Caligula

by Douglas Jackson

  Cupido's eyes behind the golden mask never left the Emperor's. Their stares remained locked as he leaned forward and put all his weight on to his sword, forcing it home through flesh and bone with a crunching sound that could be heard in the stands.

  The silence in the arena had the intensity of a solid object. Ten thousand hearts did not dare beat. Ten thousand mouths did not dare take a breath. Rufus waited with the rest, paralysed by fear. This was an insult Caligula would never forgive or forget. Every eye in the stadium was on the Emperor, waiting for the command that would bring his Praetorians on to the blood-pooled sands to avenge him.

  As the seconds lengthened into minutes, the tension became unbearable. Above him, Rufus heard the sound of someone sobbing.

  The Emperor rose to his feet. He had regained his composure now and his face was as much a mask as the sculpted gold which covered Cupido's. Slowly, he raised his arms . . . and brought his hands together in a resounding crack which cut the silence like a clap of thunder, then again, and again, until the crowds caught his mood and realized this was not a death sentence, but an Emperor's acclaim for a warrior slave.

  Rufus sensed Cupido's confusion as the mob's applause washed over him, knew the young German had expected, perhaps even wanted, to die. He watched as the gladiator shook his head slightly, as if to clear it, before walking from the arena without a backward glance while the crowd roared his name in adulation.

  'Cupido, Cupido, Cupido.'

  Rufus felt his heart clutched by a terrible fear. He turned to rush to the far side of the arena where he could be at his friend's side, but found his way blocked by a tall figure in a threadbare toga.

  'Why, it is Fronto's protégé. Did you enjoy the spectacle, young man?'

  Narcissus's voice was soft and his eyes were a deep, cobalt blue with an almost indefinable hypnotic quality. He stood smiling, his high, domed skull as bald as an egg and his scalp dappled with gleaming beads of sweat.

  'I think the pretty gladiator has upset the Emperor, don't you? A sensible man would have entertained the crowd and died heroically, as was intended. It would have had a wonderful symmetry and added further lustre to his name. But now . . .'

  'Excuse me, sir, but I must hurry.' Rufus tried to keep the urgency from his voice.

  'Of course, I had forgotten. Your master advised me the brave gladiator was your friend. You would wish to help him celebrate the slaughter? But is that wise? Surely you don't find my company so poor?'

  'No, sir,' Rufus said, confused. He couldn't understand why Narcissus should want to delay him.

  'Then stay awhile and tell me about yourself. You have not always been with Cornelius Aurius Fronto, I'm sure. You must have a past?'

  Rufus stared at him.

  'But of course, I am being rude. I have not introduced myself. My name is Tiberius Claudius Narcissus, and I am Greek, born in the town of Pydna. Once, I was a slave like yourself; now I am the freedman of the senator, Tiberius Claudius Drusus Nero Germanicus, nephew of the late Emperor. I act as his secretary, and carry out what other tasks he wills. He is a fine man. Do not believe all you hear of him.'

  Narcissus leaned forward, so that his mouth was close to Rufus's ear. 'It is not only your friend who is in danger. The gladiator has made his choice, and you would do well to allow him to reap the consequences alone. It is a pity; he could have been useful to me, and I to him. He refused my favour. Do not make the same mistake.'

  'I must go to him,' Rufus cried.

  'Go, then; be a fool. But take care. I may have work for you, and you cannot do it if you are dead.' But Rufus was already past him, pushing his way along the crowded corridor. By the time he reached the arming room, a squad of a dozen Praetorians was already formed up and moving away, with Cupido, now minus his golden mask, at their centre.

  Rufus almost called out, but Cupido must have sensed his presence, because the young gladiator turned and looked directly into his eyes and gently shook his head. The message was plain: I am doomed; don't waste your life trying to save me. Then he was gone.

  XI

  'I have to find him.'

  Rufus paced the main room in Fronto's villa. He had tracked Cupido's captors through the warren of narrow streets around the Castra Praetorium and into the centre of the city until they turned past the guard post and disappeared up the slope to the centre of the Palatine, where he did not have the courage to follow.

