The Last King of Rome

by Laura Dowers

  ‘He’s from the Gabii,’ Sextus said. ‘We’re here to negotiate.’

  Sextus was playing his part well. No more concern, Lucius told himself. Get to business.

  ‘Forgive me, my son, for what I did.’

  ‘I don’t,’ Sextus blurted, ‘I can’t.’

  For a moment, Lucius wondered if Sextus meant what he said. But then he saw the smallest smile turn up the corner of his son’s mouth.

  ‘Then I shall not press you.’ He looked at the Gabii envoy. ‘What are your terms?’

  ‘We don’t have terms. I’m here to tell you to cease your attack,’ the Gabii envoy said. ‘You can’t get in to the city. You are wasting your time.’

  ‘I don’t think I am,’ Lucius said. ‘I think your people are suffering.’

  ‘We’re not suffering. We’re more than able to defend ourselves.’

  ‘If that’s so, then we have nothing to say to one another. Tell your masters I will not give up. I will have Gabii.’

  The Gabii envoy grimaced. ‘You think on what I’ve said, Tarquin. There’s no victory for you here. See sense and leave.’ He grabbed Sextus’s shoulder.

  ‘Take your hand off my son,’ Lucius growled.

  ‘He’s coming back with me.’

  ‘No, he isn’t.’

  ‘Yes, I am,’ Sextus shouted at Lucius. ‘I’m not staying here for you to whip me again.’

  Lucius met Sextus’s eye. Deliberately, he half-turned and began swiping his arm against the poppies. The red heads broke from their stalks, hovered a moment in the air, then fell to the ground.

  ‘I will show no mercy to those fools you’re hiding behind, Sextus,’ Lucius said, looking back at his son. ‘They’ll be like those poppies. You understand me?’

  Sextus licked his dry, cracked lips. He met his father’s eye. ‘Yes, Father, I understand.’

  Lucius and Cossus watched Sextus and the envoy go.

  ‘You should have just told him what to do. All that,’ Cossus gestured contemptuously at the poppies, ‘playacting.’

  ‘It’s called subtlety, Cossus. I don’t expect you to understand.’

  ‘Oh, really? Do you think he understood what you meant?’

  ‘We’ll find out, won’t we?’ Lucius said, keeping his eyes on his son until he disappeared from sight.

  The doctor peeled off the bandages and Sextus hissed as the linen pulled at the dried blood. By Jupiter, his back seemed to hurt even more now than when the whip had first struck. He bit the pillow and tensed for the next removal.

  ‘That looks painful,’ a voice said and Sextus angled his head around, forced to look out of the corner of his eyes at the speaker.

  It was Rufus, the Gabii leader. He was peering at Sextus’s back, his expression more of interest than pity.

  ‘It is. Very,’ Sextus said, closing his eyes.

  Rufus sat down by the cot, resting his hand on his knees. ‘My messenger said you did well with your father today. You didn’t give in to him.’

  ‘I’ll never give in to him. He’s a brute. Do you think I’ll ever be able to forget this?’ Sextus jerked his head at his brutalised back.

  ‘I couldn’t whip my son,’ Rufus mused,’ no matter what he’d done. What had you argued about? You never told us.’

  Sextus had known this question would come; in fact, he’d been surprised it hadn’t been asked earlier. ‘We were talking about the siege and I said we’d never break through. That we should negotiate a truce or retreat. He didn’t like that. He said I was a coward. That’s when he had me dragged out and whipped in front of all the men.’

  ‘He’s got quite the temper, hasn’t he, your father? Of course, we’ve all heard about him. The tyrant of Rome.’

  Sextus buried his face in his pillow. How dare this fool talk about his father like that? If he didn’t have a job to do, he would have grabbed Rufus’s own sword and stabbed him in the heart.

  ‘How would you like to pay him back?’ Rufus asked after a moment.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You know how Tarquin’s arranged his men, you know what strategies he intends. If I give you command of one hundred men, you can be part of our attack.’

  Don’t agree too quickly, Sextus told himself, feeling his heart quicken. ‘You, give me command? When you still have guards watching my every move?’

