Caligula r-1

by Douglas Jackson

  'Then you had better get on with it, because I have important duties, even if you do not.'

  'Of course.' Rufus picked up the box with a flourish. 'The tale concerns a certain Germanicus.'

  Cupido's head came up sharply as he recognized the name of Caligula's father, and Rufus knew he had his friend's full attention now.

  'This Germanicus was generally considered to possess the highest qualities to be desired in a man. Handsome, brave, clever. Orator and warrior. Friend to many and inspiration to all. When the German legions would have disowned Tiberius, he held them to their oaths. When they stared defeat in the face, he turned it into victory by the strength of his own character. Surely, you may ask, such a man would be loved by all?

  'But when lesser men look to the heavens and see a star so much brighter than their own, or men less well favoured look into a mirror and see a face less handsome, their minds become twisted. Thus it was with those who regarded Germanicus as a rival.

  'It was not enough that he restored order to the Orient, that he vanquished the king of Armenia, and bestowed upon Cappadocia the honour of a province of Rome. No, he must no longer be allowed to cast a greater shadow than his Emperor, or hold greater power than his Emperor's closest adviser.

  'So a soldier was dispatched to Antioch, where his deeds and his honours ensured him a welcome and a place in his general's counsel. It was unfortunate that, soon after, Germanicus, who had stood so tall and was so loved, was brought low by a most loathsome disease. His golden skin withered and became covered in dark pustules. The mouth from which so many honeyed words had poured instead spewed froth. And he died, mourned by all, but none more than his Emperor, his Emperor's closest adviser, Gnaius Piso, and the good soldier who had come so untimely to his service.'

  'Who told you this?' Cupido demanded.

  'But there is more. Do you not want to hear it? Does it not enthral you?'

  Cupido's nostrils flared, so that he reminded Rufus of the lion he had confronted. He wondered if he had gone too far, but the gladiator nodded for him to continue.

  'Such illnesses are not uncommon in the Orient, or so I am told. Those who grieved for their general would have been content to believe his death was mere fate — but for two things. When his body was reduced to ashes in the fierce heat of the funeral fire, his heart was found entire among his bones, which, as your witch of a sister will no doubt have told you, is a certain sign of poison. And among his effects was found something which was pretty,' he raised the little box so it glinted in the lamplight, 'but seemed an unlikely trinket for a commander who lived a simple life.'

  He handed the box to Cupido and the young German stared at it, as if he was trying to unlock its secrets by sheer force of will.

  'One among the general's staff was not content. He took the pretty trinket to a certain medical man with knowledge of things he did not care to advertise among his friends. This medical man carried out tests, I know not how, which proved that the contents of the little box you hold had included some distillation of the red-spot mushroom. Even the slightest dose would have proved fatal to anyone who consumed it.'

  'Narcissus!' Cupido exclaimed. 'It was Narcissus who revealed all this to you. Only he with his contacts in the east could have unearthed such a detailed report. You did this for me? You placed yourself even deeper in his debt for a friend?'

  Rufus smiled modestly and recalled Callistus's final words when they had parted the previous evening. 'Let him believe anything, as long as it is not the truth.'

  'And who was this simple soldier,' Cupido asked, though he knew the answer already, 'who was so trusted by his general, but whose appearance proved a harbinger of such tragedy?'

  Rufus smiled coldly. 'Why, our good friend Cassius Chaerea.'

  They spent the rest of the night discussing the best use of what Rufus had discovered. From time to time Rufus noticed Cupido giving him a strange look, as if he could not quite believe him capable of providing this deadly combination of intelligence and evidence.

  'You are certain of its provenance?' he demanded at one point. 'You trust the source of this information with your life?'

  'More than that. I trust him with your life,' Rufus said evenly.

  In the end it was decided. Cupido would seek a meeting with Chaerea in some neutral place, repeat the story as Rufus had just told it and show him only the slightest glimpse of the silver box. If Chaerea reacted as they hoped, Cupido would tell him he wanted nothing to do with his plots, and leave him in no doubt that if there was any further interference in either his or Rufus's affairs, the information would reach Caligula.

