The Leopard Vanguard

by T. A. Uner

  “Ohh, as you were Decimus,” Tullus said. They resumed walking until they emerged under the barrel-vaulted cloisters of the palace before they found themselves strolling through the palace courtyard. Overlooking the Palantine hill was the Circus Maximus. Tullus wished he was there right now, watching a chariot race, instead of wearing the cursed uniform of the Praetorian Guard. Was his future always to be like this? Never free to choose his path? A slave to the ambitions of other men?

  “Tullus, I’ve known you since you were a boy–is something troubling you?”

  “I think you know the answer to that already,” Tullus said. He regretted not telling Decimus the truth but Norbanus had sworn him to secrecy.

  “Tell me Tullus, am I not like an older brother to you?”

  “Orcus be damned, now is not the time to doubt my loyalty,” Tullus retorted. “We are brothers, but, I have sworn an oath and I cannot divulge information.” They both stopped their leisurely stroll and took in their surroundings. The courtyard’s lush green lawn and fragrant white flowers reminded Tullus of Eliana. He wished she was here so they could talk.

  “Does Norbanus have something to do with your sullen mood?”

  Tullus grinned. “Astute as ever you old dog.”

  Decimus nudged Tullus in the ribs, “Who taught you everything you know?” he said wryly.

  Tullus chuckled and looked around to see if anyone could overhear their conversation. “I might as well tell you since you’ll eventually find out anyways, but share this information with no one.”

  “May the Gods strike me down if I tell a soul.” Decimus placed his hand on his heart and looked up at the sky.

  “We’re to accompany Prefect Macro and Norbanus to Misenum…something to do with Emperor Tiberius.”

  Decimus looked baffled when Tullus mentioned those two important names. “What do you mean?”

  Tullus scowled at Decimus. “I do not know; nor do I care to find out. The Praetorian Guard is more a political entity than military.”

  Two Guardsmen appeared in the courtyard and Tullus lowered his voice. The Guardsmen saluted Tullus before moving on.

  “We seem to spend most of our time guarding an empty palace or drinking wine. And you Decimus.” Tullus pointed an accusing finger. “Have been humping every whore in sight.”

  Decimus looked dumbfounded and for a moment Tullus felt he had wounded his friend’s pride. “You make it sound as if I have cursed the Gods by laying with women Centurion.”

  “What you do in your own spare time is your business Decimus, my point is that other than drinking, humping and gambling, there isn’t much here for men like us.”

  “Don’t talk like that, Tullus. I happen to think very highly of this city’s whores.”

  Tullus became somber. “I really miss serving in our old cohort. At least in Syria we were surrounded by men we trusted.”

  “Ahh, yes. The old 3rd Legion. Almost brings a tear to my eye.”

  “Well, don’t get all emotional on me. I still need you to watch my back old friend.” Tullus straightened out his tunic. “How do I look?”

  Decimus’ contorted glance reminded Tullus of the time his friend was afflicted with dysentery. “Like a true Centurion of the Praetorian Guard— but why do you ask?”

  “I have a special appointment to attend…I’m meeting the Prince.”

  “Caligula?” Decimus muttered, his facial expression filled with awe.

  “Yes,” Tullus said. “But for some reason, I have a bad feeling.”

  {V}

  “So this is the brave Centurion who saved your life, Norbanus?” Caligula said. Tullus stood in the presence of Tiberius’ heir. Caligula was a lanky man with curly blond hair and a clean-shaven face. A chaplet sat atop his head and he wore a short tunic that showed off his hairless legs. Next to him stood an elegant young woman with long blond hair and a bronze complexion dressed in a flowing white gown. This was Caligula’s sister, Julia Drusilla, whom Tullus heard served as Caligula’s main advisor. Behind them was a sallow-looking man with dull features. He had a lined forehead and wore a brown tunic that matched the color of his hair. He sat behind a table with a stylus in hand and was busily writing something on a wax tablet. “Uncle Claudius.” Caligula gestured to the man in the brown tunic. “This Centurion has the look of a true Praetorian…does he not?”

  “Yes of course, nephew,” Claudius said. He paused his writing to take a cursory glance at Tullus before returning to his work.

