by T. A. Uner
“You always were a strange child, Gaius,” Tiberius said before clearing his throat. “But what are you doing here? I did not summon you.”
“We came to see you uncle. In Rome, the people grow restless; they chant your name in the streets, wondering when their Emperor will return to them.”
The eunuch said: “The Caesar is exhausted; perhaps you could come back later and talk to him after he has rested.”
Caligula stared at the man with a look of utter disdain before he turned his head around and nodded to Macro who lifted the eunuch over his shoulder and threw him into the pool. The eunuch screeched like a frightened girl as he splashed about in the water. The women in the pool giggled with delight as the eunuch attempted to stay afloat. Caligula threw his head back and laughed. Macro smirked and turned his attention back to Tiberius. The elderly Emperor raised an eyebrow and looked disturbed as he watched the eunuch splashing about like a duck. Finally two of the women in the pool helped stabilize him and brought him to the edge of the water where he lifted himself out of the pool–his toga soaked through and his hair dripping with water.
“That was quite unnecessary,” Tiberius said angrily, “Rofus was only doing his duty.”
“Uncle we have important matters to attend. We have traveled far to discuss the future of the Empire,” Caligula said. Tiberius appeared unmoved by Caligula’s words, instead he picked between his teeth with a long-nailed forefinger before wiping it on his toga. Caligula, in an unexpected show of force, grasped the front of Tiberius’ toga and pulled his uncle’s face toward his. “Damn you old man, I will not be denied an audience.” The guards behind Tiberius’ throne came alive, pointing their spears at the young Prince, but Macro waived them away and the guards seemed reluctant to press the issue. Tiberius stared intently at Caligula. To Tullus, the old Emperor’s eyes revealed a mixture of miscalculation and fear. Perhaps Tiberius was unaware of the physical strength his lanky nephew possessed, or maybe it was the hesitation of his guards in the presence of Macro which worried him, as if the guards feared Macro’s wrath more than his.
“Very well, nephew,” Tiberius said, “we shall talk, but not now. I don’t want my guests troubled by the dire conversation you no doubt have brought from Rome. We can talk in my study, later, after I have rested.” He raised his hand and the two guards stirred to attention, taking the old Emperor by the arms and helping him up from his throne. Tiberius’ thick toga hung loosely from his gaunt frame and Tullus wondered if this man deserved the title of Caesar. Tiberius looked frail and beaten: as if the Gods themselves had withdrawn their support from his rule. Both Caligula and Macro grunted in dismay before they exited the pool room. Caligula ordered everyone to find sleeping quarters and the party dispersed.
{II}
After Tiberius retired to his study Norbanus wandered into the pantry for dinner. The plan laid out before him was a treacherous one, and he felt as if he was navigating a chariot over a dangerous precipice. But Caligula and Macro were with him, so the odds were in his favor. And he couldn’t help but think of his uncle, Decrius, thrust into battle against the traitorous Tacfarinas and forced into shameful defeat. He knew this stain upon his family’s proud name must be purged. He had made a promise to his father that he would do so, and Norbanus was not about to disappoint the patriarch. After finishing his meal of roasted fowl seasoned with garlic and herbs he washed it down with water and decided to skip desert. The pantry slaves cleaned up after him as he stood to take his leave while a slave girl stood at the entrance of the pantry, awaiting Norbanus’ next order. The girl’s homely face wasn’t attractive but her body was slender and her cleavage supple enough for his tastes. “Come here,” Norbanus said. She shuffled toward him, her head bowed subserviently. Norbanus lifted her head with his fingers. Her face had a smooth complexion while specks of freckles doted the bridge of her long nose. He ran his fingers through her soft brown hair which smelled of sweet iris. He took her by the arm and she didn’t protest. “Can we go someplace where no one will disturb us?”
The girl nodded and led him down a long corridor before they came across a curtained doorway. She lifted the curtain while Norbanus ordered his two personal guards to wait outside. A bed stood in the corner of the room next to a dresser and two wooden chairs while a pillowed couch lay centered before them. Various frescoes of naked nymphs frolicking through a forest decorated the walls while an elongated bronze oil lamp provided light. “This room is used for the Emperor’s guests,” the girl said.
