Lions of Rome

by S. J. A. Turney

  He could see them for what they were, though. The beggar on the main street side, opposite the alley turning. His arm looked dreadfully bent and twisted. It was dislocated, nothing more, but it made him look the perfect beggar, and he was good enough that even other mercenaries were tossing him the odd copper as they passed. Behind the warehouse, he could see two homeless wretches digging around the pottery on the hill, trying to find reusable pieces. But they were no poor denizens, for they moved about the treacherous slope with the sureness of a mountain goat. Two merchants stood at the corner opposite the Horrea Galbana, arguing and haggling. Both were far too muscular to be traders. No, this defence had been carefully prepared by a man who knew what he was doing. Once more the word frumentarius popped into his head.

  He turned down the alley and was impressed that the men in the outer ring were just so good that they never even twitched as he passed them. The beggar coughed and spat something into his hand, wiping it on his tunic, and Rufinus smiled as two of the other men close to the warehouse moved closer together, directly ahead of Rufinus.

  Arm hooked beneath the drape of the toga, his fingers danced lightly on the hilt of the small knife. Technically, he was not breaking the law. The knife was not a weapon of war, though if would as easily carve through neck as peach. Mind you, out here in the sub-urbs, they were outside the Pomerium anyway, and so that law did not count, as was evidenced by the blades hanging at the sides of many of the district’s mercenary guards.

  As he neared the warehouse, two of the men converged on him.

  ‘Prefect, welcome to the auction. If you would like to find a seat, bidding will begin shortly.’

  Rufinus smiled and nodded to the men, slipping between them and making for the door to the warehouse. He opened it with a certain level of trepidation. Everything in his life these days carried the threat of danger and intrigue, but he had rarely felt it as sharply as right now, especially as he still did not know what to expect, other than it would certainly be no auction.

  The door opened without a sound, throwing a huge trapezium of light across the floor of the structure. His gaze took in everything at once, despite the change in light levels.

  The warehouse had been largely cleared to create an open space at its heart, close to the door. Crates had been moved to the periphery and stacked high. Rufinus smiled. Not only would they be out of the way there, they would prevent anyone lurking in shadowy corners and help deaden any sound to the outside. Chairs had been arranged seemingly haphazardly, and single boxes stood around in careful positions, bearing lamps that lit the interior surprisingly well. Half a dozen figures were already here.

  Off to his right sat Septimius Severus, a gaunt, tall figure with thinning hair and sharp eyes beside him, both men toga-clad. Off to the left, as though facing them in negotiation, were two more men, both with the aristocratic bearing of a senator, and another pair in military tunics milled about, pacing impatiently.

  Rufinus entered and the door was closed behind him. Severus waved him over.

  ‘Governor.’

  ‘Rufinus. Good, you made good time. Allow me to introduce Papirius Dionysus, the Praefectus Annonae. Papirius, this is Aulus Triarius Rufinus, Prefect of the Misenum Fleet. I feel it would be extremely useful if the pair of you were better acquainted.’

  Rufinus nodded a friendly greeting at the man, who smiled back, which changed his somewhat skeletal appearance and warmed his expression thoroughly. This man had not had to come far, then. The prefect in charge of grain distribution in the city, Dionysus would be based in the Horrea Galbana just across the main road. He must be under some pressure at the moment with the plague affecting farm production across the empire.

  ‘Who are the others?’

  Severus gestured to the two men pacing in military tunics. ‘Don’t know their names but one of them is the prefect of the Castrum Lecticariorum, and the other is a tribune from the Urban Cohort.’

  Rufinus’ brows rose to meet in a peak. The man in charge of the city’s higher-level transport and litter bearers and a senior officer from the city’s police cohort. Along with the grain commissioner, a Prefect of the Fleet and a governor, there was a lot of political weight in this room.

  ‘The two over there: the fatter one on the left with the scowl is Arrius Antoninus, a former consul and until recently proconsular governor of Asia. You actually met him while we were in Syria, but you wouldn’t remember him. The man with him is his nephew. Antoninus was always a bit of a hot-head. He almost started a war when he was a tribune in the Fourth Scythica. I worry about any endeavour involving him, and I cannot imagine his nephew is much different.’