  “Tribune Norbanus thinks highly of you Centurion,” Caligula said.

  Tullus bowed his head politely at the Prince. “The Tribune is quite gracious with his comments, Excellency.” Tullus surveyed the room: it was lavishly decorated with creature skins, elaborate rugs, and ornate furniture made from the finest wood.

  “Do you believe in futurity Centurion Tullus?”

  Tullus met Norbanus’ eye for a few moments before answering the Prince. “If it is the will of the Gods, Excellency.”

  “A good answer; I think I shall like you Centurion. You speak from the heart. But as Tribune Norbanus has undoubtedly informed you better leadership is needed for our sick Empire. When our children look back at what our generation accomplished, they will marvel at our progressiveness. Don’t you agree?”

  “If I may be so bold your Excellency,” Tullus said, “might I ask what you mean?”For a moment an uncomfortable silence sliced through the room, like a dagger across a dead man’s throat. Everyone appeared fazed by Tullus’ bold question while Norbanus stared austerely at his charge with his fox-like eyes. Caligula’s eyes narrowed into small slits as he eyed Tullus discerningly. Tullus stood his ground and waited to see how the Prince would respond to his question. It seemed everyone was waiting for the Prince’s reaction. Caligula’s face formed an ugly scowl which concealed his boyish looks. For a moment Tullus noticed an unmistakable streak of mischief in the Prince’s eyes before Caligula threw back his head and let out a boorish laugh which reverberated throughout the room. Everyone in the room followed suit except Tullus, who was relieved he hadn’t said anything to embarrass himself.

  “I say, I do like you Centurion,” Caligula repeated. Drusilla approached her brother and whispered something in his ear. Caligula nodded and handed his wine goblet over to one of his attendants.

  “My dear sister reminds me that we have quite a long day ahead of us tomorrow. So I bid both of you goodnight,” Caligula said. Norbanus motioned for Tullus that it was time to leave. After they had left the room, Norbanus said:

  “I see the Prince has taken a liking to you Tullus,” Tullus nodded and wondered if that was indeed a blessing.

  Three/Tres

  The road to Misenum stretched out into the distance like a slithering serpent. Caligula, Norbanus and Prefect Macro, who all rode on horseback, comprised the front of the column, flanked by their cavalry and aides, while a cohort of Praetorian Guardsmen followed on foot. Tullus had declined a horse–much to the surprise of Norbanus–which Caligula had found amusing. In the sky a trio of ravens circled menacingly above the column and cawed, while a sense of dread came over Tullus. He still did not know why they were heading to Misenum–Norbanus had seen to that with his subterfuge. Next to Tullus Decimus trudged on while cursing under his breath.

  “They could’ve at least offered me a horse; Gods be damned.”

  “I thought they would’ve given you mine when I declined. Still, you ask for too much Decimus–this isn’t the 3rd Legion you know.”

  Decimus grumbled again and took a mouthful of water from his waterskin. “And it’s Gods damned hot too Centurion, it feels like July. If this trek continues any longer those ravens might end up dining on my carcass.”

  “You sound like a whining eunuch, Decimus,” Tullus said. A few of the other Guardsmen mumbled their assent.

  “Aye, here we are, on a strange mission to Misenum with the Prefect and the Prince himself leading us and not so much as a word apart from what you’ve told me.”

&nb
sp; “Our leaders do not owe you an explanation, Decimus,” Tullus said. “All that is required of you is your blind obedience.”

  Decimus scowled. “As you wish Centurion.” One of the riders from Caligula’s entourage broke away and rode toward them before pulling up beside Tullus. The young Guardsman saluted Tullus. “Centurion, the Tribune requests your presence at the head of the column. You may ride with me to the front if you wish.”

  Tullus was offended by the offer. “I prefer my two feet.”

  “As you wish sir, if you would follow me.”

  Tullus jogged toward the front of the column behind the rider. When he arrived, Norbanus shot him a fretful glare.

  “Really Tullus,” Norbanus said, looking flustered, “I don’t know why you insist on walking when a sturdy mount is quite preferable.”

  Tullus grinned. “I haven’t ridden a horse since I was a boy, Tribune. I tend to stay clear from those Gods cursed creatures.”

