I said nothing.
“She married Octavian, and betrayed her Republican husband, because she loved Tiberius. She suffered terribly for it.”
I looked at him like he was a corpse.
He nodded at me. “Did you know that later, when they were both soldiers and conquered the Alps and parts of Moesia, that Drusus, terribly depressed for some failure in his life, asked Tiberius to join him on his quest to restore the Republic. Did you know Tiberius agreed, which is why Drusus was emboldened to even dream of the Republic? That is what Tiberius told me, his only friend.”
I spat at his feet.
He grinned. “And later, when he realized Drusus might actually succeed, he suggested to his mother that his brother was a danger to Rome, to their position? That he could never be happy as a Senator. Nay, he had to rule, he told his sweet mother. Did you know this? Livia thought she did it all to protect him, because he asked for it, because she loved Tiberius, and had ever protected and pleased him. I think, and I know I am right, that he is how he is, troubled and mad, because of his…guilt. Imagine!”
I closed my eyes, and felt terrible weariness take me over.
He laughed. “Remember this, Hraban. When in power, you need to trust someone. But the truth is, they all want you dead, even the ones you trust. And then, it is your turn to fear.”
Tiberius?
It could be true, I thought, as I heard Sejanus laughing.
It could explain his unhappiness, his terrible moods, his…awkwardness. Shame. All that had always been about…shame. As if he did not deserve any of it.
And he did not.
“He used to be a happy boy, when he was young,” I whispered the words of Antonia to myself. “Full of dreams. His mother loved him.”
He had been a selfish child. Mother’s own little darling. One of those bastards. He had used his mother’s unreasonable love for him and had pushed her to the side of Octavian for the power. Then, later, he had pushed her to murder his own brother. And Livia, loving her son well, had acted.
When had it dawned on him that he was to blame?
When we had escorted Drusus’ corpse home to Rome?
Bastard fool. Poison to Rome.
Rome deserved him, and Gaius.
Now I had to master both, while Tiberius slowly died in his sad madness.
I had nothing but allies, and finally, freedom to act.
And still, nothing was as it seemed in Rome.
Not even revenge.
It was at this time, that Agamemnon left Rome with the bones of Red, recovered with Cassius’s help, and went to live in the house near Misenium, and with my gold set up a ludus in Neapolis.
***
The Senate met, and condemned Sejanus’ name to be wiped out of history. All his terrible deeds were wiped from the books, along with his statues and great achievements.
I strangled him at the top of the Capitoline Hill, next to Tabularium.
He stood still, waiting, hearing the crowds crowing for his life.
He shook his head and smiled tiredly.
I stepped closer, and then grasped him from behind.
I choked him, until he went limp, and then pushed his body down the Gemonian Stairs. He bounced and fell, and people grasped the corpse on the stairs, and threw it down again, until it crashed in the middle of the crowds. Like a dead fish diving into murky, dark water, Sejanus was gone, for his body was torn apart, his organs sold to potion makers and witches, and his bits and pieces spread to make sure he would not come back.
Macro proved to be an excellent Sejanus.
The hunt for Sejanus’ accomplices took down man after man, woman after woman. It spread out of Italy, all the way to Greece, Pannonia, Gaul, and Egypt.
Livilla was given to Antonia’s care, who punished her severely. She also was the guardian of Tiberius Gemellus.
They said she starved her to death.
The children of Sejanus, the other two, Capito Aelianus, and Junilla, were killed in December. For the latter, a virgin, the execution was especially terrible. A rope was put around her neck, and she was raped, and only then strangled, as per the law that forbade the execution of a virgin, and I stood away from the sight.
Every day, Macro spoke in Senate.
Very soon he demanded Livilla should also suffer the fate of being wiped off the memory of Rome, all her deeds and her name wiped out.
None objected.
