The Snake Catcher

by Bilinmeyen

  She leaned closer. “Julia has been asking about you. She heard about the battle in this domüs, and has been terribly worried.”

  Worried? Didn’t matter, I thought grimly. Her schemes had gotten my friends killed. And nearly my wife.

  Livia sat back. “The key to these men is still her. Is it time you learnt patience?”

  It was unavoidable. “What shall I do?”

  She put a hand on my forearm. “Your wife and the baby will go and travel with Gisil to where Antonia lives. It is a fortress, and they will be safe. Your boy …” she began, and then wavered. She shook her head regretfully. “Will be happy there. And you will finish this. You will have to. Or we shall never truly be safe.”

  “Let us pray the conspirators don’t speak with Julia, or have spies in her household,” I said weakly.

  “Nonetheless, the game will be played to the end. She asks for you. You will answer. Rest now,” she said. “You will rest, your men will as well, and when it is time, she will approach you. Tiberius will come home, after the issues in the north have been dealt with. You must be patient this time.”

  “I will.” I had learnt my lesson.

  CHAPTER 17

  Winter passed. We healed slowly, but steadily. Tudrus could walk, though only barely, and Bohscyld, Agetan, Wandal, Sextus, and some others took part in keeping an eye on Julia. Rainstorms swept over the hills for weeks, and then it was dry and cold, and I missed Cassia and my boy. Adalwulf told us Julia did nothing. Nor was there any sign of Antius, Ulrich, and Istros.

  Everything was silent, calm.

  There was still no word of Tiberius. He had wintered in Lugdunum. There was little news on what Tiberius had achieved in Germania that fall, though Augustus, who seemed happy enough, was not anxious when men spoke about Germania. There were some rumors of several victorious battles, and defeated tribes, but that was all. Tudrus and I returned to duty.

  It was time for the Saturnalia.

  It was the feast of the birth of light, and a celebration of the flood. The Cloaca Maxima, the great underground sewer system, couldn’t handle the rains, and the rising of Tiber caused an uncomfortable situation in Rome’s many valleys, starting from around the Pantheon in the Field of Mars. The great field was flooded, so were many of the suburbs eventually, and yet, despite the hardships this calamity caused the city, the celebration was held.

  The Romans wore Greek clothes for dinner, and gave each other presents, mostly clay figurines called sigillaria. People, both high and the low, wore felt hats in order to pretend there was equality between the classes that day. Slaves were served by their masters, who could even be insulted by the latter. Few slaves, in truth, went that far, remembering there might be repercussions when the feast was over.

  That day, we guarded the house of Augustus. There was a feast, so regular tables were not used, but everyone was reclined on couches in the dining hall, or walking around the atrium and other parts of the sprawling, if spartan, domus. The place was sprawling with people. Augustus knew most—his servants, his freedmen, his clients— and though Augustus and his family didn’t serve their servants, as was the custom of Saturnalia, there was a free air about the feast. Roman instruments were being played in the corner, and I stood with Wandal and the Quadi, staring at the crowd. Augustus was eating and conversing with Quintillius Varus, a noble of old stock, and Livia was sliding gracefully in the crowd, nodding politely as dozen people, of the high and low, approached her with their issues and requests. She turned none down. Maximus, the new Prefect of the Guard, was reclining near the back, his eyes on everyone. He was off duty, but still on duty.

  Julia appeared.

  She walked to the hall, her face made of marble, her demeanor impossible to read. That changed fast. She froze as she saw me. Her mouth went open with delight, and I looked away, unsure how I should respond. I felt her stare, and I saw Tudrus out of the corner of my eye, standing in an alcove on the other side of the room, shake his head at me.

  She was approaching. I saw the eyes of my friends glare at her balefully.

  If the Quadi and Wandal had not really hated her before, they did now. They had visited the domus through the winter, spoken of the turma, and the antics of people they saw in the streets, and we had had no reason to speak of Mathildis or Brimwulf. The message was clear in their eyes; Julia would pay.

  She appeared before me. Her eyes were curious as she stood there, her back straight. She tilted her head, and clearly hoped I’d say something. I kept staring forward and a bit over her shoulder.