  Both Caligula and Macro paused their conversation to laugh at Tullus’ remark.

  “That’s what I like about this Centurion, Norbanus,” Caligula said, “he’s unpredictable. He must give your enemies sleepless nights. But in Tullus’ defense, he keeps up with our horses quite nicely on foot.”

  Norbanus nodded respectfully to his superiors before turning his attention back to Tullus.

  “I’ve asked you to join us because we’re approaching Tiberius’ villa,” Norbanus said, pointing into the distance.

  Tullus inhaled the salty air as they approached the coastline. Above them the crows had disappeared and were replaced by vigilant gulls. Their snow white chests matched the color of the clouds, while their grey wing tips were peppered with black markings as they circled high above the column like swarms of locusts. In the distance a large isthmus came into view where Roman warships lay docked in Misenum’s port. Tullus eyed the tall masts of the impressive vessels comprising the main fleet of the Roman Imperial Navy. The road they were traveling on grew rockier as they approached the coastline, while in the distance Tullus eyed the imposing structure at the foot of a hill which grew larger as they approached it. This must be one of Tiberius’ villas, Tullus thought. His feet were sore from marching and he welcomed a hot bath at the end of this trek.

  “Go tell the men that we are nearing our destination Tullus.”

  Tullus saluted Norbanus and returned to where Decimus was trudging alongside the other Guardsmen.

  “We’re almost there,” Tullus said.

  “I can see that, Centurion.” A gull made a dive for Decimus’ backpack and he drew his sword and waved it threateningly at the creature. “Come any closer again and you’ll be my lunch,” he called out to the gull. The men exploded into laughter around him.

  “I suppose we’ll eventually find out why we’re here,” Tullus said.

  “Maybe we’re to escort the Emperor back to Rome?”

  “No. Something’s afoot here; Norbanus is still quiet about it. I don’t trust that man.”

  “I don’t trust him either but he did do us a favor by recruiting us into the Guard. Even though we spend half our time loitering around the palace. The food’s much better than what we’re used to…and you can’t complain about the pay.”

  When they entered the city of Misenum crowds of people flocked to the side of the main road to watch the column march through the city. Since this was a naval city it was obvious they had never seen Praetorians before. Tullus wished he was back in Rome, within the safe confines of the palace. Making his rounds on patrol. Decimus would probably be playing a game of dice with the others or looking for a buxom whore to bed. Tullus had tried sleeping with whores twice. The first time was after he had been rescued–Decimus had taken him to a dingy brothel in Alexandria. The second time was when he was stationed in Syria: he became infatuated with a Syrian courtesan named Nuria. While the sex provided instant gratification it often left him feeling empty inside. He never told Decimus how he felt. Instead he wondered what it would be like to have a woman that was his alone, without having to pay to get between her legs. He knew it was a foolish fantasy, but it was always there, in the back of his mind.

  “What are you thinking about?” Decimus asked.

  “Ohh, I was wondering what we’ll be eating once we stop marching,” Tullus lied, “after all, we’ve been on the road for days. I could use a good meal. Perhaps some crabs or oysters with a mug of mead.”

  “Norbanus would consider us barbarians if he saw us drinking mead instead of wine.”

  “I am sick of wine, Decimus. A man craves variety. Perhaps we’ll find a luxurious inn that pours good mead. Legend has it that mead imbues its drinker with long life, wisdom, courage and strength.”

  “Don’t forget its aphrodisiacal purposes,” Decimus added. “Which reminds me—I wonder what Misenum women are like?”

  “Keep humping like you do and your member will fall off before you know it old friend.” They both laughed. In the distance, nestled at the foot of a large hill overlooking the Tyrrhenian Sea, sat Tiberius’ villa. Tullus eyed a sprawling colonnaded facade beneath a sloped, garnet-shingled roof. Turreted thick buttressed walls surrounded it. Despite the villa’s imposing exterior, Tullus wondered what condition they would find the old Emperor inside.

  The column was ordered to find quarters to bed down for the night while Tullus, Macro, Caligula and Norbanus headed toward the villa’s main gate where two guards stood watch.

