by Laura Dowers
It was coming nearer and nearer, its scream louder and louder. Servius couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t move. The shade struck, bursting into him, through him. For a horrible, shocking moment, he felt as if his body had exploded into a million pieces and then become whole again.
Servius could breathe again, he could move. He jerked around, looking for the shade. He couldn’t see it. Where was it? He peered up into the grey sky and saw something dark, distant. It was going away from him, towards the city.
‘Servius,’ Tanaquil cried and touched his hand.
Servius wrenched his eyes to her. She looked as scared as he felt. Beside her, Tarquinia was crying, burying her face in her hands. ‘Did you see it?’ he cried.
Tanaquil nodded, her lips pressed so tightly together they were no more than a thin line.
‘What does it mean?’
‘I don’t know.’ She shuddered, and the movement brought some sense back to her. She looked at the crowd. They had seen it too and there was shouting and screaming and crying. ‘Servius, we must—,’ she swallowed a few times, ‘we must calm the crowd.’
Servius took five deep breaths, feeling light-headed. Pull yourself together, he told himself, act like a king. His legs feeling as if they would collapse under him, Servius manoeuvred himself to a standing position. Trembling, he held out his arms and shouted for silence. The crowd obeyed. What do I say? he wondered, and looked to Tanaquil for help.
‘Order the guards to kill the others,’ she said.
Servius called out to the guards. ‘Continue.’
He saw the guards hesitate a moment, but then they obeyed. One of the guards stabbed the woman in her heart and she crumpled to the ground; the other woman died as swiftly. The guards were keen to make quick work of Aetius and Macarius too. Swords were thrust into their bellies and driven home. Both men fell to their knees as their guts pushed out. The guards raised their swords above their heads, bringing them down upon the exposed necks and severing their spines. The shepherds’ bodies slumped to the ground.
No one cheered. No one clapped. Servius couldn’t bear it any longer. He stumbled down the two steps from his chair and held out his hand to Tanaquil. He felt her fingers clasp him, felt them trembling. He heard Tanaquil call to Tarquinia and heard the rustle of her silk dress as she too got to her feet. Servius was glad when the guards lined up around them, cutting them off from view.
‘Move on,’ he told the guards.
There were those in Rome who hadn’t left the city to watch the executions, those who were perhaps too squeamish or simply uninterested. But some of those people looked up at the sky when it turned dark and wondered at the small black shape that appeared and flew over their heads. Wondering what the thing was, they watched as it headed towards the Capitoline Hill and there lost sight of it.
They could not have known but the shade found the Tarquin domus and passed through its walls. The domus was empty save for a few domestics working in the kitchen and the children in the nursery who had been deemed too young to attend the executions.
The shade sought out the nursery. The nurse left tending the three children was struck immobile by its presence in the small room. Rooted to the spot, she stared wide-eyed and open-mouthed as the shade settled first on Arruns in the cot, making him wail, then Lucilla on the bed playing with a doll. It made her fling herself face down on the mattress and cry into the blankets. And then it found Lucius, sitting on the floor playing with a set of wooden animals, carved for him by one of the servants. It folded around the small boy like a cloak and Lucius screamed. Then the shade peeled away from him and disappeared through the ceiling.
The noise from the children was overwhelming and it startled the nurse into movement. She went first to little Arruns, picking him up and cradling him to her chest. She moved to Lucilla, pressing her hand against the little girl’s back, begging her to stop crying. The little girl cried all the louder and kicked her legs. The nurse then bent to Lucius, pressing Arruns tighter to her to stop him falling. She begged Lucius to stop screaming, but his eyes were screwed tight and he just kept on. She couldn’t bear it any longer and slapped him hard. Lucius stopped screaming and stared at her, his little body racked by deep gulping breaths.
Terrified, the nurse bundled Lucius to her and called Lucilla over. Feeling alone on her bed, Lucilla obeyed, and the nurse pulled the little girl into the tight circle. That was how Tarquinia found her and the children when she, Tanaquil and Servius arrived home.
