Flavus nodded with his glinting eyes, the short, Roman-cut hair almost white. He was thinking.
Tudrus didn’t want him to. “Get up and leave,” he said simply. “Tell her we shall make the plans on our own for Adalwulf.”
He didn’t get up. “Livia will want to keep a close eye on how—”
“Leave,” Wandal said. “We will tell you later what we decided.” He snapped his fingers under Flavus’s nose, making him spill his wine.
He frowned and gathered his composure. “There is a feast in one hour. And that is when you shall begin performing your duty. Do not make a single damned mistake, Hraban. I know you make them, occasionally. I would make sure you—”
I snarled and he flinched. Tudrus slammed his hand on the table. “Go, or I’ll see your guts on the floor,” he said. “It is time for wine before the feast, and wine is for friends.”
His eyes went to Adalwulf.
“He stays,” I said.
“He is as guilty as I am, Corvus,” Flavus said, insulted, and nodded at Adalwulf. “I’ve heard of some of the things he has done. I’m a sweet child in comparison.”
Adalwulf got up. He pulled Flavus up as well, and tossed him over a bed like he would a child. He pulled his sword, and Flavus, backpedaling, rushed out of the barracks. Men stared at us for a moment, and then turned away as they witnessed the wrath of their Decurion. Germani the lot, most Vangione, Batavi, some Ubii, had little interest in men from other tribes, even in Rome. They were mostly allies, but they knew private business when they saw it.
We watched Flavus leave, as Adalwulf sat down, looking down at his sword. Tudrus held his face as he leaned on the table. “Tiw’s balls, but I want him dead.”
“We all want him dead,” I said thinly. “And yet, he is right. Lollius will be suspicious as a virgin on the wedding night. We need to plan how we shall deal with Adalwulf, should Lollius ask for his head.”
Adalwulf smiled at some distant memory. “He truly loathes me. He might wish for a head, indeed.”
“But what are the options?” Tudrus asked tiredly, and looked at Wandal, who nodded. “Can we leave the service and try to find your families?”
I smiled. “So, you truly meant that when you wondered about our options. And not how to charm Lollius.”
“We cannot,” Adalwulf said.
Wandal snorted. “What we cannot, is to keep doing this. We cannot kill for her, and then kill more for her. Kill, and kill, and then one by one, we shall all die in shame, until in the end everyone will fall, leaving behind naught but dishonor. Even I know this.”
He was right, of course. He was Germani to the bone.
And I had to be Roman. At all costs.
“For now,” I said calmly, thinking of Cassia and Gervas, “I have no options. But you can escape. Tudrus, take your fair Euanthe, and take Agetan and Wandal here, and Gernot will be able to get you out.”
Tudrus’s jaws tightened. “We have unfinished business here. Our oaths are to you. To our dead kin. Cannot Gernot find your families? And set them free? He has all sort of nasty connections these days. Did you know he not only owns ships and grain, but also knows all the mercenaries and people who need such men and gets paid for making connections?”
I nodded. “I have asked. He said ‘no.’ He told me that because he has no such power outside Rome. He just simply doesn’t have connections in the South,” I answered. “He has tried.”
Tudrus nodded despondently, and looked troubled. “Are you truly going ahead with it then? Wandal is right. At some point, we must stop obeying, and start making plans on how to escape this noose.”
Wandal, usually first to jump to my defense, stayed silent. Agetan’s eyes flashed, the pain of losing the indomitable Bohscyld too great still. So many gone. Most had followed me out of friendship, and oaths, and a hope for riches in Rome.
Instead, so many had a grave.
Tudrus took a shuddering breath, giving voice to a terrible admission. “We all love Cassia and Gervas. You know this. And I know you tried to send her back north before we came to Rome, but she, and maybe he, are going to … die anyway. You know it.”
I stared at him with incredulity.
“Hraban—” he began.
“I don’t know it,” I snarled. “Not at all.”
“You know it full well,” he said stubbornly, his gaunt face a mask of anger. “When and if Livia ever succeeds in bringing Tiberius back, when and if he will let her back into his life, and if, by a miracle of the gods he one day rises to fill the place of Augustus and survives thanks to our efforts, she will still hold sway over the family. And she won’t let go of us.”