Norbanus eyed her wryly; he knew his presence made her uncomfortable and he was enjoying it. “You talk only when I request it from you,” he said. “Now, remove your dress.” The girl shot him a frightened glare but showed no dissent at his command. She slowly lowered the straps of her dress before it fell to her ankles. Norbanus took in her nude body: the pink nipples, firm belly and curved hips. He felt his manhood press against his loincloth and the slave reminded him of a young Celtic girl whose maidenhead he had claimed years ago. “Come to me,” Norbanus ordered. She did so while he undressed. Soon she was on her knees with his manhood in her mouth. While she was pleasuring him he thought of the battles he had fought throughout his life and the other women he had lain with. He thought of the Empire’s glorious new future. After shooting his seed into her mouth he motioned for her to move over toward the bed. After entering her from behind he pumped relentlessly until waves of pleasure rippled through his body before he released his seed again.
Norbanus awoke next morning feeling refreshed. A streak of sunlight pierced the room’s shuttered window, while next to him he felt the warmth of the girl’s nude body against his back. He dressed himself and prodded the girl with his fingers until she awoke. “Bring me my breakfast and a wash basin,” he said before leaving the room. Norbanus hated to return to duty without a fresh shave and food in his stomach but he needed to find Macro and Caligula. After asking around, one of the slaves led into a large atrium where Macro was seated at a large table eating his breakfast.
“Ahh, Norbanus there you are,” Macro said nonchalantly. He was surrounded by dishes of cold beef, fruits and sliced vegetables. Macro motioned for him to sit down while palace slaves hovered about like bees. “Do you want anything to eat Norbanus?” Macro asked. He tore into a heel of white bread dipped in honey.
“Thank you Prefect, but my breakfast is waiting for me in my room.”
Macro nodded and continued eating while one of the slaves placed a jug of water in front of Norbanus. He lifted his cup as the slave poured him water. Unlike most Romans, who preferred wine, Norbanus refrained from alcohol. He liked having his wits about him. Besides, wine reminded him of his father’s drunken escapades.
“Where is the Prince?”
Macro finished swallowing another morsel of bread before taking a sip of wine.
“His Excellency is still sleeping; he is not an early riser like us.”
“When do we carry the plan out?”
“Today, before the sun sets in the west,” Macro replied. “How do you feel about what is about to transpire Norbanus?”
“I am with you Prefect, didn’t I make my loyalties clear before we left Rome?”
Macro sniggered as he tore a fresh piece of bread from a hot loaf that had been placed in front of him.
“I didn’t ask you where your loyalties lie, Norbanus, I asked you how you felt about our plan.”
Norbanus wondered what Macro meant, did the Prefect feel that he was not up to the task? Perhaps it was the history of his uncle Decrius’s failure that made Macro uneasy. “With all due respect sir, I’m quite capable of executing the plan.”
Macro sniggered again. “Much like your capable uncle?” he said mockingly before taking a sip of wine.
The words stung Norbanus but he remained nonplussed. “My uncle’s failure has nothing to do with this plan.”
“I disagree, Norbanus; I feel it has everything to do with the plan. Despite your family’s patrician status, and Senator Remus�
��s reassurances of your good character, I still have my doubts about you.”
“The man who was responsible for my uncle’s misfortune will be caught,” Norbanus replied.
Macro looked unimpressed. “I hope so Norbanus, for your sake. A fortune in ancient gold was lost in the desert under the watch of your uncle–not to mention another item of great importance. Even under torture, the traitor, Tacfarinas, never revealed its location.”
Ahh…yes, that other item. How could I forget that gods cursed thing. The bane of my blessed family’s name, Norbanus thought.
“How does the Prince feel about the plan?” Norbanus asked, attempting to steer the subject away from his uncle’s unfortunate legacy.
Macro smiled. “It was his plan all along. You didn’t think I could concoct such a brilliant plan all by myself did you Norbanus?”
Norbanus sipped his water. Macro’s eyes widened before he rose from his chair and bowed his head. Norbanus turned around. Caligula had entered the room with a smug look on his face.
Norbanus stood up from his seat and saluted the Prince.
“As you were dear friends,” Caligula said. The slaves hurried to set a place for him at the head of the table. The Prince seated himself and was soon surrounded by food: plates of cheese, eggs, olives, cold beef, wheat pancakes, fruit platters, fig cakes and fried cod brought from Misenum’s quay.