‘What does it mean?’ Servius demanded, wrenching off his toga and throwing it on the floor. ‘Tanaquil, what?’
Tanaquil raised the cup of wine to her lips, having to use both hands to keep it steady, and drank, holding the cup out for the servant to refill it. She drank the second cup down. ‘The shepherd’s wife cursed us,’ she said only when she felt the wine warming her blood.
‘I know. But you saw, you saw that thing, everyone saw it. It entered me. I felt it go into me and then—,’ Servius tried to describe how it had felt when the shade had invaded his body. Tanaquil stared at him as he talked. ‘And then it came here. It touched the children. Ye gods, Tanaquil, are we doomed?’
‘We shall counter the curse,’ she said. ‘We must go to the temple and make a sacrifice. There is an ox, I’ve seen it, a large one. We must sacrifice it to Jupiter and have the priests counter the curse.’
‘Will it work?’ Servius asked.
‘How do I know?’ Tanaquil snapped. ‘Poena heard that woman, so we must appease her too. The priests will know what to do. Send to them, tell them we will come when it is dark.’
‘Let’s go now,’ Servius pleaded.
‘No,’ she said. ‘We’ve exposed our fears enough for one day, don’t you think?’
‘You want to cover this up?’ he said, laughing hollowly.
She closed her eyes against his sarcasm. ‘Send to the priests,’ she repeated. ‘The counter-curse will work.’
‘And we will be safe?’
‘We will be safe.’
‘You can promise that?’
She opened her eyes and stared at him. ‘I promise, my boy. Nothing will happen. The children will not know of this, they will not remember. The people will not talk of it, we will see to that, and it will be forgotten. Just a story, nothing more. Now, go to your wife and put her to bed. She will stay up all night with the children if you let her and that is not good for them. But send to the priests first.’
She watched Servius as he went to his office, calling for his secretary. It was a terrible thing that had happened, but she meant what she had said to Servius. Nothing would hurt her family.
Nothing.
4
Nonus Lucceius was feeling restless. He had been laid up in bed for the best part of a week with a stomach complaint, the result of a badly cooked dinner at his wife’s brother’s house, and his rectum felt raw from all the visits made to the latrine.
His stomach and bowels had settled over the past two days and he felt in need of company and a little exercise. Nonus bathed and shaved, treating himself to a dab of rose water upon his temples and wrists, and felt ready to brave the streets of Rome. He made his way to the forum, stopping at some of the shops on the way to gaze longingly at the bowls of fresh figs and olives on offer, only to have the burning between his buttocks remind him he should abstain from food not provided by his own kitchen for a while. He walked past the House of the Vestals and headed for the Janus shrine. As he hoped, he found his friend Hostus Venturius sitting at a table in the shade of the Curia drinking a cup of wine.
‘Salve, Hostus.’
Hostus looked up. ‘Salve, Nonus. How’s your belly?’
‘Better,’ Nonus said, pulling a stool over to the table. ‘If my wife’s brother ever asks you to dine with him, refuse.’
Hostus laughed and ran a linen cloth over his bald head to wipe away the sweat. ‘You missed all the excitement.’
‘The executions? I know. Couldn’t be helped.’
‘I heard the shade entered him. Is it true?’
Hostus nodded. ‘Saw it with my own eyes. It went straight through him. I don’t think he could move.’ He shuddered. ‘I don’t want to imagine what it felt like.’
‘I expect they made a sacrifice to counter it?’
‘Probably, but curses like that can’t be undone easily. It was powerful to manifest the way it did. Serves them right.’
‘You don’t wish the assassins had succeeded, do you?’
‘Why not? It’s about time we had a new king.’
‘We’ve got a new one,’ Nonus laughed. ‘So, you should be happy, yes?’
‘Happy! That we’ve had the son of a slave foisted upon us as king?’
‘Oh, come on, you don’t believe that rumour, do you?’
Hostus grunted. ‘And Servius has just taken the throne. What about an election, eh? When are we going to have an election to see who should be king?’
‘I don’t see the problem,’ Nonus said. ‘Elected or hereditary, it’s all the same to me.’