I said nothing. Adalwulf was frowning.
“What might happen,” Tudrus said softly, “if you gave that scroll to Augustus, telling him everything, and hoping Frigg will protect the women as he challenges her.”
Adalwulf rubbed his face, but Wandal answered. “Risky, eh? He might or might not believe us, and if not? If he chooses not to believe it? And if he does believe it, dare he smear his own mighty name by condemning Livia? Julia, then Livia? If they disappear silently, people will grow suspicious.” He slammed a hand on the table. “Perhaps he will believe us, and takes the evidence, puts her under arrest, and makes us all disappear anyway? Have we not already been part of the downfall of Julia? Such secrets tend to get buried. Augustus, we cannot trust him. The man has butchered cities before to make a point, eh? They say he had three hundred nobles sacrificed in Perusia to make a point. Only if there is no other chance, then, perhaps go to him.”
I drank some wine and smiled at Wandal fondly. “You have grown wise in Rome.”
“He has grown as desperate and evil as the rest of us,” Tudrus said and Agetan agreed with a grunt. “Evil and nasty like any man would in such a nest of serpents. It used to be different for us, eh? You faced your foes face to face, and fought them, or made peace, up north. And here we are now, uncertain of what lies beneath a man’s skin. I’ve met very few good men here. Most died soon after.”
“You met a good woman,” Adalwulf said tiredly. “A very good one. Worth holding on to.”
He opened his mouth with a croak, and then agreed with a curt nod. “She is a fine one. Fine. No Augustus. But Tiberius is a lost cause. She says she will bring him around? Bah! And our mission is one for suicidal fools,” Tudrus said weakly. “To kill these high Romans … mad! No, I shall not abandon you or my oaths, not like this. But it eats my soul to see you try to swim upstream, until we shall all drown.” He twitched and flung his cup to a wall nearby, where it shattered, sprinkling wine over the beds. “I am sorry, but I think we cannot save your family.” His eyes snaked to Adalwulf. “Families.”
I looked away, and said nothing. The shame on their shoulders was weighing on them heavily, and asking them to give more, was weighing heavily on me.
Be a Roman. Harden your soul.
For Cassia and Gervas.
“I release you from your oaths,” I said.
They blinked.
“I shall need your help on a dangerous quest to regain our family. I have a plan. But after that, after that is accomplished, you shall leave Rome. You will go north, escape, and men less worthy shall take the sword.”
“Hraban—" Wandal began.
“I do not wish to see you die,” I said simply. “So, I release you from the oaths to avenge Drusus.”
“You cannot,” Tudrus said stiffly, “release us from the bonds of friendship. And we must avenge our lost—"
“I will avenge them, and you go and grow crops, and children,” I told him. “I will find men I love less than you for it.”
“You cannot trust such men,” Wandal said simply. “No.”
“I shall have to, as I try to find a way to restore Tiberius, who can guard Rome, and all of us, once he is back,” I told them. “I shall stay here, until that time, and until I can be sure Tiberius is going to survive and perform his duty to Rome, keeping Gaius and the others alive.
That is all. I will have you help me until Cassia is free, but not after. I will use evil men for the dark paths.”
“Cassia free, and Tiberius in Rome, guarding the boys?” Tudrus wondered. “Must be one terrific plan! Who are the men you choose to stay with you, as you take the dark paths?”
I nodded at Adalwulf. “Can you leave Adalwulf and I for a bit?” I asked, surprising them. “We shall go to this feast in the domus of Augustus, and you will meet us there, and our new duty begins, but first Adalwulf and I will go and meet Gaius in Antonia’s. She is hosting the new pair before the betrothal party.”
“I’m for a dark path?” Adalwulf asked.
“You are a man who can tread it, and not die,” I said.
Wandal shook his head. “You need friends. You must not abandon—"
“Please, go,” I said, looking away.
They looked at Adalwulf, then at me, and got up, as one, uncertain and confused. They moved off, and I sat there, waiting.