  She twitched, as if struck, shaking her head. “Have I insulted you, guardsman, friend, servant, and my lover?”

  “You have not,” I said, turning my eyes to look into hers. There was a clear spark of relief there. She smiled softly. “Congratulations, Corvus. I hear you have a child. And that your wife survived an attack on her life?”

  I wanted to ram my spear through her. I saw Tudrus was shaking his head again, his face still pale from the suffering, and I calmed myself. “She is safe, and so is he,” I said. “They are healing, as am I.”

  She looked genuinely worried, and visibly resisted putting a hand on my shoulder. “You must be very happy. I remember the joy of children, though I never had a husband who cared for them with me. Few Roman men take much note of them, until they are all grown up. I hear you were sorely hurt, and heard you returned to duty.” Her eyes twitched. “Duty that no longer takes you to my domus, it seems.”

  I sighed. “I do not dictate my duty. And I just returned to the world of the living. I nearly died. I have been given lighter duties.” Julia was nodding. Perhaps she was just a fool, perhaps she was toying with me. Either way, I would play the game to the end.

  “You are a horrible liar, Corvus,” she whispered. “A terrible one. You are in no hurry to return to me.” She gazed at me. “Did you decide you would only be a Guard? That we shared nothing?”

  “We shared something,” I said neutrally. “We shared a night.”

  “We shared,” she said, “more than I shared with your father. We shared secrets. Secrets about your father, Maroboodus, that he was my lover.”

  I nodded. “We still share the secrets.”

  She hummed. “We do. But, then, you just went away, abandoned your mistress, and pretend nothing happened? No night together, no secrets? You abandoned me, like your father abandoned me.”

  I shook my head. “I did not. The night and the secrets are still there,” I said prudently. “And I nearly died. I nearly lost wife and a child. It takes time for a man to climb back on the horse after such suffering.”

  “You are calling me a horse?” she teased me.

  I gave her a small smile and shook my head.

  Her face betrayed deep thought. “I heard the Prefect of the Guard, this Kleitos died.”

  I stiffened. “I heard that also.”

  “And that a Guard killed him,” she mused. “They, at first, said it was the gladiators who pulled his guts out, but I heard from the servants they found out he was taking bribes, and he died as he tried to escape Rome.”

  “I’ve heard both rumors as well. But, it is true he was crooked as a tax man.”

  “You didn’t kill him?” she asked. “You are not in trouble with the Guard?”

  I shook my head. “I didn’t kill Kleitos. I’m in no trouble.”

  “Good,” she said, and smiled like Sunna. “My husband’s not returning to Rome for a while. My son, Gaius, will be given his first military tasks next year, but Tiberius will not be there for the celebration. I am very proud of the boys. You must be so proud of yours,” she said.

  “I am proud of the baby,” I told her stiffly. “Why are we talking about my son? Is this about the secrets, my lady? I shall not share yours.” I felt cold shivers and anger as she mentioned my son, and tried to calm myself.

  She gazed at me, surprised by my vehemence. “I am not threatening him. Yes, I am worried my new friend disappeared. But, I am more disappointed
than worried, Corvus. I would not threaten a child. I’m merely curious about him, and if he looks like you.”

  Liar, I thought.

  She smiled sadly. “I know how to handle disappointment. I know how. And I always keep up the hope.” It was there, shining in her eyes, indeed. She nodded her head at the crowd. “I feel sick of them. All of them. There’s no love in such creatures. See that Lollius? And Varus? Fawning on Father? I prefer the love of simpler, nobler men. Your Wandal is seeing my slave, Cilia, now. I might have to free her.” She smiled at me. “I’m sure the rest of your brave men will have women. And you are alone now, since your wife is no longer in Palatine, nor is your son. I guess you made some enemy, and your family has been sent to safety.”

  She guessed a lot or, likely, knew. “Yes, my lady. There are men who might strike at me still.”