  Rufus laughed. ‘What do you expect? That I let you wander around the city unguarded?’

  ‘Either you trust me or you don’t. Do you really need guards to watch me sleep?’

  Rufus stared at Sextus for a long moment. ‘Very well. No more guards.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  Rufus nodded and rose. ‘Get some rest. We’ll talk more about how you can help us in the morning.’

  The doctor left with Rufus. Sextus quickly rose from the cot and hurried to the door, opening it just a crack. Rufus had stopped a few feet away, halted by one of his men, an oaf named Vulso. Sextus strained his ears.

  ‘You’re leaving him unguarded,’ he heard Vulso say. ‘You’ve gone mad.’

  ‘Keep your voice down,’ Rufus said, flapping his hands to shush him. ‘Sextus is harmless. His father knows it, that’s why he doesn’t care about him.’

  ‘Harmless or not, he’s still a Roman. He’s still our enemy.’

  ‘The Tarquins are all the same, Vulso. Give them something they want, something they value, and all previous loyalties are dust on the wind. I’ve offered Sextus a troop of men, a command of his own. He doesn’t care who he fights for. He’d fight for a donkey if it promised to make him important. He’ll fight for us.’

  Sextus returned to his cot, fuming at what he had heard. Face down, he lay on the rickety bed. He wasn’t tired. He had no intention of getting some rest as Rufus advised. He would let the camp settle down for the night and then, with no guards to watch him, he would make his move.

  And then, Rufus would pay for his insults.

  The barracks had fallen silent. Sextus climbed off the cot and opened the door, a little at first, checking there were no guards posted outside. Satisfied he was unguarded, he tiptoed out and made his way to the room at the end of the corridor, the room where Rufus slept.

  Rufus looked almost like a child, his eyelids fluttering as he dreamt. What was he dreaming about? Sextus wondered, as he slid Rufus’s sword out from beneath the pillow, careful not to make any movement that would awake its owner. Was he dreaming about killing Lucius? Well, if he was, it would be the last dream he would ever have.

  Sextus pointed the sword at the vein throbbing in Rufus’s throat. He held his breath as the point gently touched the ruddy skin. Rufus didn’t stir. Using both hands on the sword’s hilt, Sextus drove the blade through the skin and muscle. Rufus’s eyes opened wide, his hands flailed helplessly at Sextus. No sound other than a low gurgle came from him as blood flooded his mouth. Blood sprayed Sextus’s face. He licked the copper-tasting liquid from his lips and twisted the sword. Rufus’s eyes locked on Sextus, his hands twitched once and then the arms dropped back to the bed. Sextus waited a few more seconds, then tugged the sword free from Rufus’s neck.

  Wiping the sword on the blanket covering Rufus, Sextus took a deep breath and headed out of the door, moving from one room to the next, killing the Gabii leaders just as his father had shown him when he had taken the heads off those pretty poppies.

  Wouldn’t his father be pleased in the morning when Sextus told the Gabii citizens their leaders were all dead and the siege was over? Wouldn’t his father be proud when Sextus opened the gates of the city and told Lucius the city was his?

  Yet another victory for King Lucius Tarquinius.

  PART IV

  511 BC–509 BC

  22

  The temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus was complete.

  The edifice rose above Lucius high into the sky, blocking out the sun that shone behind it. Lucius had hired the finest Etruscan stonemasons to carve the decorations that lined the pediment, and the four rearing hor
ses that crowned the roof were a wonder to behold. It had been worth the wait, he decided, and worth the money, even though it had gone well over the original estimates. He had been warned by the senate that the treasury was close to empty and that something would have to be done to fill it again. He would raise taxes again and he could make the men working on the circus seating and the sewers work for nothing. If they complained, he would remind them it was for the good of Rome.

  Rome could go to war again, that was always profitable. In fact, now Lucius came to think abut it, it had been a while since Rome had had to fight anyone. The treaties put in place with the Aequi and the other tribes were still in place and they seemed to be perfectly happy to keep them working. All except the Rutuli. They’d been making a lot of noise lately about the treaty terms being unfair. The senate had been debating how to respond. Maybe treating with the Rutuli wasn’t the answer. Maybe he should show them who was in charge, once and for all.

