by Paul Doherty
'Murranus was hired as a bodyguard, chosen specifically. First, it was a good way of showing how much you cared for your stepson, but that was a lie. Second, it was an excellent way of getting rid of the other rogues Sesothenes had hired. On the day of attack, he sent them in. They were wounded or killed. If any did survive they were shown no mercy. Now Murranus had told you that he was taking Alexander into Rome, but he is certain that the only people who knew the exact time of his departure, were you and General Aurelian. He didn't even tell Alexander, so as not to get the boy too excited. Finally, I could understand Aurelian being proud of Murranus' decision to take his son to Rome, but you, Lady Urbana, with all these terrible kidnappings in Rome, didn't you object? Especially since you'd come to the palace to complain about the abductions to the Empress herself.'
'You encouraged it.' Murranus pointed at Urbana. 'Yes, you did. At no time did you counsel against my taking Alexander into the city.'
'If this is all true,' Helena asked, 'why did Urbana actually come and see me after Senator Carinus' daughter was abducted? What was the logic in that?'
'Ah,' Claudia replied. 'At the time, I thought they were just busybodies, but we now come to a further proof, the actor Theodore. He was present when Antonia was abducted. Theodore's story was a mixture of fact and fiction. He saw no face but, being a devotee of the Temple of Hathor, he certainly recognised those masks. If Sesothenes had not been so eager to escape, he would have killed Theodore, but he was under strict instruction that there was to be no violence, no hurt. Instead he swiftly communicated to Urbana the danger Theodore posed.'
'I'll ask it again!' Constantine interrupted. 'Did Sesothenes know Urbana? Are you sure of that?'
'I believe,' Claudia replied, 'that Urbana worked solely through her intermediary Leartus, disguised as a woman. Sesothenes would be informed of the details, — he and his associates would gather their gang and strike. Leartus would later collect the ransom money and give Sesothenes his portion. The high priest wouldn't care, — he was being enriched, provided with a safe place in the catacombs, and, as he may have suspected, patronised by someone very powerful.'
'Wouldn't he be suspicious,' the Emperor asked, 'at the change in instructions: to kill young Alexander?'
'No,' Claudia retorted. 'Why should he? It might even divert suspicion from Urbana, her beloved son being killed. No!' Claudia moved a hair from her face. 'Sesothenes would be informed that it was revenge on the Empress for sending Chaerea into the catacombs to spy on them. At the same time it was an expeditious way of getting rid of the ruffians Sesothenes had secretly hired. I doubt very much if they were told about Murranus; he'd have been described as an ordinary guard.' Claudia smiled at her beloved. 'They soon learned differently. Murranus couldn't save Alexander, but he fought so well, it became highly dangerous to continue the struggle and so they retreated. Sesothenes and his companions took care of any survivors.' Claudia paused. 'Your Excellencies,' she pointed at the accused, 'imagine two women obsessed with an idea, redoubtable women who'd clawed their way upwards. Urbana is full of resentment at her husband, the terms of his will, his lack of support for what she holds important! She draws Cassia in, and, of course, Leartus; the eunuch is a perfect foil. He has no love for Rome, certainly not for its generals and senators. And then,' Claudia shrugged, 'the past catches up.'
'And Theodore?' the Empress asked sharply.
'Ah, our actor was being very crafty. He wanted to make sure that those masks were from the Temple of Hathor. He wanted to think and plot, he probably planned blackmail, that was why he insisted on visiting the temple before he went to the She Asses. He'd also been frightened. If he recognised the masks he could be implicated, — after all, he was with Lady Antonia when she was kidnapped. Anyway, Sesothenes passed the information on. Lady Urbana, the caring lady of Rome, acted swiftly. She visited Senator Carinus, collected Theodore and went to the palace. Later that same day, Theodore died of poison.'
'Yes,' Urbana shrilled, 'but he died here.'
