The Snake Catcher

by Bilinmeyen

  Of Livia, I saw little. She avoided me, and I knew she was the sort of a person who never truly trusted a man who had disobeyed her before. I was not saddened by her absence in my life, though she did provide security for my family, and I should have felt more grateful. Adalwulf dealt with us, our guard duty, our reports, and that was that.

  Of Father, there was little news. Some said he had reached the lands of the Boii, and lost in battle there. Others, that he had won a great victory, and the Boii were put to flight. The amber road from the Mare Gothonia was, for a time, deeply disrupted, and the precious merchandise had to be brought through the perilous lands of the Hermanduri and the Gaul, making it very expensive. The prices soared, and smugglers got rich, or were caught and sent to the mines.

  During that summer, Julia began to change.

  She was deep in her thoughts, nervous, though never angry, and deeply afraid. She asked me for, and followed the news of Germania intently. Rumors said Tiberius had moved some of the Sigambri to west of the river, and was planning on returning home.

  And then, in October of that year, I stood guard while Julia met her father. They had been in plenty of events together, had smiled to the foreign ambassadors, spoken to the Senate and the people of Rome, but all that past year, I had never seen them speaking to one another, as if such an event was something one had to rest and prepare for.

  I stood in the corridors of the domus of Augustus, and she was standing in his simple, tiny study, waiting for him.

  Augustus appeared, wearing his toga. I wore one as well, sweating in the armor beneath. His eyes passed me, as he walked on. He stopped and turned, as he remembered something. His eyes focused on my face, but then he shook his head dismissively, and went inside with a heavy sigh. There, he spoke with a voice so strained, one would think he was conducting negotiations, instead of speaking with his kin. “Daughter. You are well?”

  “I am, Father,” she answered, speaking as if she was half asleep.

  Julia’s voice wasn’t that of a loving daughter. It was neither interested in what she was about to hear, nor was she ready to argue. She spoke like a servant would, merely acknowledging the fact she had to be there to hear this man out. It was clear she had no feelings for him. None. He was there, she was there, and it could have been anyone, for all she cared. If the walls of that study had ever heard the voice of a happy child addressing a fine father, those voices were gone. I wondered if Lif or my boy would one day speak to me with such indifference, and shuddered at the thought.

  Augustus was silent for a time, staring at her. He was not too drowned in his own power to lament the loss of his daughter’s love for him. His thin cheek had a tick, and he sat down heavily. “Are you? Are you well? You seem thin. You seem unhappy. Gaius—”

  “I have not spoken with Gaius for weeks, Father,” she said. “He spends his time with his mentor.”

  “Which is a good thing. Marcus is showing him what is truly expected of our boy, and—”

  “Of my boy,” she said simply. “Not yours.”

  Augustus banged his fist on the sofa, making an ineffectual show of force. He clearly resisted the temptation to try again with something that might make a sharper noise, but clenched his hands instead, adjusting his toga. “You yourself, daughter, refuse to come to this house and spend time with them,” he said stiffly. “It is a choice of yours, not ours. You are welcome in their lives, as a mother should be. But, he is more than a son, or a grandson, or a boy. He is the future of this city and of the entire land, and needs a mother who sees this, instead of one who would deny him his training. No mother in Rome clings to her sons like you would.”

  “Those mothers,” she said thinly, “didn’t lose their sons so early.”

  Silence. They stared at each other. The discussion had been had before, clearly.

  “Did you wants something, Father?” she asked after a while.

  Augustus cleared his throat. “You disdain of your own family is one thing. That you ignore your father, your children, and live in near solitude, is your choice. But, the other thing is Tiberius. Your feud must end. Your child died, and—”

  Julia straightened her back. “And there is much more to it, Father. He loves another, and I? I loved the thought of him, and never had him.” She took a deep, shuddering breath and bowed. “My husband is welcome to his home, any time he so chooses,” she lied. “Alas, I have not really spoken with him for such a long time. He travels under your commands.”