‘Then you’re a fool. All right then,’ Hostus said, wagging his finger, ‘you don’t mind a hereditary monarchy. But how can a monarchy become hereditary when the Queen can’t give her husband any children? How long has Servius Tullius been married to Tarquinia? Years now and still no sign of a babe. She’s probably barren, so that’s your hereditary monarchy gone straight out of the window.’
Nonus waved his hand dismissively at Hostus. ‘Tarquinia was very young when they married. Some women take time to bear fruit.’
‘Well, I’d have got rid of a bitch if she hadn’t whelped by now. Here, have some of this bread.’ Hostus tore off a piece of the bread he had bought and passed it to Nonus.
Nonus’s stomach had begun to grumble, and deciding he couldn’t go far wrong with bread, put a small piece in his mouth. ‘He could divorce Tarquinia and marry again. He’s got the throne now, so being married to a Tarquin is no longer necessary. He could have any woman and she could give him an heir.’
Hostus shot his friend a disgusted look. ‘Roman kings shouldn’t have heirs.’
Nonus shrugged and cast his gaze out over the forum, his eyes attracted by a fight between two dogs being encouraged to bite each other by a gang of young boys. ‘It begs the question, though, doesn’t it, that if not Servius Tullius, then who?’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘You name me another man who is fit to be king.’
Hostus opened his mouth to reply, then shut it again. He stared fiercely at his friend.
‘Exactly,’ Nonus grinned. ‘The grandsons of old Tarquin are too young, mere babies.’
‘There you go, talking about heirs again. A king doesn’t have to come from the Tarquin family. We could choose any of the patricians to sit on the throne.’
‘You, for instance?’
‘Or you,’ Hostus countered irritably.
Nonus shook his head. ‘I wouldn’t want the throne if it was offered to me. And it wouldn’t be. My family’s not old enough.’
‘Mine is,’ Hostus muttered, not daring to say it too loudly. ‘And I’m not alone, Nonus. There are others who don’t like having this king thrust upon us.’
‘If our only objections are his breeding—,’ Nonus began.
‘What is he going to do?’ Hostus cut in, ‘that’s what we want to know. Who’s he going to be for? The patricians or the plebeians?’
‘You make it sound like he has to choose between the two. Why can’t King Servius simply be for the good of all Rome and leave it at that?’
‘I never took you for a naive man, Nonus. Foolish, yes, but not naive.’
Nonus bridled. ‘I didn’t come here to be insulted, Hostus.’ He made to get up.
‘Oh, don’t be so precious, you sound like your wife,’ Hostus chided and waved Nonus to stay where he was.
Nonus’s mouth pursed but he kept his seat. ‘I suppose you’ve heard something that prompts such a question?’
‘I’ve heard King Servius isn’t interested in protecting the rights of the patricians, that he was always telling the late King he should tax us more and that we should be made to give up land and hand it over to the poor. I mean, I ask you, what kind of ideas are they?’
‘Perhaps we patricians have too much?’ Nonus suggested.
Hostus looked at Nonus as if he had just said something shocking. ‘You can’t mean that?’
‘No, no,’ Nonus said, holding up his hands, ‘I’m merely putting the other side of the argument. Debate. Is that not what we Romans do best, after all?’
‘And that’s another thing,’ Hostus carried on. ‘Can Servius Tullius even be called Roman?’
‘The late King was not Roman,’ Nonus pointed out. ‘He was an Etruscan, he came from Tarquinii, both he and the Lady Tanaquil.’
Again, Hostus’s mouth opened only to shut again. He found comfort in another piece of bread. ‘Well,’ he said, olive oil running down his chin, ‘don’t say you haven’t been warned when all of Rome starts to fall about your ears, my friend.’
Tanaquil lifted the latch of the kitchen door and stepped inside. All chatter ceased. The head servant put down his knife and hurried over to Tanaquil, bowing his head, ready for her instructions.
‘Where is she?’ Tanaquil asked, feeling sweat prickle on her skin from the heat coming off the kitchen fire.
‘In the storeroom, domina,’ the man replied, gesturing towards a door at the back of the kitchen.