  “I’ll not ask you more about it.” Julia smiled. “Though, I’m sure you had a hand in the slaying of Kleitos. But, is so you are the only one who is lonely in your turma?” she teased me

  I barely inclined my head and forced a smile, which delighted her. It was true. I had seen Wandal together with the girl, whispering and smiling. I had also seen Tudrus with Euanthe, and clearly, he cared for her. I’d not heard of Gernot, and wondered if he was possibly even married. Even Agetan and Bohscyld were rumored to have a woman, one they brutally competed over. Rochus was gone on an errand to carry messages to Tiberius. Gods knew whom he was seeing.

  I answered. “I’ve been too sick to feel lonely, my lady.”

  “I forgive you,” she said simply.

  “Lady?” I asked.

  “I forgive you for not coming to me, or seeing me when you were sick. I should curse you to Hades, have a witch write a spell to slay you in your sleep, but I cannot let you go just like that. And that’s not only because we share secrets, Corvus.” I felt fear course its way up and down my back at the hard look in her eyes. “I forgive you, not because you can threaten me. Your secret is not as powerful as mine. I could, if I so desired, throw myself at the knees of my father. I could tell him Postumus is not the son of Agrippa. I could tell him your father raped me. And he would look at you, see the son of the man he fears and hates and loathes, and he would have you taken to the Carcer.” She smiled coldly. “So you see, not all secrets are equal. You have one on me, I have one on you, but I doubt I’d suffer like you would.”

  “You are right,” I told her. “But, would your father replace your children with those of Antonia, if he began to think the other ones are not Agrippa’s either?”

  Her face was still as marble. “It is possible,” she said. “But, as I said, I’m not giving up on you. And it’s not because you know something terrible of my past. It’s because I cared for your father, and I care more for you.”

  More for me?

  She smiled. “You will come back, and you will be my guard. You will do this, and I will arrange it, and our secrets are safe. You will serve me, we will find the men who threaten you, and keep you and your family safe. They shall always be safe, when things change in Rome, and you are my friend forever. We have a pact, Corvus, made of love and secrets and oaths, and you cannot go away. I will not have it.”

  She left me, walking out with her guards.

  I felt Livia’s eyes on me, and I looked away.

  I would go, and I would serve Julia, until things changed. She desired me, and if she had any clue what her fellow conspirators were doing, any clue on Kleitos’s part in the plans to overthrow Tiberius, she still wanted me around, for her own needs. I was in danger with her, always so, and I’d suffer the touch of a woman who had, one way or another, caused the deaths of so many. I’d endure it.

  It would take a long time. But, I’d do it for my family, and those who had fallen.

  BOOK 4: OLD GRUDGES (ROME, 8 B.C.)

  ‘Let him die. Let him die, and leave me to rule my own destiny.’

  Julia

  CHAPTER 18

  Spring arrived. We became Romans in ways and speech, though our hearts changed slowly. We all learnt Latin, spoke it brokenly, understood what was being said. Only Agetan and Bohscyld retained their taciturn silence. The others took Latin names, though we still called each other by our real ones. Three men died in the Guard, one of a stab wound in a brawl, two of a mysterious disease which had killed thousands in the city. We burned them, prayed for them. We sent our thoughts for Donor and Woden, but also for Saturn and Jupiter.

  The fourth turma became my home and salvation. It was the one place I found solace. In the midst of our boring, soul-wrenching guard duty outside and inside Julia’s domus at night time, the barrack was the only place I could escape from sorrow and disappointment. I could dodge Livia’s judging stares, and the awkwardness with aloof, strangely grim Adalwulf, while sitting with the men of the turma. Sextus was a cheerful one, our brewer of stiff mead and bitter ale, and the company of the men, when there was no duty, served us well when a laugh was needed. Most were Batavi, most knew of Chariovalda, and I think Maximus had made sure everyone knew I was almost like a son to the great Batavi in the north, and that we had all served under his banner.

  We enjoyed the celebrations of the Romans, standing guard when Augustus and the family dedicated new, fabulous buildings to the state. Every month, we even escorted Livia outside the city to her estates in the Lanuvium, near the Alban hills. She and Augustus had many such retreats, but this was the one where Antonia was living, and I was allowed a day with my family.

