any of Set’s in her mind. She has been feeling her age lately. She fears someone else will move on Tiberius before she does.”
I watched her as she sat there.
She sat back. “Tomorrow, we see. All the arrangements have been made. It was a very clever idea, yours. Perhaps she was right in thinking you might herald a change in the wind.”
“Too bad Set didn’t think about it,” I answered with mockery.
She laughed and shook her head. “For an old man, you argue like child.”
“And what will you do, if we fail?” I asked her.
“I will be here tomorrow performing a duty with Brutus, and I shall seek out that gold, and I shall use is wisely,” she said. “As I said, I am young. And as you said, I am a charlatan. In a way, it would be a relief to be able to live my own life.” She released golden diadem from her hair, and let it spread around her shoulders and table.
She got up, and I pushed my chair back.
She watched me, as I prepared to go to my cell, where a fine mattress awaited me.
She hesitated and lifted her hand. “Close it.”
I hesitated and closed the door on Ox’s face.
“If die we must,” she said, “let us die happy. Come, and lie next to me.” She stripped away from her tunic, and I watched her as she climbed on a bed, her eyes gleaming.
I grunted and followed her.
I might die the following day.
Later, much later, she put a hand on my head, and while staring at me with her yellow eyes, wept softly, and curled next to me. “My sight doesn’t lie. You will suffer greatly. More than we shall. Do you love your brother?”
I smiled. “I do.”
“Good,” she said.
I fell asleep, cursing women with sight.
***
It was in the garden the next evening, where Pompeia was well-dressed to travel. Her cloak was voluminous and hid her features, and there were many others there.
One was Ox, and there was Lucius, and Neptune. There were Egyptian mercenaries with swords under their cloaks, and many with bows. Twenty, more. On the table, there was an outfit for me as well. Brutus appeared and nodded towards it. I pulled it on and wondered at the gladius on the table under the cloak. I touched it, and none objected.
I eyed Pompeia, who came to me. “So,” I said.
“Gallus’s house is not guarded,” she said. “Hasn’t been for four days. It seems to be safe. Vipsania Agrippina is home, and Tiberius is preparing for the games and festivities tomorrow. It is the perfect time.”
Tiberius would come rushing when he heard Vipsania was dying, the one woman he had ever loved. He would rush through the streets of Rome, again, to be at her side.
“And Gallus?” I asked.
“Her husband is there, but not their sons,” she said. “It must give you some comfort.”
“Vipsania should live,” I told her. “And Gallus as well. If you want to see yourself as one of the rescuers—”
“I am no fool,” she said. “Not a fool at all. I will not raise my banner over freedom. I will keep doing the things I used to do, as I take them down, one by one.”
“Like they have done to others,” I said.
She looked at me with amusement and clapped my cheek. “We spare Vipsania. Not sure about Gallus. I dislike him, even though he is Tiberius’s enemy. But yes, the rest of them must fall. Drusus the Younger next, if he is not there this night with his father. Then?” She looked at me grimly. “Livia. Now, we are leaving. Pollio, my love?”
Pollio appeared, holding wine. He grasped her frail body and gave her a crushing hug.
“Keep up the place,” she said. “And look after our guest.”
Pollio flashed her a grin. “Brutus and I shall, and Kemsit can tell him stories. Good luck, my love.” He handed her something.
A very small urn. She hid it in the folds of her cloak, and I knew what it was.
She meant to poison herself rather than be caught, should things go sour.
There were a group of men moving out.
We walked out.
She walked with me, and we took to the streets of Rome, making our way for the edge of Capitoline. It was a large party but disturbed none, flitting through the dangerous streets silently. The streets were quiet and, save for a party of vigiles we saw little, and few. We marched resolutely for our date with fate, and Pompeia was smiling to herself, walking briskly for such an old woman. “Let us hope Drusus the Younger,” she said, her eyes gleaming with unholy joy, “is there too. She is his mother, is she not?”
I grunted in agreement and knew I would likely die, even if she succeeded.
Despite all she said, she liked killing. It was easy to guess in her utter lack of compassion for her victims.
Things were moving her way. I had g
iven her trust, information, and a plan.
She had taken it.
And I had come prepared.
We walked the streets until we came to a domus under the great Capitolium hill.
There, we stopped, and Ox and Lucius were giving soft orders. “You know,” she whispered, “I sense you are very clever man, Hraban. Let us hope things go well.”
“They will go well,” I told her.
“Good,” she said. “She has your brother Gernot down in the basement by now. The man with a wooden hand?” She clasped my arm and squeezed. “I sensed you love him. I know these things. And we do have your stories too, in a bundle of joy. It is hidden with my gold now.”
“Where do you hold your gold?” I asked, grinning.
She laughed. “There are few men with wooden hands of such fine make. He has a good taste. A hopeless drunk, though. They said he was passed out as they picked him up. He is safe for now, of course. Brutus and Pollio will put him to sleep like he would a pet dog, if I find myself in trouble here. Pray to your gods we do well.”
“I know only two gods,” I told her. “One is a brave one, the other a tricky one. Neither are safe to worship. Or to anger.”
She nodded and smiled. “Finally, a man who dares to threaten me, eh? Come. Things shall go well. After years of trouble, we finally have a road to peace.” She nodded at Brutus. “Take the house. Quietly.”
Brutus whistled softly.
Ox nodded, and he and a dozen others walked the street.
In the domus, I saw men on the roof.
It was an unguarded, peaceful house.
It was one Tiberius surely knew well.
It would be a place of butchery soon.
I saw the cloaked men rushing forward rapidly and slipping to the doors that were locked. Men were going down the hole in the roof, the compluvium, and soon, inside, I heard a muffled scream. Then the voice was begging, and there was a long wail, and the door opened. Pompeia’s men entered the house, illuminated from inside. We walked forward and came to it. Inside, there were dead slaves, and they had been asleep while taxed with the duty of guarding the doorways.
Their mistakes mattered little.
“Their sons are not there,” she whispered, as she stepped in and over the corpses. “They will be trouble later, those boys.”
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