  “Step aside,” Macro said as the guards reluctantly made way for them. The villa’s façade loomed sullenly over Tullus before they passed beneath an impressive portico made from the finest marble. When the party entered the villa, they were greeted by a musty odor which reminded Tullus of an old, disheveled house.

  Tullus glanced up at the barrel-vaulted ceiling of the villa where slivering cracks had formed. They passed an old woman carrying a platter of fruit. One of her shriveled breasts was visible above the hem of her toga. Caligula stared at her hungrily, and for a moment Tullus thought the young Prince would ravish her on the spot. Instead they resumed their trek without incident until they came across a man pleasuring himself in the hallway. A flagon of wine sat next to him while his bearded face writhed in ecstasy.

  Caligula looked upon the man with disgust. “Where is the Emperor?”

  “The Emperor?” the man replied. He ceased fondling himself and looked up at the Prince. “And who might you be stranger?”

  “You are speaking to the heir of the Roman Empire, swine,” Macro said. He drew his sword from its scabbard. Caligula placed his hand on Macro’s sword arm and shook his head reprovingly. Macro snorted like a boar and reluctantly re-sheathed the weapon.

  “Forgive me, Excellency,” the man said as he bowed his head respectfully. Tullus couldn’t tell if the man was mocking the Prince or offering a sincere apology. “I believe our glorious Emperor is in the swimming pool room. He so likes the warm waters.” Then, without another word, the man’s eyes fluttered erratically before he emitted a tired yawn. His head fell forward before loud snores erupted from his mouth.

  “You should’ve allowed me to run him through with my sword,” Macro said as they left the drunken fool behind. They found another guard who looked shocked upon learning that Caligula was here to visit Tiberius. “Where is the pool located?” Macro asked gruffly. The guard led them past more sleeping people sprawled across mosaic floors. One of them, a dwarf with a large nose, was sleeping in the lap of a naked woman with wide hips and thick thighs.

  “My uncle sure knows how to throw a party,” Caligula said. Macro kicked one of the drunks aside so that they could enter the pool room. Inside, Tullus heard laughter. Two half-naked women wearing gladiator helms were fighting one another with swords, their breasts bobbing up and down while an old man cheered them on. They passed the fighting women and found themselves at the edge of the pool. Inside it both men and women were splashing around playfully like spoiled children. Tullus wondered if old Tiberius had gone mad to let his s
urroundings fall into a state of debauchery. Behind the pool stood a stone dais where an elderly man sat on a marble throne. Tiberius. Behind him a woman fanned him, while two spear guards in helms, breastplates and greaves flanked his throne. Caligula’s entourage climbed the steps of the dais before a eunuch approached them. He was a bald man with a shiny pate and quirky mouse-like features. Tullus figured him for one of Tiberius’ aides.

  “What business have you with Caesar?” the eunuch said, using Tiberius’ imperial title.

  Macro stepped up to the eunuch, who didn’t shy away from the imposing Prefect’s presence. “Does no one recognize the Prince around here?” He pushed the eunuch aside. Tiberius was still sleeping when they approached him. The woman who was fanning him continued to do so despite the disturbance brought about by the newcomers. Caligula moved closer toward Tiberius.

  “Uncle,” he said into the old man’s ear, “your heir has returned.”

  After a few moments Tiberius’ eyes flickered open and he awoke amidst a series of wheezing coughs. He wore a long white toga with brown food stains on it. “Gemellus, is that you?” the old Emperor asked.

  “No it is I, Little boots,” Caligula said, evoking his childhood nickname to rouse the old man’s memory from slumber.

  Tiberius looked up at Caligula through perplexed eyes. “Where is Gemellus?” he asked.

  Tullus noticed a fretful look encompass Caligula’s face but the Prince quickly collected his composure and took the Emperor’s hand in his. “Dear uncle, Gemellus, your other heir, is in Rome. He could not make the trip to see you.”

  “I suppose you’ll do Gaius,” Tiberius said disgustedly, addressing Caligula by his first name.

  “Uncle, what has happened here? The interior of your villa looks dreadful.”

  Tiberius yawned as the eunuch brought him a cup of wine. With the eunuch’s assistance he sipped from the cup while a streak of wine dripped from the side of his mouth, staining his grey, matted beard.