  Cassia had mostly mended, though her arm was still weak. The boy was growing fast, and was happy most of the time. I loved Saturninus. His smile made the misery of Rome and Julia’s bed worth the suffering, and I think that was why Livia allowed me those few days away from the duty. It was just to remind me of what would be waiting at the end of the road. I yearned for the end. I dreamt of a home of my own, rather than having my loved ones live under Livia’s faraway roof. I wanted them to be there when I woke up, and near when I went to bed, but I didn’t speak of it, just smiled when I was with them, and Cassia did as well. Cassia, a mother, a wife, a fighter, her patience that of a gentle goddess, complained little, but I could see she was waiting.

  We were all waiting.

  We waited for a change which was not forthcoming.

  After months of nothing, after months of vigil, after months of enduring Julia, whose schemes had caused so much death, suffering her touch many times a week, nothing was changing. That spring felt long, heavy, stifling, as if we were all holding our breaths. Livia’s servants, Wandal and Tudrus, and the twins kept watching at the domus endured their vigil with indifference, while I was inside, trying to keep my sanity, trying to mimic the patience of my wife.

  And yet, under all the silence and boredom, I knew Julia, too, was waiting.

  The loss of Kleitos didn’t seem bother her much, and perhaps she was unaware of his part in the conspiracy. The one whom she conspired with, remained hidden. She spoke with few people, walked the city every day, but rarely met anyone, and her servants were under scrutiny. Everything seemed just like it had been before I had made my terrible mistake. Antius, Ulrich, Grim—all were hidden as well. Waiting.

  We all waited for the same thing.

  Tiberius.

  He would return, and she would know when, and then, if gods were willing, she would make a move.

  In the meantime, I learnt of the family. The vile creature, Marcus Lollius, was a tutor of Gaius. Livia hated it, but Augustus was adamant, and the gray haired, thick man, with shifty, nervous eyes, taught Gaius relentlessly, as if instructing a dog. The silent, serious Gaius was carefully guided, as he began climbing the cursus honorum. The rumors said the boy was stern and easily distracted, and hid his ineptness under a blanket of stubbornness.

  That spring, in Aprilis, we finally got news of Tiberius.

  The war in the north had intensified. He had spent the remainder of the past year building up his depleted legions, supplying them well, raising moral and recrui
ted auxilia, and building castra and military roads and ships. That spring, he burned the rebelling lands of the Sigambri and the Bructeri. He marched from village to another, slaying, enslaving, and erasing all existence of human and animal life in the path of his legions.

  By summer, the tribes all sued for peace.

  Except for the Sigambri.

  Angered by this, Augustus was determined to have the Sigambri war kings, Baetrix, Maelo, and Varnis, and the lesser chiefs of the Sigambri federation, to come and talk about peace. He sent them a scroll. The scroll to be sent to north was read aloud to Gaius and Lucius, teaching them diplomacy. Tudrus and Sextus were present when Augustus read the scroll. In the scroll, Augustus’s tone was courteous, and violence was the message. Of course, the Roman message to the Sigambri had always been one of violence when the negotiations had failed, as they invariably had with this tribe, but this time, the message was short. “Agree to speak of peace, oh great kings and respected lords of the land, or see your forest burned to the ground.”

  Augustus was prepared to unleash such war it would light the entire land from east to the west. They said his face was red with passion, his lips were quivering with anger. He had read the message aloud many times, while Gaius had been looking down. Then Augustus had told the boys what he meant to do, if the Sigambri did attend the peace discussions. His advisers, Lollius and Varus, who were on a leave from his governorship in Africa, gave Augustus notes of caution, which he didn’t heed.

  Augustus was done with games, and would take no advice to be patient. He sent this scroll north, along with another, and a secret one for Tiberius.

  Maelo and Baetrix of the Sigambri agreed to meet with Tiberius. And when they arrived in Camulodunum to discuss the peace, they were imprisoned.

  Thus, with treachery, Augustus made sure few peace deals were ever to be made with the Germani, and I heard Segestes the Cherusci, a staunch supporter of Rome, had to put down a flaming rebellion in the lands of the Cherusci.