Trial after trial, one year in, and another, people Sejanus had touched with his filth, and many whom he had not, but who were no friends to Tiberius either, were brought to trial, exiled, or executed. The Gemonian Steps were busy, and the islands around Italy had very few islands that did not house some unfortunate. Most died on those islands.
This went on until Tiberius’ death, six years later.
Macro and I, we became his swords, his will in Rome. Macro was the visible one, and I the shadow behind him, and Cassius became guard to Gaius. I also met with Tiberius many times those first few years, and watched the man’s eyes, as he spoke on for hours about his many needs. It was at this time he became curious to learn all he could from the past, of the events that he had not seen, feeling the death of his body, and mind.
One of these events was the rise of my father.
He was obsessed with the death of my father, of all who might remember Livia’s crimes.
So, I sent a scribe, Marcus to pen down the story. Later, when he came back, Tiberius spent a long time learning of my father’s past. Marcus, of course, no matter if he lost part of the tablets or not, had to die.
During the last years, I visited him less.
I sat in the Castrum Praetorium and hunted for all the Roman nobility that we thought might be a risk to Tiberius and Gaius. There were surprisingly many of them, but Rome was vast, and so we had our work cut out for us. Macro aided me, and we met daily, many times while struggling with the lists of victims.
Little did I think about those victims, their faces.
I thought about my revenge, of Tiberius’s death.
Of what Gaius would do.
And also of the secrets I still didn’t know.
I felt there was something I was missing, something Tiberius might be able to tell me.
I was far too far to stop then, anyway.
One day after Caligula’s wedding, and when Macro and I were plotting to kill one of Gallus’ sons, Caligula appeared in the Castrum Praetorium.
I heard the tuba announcing him and got up. We watched each other, and he shook his head.
“The bastard’s coming? That’s Gaius.”
“Yes, its him,” I said heavily, and brushed my armor clean of breadcrumbs.
We had seen him surprisingly little.
Gaius visited Tiberius much of the year.
When he was in Rome, his sisters and feasts took much of his time.
He seemed to have forgotten us entirely.
But apparently not quite.
His appearance in the Castra gave me pause. I thought of my sword, and how I had had little time to keep up my skills in battle. I felt exhausted for all the plotting and devising the weekly, sometimes daily, scrolls of what had become known as the “Letters from Hades.” Treason was always the topic, and in the Senate, and elsewhere in the city, they were read aloud to shivering crowds of people, some frightened, others elated. We gathered evidence, Macro used his men to find witnesses, and we would eradicate all the vestiges of Sejanus. Scum was lifted to the Senate, and the best people removed.
Now, Gaius would have some business with men administering the shift in Roman power and honor, and it was…worrying. Especially since his wedding had been the day before.
We stood in the shaded yard, and on top, stretched over the courtyard, flapped a gray linen sail.
And then we saw him.
He rode into the castra, tall, thin, ruddy-faced, and godly handsome, and he reminded me a lot of his father, the Germanicus I had hated.
He sat on his horse as
he stared at us, and then kicked it forth, and the praetorian centurion, Cassius Chaerea, the centurion of beastly honor and bravery followed him.
We watched each other.
He had been there when I had been betrayed.
He had been one of Sejanus’ men.
He had been one of those, who commanded the worst of Sejanus’ men. Perhaps he had killed Red too.
I had wanted him dead. He looked at me, and for some reason, seemed to share the hate. At least he was hostile to me.
I heard Gaius also tortured him. Gaius had fallen in love with him, in a twisted, cruel way.
Cassius did still look almost as beautiful as a woman. His eyes were bright, and he might have passed for a young maiden, although he was not. Caligula saw us looking at the man, and chuckled. “Nay, that is not my wife. Though, he could be, I admit he looks better than she does.”
The centurion closed his eyes, the victim of that same joke, and many similar ones since the wedding, and ordered his praetorians to spread around in their own fort, to watch even the darkest of corners.
Claudius, his misshapen, bulbous ears peeking from under a disheveled overlong black hair, followed Caligula, on foot.