Adalwulf was watching me. “What?” he asked finally. “What is this plan?”
“They are right.”
“Right?” he asked bitterly. “Of course, they are right. But in what?”
I rapped my knuckles on the table. “That we must stop obeying her. We must do things differently,” I said. “We must react. And Woden help me, but I thought of a plan.”
“All the gods help us,” he muttered, and nodded. “Speak.”
“This part where Livia deals with Tiberius,” I said, “and we deal with Lollius and the others is wrong. No. We need someone on our side who can handle Livia. Someone who can challenge her. Someone who knows her, and us, and agrees to stop her.”
He blinked. “Who? Not Augustus, because—”
“Tiberius.”
He looked at me oddly. “You think … that you can change the mind of Tiberius? And bring him back?”
“He is a damned wreck,” I said tiredly. “I saw him when I received the scroll. He had a haunted look on his face. I guess that hasn’t changed. And Augustus hates him more than anyone these days. He is neck deep in a damned mire. They whisper that Augustus will not let him back. Ever. And Lollius is apparently making sure that won’t change. Livia is right in that. Even if Livia succeeds in convincing him to return, he cannot.” I shook my head at the hopelessness of it. “And yet, is Tiberius not the man who always wanted to serve Rome? He needs to hear the words of wisdom. And he, I think, can fool Livia and give us back what is ours. The only man who can fool Livia is the son she is trying to save.”
He leaned back. “Tiberius could, perhaps,” he whispered and smiled. “Juppiter’s balls! This is mad.” He laughed bitterly for a moment and sighed. “He won’t listen to the two of us. He won’t listen to anyone. I know him. Stubborn as a stone. Might as well ask him to smile without frightening anyone. Impossible.”
I chuckled. “He might listen to Antonia. We are seeing her soon. And Antonia knows Vipsania, his first wife. His only love. We must claim Tiberius for our own, you and I, and the few people who truly love him can help us.”
“Why would they?” he asked.
“I shall tell Antonia the truth about who killed Drusus,” I said bluntly.
He rubbed his face. “She might go mad, and do something—”
I poked him. “We shall give him a reason to live. He shall be again the sword of Rome, until Gaius takes over. That we shall do. In the meantime, we will in fact guard all the boys. Gaius, Lucius, Germanicus. We will do the bidding of Livia, and gain the trust of Marcus Lollius, and then we shall guard the boys. Livia is plotting something else as well.”
“I see,” he muttered, thinking. “Gaius is her first target, eh?”
“Gaius first, but yes, all the boys are future victims to Livia,” I answered. “To survive, and for our loved ones to do so, we must render Livia meaningless. Tiberius is her only weakness. And he is our only weapon. He is the solution.”
He looked around, and thought hard. “It is risky. Not sure how you will accomplish this”
“Less risky than trying to find our loved ones on our own,” I answered. “It is our one hope. Tudrus is right. We shall all die, one by one, otherwise. And I said I have a plan.”
He nodded. “A fine plan, I hope. You only must charm a mad noble to forget his sorrow and shame to return to Rome where he is not welcome. Nothing to it! Get him home, he shall fool his mother, guard and save everyone, and then, we go back north.”
“Tiberius is hammered of honor,” I told him. “And if I ask Antonia to speak of that, it will work. Vipsania might help as well.”
“He shall be stubborn, and depressed, and he shall say ‘no,” he said.
“I know,” I answered.
“What?” he asked.
“Livia told me something today,” I said.
“After she raped you?” he said with dark rage on his face.
I said nothing to that. “She told me a man would do anything for a son.” I tapped the table. “And is not Tiberius a father to a son? A son that Livia is now making plans for? A murdering bitch is making plans for his son. How will that end? Nay, Tiberius will come to our side.”
He sat there, frowning. And finally, he nodded. “Drusus the Younger. It is … possible. He might be swayed … but …” He was nodding. “Yes. We need a plan on how to deal with all the details.”
“Oh, I have a plan,” I said. “And I shall only share it with you. And one other. For now.”
“Wandal was worried for a reason?”