'No.' Claudia shook her head. 'Theodore did not drink poison here. I have checked most scrupulously. He was hungover. He complained of stomach pains, which began after he visited the Palatine Palace, the one occasion when you three, Urbana, Cassia and Leartus, were closeted with him. I was with the Empress, you had to wait; the imperial chamberlain served you wine and honey cakes. I have established that. At the time it was three against one. Cassia distracted Theodore, whilst you, Urbana, served the poison, pouring it into his wine, some slow-acting potion which would start like indigestion. The writer Celsus lists such poisons and their effects. Lady Urbana, you are proficient in poisons, aren't you? Leartus claimed you were an expert on herbs, yet there's nothing about poisonous plants in the library at Aurelian's villa. I suppose such texts are kept separately in your own chamber, along with your powders. You are an assassin! Alexander's blood is on your hands, as is your husband's. If Alexander died and General Aurelian survived that would not advance your plans; both had to die together. You are cold-hearted and scheming. You knew the effect Alexander's death would have on his father, and you helped Aurelian into the dark. A secret potion, a deadly powder mixed with his wine, and his death would be viewed merely as a result of terrible shock. I am sure,' Claudia added with a smile, 'the imperial searchers who are now ransacking the villa will find more evidence of your knowledge of herbs.'
'How dare you!' Urbana shouted.
'The imperial chamberlain Chrysis,' Helena sweetly declared, 'has been dispatched to your villa. He will search it from the cellars to the farthest part of your garden. If you have nothing to fear, then it will serve no harm. If damage is done, the imperial treasury will compensate you. That is,' Helena's voice changed, 'if you ever return there.'
Claudia was watching Leartus, who sat, shoulders slumped, lost in his own thoughts. 'Leartus?'
He looked up. Claudia's heart leapt. If he conceded…
'You are a warrior,' Claudia declared, 'and the son of a warrior. You bear the mark of a chieftain. You invoked the blood feud. Some might say you carried out true judgement against men who murdered their own officer, tortured your father and were directly responsible for the deaths of all of your comrades, not to mention your father's second wife. You could have appealed to the Emperor for justice. General Aurelian would have listened, but instead you took the warrior's path. You are still a Pict, Leartus. Here is your chance to die like a warrior. You are undoubtedly guilty of the crimes I have listed against you. Two paths open up before you. Slow, excruciating torture at the hands of the imperial interrogators, followed by crucifixion outside the city gates, — or a warrior's death here tonight, at the hands of another warrior, Burrus. The choice is yours, to confess or not.'
Leartus kicked off his sandals, stood up, took the chain from his neck, the bracelets from his wrists, the rings from his fingers and threw them to the ground. He undid his belt and shrugged off his tunic so he stood naked in his loincloth. Tilting back his head, he began to chant in a strange language, staring up at the sky, stretching out his hands. Cassia tried to claw his arm but he shrugged her off. Urbana screamed, clear proof of her own guilt, but Leartus continued to chant, his voice growing stronger. He paused and squatted, hands on his thighs, and stared across at Claudia.
'You are fortunate, mistress,' he began. 'Your man is a warrior. I watched him fight in the arena. My heart went out to him. What you say is true. I am the son of a Pictish chieftain, a former slave, castrated by my captors, sold in Rome, employed by the Lady Cassia. I never, how could I, forget that night. I became separated from my father. I hid beneath a corpse out in the heather. I took my torque and bracelets and put them on another body. The night passed. Dawn came. The Romani were drunk. They thought we were all dead. I watched them take off their armour so they could enjoy my father being tortured.' He clawed the side of his face. 'I always prayed,' he whispered, 'that the time of blood would come.' He smiled. 'General Aurelian's parties! One after another, year in and year out, then i
t was the turn of the Fretenses. I saw them! The time of blood had arrived. The ghosts of the past had caught up with my soul. Petilius recognised me. I certainly recognised him and the rest. I invoked the blood feud. My father's shade and those of his followers demanded their deaths. I was still a warrior. I enjoyed killing them. I do not regret it.