  Lucius gave the nod to the priest to get the dedication ceremony under way. It was a tediously long process but it had to be endured. He looked around at his family. Lolly looked magnificent in her purple dress and gold coronet. It was remarkable, he suddenly thought, seeing her in the full glare of the sun, how little she had aged since they married. Her skin, though a little rougher than it had been, was still taut, only the smallest suggestion of her age around her throat where the skin was a little looser. How did she do it? He knew that he had not aged as well. His blonde hair had grey in it and his face was lined all over. He’d even found a liver spot on his hand the other day. Maybe, he thought with amusement, she had special potions that kept her young. That would be like her.

  His eyes moved on to his sons. Sextus was so like Lolly, not just in looks but in temperament and he certainly had inherited her sense of loyalty. Lucius had never been able to forgive himself for the whipping he had given Sextus, but to Sextus’s credit, he didn’t seem to harbour any grudge. He never mentioned it, never brought it up to wound Lucius when they had a row. Titus was more like him, which is why he supposed they argued so much. Even now, Titus wasn’t paying attention; instead, his gaze was over the crowd who had gathered to watch. And then there was Arruns who Lucius never really paid much attention. He never spoke up when the family was together, just went along with whatever Sextus and Titus said or did. Reminds me of my brother, Lucius thought and swallowed down the lump that rose in his throat. Arruns was something of a disappointment but at least he knew where his duty lay. Arruns, at least, was paying attention.

  His sister and her youngest son had been invited to the ceremony, too. Lucius hadn’t wanted to invite them — he couldn’t stand the mood of resentment Lucilla always brought with her — but Lolly said it wouldn’t look good if they weren’t there. At least Iunius wasn’t embarrassing him by dribbling or something equally repulsive. Lucius knew his nephew was an idiot but what exactly was supposed to be wrong with him? Lucilla had never said. He seemed to be preoccupied with something now. Just what was he staring at?

  Lucius followed his nephew’s gaze. Iunius seemed to be looking past the priests and the other officials, beyond into the shaded interior of the temple at one of the columns. His curiosity piqued, Lucius squinted, cursing his poor eyesight. Something was there, on the floor, moving. No, not moving, writhing. Lucius felt his skin prickle. Unable to stop himself, he moved out of the family semicircle and behind the priests, who didn’t seem to notice or care.

  He drew nearer, the strange object coming into focus the closer he got. He gasped. It was a snake, wriggling its way up out of a crack in the pillar.

  Lolly caught up with him and laid her hand upon his arm. ‘Lucius, what is it?’

  Lucius pointed.

  ‘It’s a snake,’ she said, wondering what had got into him.

  ‘It’s a bad omen.’

  ‘You’re sweating,’ she said, wiping her hand across his forehead. ‘Stop this, everyone can see.’

  ‘What does it mean, Lolly?’ Lucius asked as she tried to turn him away from the snake.

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘Oh, come on, Lucius.’

  But he wouldn’t move. She let go of him and hurried towards the snake, stamping her foot. It slithered away, towards the edge of the floor and disappeared over the side. Lucius felt he could breathe again.

  ‘Now, come,’ Lolly insisted and she led him back to the others. ‘We’ll consult the soothsayer when we get back to the domus.’

  ‘This is too important a portent to trust to a soothsayer,’ Lucius said, shaking his head.

  ‘Oh, curse you and your superstitions. Well, what do you suggest then?’

  ‘I must consult the Oracle at Delphi.’

  Titus and Arruns were laughing about something. They found the most stupid of things funny and Iunius wasn’t in the mood, either to laugh along with them or be the butt of their jokes.

  As they travelled along the dusty road, his legs aching, Iunius tried to work out how long it would be before they would be back in Rome. He missed his home and his wife, missed his children and his mother. He even missed the noise and the stink of the streets. His homesickness wasn’t helped by the company he was with. They may have been his cousins, but Iunius really couldn’t stand Titus and Arruns. It was just his luck to be chosen to go on this journey to Delphi with them. He was sure Lucius said he had to go with them just to annoy him.