‘Show me,’ Tanaquil said.
She followed him around the large wooden table which still bore the uneaten remains of their dinner and which would serve to fill the bellies of the kitchen staff. The man opened the storeroom door, the uneven wooden bottom scraping against the stone floor. The room was dark for there was no window in the small space.
‘Fetch a light,’ Tanaquil ordered and he hurried away, returning promptly with a lamp, its flame flickering wildly. He handed the lamp to Tanaquil.
Tanaquil stepped inside and signalled he was to close the door. Holding the lamp at shoulder height, she asked, ‘Is it you?’
‘Yes, my lady. It’s Lusia.’ A willowy woman with long black hair stepped away from the wall and into the faint yellow glow. ‘Please allow me to say how sorry I am for your loss.’
Tanaquil wasn’t interested in Lusia’s words of consolation. ‘What have you to tell me?’ she snapped.
Lusia swallowed nervously. ‘I was in the forum earlier today, my lady, by the Janus shrine, trying to buy some—’
‘I don’t want to hear about your shopping trip, Lusia.’
‘No, my lady,’ Lusia stared down at her feet, took a deep breath and began again. ‘While I was there, I overheard two men talking about King Servius and their words were not kindly.’
‘What did they say?’
‘You will forgive me for repeating their words, my lady?’
‘Yes, yes,’ Tanaquil said, waving the lamp in her irritation. The flame dwindled and bloomed, and a few drops of oil spattered onto her thumb. She winced as they burned her skin. ‘Speak.’
Tanaquil listened as Lusia recounted the meeting between the two men. When Lusia came to what they had said about Servius, she felt the muscles in her neck tighten.
‘You know the names of these men?’
‘I heard only their first names, my lady. They called each other Nonus and Hostus.’
Tanaquil’s eyes narrowed. ‘One was bald, the other had white hair?’
‘Yes, my lady. You know them?’
Tanaquil ignored her impertinent question. ‘You’ve done well,’ she said, and turning quickly, opened the door. ‘Pay her,’ Tanaquil told the man who had been waiting just outside for her to emerge
. Thrusting the lamp into his hand, Tanaquil strode out of the kitchen.
‘What was all that about?’ Tarquinia asked, popping a grape into her mouth as her mother returned to the dining room.
Tanaquil didn’t answer. Instead, she moved past her daughter and peered at Servius lying full-length on the couch beside her. ‘Is he asleep?’
‘Yes,’ Tarquinia sighed, looking down at her husband. ‘He’ll probably start snoring soon.’
‘I need him awake. Shake him.’
Wondering what had so agitated her mother, Tarquinia leant forward and shook Servius’s shoulder. Servius grunted, mumbled to his wife to leave him alone and pushed his face back into the cushioned seat. Tanaquil gestured for Tarquinia to shake him again, resuming her seat on the couch opposite.
Tarquinia’s second shove was more forceful than the first. Servius hitched himself onto his elbows. Opening his eyes with difficulty, he peered at Tarquinia. ‘What?’
Tarquinia pointed to Tanaquil.
‘I need your brain working, Servius,’ Tanaquil told him as he turned his head towards her. ‘Sit up and attend to me.’
Servius pulled his legs around to hang over the couch and faced Tanaquil. He felt dizzy and a little nauseous; he had eaten and drunk far too much at dinner.
‘You should water his wine,’ he heard Tanaquil say, ‘if it makes him this stupid.’
‘He doesn’t always drink so much, Mother,’ Tarquinia retorted and he made the weakest of smiles in her direction for her loyalty. ‘It’s been a very unpleasant few days.’
‘For us all, daughter, but you and I don’t drink ourselves witless.’
‘I’m not witless,’ Servius protested, wondering what he had done to deserve Tanaquil’s displeasure.
‘I’m pleased to hear it,’ Tanaquil said, folding her hands over her stomach and waiting for him to look at her. ‘Well, are you ready to listen?’
Servius belched and nodded.
‘You need not stay to hear this, Tarquinia,’ Tanaquil said. ‘You can go to bed.’