  “And you could travel with him. Like Livia does with me. She has followed me all over the world. Like Antonia did with Drusus,” he shouted. “Do not dare blame me for your estrangement from—”

  “Not blame you?” she asked, surprise cracking in her voice. She lost her composure in a heartbeat. “Surely, Father, you have not grown senile? Who else is there to be blamed, if blame we must?” She shook her head with anger. “And like Antonia did?” she went on with scathing spite. “I would stay alone in some gods cursed hamlet, in the muddy hills of Gaul, Father. Unlike your wife, I have no interest in people from far away, or their manners and tales. Nay, I will stay here, where my home is.”

  “Antonia,” Augusts spat, “had five children with Drusus in those muddy hills, far away. Clearly, she saw him quite often, despite the duty occasionally separating them.”

  “I had one with Tiberius,” she answered. “He died. None of theirs did, and they always loved each other. It was two people yearning for each other, not the union of hate you built for us.”

  Augustus cursed. “And you were so bitterly disappointed after the marriage, you screamed at me to force him to love you. I tried! Yes, your child died. You hated Tiberius so much by then, one has to wonder if he died naturally!” Augustus shouted viciously. I saw his face. He regretted that sentence immediately, but held his place.

  Silence.

  Julia stood there, holding her tears, or perhaps they flowed. I could not see. She stared beyond her father, who looked away, trying to gather himself. He had been the cause of so many deaths in his past, so many victims in his climb to power, the man’s soul would be made of stone. But, he loved Julia, it was clear, because there was a tear in his eye. In the end, he waved his hand. “The war in Germania is nearly over. Tiberius will be awarded a triumph.”

  “A triumph?” Julia asked in shock. “You have jealously guarded such Republican rewards, Father. You have let few men claim more than triumphal ornaments. A small number of great generals have marched through Rome with their soldiers, basking in the adoration of the people and the favor of the gods. But, my husband, by burning some peasants in forest, has deserved it? The laurel crown is his?”

  Augustus nodded. “He carries it for Drusus and himself both. And he is Rome’s best general. I don’t wish him to be an unhappy general. The people shall cheer him. So will his wife.” He wanted Julia to make Tiberius happy. The old man still couldn’t see it was not possible, but he went on, full of hope. “I need a son-in-law who will work for my vision, and not against it. We cannot have any more malcontents in the house.”

  Drusus. Augustus was worried about Tiberius, and had been worried about Drusus.

  “He is too loyal to march on Rome,” she answered. “This family has a long history of marching armies into Rome, but Tiberius would not do something like that. You have, before.”

  His face looked like a gigantic apple had been suddenly thrust deep into his throat. It took time for him to breathe, to swallow. “I’ve built the Rome you so enjoy, daughter. I’ve burned out those who thought themselves our betters. I have created and torn down noble families who feel honored by my actions. Tiberius must be made to feel honored. Livia thinks so.”

  “Livia is his mother,” she stated coldly. “She wants a triumph for him. I think it will be dangerous to elevate him so.” She was worried.

  “Livia is his mother. And my wife,” he answered thinly. “She has always helped Rome, and her mind is keen as a spear. She has a point. And so, when he returns t
o Rome in November, he shall make home with you. Like it was with Agrippa, he will be elevated and honored, even if he knows he won’t take my place. You will tie him to the family, finally. It is your duty.”

  “No!” she shouted. “No! I will not have him. He will not have me! Nothing’s changed.”

  “Julia—”

  “Father!” she said, and went to her knees before him. “He hates me. You cannot force this on us. You—”

  Augustus took her face between his palms. “Your sons will inherit the realm. He will guard it. Like it was with Agrippa, there must be a marriage to make sure things go smoothly. For all of us. Tiberius—”

  “He would never hurt the children,” she hissed and ripped herself from his grip. “He will guard Rome without triumphs and probably better if he need not see me every morning.”

  Would not hurt the children? Isn’t that exactly what she feared? I thought. Isn’t that the very reason why she wanted him dead? Fear for Gaius and Lucius?

  “On the seventh of Januari, he will ride through Rome,” Augustus said forcefully. “He shall be the hero of the land. He will be seen with his smiling, happy wife during that day. You will have November, December, and until Januari fifteenth to give him another child. You will do this, and that’s final.”

  “I will not live with him,” she breathed. “A child? Are you mad?”