“Everything looks so delicious one must decide where to start.” Caligula chewed on an olive.
“I trust you men are prepared for the task at hand?”
Both Macro and Norbanus nodded.
“Then it’s settled; but first, I must sample more of this delicious food.”
After Caligula finished his breakfast the three men found themselves heading toward Tiberius’ master bedroom–accompanied by a half dozen Praetorian Guards. They found two heavily armed guards blocking the entrance to Tiberius’ bedroom.
“Step aside for the Prince,” Macro ordered.
Unlike the throne room guards these guards remained unperturbed and stood their ground. “Caesar is resting, Prefect Macro,” one of the guards said. “It would be unwise to wake him.”
Macro drew his sword and slashed the guard’s throat with one swift motion. Blood splattered the wall and stained the front of the guard’s breastplate. Before the other guard could react Norbanus embedded his dagger into the man’s shoulder blade. After the 2nd guard collapsed, Norbanus drew his short sword and hacked away at the man’s neck until the head rolled away from the body. He kicked the dead guard’s head in disgust before the Guardsmen carried away the bloody corpses.
“I must say gentleman I am impressed by the speed of your work,” Caligula said. Macro and Norbanus nodded respectfully at Caligula before they entered the bedroom. The walls were decorated with various frescos of Roman archers taking aim at Air Paladins seated upon Combat Griffins.
Norbanus’ nostrils were greeted by a musty odor. At the back of the room sat a bed bedecked with pillows where Tiberius was sleeping peacefully. He wore a white robe, while his head was propped up by two large, soft pillows; his bearded face gaunt and lined with many years of service. He looks dead already, Norbanus thought. Caligula approached the bed and stretched out his spindly neck, hovering over Tiberius like an opportunistic vulture.
“Uncle….uncle…uncle,” Caligula whispered into the old man’s ear. Tiberius belched a cough before his eyes flickered open.
“Gemellus, is that you my boy?” A scowl formed on Caligula’s face, diminishing his boyish features. To Norbanus it looked as if Caligula held a lifelong grudge against Tiberius.
“My name is Gaius Julius Caesar Augustus Germanicus, dear uncle…Emperor of the Roman Empire!” Caligula’s thin fingers tightened around Tiberius’ wrinkled throat. Norbanus watched with interest as the old Emperor struggled to hang on to the last shred of life within his feeble body. Much to his surprise the struggle lasted longer than expected as Tiberius’ calls for help were squelched by Caligula’s death grip. Finally, the old man’s eyes closed and his breathing ceased. “There, it is done. Now we can make the announcement to the people,” Caligula said as he straightened out his tunic. A few moments later, Tiberius’ eyes shot open before he inhaled a large gulp of air as his body suddenly reanimated itself. Norbanus saw a mixture of horror and disbelief flood Caligula’s eyes before he yelled: “Kill him Macro.” The Prefect reacted swiftly to the Prince’s command, using his muscular arms to smother Tiberius’ face with one of the large pillows that had fallen off of the bed. Finally, after Tiberius’ struggles had ceased, the Emperor was pronounced dead by the royal Medicus.
{III}
When Tullus heard of Tiberius’ death he felt a mixture of apprehension and surprise. Norbanus had ordered him and Decimus to have the Praetorian Guard circulate the news throughout Misenum so that the people would have the opportunity to express their grief before welcoming Caligula as their new Emperor. Upon receiving the news Tullus didn’t know if he should be happy for the Prince or suspicious of Tiberius’ untimely death. Tullus had a premonition that Norbanus’ plan had something to do with the convenient transfer of power. After word spread of Tiberius’ death, Tullus and Decimus found themselves at an inn near the wharf enjoying a mug of mead while they watched the prows of the docked warships slowly bob up and down on the water.
“Caligula? Emperor? Orcus take me! Tullus what will happen now?” Decimus asked. He took a sip of mead and eyed the docked warships through a nearby window.
Tullus had no answer. Little was known of Caligula apart from the fact he was the son of the legendary general Germanicus–a man who’d won many battles for the Empire. Rumor was that Tiberius had Germanicus killed years ago for fear of the general’s growing reputation within the Empire. But this was never proven. “I suppose we will embark on this glorious new future Norbanus promised,” Tullus said sarcastically.