  Rufinus nodded, scrutinising the other figures. As he was about to ask what was going on, the door opened once more and two more men entered. One wandered over to a chair and sat drumming his fingers on his arm. The other moved towards Rufinus and his companions. The second man bowed his head and acknowledged them before seating himself tactically close enough to be considered part of their group, but far enough away to distance himself if he had to.

  ‘Nicomedes,’ Severus explained quietly, ‘the Praefectus Vehiculorum.’

  Rufinus blinked. Another very important man, Nicomedes in his position would control the entire courier system, including the way stations, all across the empire. The idea of the level of influence and power growing in this room set Rufinus’ teeth on edge.

  He sat tense as every now and then the door opened and another luminary entered to take a seat. Senators and soldiers, administrators and oligarchs, the occupants of this room could quite easily had built a new empire. He was beginning to worry about the strategic sense of gathering so many people in one place when the door opened once more and the most surprising figure of all entered.

  The woman was young and extremely attractive, with dark lustrous hair and a perfect complexion of pale caramel, no make up needed to enhance her beauty. He felt immediately guilty just looking at her and promised himself to complement Senova as soon as he next saw her, for though this woman was definitely beautiful, he knew his Senova to be every bit her match. She was clearly rich from her dress, though she had covered it with a large cloak for journeying across the city.

  ‘Our hostess,’ Severus whispered.’

  Rufinus turned a baffled look on him, and the governor leaned close. ‘Marcia, freedwoman of Lucius Verus. They say she’s been the emperor’s lover since childhood.’

  ‘But he’s married,’ insisted Rufinus, though his memory furnished him with an image of the pretty little alabaster woman he’d met those years ago in Pannonia when the old emperor died. She’d not looked to be particularly close to Commodus then. They had been married by the will of his father after all. Another look at the intoxicating figure of Marcia made it very easy to believe that she had attracted the attention of the emperor. Was she why Commodus had become so removed from the world these days?

  ‘She’s the one who seems to have drawn everyone together,’ Severus hissed. ‘I was aware of some of these men harbouring a personal hatred of Cleander, and Nicomedes and I have discussed matters before. But this is impressive. She has been casting her net wide and in the best of ponds.’

  As Marcia moved into the centre of the room another figure opened the door and joined them, and Rufinus almost shot to his feet in panic. The man was wearing the tunic of a Praetorian prefect. Had they been discovered? But no, for the man moved across and stood close to Marcia, and the atmosphere in the warehouse began to shift. The presence of such a man clearly gave everyone heart. But then, not everyone knew how corrupt the Guard had now become.

  A further three men who Rufinus either knew by sight or whose wealth and power was made clear by their mode of dress opened the door and came into the warehouse. Oddly, Rufinus noted that already two groups were coalescing in the dim light. One seemed to be gathering on Severus, the other on the chubby senator about whom the governor had already expressed his concern. Rufinus had seen enough debates go bad in his tim
e to recognise already the direction in which this was going. Nicomedes, the courier prefect, moved chairs a little closer, forgoing his neutrality and visibly siding with Severus.

  A few moments later a final figure entered: another senator, clearly. This one paused and locked the door behind him, indicating that he would be the last. Rufinus looked about once more. This room read like a list of the rich and powerful in the city, from almost every walk of life.

  At the centre of the room, Marcia and the Praetorian prefect, now seated, shared an unseen look. The latter shrugged and the young woman rose to her feet.

  ‘I see no reason to tread lightly around matters,’ she said, her voice as intoxicating as her appearance. ‘We all know why we are here, and we may as well now speak openly of it. If our enemy’s spies are at work, then we are already doomed.’

  Rufinus nodded his agreement. Given the level of guards outside they should be as safe as anything. He realised now, with the presence of the Praetorian prefect, that those figures would probably be men of the Guard. He hoped to Hades the prefect knew what he was doing. So many of the Praetorians would be collecting coin from Cleander now. There were other nods around the room, some encouraging, others more reticent, uncertain.