  'He's dead. Forget him. If you try anything you'll only get yourself killed. Do you really believe Cupido would have wanted that? The boy lived with death every day of his existence. When he killed Menander he knew exactly what he was doing.'

  Rufus knew it was true, but he couldn't bear the thought of the terrible fate that awaited his friend in the Emperor's dungeons.

  Fronto smiled sadly. 'Think, Rufus. You knew him better than anyone. He had had enough of all this. He wanted to be somewhere else, anywhere else, a place without blood and killing, and he took the only honourable way he knew to get there. He did not bow to Caligula. You should be glad for him.'

  'At least help me find out what has happened to him.'

  The animal trader shook his head. 'What do you want me to do, walk into the palace and ask the Emperor?'

  Rufus thought for a second, his mind going back to the strange confrontation in the arena corridor. 'The Greek would know.'

  Fronto shook his head. 'Narcissus gives nothing for nothing. What do you have to trade? I don't think he'll be interested in Africanus's latest trick.'

  'If I have nothing to give now, I will pledge something in the future, some gift, or some favour. I have a feeling this Narcissus is a man who collects favours the way other men collect gold pieces.'

  The animal trader's look told him he was right. 'Perhaps, but you must understand, Rufus, that it is dangerous to be in debt to someone like Narcissus. He dabbles those long fingers in murky pools. It may be he will call in your debt at a time and a place which suits him, but not you.'

  'I'm willing to risk it.'

  Fronto bit his lip. 'But am I willing to risk you?'

  For the next week Fronto did everything he could to dissuade Rufus from going ahead with the meeting. He pointed out how unlikely it was that Cupido could have survived in a place where so many others succumbed. Even if the gladiator was alive, he argued, it was certain he would be sent to one of the lead mines in the north, where he would die by inches.

  But Rufus refused to be discouraged, and eventually the trader was forced to make the arrangements.

  'I wanted to be with you, because Narcissus can be a tricky customer,' Fronto told him, 'but he insists you go alone. He will be on the steps of the temple of Hercules – that's the round one near the main entrance to the Maximus – at the seventh hour. Say little and agree to nothing. Promise me that, Rufus. You will agree to nothing he asks without first discussing it with me?'

  Rufus agreed, but that night he dreamed he sold Africanus to Narcissus for a single sesterce, and he woke knowing he would get the worst of any bargain with the slippery Greek.

  His belly fluttered with nerves as he approached the dome-roofed temple across the flattened earth of the Forum Boarium, but Narcissus greeted him with the easy smile of an old acquaintance and asked him how his animals did.

  Rufus gave him a rambling answer, then paused. 'Cupido –?'

  'No business yet,' the freedman interrupted. 'I have had a trying morning and it would please me to talk to you awhile, before we approach what I am sure are serious matters. Let us stroll in this direction, away from the river. It smells so much at this time of the day, don't you think?'

  Rufus noticed there were few people in sight, and he realized that Narcissus had chosen the time and the place of their meeting with care. Most citizens, if they could, spent the time between the sixth and the seventh hours dining with their families. Only a dozen or so slaves were still at work clearing up offal left by traders from the morning meat market.

  Their way led them behind the temp
le and into the shadow of the huge carved pillars flanking the entrance to the Circus Maximus. Narcissus walked steadily towards the gaudily uniformed gate guards, but Rufus hesitated, wary of their blank faces and nailed cudgels.

  'Do not fear, I am known here.' The Greek took Rufus by the shoulder and steered him between the two men.

  The panorama that greeted Rufus made him gasp. He was a veteran of the arena now, and had been in many stadiums, but the Maximus lived up to its name. It was vast, almost three times larger than any other in the Empire. A racetrack as wide as a triumphal avenue disappeared into the middle distance, its surface shimmering in the heat of the noonday sun, then curved to return behind a long row of pillars to where he stood. Rows of seats rose like cliffs on either side of the track. It was said that 150,000 people often packed the stands for the chariot races and other great spectacles and for a moment he was back in the centre of the Taurus with the waves of sound crashing around him. His heart fluttered in his chest and he felt a thrill of fear before Narcissus's calm voice returned him to the present.