There too, were scribes, and officia and several drunken sons of Senators who were Caligula’s friends. There were ten of them, and none were any good.
I bowed and kneeled before him, and I did not have to look up to know Macro had followed my lead, slightly behind, and that Caligula would be smiling. “Up, my urchins, my sweet young friends,” he said, with a slightly cruel voice. He turned to his brutes and smiled as he gestured for us. “See, how the old fathers are still spry enough to bend a knee. But could they do two?”
The bastards laughed. One, a thick-jawed man called Marcus Aemilius Lepidus, called out. “They could try it? Just to make sure?”
Gaius turned a lazy eye to us.
And we went on both knees, as the bastards cheered.
Gaius laughed hugely, holding his belly. He had a wonderful sense of humor, but only in his own mind.
And that sense of humor had developed over the years.
He preferred crueler jokes these days, and if he indeed would have been a god, it would not have been Juppiter, but Lok himself.
And perhaps he was, just that.
He was eyeing the fort and as we stood, he guided his horse closer. “Can you scratch his ears, Raven or Rome,” he said. “He is itchy.”
I frowned, and then understood he did not mean one of his friends.
He meant the horse.
So, I stepped next to it, and scratched the ears. “Your highness is well?” I murmured.
“Like a rotten apple,” he answered. “Like an apple left to the rodents. You, Macro. Come and scratch his balls. They itch too, I bet. Mine do, at least. Why would my horse be any different, eh? You help, Macro. Proper scratching for an itching, eh? Not mine, mind you.” He turned to centurion Cassius. “I know you would like that, you big boy-lover.”
Cassius blinked but kept his mouth shut, as Macro, to the mirth of the young thugs, made an effort. The horse was not happy, and I was sure Macro at least thought about pinching the horse’s balls to make it bolt. I kept my eyes forward and said nothing.
The horse shied away, and Caligula had to guide it back in place. “Thank you, Macro. It is enough. Your wife knows how to do that well enough, too. I still occasionally meet her. Did you teach her?”
Macro cleared his throat. “I have shown her many things, of course.”
“Or did I teach her?” he wondered. “I cannot remember. You are welcome, Macro. I am sure you enjoy it too.”
Macro bowed his head, fury playing in his eyes, as he stepped back, his fist clenched.
Happily, Gaius seemed to bore with the jokes, and leaned down on me. “Raven. Do you know,” he whispered, “how much coin Tiberius paid for my wedding?”
“The figure has passed over my table top,” I said. “I cannot remember the exact figure. They are still tallying up the costs.”
“And how much money the father of the damned bride received for the honor?” he pressed.
“I have seen some figures of that too,” I murmured.
“Stop swallowing your tongue, or it might get plucked like a flower,” he told me with a grin. “The state has nearly four billion sesterces.”
I did not deny it. “So they say. Less, likely, but not by much. Tiberius has a fortune of two and a half himself.”
He chuckled. “And I? After what Sejanus did, after he took all the riches from my family, and when the Senate made him disappear, his name and deeds gone forever, it seems our money is also gone in the process. The money is now in Rome’s vault, I am sure. Millions of it is mine.”
“Which,” I said, “you will receive eventually and indeed share with young Tiberius Gemellus and be richer than any man.”
He snorted. “Richer than any man, save for Tiberius Gemellus.”
“Well, there is that,” I agreed.
He winked. “I hear you are rich?”
“I hear also that I sprout wings every night, and drink the blood of babies,” I told him.
He laughed hugely, and the shook his head as he got to the point. “How is Tiberius, really?” Caligula asked. He winked. “You know, I keep going there, but even I have not seen him much while there, so I must ask.”
I smiled. “He is sick and old. How sick and old, we know not. He stays hidden for days, as you said. Like a spider after it has eaten, he reads the reports, the lists of the dead, the fortunes made, the lives ruined, and then he scuttles back to his hole to wait for a new day. There he feasts and fucks.”