'For the rest,' he sighed, 'you are correct.' He gestured round the garden. 'Rome! Do you like it, Claudia?' He pointed at Urbana and Cassia. 'They don't. They are the daughters of British tribesmen. They enjoy Christianity because it's still special, not truly Roman. They once worshipped Egyptian goddesses, whom they replaced with the Magdalena. I thought it was amusing. Aurelian would not do what Urbana wanted. He underestimated the dark rages, the pride seething in her. She hated Aurelian and all he stood for. It was so easy. I dealt with Sesothnes, meeting him disguised in the dark, giving him instructions, distributing his share of the spoils. As you said, no one was hurt, no real harm was done. Why should I object if a few fat, wealthy Romans lost their children for a few days for a small portion of their wealth? Especially compared with what I had lost. I never really overcame my hatred for Romans or their city.' He turned his head, i had no objections to their games or their stupid pursuit of dusty knowledge. When Alexander was killed, I began to wonder, then General Aurelian died and I suspected. The gods know that I had no hand in that. I watched your man in the arena and I knew what it was to be a warrior, to fight in the sunlight, to be honest and true. If you had not confronted me, perhaps I would have left Rome, taken my secrets to the grave, but why should I die on a cross? For what? No, I'll take the warrior's way.'
'And what Claudia has accused Lady Urbana and Cassia of is the truth?' Helena asked sharply.
'It is the truth.' Leartus got to his feet, i wish to be gone.'
'Burrus!' Helena called into the darkness. The German came forward, his sword already drawn. 'Not here,' the Empress declared, 'not here, where we are being entertained. Find some lonely spot. Let it be done quickly.'
Leartus bowed towards Claudia and, ignoring the rest, allowed the German to take him away. Helena was now sitting up on the edge of her couch; Constantine no longer acted the drunk.
'You should be crucified!' he shouted. 'For the evil you have done.'
'No, no,' Helena interrupted. 'You, Cassia, I believe, once called yourself the Queen of the Night. You are correct. Both of you are Queens of the Night, ladies of the dark. You plotted kidnappings, abductions, murder and treason. You, Urbana, killed your own husband, a general of Rome, and his lovely young son Alexander, for what? For money? And you, Cassia, as always, you followed. You were hers,' Helena spat the words out and pointed at Urbana, 'body and soul!' The Empress straightened up. 'Claudia's accusations are proven. Leartus' confession simply confirms it. I am sure my searchers at the villa will seal your fate. However, you will not die on the cross.'
Urbana began to sob.
'Silence,' the Empress ordered. 'Murranus here appealed to the ancient rites of Rome. So do I. Both of you will be taken out to the Polluted Fields and sealed in an underground chamber. You will stay there without food or drink for forty days. If you are still protesting your innocence at the end of that period, I will think again, but I believe you are truly guilty. The Empire demands justice and so does God.' Helena raised a hand and snapped her fingers. 'Take them away.'
The trumpets brayed, sending the birds whirling up to the sky to cry raucously at being disturbed. The Polluted Fields had been prepared for the entombment of two leading ladies of Rome. Urbana and Cassia had been paraded in a cart throughout the city, squatting in dirty, ash-strewn clothes, their heads shorn, their faces branded, exposed to the fury of the mob. They left the city by the Coelian Gate. By then the mob had grown tired of the catcalling, throwing stones and refuse. Behind the cart marched a squad of the imperial guard, and alongside it a troop of auxiliary cavalry. Both women were broken, and by the time they reached the Polluted Fields they crouched heads down, not even touching each other.
Helena had ordered Claudia and Murranus to witness the women's end. The summons had been delivered by Burrus, who was now helping the prisoners, wrists and ankles chained, out of the cart, dragging them along the pebbled path towards the grey stone steps which led down to the execution chamber built beneath the earth. Claudia, at the Empress' command, had already visited it to ensure all was prepared. She had never experienced such an eerie, sombre, godforsaken place. Grey walls, grey paving stones, grey roof, no aperture, no window, nothing but a bench and a table and, on that, a pewter tray with two earthenware cups of water and chunks of dry rye bread, the last they would ever be given. The door was of heavy oak reinforced with steel bands and metal studs. Once it was closed, there would be no light, no air, nothing but a yawning darkness. Claudia had felt a pang of sorrow for both women, but Murranus reminded her of Alexander coughing out his blood, Aurelian dying heartbroken, as well as the terror and squalor experienced by the children who'd been kidnapped.