  ‘Cleander has to be removed from power,’ Marcia said in a matter-of-fact tone. Rufinus looked around the room. Fewer men were nodding now, more seeming unsure. He realised oddly that it was because of the speaker. No matter how much influence she might have on the Palatine, and no matter how involved she was, these senators and soldiers were unlikely to acquiesce to the power of a woman. Marcia sighed and nodded at the Praetorian prefect, who stood beside her.

  ‘Friends,’ he addressed the room, ‘we cannot afford to tarry here longer than necessary. Any of us could be missed and cause concern. The reason we are here is to discern any way to bring about that which we all desire.’

  ‘And carefully,’ said Septimius Severus, sitting beside Rufinus with folded arms. The entire room turned to look at the governor, and Rufinus tried to look sure and calm, supporting the powerful man at his side.

  ‘No one ever butchered an animal carefully,’ snorted that heavy-set senator directly opposite.

  ‘You have clearly never seen a butcher at work,’ Severus replied. ‘There are many ways to go about this, but we have to consider the results of everything we do. A knife in the dark has several disadvantages. Firstly, if it fails, it opens up all those involved to scrutiny, and I suspect none of us wants that. Secondly, it requires putting all our faith into the hand that wields the blade, and if the empress’ conspiracy against her brother taught us anything, it should be that such a choice is foolish. Thirdly, if it succeeds, then it is simply a murder, and not justice. As such there would have to be an investigation and culprits found and dealt with.’

  The Praetorian prefect shook his head. ‘It is considerably more black and white than you suggest, Severus. You’d be surprised what the Guard has witnessed. How then would you go about this?’

  Rufinus nodded. There was some sense to that. He could see Severus’ point, and it was a good one, but the Praetorian commander probably wished to cut the rot out of his own force. That somewhat endeared him to Rufinus. It showed that there was still a glimmer of honour in the Guard.

  ‘Carefully,’ repeated Severus. ‘Take note of Perennis’ fall. He died by the emperor’s own will, despite the fact that the emperor believed him innocent and counted him a friend. His power and respect were gradually whittled away beneath him by a cunning opponent, leaving him perilously balanced and awaiting a simple push to fall. This is how Cleander needs to be dealt with.’

  ‘Severus,’ muttered the younger senator – Arrius Antoninus’ nephew – put in, ‘every day Cleander gains more power and targets more enemies. If we do not act soon, it will be us under the sword and all will come to naught.’

  ‘Act too precipitously, and you invite defeat,’ Severus replied. ‘I suspect I am the only one here who has fought a war.’

  Rufinus shot the governor a sour look. Severus might have led armies in battle, but Rufinus had been at the sharp end of the war against the Marcomanni, up to his knees in mud, blood and shit. Still, he knew he was not supposed to be that person any more, and Severus was trying to make a point as strongly as he could.

  ‘Believe me,’ the governor went on, ‘when I say everything needs to be carefully coordinated. Rushing off to find a knifeman is idiotic.’

  Senator Antoninus was shaking his head in disagreement, which was already infecting that clique that had gathered around him. Rufinus felt his spirits sink a little as the Praetorian prefect gave Marcia an odd look and then drifted over to stand near the senators.

  ‘I have no stomach for conspiracy and clandestine meetings,’ the Praetorian said. ‘I favour a simple fight. Looking down my blade at my enemy.’ The senators nodded.

  The polarising of the room was almost complete now. Half the occupants had moved closer and closer to Severus and his companions, while the rest, including the Praetorian commander, had gathered on the senator. Only the sultry figure of Marcia remained alone in the centre, the failure of this meeting clearly weighing heavily on her. Rufinus realised with some sadness that the emperor’s freedwoman had probably risked everything to bring so many conspirators together, and far from colluding and forging a plan to bring down their mutual enemy, they had split into two distinct groups, one favouring a blade in the back, the other a subtle conspiracy to cause the public downfall of the man.