I nodded. “Yes. I won’t share it with men so virtuous. It is a complicated plan, that can go wrong in so many ways. But I think it might work. It will be years of work. And I shall tell you why it is worth it. Listen.”
And so, I spoke to him. He listened, shook his head a dozen times, his face white. He struggled greatly, thrumming his fingers on the table, and finally, after much pleading, he finally nodded. “I see why you only tell me this. Will your friends understand, eventually?”
I took a deep breath and shrugged. “I love them, but how could they understand? They decide for themselves. I need them, but I won’t force them. In fact, I meant it when I said I want them to go grow crops.”
The thought left me hollow. But the fear of losing them, or their respect, was too much. I needed bastards for what I was going to do.
“It will be tricky,” he frowned. “And it is a terrible thing to plan for. It is selfish and evil. And I am not surprised you would suggest this to me. Despite Livia, I have a practical side.”
“I am tired of being the victim.”
He gave me his hand, and I grasped his wrists as he did mine, and our plans were made. He spoke. “It won’t likely work. But yes, let us think like Romans. And hopefully, one day, far from here, we can say we succeeded, and not too many died.”
“We will only have to throw the dice,” I answered. “And stop being the victims.”
Adalwulf leaned on me. “It is a heavy price you will pay. But yes; for Gervas, and for Cassia. It is the right way, perhaps. Go and talk to him, and then we shall talk to the others.”
Everything hinged on Tiberius’s future and on his decisions. and on Antonia, Lollius, and dozen other people, and luck.
I got up, and went to find a man I hated, but also needed. He was the third bastard, and he too, agreed.
CHAPTER 4
Antonia was giving me quick glances, as she personally served me wine. It was not customary for a guard to drink on duty, but Antonia knew how much I had loved her husband, and I had saved her and her children’s lives when Livia had threatened them. We had grown closer over the past years.
How much Antonia knew of Livia’s plots, I had no idea. I knew they weren’t on the best footing, but then, Livia was not on a good footing with quite a few people.
I watched the room. It was half full of people. The actual feast would be held in Augustus’s domus, not too far, and the mood was relaxed. Servants were bringing wine to everyone who came, but the main attractio
n was Gaius, who would walk with Livilla to the feast. He was there; his Praetorian guards, Wandal and I were there in our togae and helmets, waiting. Tudrus and Agetan were outside with some others from our turma. I gave Wandal a long look, and wondered what he was thinking about. I trembled as I thought of the path I hoped to take and the fear of abandoning the men who had always stood next to me in times of death and danger seemed madness.
I didn’t want to see them die on the path I had to take.
And I wasn’t sure they would follow me on it. They would … stop me.
For Gervas, and Cassia. Let it begin.
The servants paid the most attention to Gaius and his entourage. At twenty, he was no longer a boy. In Germania, he would carry a spear, and be married. In Rome, though, the honors given him came ten years early. He was pale with a calm, emotionless face, and thin, brown hair. His chin was smooth, cheeks as well, and the eyes were just a bit rheumy, hinting at a man who didn’t sleep well. He was reserved in his words and smiled rarely at jokes, but was a good listener.
He gave me some puzzled looks.
Germani had guarded him from a distance before, but we were new, and he wasn’t the kind of a man who enjoyed sudden changes. His Praetorians were near, his usual guards, but we would soon take over, and apparently, he knew about it. There was a century of Praetorians in the Palatine just to look after him, and I had been told he didn’t talk with them. He clearly didn’t like the fact I looked right into his eyes.
I turned my face from him to the little Livilla, thirteen and serious, who was sitting on a stool in the atrium. She was composed, careful, staring back at me. The fact she had been named ‘little Livia’ by Drusus bothered me. Of course, Livilla was not like the beast that was the scourge of my life, but dutiful and respectful to all appearances, but Livia thought she also yearned for power. She might. She was a child still, and Woden only knew what she was thinking about, and what she wanted. Drusus had loved his only daughter well, and Antonia had kept a strict thumb over her education and future as well, but now she was losing Livilla, and Livilla would not be ready. At thirteen, she was remarkably composed, but no girl that young could possibly know what was in store for her.
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