The executioner, a jolly-faced man without his hideous dog mask, had followed them around asking if all was in order. Claudia had replied that it was. Now she and Murranus stood at the top of those sombre steps watching the two women being hustled towards their deaths. She hardly recognised them. They now clung to each other, sobbing quietly, faces streaked, clothing nothing more than stained rags. At the top of the steps the chains were loosened, their ropes cut and both women were thrust down into the darkness. Neither one looked at Claudia, who had brought them to this place of justice. Claudia closed her eyes as she heard a shriek, then the executioner pushed them into the chamber, slamming the door behind them, padlocking the chain, nailing up the notice of death.
Claudia opened her eyes and stared across the execution ground. Nearby rose five crosses, gibbets for the corpses of the Egyptians Murranus had killed. She averted her gaze; the bodies were drained of blood, smeared with dung and dirt after being dragged through the city. She truly hated this horrid place with its sparse grass, grey stone chambers jutting above the earth and wooden gibbets stark against the sky. She pinched Murranus on the wrist.
'Follow me.'
They left the execution ground and walked across the heathland to where they had once sat sharing bread and wine. Claudia stretched, sat down under the shade of a holm oak and stared back at the guards. Most of them were being dismissed, except for the four who would spend the first quarter of the day on guard. Claudia picked at a tuft of grass, smelled its freshness and rubbed it between her hands.
'Ye gods,' she muttered, 'Helena has had her vengeance.'
'Justice!' Murranus replied, sitting down beside her. 'Justice, Claudia, think of the dead.' i am,' she retorted, staring down at the gibbets stark against the sky. 'But I have one question for you, Murranus.' She turned to face him squarely. 'Why were you so certain, I mean about winning?'
'Because I'm the best.'
'Arrogance!' she snapped and jabbed a finger in his face. 'Tell me the truth.'
'They were guilty,' Murranus declared. 'You know that. The house owned by the Egyptians provided the evidence; more was found in the catacombs.'
'Tell me,' Claudia shouted. 'Tell me now or I'll get up and walk away. I watched you in the arena, Murranus, I cried for you. I deserve to know.'
Murranus blew out his cheeks. 'Helena,' he spoke softly, 'she told me to challenge them and then we plotted.'
'What?'
'She encouraged Sesothenes and his followers to accept my challenge by telling them I was injured, that the blow to my head had been very serious. She did this through others, time and again the same message, how I was slow, disconcerted. I joined in the pretence, deliberately acting so at the gladiatorial school. She helped matters along by secretly placing considerable silver on the wager that the Egyptians would win.' 'Bitch!' Claudia retorted.
'She did more than that. She sent her spies back into the training ground. I was informed of all the preparations by Sesothenes and his gang. Who was the most dange
rous, who was slow, what tactics they were deploying. Helena even offered to drug them, but that would have been too obvious.' He smiled at Claudia, who was glaring furiously at him. 'In the end they were killed. They were not gladiators.'
'No,' Claudia declared softly. 'They certainly were not, and neither are you, Murranus.' She seized his face between her hands. 'That was your last fight!'
Author's Note
Many of the strands of this historical novel are based on fact. The historian Eusebius of Caesarea gives a graphic description of the conversion of Constantine before the battle of the Milvian Bridge. The same historian also details the deep psychological hold Helena exerted over Constantine, who conferred on her the title of 'The Most Noble Lady'. The Empress' search throughout the Roman Empire for relics of the Saviour is also well documented, particularly her desire to find the True Cross.
The persecutions of Diocletian and Maxentius were a brutal purge of the Christian faith. During this pogrom it was common practice for women accused of being members of the new faith to be carried off, threatened, sexually harassed and eventually executed. One of the best-known examples of this was Catherine of Alexandria, who was martyred in Rome shortly before the date in which this novel is set.
The remains of Christian martyrs were collected secretly and given sacred burial. The most famous example was that of St Peter, whose remains were always thought to lie beneath St Peter's Church in Rome, though this was not scientifically established until late in the 1960s. Once the persecutions were over, the Christian Church emerged from the catacombs and, through men like Sylvester, began to exert its political muscle, quickly winning favour with the Empress and her son. They also gained possession of notable temples in Rome such as the Pantheon. The Christian era had begun, the Church, within a lifetime, moving from a persecuted sect to becoming the state religion.