  Rufinus swallowed noisily and fought the urge to rise and cross the room to stand with the others. He could not help but respect the Praetorian prefect’s stance. A strike of blade to body and excise the rotting flesh. Cleanse Rome with a single blow. It was an attractive idea, and in truth was much more the way Rufinus liked it. But he owed Severus. And he trusted him. And Severus was insistent that care was the way forward.

  The governor suddenly rose beside Rufinus to address the gathering.

  ‘I have a number of ideas. The fleet play a part in it. Dionysus here has a role, I think. It will take good time to put things in place, but I can expound upon my plan as it forms, and include all of you who wish to play your part. Those who do not need to stay well clear, for the more voices in a conspiracy, the more chance of someone being overheard. Do I presume that you gentlemen wish to have no part?’

  The Praetorian and the senators opposite rose and stood together. The prefect looked pointedly at another man in a military tunic to whom Rufinus had not been introduced, but who Rufinus had seen enough of to suspect he was a centurion, and the soldier simply shook his head sadly, and crossed the open space, to Rufinus’ surprise to stand by Marcia. The Praetorian prefect grunted his disapproval. ‘You may feel free to play what games you wish, Severus, but there shall be no acknowledgement of your value when we plant a blade in Cleander’s neck.’

  ‘Good,’ the African replied, and Rufinus once more felt the power of his patron. ‘Be certain, when you fail, to keep any name from your lips no matter how many fingernails they pull out.’

  Rufinus felt his blood run cold, the memory of what had happened to him in the cellars of the empress’ villa snapping into his mind’s eye. He winced, driving the image away and shot an irritated look at Severus. The governor had not taken his eyes from Senator Antoninus. On a whim, realising that important choices were being made here, and knowing where he needed to stand, Rufinus rose beside Severus and folded his own arms. He glanced over at Nicomedes, the praefectus vehiculorum, who dithered, looking distinctly uncomfortable, but who finally rose to his feet and took two steps to stand at Severus’ other shoulder, opposite Rufinus.

  The Praetorian prefect seemed to take this as some sort of challenge, and his finger shot out towards Severus. ‘The same goes for you. While you plot and plan like low criminals, remember to keep our names out of your workings.’

  As though the meeting had been shattered by the words, the Praetorian prefect and the two senators with him
strode away towards the door, pausing only long enough for a barely polite nod at the woman who had gathered this powerful group together, only to watch it fragment before her very eyes.

  They slipped out, and the group of men at that side of the room who had been gathering around the three followed them out, exiting the building in a gaggle, and leaving only the men around Severus and Rufinus facing the emperor’s favourite and the centurion beside her, who cleared his throat, his gaze locked on Severus as the door shut behind them.

  ‘Do you think it can be done?’

  Severus nodded. ‘But I think the fewer people involved the better. You are daily among the Guard, which contain not only Cleander’s men but also Rufus’. Bend all your own time to staying safe and out of matters. And the lady here? She is far too central to power to be personally involved. Cleander already hates her. Domina, you must, like Laetus, look to your own safety.’

  The lady gave Severus a sad and troubled nod, and she and the centurion both left the warehouse. After them, others who had stood in support of Severus followed, bowing to the governor as they went. When the door finally clunked shut, Rufinus turned to see Papirius Dionysus and Nicomedes still with them.

  ‘What now?’ he asked.

  Severus, cleared annoyed, drew a deep breath. ‘Our friends out there are going to try something direct and visceral. I do not think they will be successful. If they are, then Cleander will become some poor victim and those of us opposed to him will be scrutinised for our part in it. If they are not, then if they are lucky, they will die in the attempt. If not, they will go through something similar to what happened to you years ago. And you know how easily a man can break under that. I pray they do not name our names when that time comes. So we must be extremely careful. In times past, men have died for the deeds of others for simply having no way to prove their innocence. We must needs be clearly nothing to do with those men. If we are ever named and dragged in, we must be clearly innocent of involvement.’