  'You must convince him it will come from someone in power,' Rufus repeated for the third time. 'If he thinks a senator like Claudius, or Helicon, the chamberlain, is ready to denounce him at your signal, he will not dare act against us, for to do so would be death.'

  'It is your death I will think on if I am left with Chaerea thanking me for the gift of a pretty jewel box for one of his whores,' Cupido said wryly.

  'You won't be. But don't rush into the meeting. Set it up for four days from now and let Chaerea fret about your intentions. He is still looking over his shoulder after the last attempt on Caligula's life. This will unsettle him even more.'

  Cupido nodded, his expression grim. 'I have something to give Narcissus in return for this gift.'

  Rufus stared at him. Cupido seldom revealed information about his dealings with the Emperor. This was a sign of the true extent of their peril.

  'The guard is split. Cassius Chaerea has suborned many with his promises of wealth and position, but not all. There are some who see him for what he is, a jackal who feeds on the carrion others provide. They know it will be Chaerea who dons the purple if his plan succeeds, and not the mysterious other he claims to support. And when he does, they understand what will happen to his enemies. Some of these are officers held in high esteem by their men. They are not innocents, but Caligula has disgraced them by using them as executioners instead of soldiers. He has lost their loyalty. They will not act against him directly. They wish him gone, but not to be replaced by Chaerea. They need someone to follow, someone worthy of their support. Claudius.'

  Rufus's head spun with the enormity of what he was being told and the opportunity it represented. Then reality intervened.

  'But Claudius would never agree to be Emperor. Remember what I told you of his conversation with Bersheba. He wants a return to sanity. A republic.'

  'I understand that, but the Guard, those who are against Chaerea, will not support a republic. They believe it will weaken the Empire and lead to anarchy. They seek a return to the prosperity and security Augustus brought. Only one of Augustus's blood can provide it.' He shrugged. 'Claudius is not perfect, but he is available.'

  'But I told you. He will not do it.'

  'What if someone engineered it so he had no choice?' Cupido suggested. 'Someone who had much to gain if his master rose to the very pinnacle of power?'

  Someone like Narcissus.

  But before Rufus could arrange a meeting with the Greek, their lives would hang by a thread…

  He and Livia were sitting in their little home three nights later. It was the eve of the sacrifice of the October Horse and there was a festival air to Rome which had even penetrated the room behind the barn. The couple had mellowed lately, and Rufus was trying to come to terms with the enormous upheaval about to occur in his life. An upheaval that drew closer each day as Livia's belly grew rounder and fatter. His stomach was just dealing with the disturbing detail of childbirth when the door burst open.

  His hand darted for the knife he kept beneath the bed and he rose ready to use it. But he froze when he saw the figure in the doorway.

  This was an Aemilia Rufus barely recognized. Her eyes were wide and her blond hair was matted, with small twigs and leaves tangled among it, as if she had just spent a night on a forest floor. Her breath came in short, desperate bursts and her chest heaved against the thin cloth of the expens
ive dress she wore.

  'I didn't know where else to go,' she gasped. 'You must help me.'

  The words were directed at Rufus and it was apparent that she had not even noticed Livia was in the room.

  Rufus opened his mouth to reassure her, but it was Livia who spoke. The Palatine was a small community and she knew Aemilia by sight, knew too that she was Cupido's sister. But they had never met and she slightly resented the girl's position in Milonia's household.

  'What has happened that you must enter our house without invitation in the dead of night?' she demanded in a voice that was, if not frosty, certainly not welcoming.

  Aemilia looked from the tiny figure to Rufus as if she was a deer seeking escape from a pack of hounds.

  'Enough of this,' Rufus said. 'She has come to us for aid and we will give it. Bring water. Aemilia will explain herself in her own time.'