  He lifted her up. “You can still bear children, daughter,” he roared. “And you will tie him back to this family. If there is a child, girl or a boy, he will grind through his life, serving us faithfully, doing his duty. Duty is what he is about, but give him a reason never to doubt it. Now? He has his son, Drusus, he has his mother, and he has the love of the armies. It is not enough. You will do your duty, daughter, oh you shall.”

  “I will never live with him,” Julia sobbed. “I’ve done my duty too many times.”

  And Augustus relented. “You will not? Fine. You will still give him a child. You will visit him here, then.”

  She breathed harshly. “When will he arrive? And leave for his next—”

  Augustus waved his hand. “He’ll be here soon enough. I’ll get you the details. I’m going out to meet him halfway. I’ll go to the north for a week or two, and we’ll sail back together soon. He’ll leave back on the fifteenth of Januari. We will travel to Ravenna together, and he shall take a ship across. He will go to Pannonia to settle some affairs there, and then he’ll visit Germania one more season, stamping down the last vestiges of rebellion at the Luppia River. Then he will come home and care for his new child.” He stared at her like an animal. “Understand, Julia, that we need him. Tie him to us with a child.”

  Children are tools for this family, I thought. Sons and daughters are to be used as Augustus sees fit.

  She turned and hesitated. “Very well.” There was fear in her voice, which was lost on her father, who had a look of relief on his old face. She spoke with a quick, frightened voice. “I will need his full schedule. Everything. That way, I can make sure things go smoothly.”

  And at that, I knew our long wait for her to make a mistake would come to a close.

  “You shall have everything from my scribes,” he said happily, and hugged her. She nodded, enduring the hug as she would enjoy kissing a corpse. She left and I walked after her. I met the eyes of Augustus, and knew he was thinking about me, as if trying to remember something.

  ***

  That evening, I spoke with Adalwulf. He had avoided me, and mostly spoke with Rochus, who had come and gone again for Tiberius. “How are things with her?” he asked me. “Anything new? Gods, let there be something new,” he droned, while rubbing his face.

  I smiled, and his eyebrows picked up. I nodded towards the Palatine. “She has done nothing. But, she and her father had a talk today. The old man wants her to give Tiberius a new child.”

  He chuckled. “Well, that went down as well as a bucket of piss, I bet. She’d just as likely spread her legs to a leper.”

  “She wasn’t happy, but then she gave up,” I said. “She looked like someone sentenced for flogging, determined to see it through. And yet, she wanted something.”

  “What?” he asked. “What did she ask for?”

  “His full schedule,” I said. “All of it. She now has the dates for the visit of Tiberius.”

  He thought about it for a long while, his brow crinkled. “How are you two?”

  I spoke harshly. “Julia and I?”

  He shook his head at my sullenness. “Yes, Julia and you. Life with Cassia is in your near future, but there is a duty called Julia and Hraban before that.”

  I was busy swallowing the rage of the beast lurking right under the surface, and spoke only after I knew my voice would not crack. “I’m her bedmate. I fuck her, make her happy, tell her she is a fine woman, but that is only a lie.”

  He clapped my back. “A lie that is now finally now serving us. You tell the men to be careful. Very, very careful. Keep an eye on her all night, every night, from now on. She will deliver the details to whoever it is conspiring against us. Do not fail again. Don’t let that anger out before it is the right time.”

  “After it is done, I want Cassia and the boy, Adalwulf.”

  His eyes flashed. “Then do not fail again. Do not make a mess of things. Be careful, and catch Julia and the conspirators red-handed, and you will do very well. So will Cassia and your boy. I keep my word, Corvus.”

  “Keep your word. Keep it, Adalwulf. Remember,” I told him, “that while we eat, speak and serve like Romans, there’s still a wolf behind these eyes.”

  He nodded. “I remember. I know what you are. I’m like you.” He clapped a hand on my shoulder. “And know Cassia is safe, and Gisil is happy. She loves your son like her own. I’m thankful for the happiness you have given her.”

  “It is my happiness, and only on a loan,” I told him and left him there, silently watching me go. I felt danger left and right, a noose tightening around my neck, and so I decided I’d have to find Gernot.