Caligula held his face. “And I must choose if I can feed my friends something good, or just passable.”
“We must still be careful, god Gaius. Antonia lives near you and is watching, soldiers guard you,” I said very softly. “Patience—”
“I have none left!” he yelled, silencing the yard. He spoke softer. “Not one bit! Do you know…I got married yesterday.”
“It was mentioned—”
“I know!” he shouted again, and yet again tried to speak with a softer voice. “And sleeping with that…thing. That woman. It is like fucking a log! She has the hips of a boy! Not like the centurion over there, or Ennia, or my…”
He looked down and shook his head.
He was fucking his sister. All of them.
I had seen reports of that too. The reports said the women cried, and their husbands cursed, and still did nothing. Yet.
“Do not let Tiberius win,” I whispered. “You must be incredibly careful. I know you love your sisters like a god should, but the husbands might speak out.”
He leaned down. “Domitius Ahenobarbus, he is trying to make Agrippina pregnant. They want a child. That nasty bastard is humping her like he would a dog. Consul of last year! Bah! And Longinus! He married Drusilla. He sleeps with her every day…”
He held his head and moaned.
I watched him carefully. I tasted the madness in the air.
The god was thrashing impotently under the skin and clearly wanted Tiberius dead. And then, the very finest and richest families would be in trouble.
I stoked the fire. “I cannot imagine Longinus, the man so virile, will keep his bed cold. I understand it is hard for you…”
His face changed. If horns had grown from his forehead, I would not have been surprised.
Instead, he panted and spoke on. “You are forgiven.”
I bowed my head.
“And even now, Livilla is marrying Vincius, the mouse,” he cursed. “All my lovelies given to the ravaging hands of Tiberius’….”
“They are the richest families in Rome. Livia planned it to keep Sejanus weaker, and I suppose they will be happy for now,” I said.
He did not roar with rage this time, but jumped down from his horse, and pulled me along. He waved the guards back, none of whom were happy to let him walk alone.
Apparently, they all thought
he might get killed any day, and then it would be the fault of the guards.
He placed a hand on my shoulder, as we stood in the corner, pulled his cock out with his other hand, and began pissing on the wall. “I have not forgotten your service. I will keep you on, Raven of Rome, for you are the only one who speaks to me honestly. I do appreciate it, even if I sometimes do not. It is a beneficial thing, though in smaller dosages, Raven. Remember that. Small dosages.”
The piss was dripping to our feet, and I did not move my foot. He was nodding.
“I think I need to concentrate on keeping my patience again. You are right. But it is sorely tested by my fool Claudius there. So, I will want you to give him a job. Claudius will come here, every day, and he will help you make calculations, and with the correspondence.” He shrugged. “Make him useful somehow. Make him a stool, if you must. He will go home in the evenings, so we can have him for our parties. The parties are always an enormous success when he is there, stammering jokes while naked.” He turned to look at Claudius. “Did you hear me? Make no jokes here but spare them all for me!”
“No…no…” Claudius stammered, and men were roaring with laughter as he hopped forward a few steps.
“A clever idea,” I said. “We can make him a useful stool here.”
“It is a clever idea,” he said.
He looked embarrassed. Claudius was there to spy on us. For him.
He wanted to make sure we would not betray him next.
Gaius smiled as he tucked away his cock. “He needs things to do, gods know it. They never set him on the noble’s path. Triumphal ornaments he was granted, and mockery.” He sounded almost sad. He shook his head. “He too, knows what I am. A god. I pity him. I mock him too, but I do pity him.”
I closed my eyes and knew I would have to endure Claudius.
Antonia would be grateful, since the fool spent his time in a house near her, with his sad wife, or in Caligula’s house, also near. Tiberius had never stomached his presence for long, and to be honest, neither had I.
I nodded Claudius inside.
He smiled.
The Oath Keeper Page 32