  'But she is right, Rufus: you must know. My presence here is a danger to us all.' Aemilia's voice shook and her head drooped so she did not have to meet their eyes. 'The Emperor. I was dining with Milonia — a favour to her, she said. He came to her quarters as we ate and placed himself on the couch beside me. I was a fool, because I was honoured by his attentions. Then he began to touch me. First my hair.' She took a handful of the golden mass in her fist as if she wanted to tear it from her head. 'Then my skin. He touched my skin and it crawled as if a serpent had been placed upon it. Then he spoke to me of things I did not understand, or want to understand. Of the nature of love. What do I know of love, or care, in this place where each of us is a commodity to be bartered? He said I must share their bed. I looked to Milonia for aid, but she only smiled, and there was something in her smile that chilled me. She knew. She knew and she approved. The Emperor took me by the hand, and said, "Come." But I could not. I shook myself free, and I ran.' She sobbed, a great heart-wrenching breath from deep in her body. 'I have nowhere else to go.'

  Rufus listened in silence. He was appalled. Not because of his sympathy for Aemilia's ordeal, but because she had placed them in mortal danger. And for no reason. How could she be such a fool? This was no sanctuary. It was a trap.

  As if the gods were able to read his mind there came a thundering knock at the door.

  'Open up, quickly.'

  He breathed a sigh of relief. Cupido. Cupido would know what to do.

  Rufus opened the door cautiously and the young German, wearing a long cloak over his armour, bustled past him.

  'I heard she had come this way, and I decided to check before the patro-' He stopped, open-mouthed, staring at Aemilia. 'You? I was only told it was a girl.' He shook his head in disbelief. 'I didn't… No one said…'

  Aemilia ran to him, crying his name, and he took her protectively in his arms. But the eyes that met Rufus's across her shoulder were filled with confusion.

  'You must get her out of here, now.' Livia's voice was cracked with tension. 'The child… If they find her here, you know what they will do.'

  'It is too late,' Cupido said, and Rufus heard something in his tone that was as out of place in Cupido the warrior as snow in a Tuscan summer. Defeat.

  He was right. Already they could hear the clash of weaponry as the soldiers of the Emperor's guard made their way down the slope from the palace.

  'Wait. I will talk to them.' Cupido tried to thrust Aemilia away from him, but she held tight and forced him to look at her.

  'No,' she said. Her face was set in a savage expression that reminded Rufus of tales of fierce women fighters who were as deadly in battle as any man. 'Kill me.'

  Cupido recoiled as if he had been punched. 'No. Never.'

  'Kill me,' she repeated. 'If you cannot save me, at least save my honour.' But he shook his head helplessly, and she pushed him away. 'You were a coward when we were taken and you are a coward now,' she said, her voice dripping with scorn.

  Cupido's face turned ashen, and she looked at Rufus.

  'Then you must kill me. If my brother does not have the courage I ask a friend.'

  'If she dies we all die. But if we are going to die, let us die fighting.' Cupido drew his long sword from under his cloak and threw a short dagger to Rufus, who caught it awkwardly. Aemilia made a grab for the blade, but he pushed her away, knowing what she intended. She collapsed sobbing beside Livia, who lifted her head and looked deep in her eyes.

  'You are so young,' she whispered. 'So terribly young. He is only a man, Aemilia, and there will be many other men. There is no need to be frightened of him. You will find he has a man's pride, but requires a woman to appreciate it or it has no value to him. He also has a man's doubts, and he must prove himself with many women or those doubts will turn into certainty and he will no longer be the man he thinks he once was. He is an Emperor, therefore his pride and his doubts are multiplied a thousand-fold. But still, he is only a man.'

  Aemilia stared at her. 'Have you..?'

  Livia smiled sadly. 'I have been with so many men, it is difficult to remember.'

  The younger girl shook her head. 'I cannot. My honour…'

  'Remember,' Livia said fiercely. 'It does not matter what he does to your body, as long as you resist in your mind. Stay true to yourself, and you will survive.'

  'But Milonia…'

  'In this, Milonia is your ally. If she is with him, then he is not with you. With Milonia you will at least find affection, if not pleasure. Do not look so shocked. It is not unknown. Some women even prefer other women to men.' She looked at Rufus and Cupido standing awkwardly by the door, from behind which came the unmistakable sound of soldiers preparing for action. 'It is not difficult to understand why.'