  'Come, we will sit in the shade.' He led Rufus to a spot opposite the starting gates where a dozen rows of benches provided a relatively cool resting place under an awning made of heavy sailcloth.

  'Now,' he said. 'You had something to ask of me?'

  Rufus faltered. What right did he, a slave, have to be demanding favours of a man like Narcissus? He looked into the steady blue eyes and realized the Greek was reading his thoughts.

  'Cupido,' he blurted eventually. 'Cupido was taken by the Emperor's guards.'

  Narcissus shook his head sadly. 'Yes. It was foolish to try the Emperor's patience in such a blatant manner. It could have been fatal.'

  Could? Rufus registered the word and allowed himself to hope. 'He was – is – my friend. I was certain you would know his fate. I would always be in your debt . . .' The final sentence dropped into the silence like a boulder into a deep pool and Rufus knew he had taken a step into a dangerous unknown. For an instant he wished he could take the words back. But a word spoken aloud can never be retrieved. The gleam in Narcissus's eyes was the look of a hunter who has just snared his prey or a fisherman who has set his hook. But the Greek was in no hurry.

  'It is possible I have this information, or can discover it, but first I must decide whether it is in my interest to reveal it. A secret can be a thing of great value; it can also be a thing of great danger. Is Rufus, the animal trainer, the type of young man who can be trusted with secrets?'

  He didn't give Rufus a chance to reply. 'When last we met our conversation was interrupted. We have more time now. Tell me about yourself. That charm, for instance. The workmanship is quite fine if I am any judge. Before I won my freedom no slave was given leave to own personal goods. These are enlightened days indeed.'

  Rufus reached a hand to the thing at his throat. Fine? He had never thought of it as fine. Just a yellowing lion's tooth set in a metal which might have been silver, but probably was not. He found himself telling Narcissus how it had been given to him by the captain of the ship that brought him across the Mare Internum from Carthage.

  'They had four lions in cages on the deck. One of them, a cub, was dying. It would not eat and it lay in the cage while its brothers played around it. They were going to throw it overboard, but I begged for the chance to try to save it.'

  The cub had reminded him of himself, homesick and fearful, sailing headlong into an uncertain future over which he had no control.

  'I chewed its meat for it,' he explained, his gorge rising at the memory of the rancid leftover he had forced between his teeth. 'It grew strong and the captain was grateful, because the cub was worth money. He gave me the charm, said it was good luck and hoped it would bring me good fortune.'

  'And has it?'

  'The next day, in the slave market, a young man from Syracuse standing with the house slaves pulled me from the line of farm workers where the overseer had placed me, and told me I was a kitchen boy. If I had stayed in the first line I would be dead by now. So, yes, you could say I have been fortunate.'

  Narcissus nodded, as if this confirmed something. 'So, you have a talent and the gods favour you. That is a rare combination, and one I might be able to put to use.' He paused, considering his next words.

  'Your friend Cupido was placed in the torture cells for two days. When he was taken before the Emperor all who saw him believed he was a dead man, but Gaius Caligula's moods are as changeable as the four winds. Of all the virtues, he values courage most. The gladiator's must have impressed the Emperor considerably. He is now an honoured member of Caligula's personal bodyguard.'

  Rufus didn't know whether to cry out with joy for Cupido's survival or shout his disbelief. Cupido in the Praetorian Guard? Cupido protecting the man he despised more than any other? He remembered the proud figure in the golden mask standing over the body of Menander and staring his defiance at the tyrant in the stands. How could it be? He looked up to find the Greek studying him.

  'Sometimes the truth is more difficult to accept than the lie. You would have preferred it if he was dead?'

  'No.'

  'Then accept this as the will of the gods. I have found their designs are not always straightforward. Perhaps he has been placed there for a higher purpose. It is also possible the Emperor is simply toying with him. It would not be the first time.'

  'What must I do? Will I be able to see him?'

  Narcissus smiled his enigmatic smile. 'Do? You must do what your friend has done. Trust in the gods.'