“Well, Tiberius was seventy-seven years old. His days were numbered anyways, but it will feel strange serving under a new Emperor. The majority of my service in the Legions was during Tiberius’ rule.”
“I suspect many strange days lay ahead of us dear friend. But everything has transpired so conveniently. First, Norbanus’ surreptitious behavior, then our trek to Misenum, and now, Caligula, a man who never bled for his Empire, nor even served in the government is suddenly proclaimed Emperor.” Tullus shook his head while shrill laughter exploded behind him. Turning his head, he eyed two ruddy-skinned sailors at a nearby table talking to a voluptuous bar wench who giggled stupidly at their bawdy jokes.
“When will the official announcement be made?”
Tullus turned back to face his friend. “Later this afternoon if I’m not mistaken. There will be a speech commemorating the life of Tiberius. Afterwards, Caligula will be officially proclaimed Emperor.”
“You’re well informed Centurion; I suppose it pays to have close ties to the Tribune.”
“It’s not by my choosing,” Tullus said irritably. “Norbanus simply trusts my counsel.”
“You saved his life remember?” Decimus sipped his mead. “He owes you a life debt.”
The thought of his ties to Norbanus did little to ease Tullus’ conscience. “Remember he said he owes me a favor? Well maybe I should ask him for a favor, and be rid of him, for good.”
Decimus shook his head ruefully. “I wouldn’t want the trials of your rank, Tullus.”
“That makes two of us.”
“It’s too bad all the Air Paladins are dead,” Decimus said, “perhaps we could’ve asked one to read Norbanus’ mind.”
Tullus nodded. With the fall of the illustrious Air Paladins, and magic banned throughout the Empire, much had changed as the final vestiges of the Roman Republic were erased from history.
The door to the inn opened, bringing with it shafts of sunlight that highlighted the figure of the individual who had opened it. After the door was shut the room returned to its original hue of brownish décor brought about by the tables and cha
irs spread throughout the inn. The figure belonged to one of Norbanus’ young aides; when the aide’s eyes fell on Tullus he hurried over toward the table.
“I bear a message for you from Tribune Norbanus.”
Decimus scowled at the aide. “Have you forgotten how to salute a Centurion, boy?”
The aide, unabashed by his lack of protocol, pumped his fist to his chest and extended his palm, arm outstretched, toward Tullus.
“That’s better.” Decimus said.
The aide handed Tullus a roll affixed with Norbanus’ wax seal. After he had finished reading the scroll, Tullus said: “Tell Tribune Norbanus we will be there.”
The aide nodded and left the inn at a hurried pace.
“I’m not too fond of this new generation–too arrogant for my tastes,” Decimus said.
Tullus stared at the parchment. What am I getting myself into? He re-read the message. Do Norbanus’ politics ever cease?
“What is it?”
Tullus crumpled the scroll in his hands and looked up at Decimus. “I feel that I’m sinking deeper into an abyss of political intrigue. This isn’t me Decimus, all this sneaking around and political maneuvering. Put Cutter in my hand and give me good men to lead into battle…that is all I ask.”
“Don’t forget the whore in your bed,” Decimus said. They finished their mead and left the inn to find Norbanus.
{IV}
When the people heard that Tiberius was dead they rejoiced, no doubt happy the frail Emperor’s torpid rule was over. Caligula had made the announcement from the villa’s main balcony overlooking Misenum’s naval harbor. Thousands had gathered in the square below to usher in a new era for the Empire, while an air of optimism as sonorous as a herald’s voice descended upon the city. After the announcement, Caligula paraded through the streets in a chariot, flanked by his Praetorian Guard while people threw flowers at him and chanted his name.
When he returned to Rome well-wishers flocked the streets and called him ‘Our Baby’ and ‘Our Star’ and others even addressed him by his childhood nickname ‘Little boots.’ Gemellus, Tiberius’ grandson, was adopted by Caligula and named his direct heir. Caligula also annulled the marriage of Lucius Cassius Longinus to his sister, Julia Drusilla, so that she could serve him undistracted as chief advisor. After the fanfare surrounding Caligula’s assent to the throne, the senate refused to vote divine honors to the deceased Tiberius–the old Emperor’s unpopularity with the masses contributing to the senate’s decision.