  When I tried, stood by the Rostra on the first days of the month, he didn’t show up.

  CHAPTER 19

  It was a beautiful October day. Birds were shrieking their joy over Rome’s skies, and the life in the City of the Seven Hills went on as it always had. My boy and Cassia visited Rome with Antonia’s entourage. He had grown, and Cassia was sure he’d be walking about before he was one-year-old. I admired his black hair, an oddity in some parts of Germania, but natural, since Cassia and I had dark features. Tudrus had married Euanthe in secret, and we, Cassia and I, celebrated his downfall with a wild party of mead and ale, and we saluted the lost friends.

  That night, I made love with Cassia, a rare occasion. Laying in her arms, we spoke little, and stared at each other. I ran my finger over the terrible scar in her shoulder, the wound which had made her arm weak. Finally, she asked me, “When?”

  “End of the year,” I promised her. “Then it will be over. Perhaps Januari.”

  “I’m lonely,” she said. “Without Gisil and Flower, I would be going crazy. I would love to take my son to the town, to walk in peace, with you.” She pulled at my hair gently. “There are guards outside our quarters.”

  “They are guarding your life,” I said.

  “Or holding us hostage,” she answered. “Perhaps I should have left, as you wanted.”

  I shook my head. “I should have listened to Livia.”

  She smiled. “You listened to your heart, and it counseled you to take action. And I tried to be brave, but cried, and you sought to lift my sorrow. I’m grateful.” She looked sad, then worried. “I’m worried about Gisil. She is very attached to the baby.”

  I nodded. She was. She had hovered over him all the time she had spent with Adalwulf, and I saw her happiness gave Adalwulf happiness as well. “Keep an eye on things, when I cannot,” I told her. “And if things go wrong, try to find Gernot.” I told her how, though I had not been able to contact him.

  She looked surprised.
“Are you expecting trouble?”

  I took out a pugio, and handed it to her. “In case you need it.”

  She clutched it, her face brave as it always was. She smiled and stroked my face. “So you are. I wish I could give you something in return. I’m sure the boy will survive, if something goes wrong. Gisil will see to it. She has promised.”

  I smiled. “How much do you speak with her?”

  She shrugged. “She has a way to make you both nervous and relaxed. She makes wine, and that made Mathildis very happy. I enjoy it, too. We spend evenings on a terrace, dreaming. Her dreams are mostly of the past, mine of the future. She has ways to make one speak of many things your heart hides. Mostly, I speak to poor Flower, who always smiles. If she knew what I was saying, she’d know all my fears.” She got up. “We must be away. And we shall see you soon.”

  “We will, soon,” I said, despairing it would never happen. “But, if not, I will arrange it.”

  We walked back to the party in the domus set for our use. I looked over to Gisil, who was dancing together with a slave, happy. Adalwulf was leaning on a doorway, speaking with Rochus.

  “His brother is serving in the legions now. In Hispaniola,” Cassia said.

  “Armin?” I asked.

  “He is doing well. So is Rochus,” she answered.

  “Rochus would,” I answered and stroked her face. “He does not serve with the Guard much these days. I wish you good journey. Tomorrow, I must return to duty. Augustus has left to receive Tiberius, and he will be here soon. So far, there has been nothing on Julia’s part to raise suspicion.”

  She nodded, her face deathly serious, and I knew the wound Julia had given her heart would take a long time to heal. “Do not enjoy your duty,” she said gently.

  “No,” I said, and cursed the unfairness of life.

  “And don’t make her pregnant,” she added.

  ***

  The next night, I slept with Julia. She was content, happy as a bird, warm and affectionate as a woman in love. She poured me wine, fed me fruits I had never seen before, and toyed with giving me a bracelet of gold, which I refused. Cassia’s sorrow bothered me, and I feared she would never forgive me, and Julia, I think, sensed it, and spoke kindly of her. “She healed a slave, they say. In Livia’s villa, there are many children, slaves who gather fruits and do many agile chores. They said Cassia was feeling ill, her wound aching, and still she got up and healed him. It was an infection of some kind. She is most kind. It was a child, a Gaul, five years old? Son of a slave. And you know what else?”