  XII

  They came for him three weeks later, two very ordinary young men, their blandness effective as any cloak of anonymity. Fronto met them by the main gate, and Rufus could see their presence disturbed the animal trader. This was no harmless visit by forgotten creditors or circus promoters demanding compensation for a toothless carnivore.

  After many minutes Fronto shook his head, not in defiance, but in defeat, and accepted a scroll from the taller of the two. He walked slowly to where Rufus stood.

  The trader took a deep breath. 'I have sold you to the Emperor.'

  Rufus thought he had misheard. Then the true meaning of the words burned their way into his brain. He looked around for somewhere to flee, but Fronto's calloused hands settled firmly on his shoulders.

  'Courage, Rufus. It is not what you think. They want you to work with his animals. Apparently he has something new, something special, and these men, his purchasers, were told about you. I'm sorry,' he said, 'truly sorry. I told them I was about to free you. I told them you were indispensable. I fought them until I saw my death in their faces. They have the Emperor's authority. I should have freed you when I had the opportunity, but I am a foolish old man. I thought you would leave me and I didn't want that to happen. Now I've lost you anyway.'

  Rufus swayed on his feet, struggling to comprehend what was happening to him. This was his life: this place, the animals he cared for, the people who had become his friends. Fronto. He had learned so much and was on the brink of learning so much more. Now he was about to lose it all. The freedom the animal trader had promised him. Gone. All gone.

  He shuddered – suddenly it was difficult to breathe. For a moment he felt himself close to breakdown, the tears sharp behind his eyes. Then some inner strength he didn't know existed took over. He looked into Fronto's face and saw the sadness there, and something deeper than sadness. Pity for a lost friendship? Grief at losing the son he never had? Love?

  None of it mattered. He walked towards his new owners, Fronto at his side.

  'The money I have been saving for you will always be there,' the animal trader whispered urgently. 'If you impress the Emperor, you can win your freedom. It does not have to end here; there must be another way. You can come back . . .'

  Rufus hesitated at the entrance. He could see the two men were impatient to go, but he couldn't leave his friend like this. 'If there is a way I will find it, but I'm a slave, Fronto – I have always been a slave. So I'll go
with them, because I have no choice. But don't be sad for me. You may not have given me my freedom, but at least while I was here with you I learned what it is to be free. No one can take that away from me, not even this Emperor.'

  He expected to be taken directly to the animal enclosures close to the Circus Maximus, so he was surprised when the two men led him into the centre of the city, to the towering imperial palace complex on the Palatine Hill.

  He knew he should be frightened, and was surprised to discover his emotions were mixed and his mind was clear. The sorrow he felt at what was lost stayed with him, but it was balanced by the pragmatism which had carried him unharmed through a lifetime of bondage. A slave must obey. Slaves who thought too much, or forgot that fundamental rule, disappeared into the quarries or the mines. He would obey. He would survive. Each step he took towards his new home was also a step closer to Cupido, and he knew instinctively that if they were both in the palace they would find each other. Then there was a third feeling, buried deep, but powerful just the same. Excitement. He was entering a new world and his life was changing for ever.

  As he walked, his eyes were drawn to the fine-detailed glory of the great temples and palaces. From afar, the Palatine looked as if it must sink under the weight of the huge buildings upon it. But when they had climbed the hill, Rufus discovered that for every palace, there was a park, and for every temple a beautiful garden. It was a paradise. A home for the kings and gods who ruled over everything below them.

  The escort took him through one of the palaces, along a wide marble corridor lined with ornaments cast in gold and silver, marble busts of Hercules and Apollo, Artemis and Hermes, and painted likenesses of past emperors. Beneath his feet beautiful pictures of red, blue and ochre were woven in stone across every inch of floor. But his eventual destination was no palace.

  The barn was set close to the outer wall of the Palatine next to a park which had been created when Tiberius demolished the homes of two allies who forgot the simple truth that the friendship of an Emperor had the longevity of a sacrificial chicken. It had two large double doors to the front, but his escort led Rufus to a single small doorway set in the far wall, opened it with a large key, and pushed him inside.