  'Inside.' The shout from outside filled the room. 'You inside, open up or we'll smash our way in.'

  Cupido tensed, and Rufus went to his side. 'I am ready to die,' he said quietly, 'but I wish it was for a better reason.'

  Cupido shrugged. 'There are worse reasons.'

  'On the count of three.' They heard the Praetorian prepare his men for the attack.

  'Wait!' Aemilia's cry caused shuffled confusion beyond the barrier of the door. 'I am ready to attend the Emperor.' She turned to Cupido and wiped the tears from her eyes. 'I will go then,' she said, all emotion suddenly vanished. 'But know this: I no longer have a brother and I no longer have a name.'

  She made to brush past him, but he stopped her and she did not struggle as he unwrapped his cloak and folded it around her. As she fumbled with the latch, he touched her hair and removed a small twig from it in a gesture of brotherly affection that was so alien to the circumstances Rufus almost believed he had imagined it.

  At the door, Aemilia turned to Rufus and it was as if they were alone in the room together. He knew then she understood his passion for her. She had never been able to return it, but she could use it. When she spoke her voice was flat, cold. 'If you will not give me the mercy of a quick death, at least promise me this — when the opportunity arises you will kill him.'

  She stood there for a moment, tall and proud once more, her eyes demanding an answer he couldn't give. Then she was gone.

  XL

  Aemilia changed. She would never speak of what happened that night, or in the ones that inevitably followed. The carefree girl was gone, replaced by a hard-edged young woman with a painfully sharp tongue. She was still beautiful, but it was a different beauty; colder. Occasionally Rufus would see her in the park with the Emperor's daughter and try to catch her eye. Where once she would have smiled and called out, she ignored him as if he didn't exist. He cared too much for it not to hurt, but knew better than to force his company on her.

  A few weeks later — at the end of the three-day festival of the Compitalia — when he thought the wound might have begun to heal, he asked Cupido if he had spoken to her. The gladiator's face turned bleak. 'I have no sister,' he said.

  Whether it was the weather, which was making its heartless jump from autumn's end to full winter, or something in the air, Rufus came down with an indefinable sickness. It never quite laid him
low, but it was always there, a cold, clammy ball deep in his stomach, which made him lethargic and miserable. He struggled to cope with tasks that, a week earlier, were quite routine, and found himself sighing for no reason. Livia noted the change in him, and, being a woman, soon worked out the cause. At first she was angry, but then anger turned to a sort of disconnected, pragmatic acceptance. Aemilia was not her rival. Rufus was still her man. Until either of those situations changed she had more important things to concern her.

  Rufus was talking quietly to her as they lay on the straw pallet late one evening, ready to give her the latest piece in one of Narcissus's puzzles, when she told him her time was near.

  She had tried to prepare him, and he had believed himself prepared, but he found the change hurtling towards him as terrifying as a mountain avalanche. He hid away in his work with Bersheba as Livia gathered the necessities required for the birth. When she spoke of the baby as a living being, it was as if she talked a language he could not understand. He did not think he could ever be a father.

  He tried to change the subject, to pass on Narcissus's instructions, but she placed a child's finger tenderly over his mouth.

  'Enough of that. We have other things to concern us. Now, you will know when the baby is coming when my waters break — from here.' She took his hand and placed it deep between her legs beneath the overhang of her belly. 'Don't grimace like that.' She laughed. 'It is what happens to every woman.'

  She was still giving him instructions — how to contact Galla, the palace slave who had advised her through her pregnancy — when he drifted off to sleep. Smiling, she shook her head and kissed him on the lips. He was still such a boy, really.

  The screams took time to penetrate his sleeping mind. He never discovered whether the meeting had been prearranged or whether Chaerea had somehow managed to circumvent Bersheba's vigilance. But when he stumbled, blinking, past the grey bulk of the elephant and into the night, the Praetorian commander was visible fifty yards away in the moonlight, kicking purposefully at a screaming white bundle that squirmed at his feet. Livia.