  Although, Iunius had to admit to a mild interest in seeing the Oracle of Delphi. He had heard stories of her, of course, of the Pythia, the High Priestess of the Temple of Apollo. It was, he supposed, an honour to be chosen to represent Rome in this way, even if he had to go with his two obnoxious cousins. I’ll look on this as an adventure, he told himself.

  And it was an adventure. They had been given a very rough map to guide them to Delphi, but it left a lot out and they often had to ask the people they passed if they were on the right road. It took almost three weeks to reach Delphi and a few more weary hours to find suitable lodgings. By this time, any old hut would have done for Iunius, so dirty and tired did he feel, but true to form, Titus and Arruns would only accept the best accommodation in town.

  While their baths were made ready and a warm meal cooked for them at the cleanest tavern they could find, Titus wrote a note and despatched it to the temple officials, advising them they would be at the temple on the morrow to consult the Oracle.

  They set off early next morning for the Temple of Apollo. It was an old temple, and there were weeds and grasses growing between cracks in the stones and much of the paint was peeling from the walls and columns. Compared to the new temples in Rome, it didn’t look all that impressive.

  They walked past the queue of people, who like themselves, desired an audience with the Oracle. Unlike themselves, these people had to draw lots to see when they would be admitted, if they were to be admitted at all. Iunius, Titus and Arruns, as members of the royal Tarquin family and representatives of Rome, would be allowed to move to the head of the queue, providing of course, their offerings to Apollo were of suitable quality and worth. Lucius had given his sons two goblets made of solid gold to give to the temple.

  Iunius remembered with bitterness Lucius’s instruction that his gift should not be anywhere near as grand as that presented by Titus and Arruns. How he had had to bite his tongue and swallow down the anger and hatred he felt for his uncle, ever mindful of his mother’s fear for his life. But he would be damned if he was going to be humiliated at so important a place by his stupid cousins.

  So, he had secretly sold some of his property, not even telling his mother, and ordered a solid gold staff to be made, hiding it inside a larger, hollowed-out wooden staff, which he knew neither Titus nor Arruns would show any interest in. If they had picked up the wooden staff, they would have wondered at its weight, but they never paid him or what he carried any attention.

  The two priests who stood guard at the entrance to the temple waved them over. Titus took the two goblets in their protective leather w
rapping from his satchel and passed them to the priests. The priests examined them closely, declared them a fine gift, then looked to Iunius. Iunius handed over the wooden staff, trying to hide his smile from his companions. The priests looked doubtfully at the gift, but their expressions changed when they passed it between them.

  ‘Remove the top,’ Iunius said to the priest who held it.

  The priest stared at him for a moment, then did as Iunius said. He peered down the barrel, his mouth curving in a surprised, satisfied smile. He upended it and the golden staff slid out.

  ‘You sly bastard,’ Titus whispered in Iunius’s ear. ‘You wait till Father hears what you’ve done. You’ll pay for that.’

  Iunius gave him a smug smile and said nothing.

  ‘You may all enter,’ the priest said and gestured them towards the temple’s entrance.

  They passed the columns, heading deeper into the temple, until they came to a large stone throne. Upon it sat a woman. To Iunius, she looked disappointingly ordinary. Her dress was of white linen and she wore a purple veil over her head. They knew the protocol and all three prostrated themselves on the floor before her.

  ‘Welcome, sons of Rome,’ the Oracle said, lifting her veil to reveal her face.

  She was around thirty-five, her face unlined and her hair was jet black, although Iunius saw it was shot through with white. But if the rest of her was unremarkable, her eyes were extraordinary. They were a startling, piercing blue, but no blue Iunius had ever seen in eyes before. It felt like shards of ice were piercing him.

  ‘Ask your question,’ she commanded.

  It had been agreed that Titus would speak to the Oracle. With a nervous look at his brother, he stepped forward and told of the snake appearing from a pillar of the new temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus. On his father’s behalf, he asked what such an omen meant for the future of the Tarquin dynasty.

  The Oracle seemed to consider his request for a long while, so long that Iunius thought maybe she wasn’t going to oblige them. But then she raised her head and looked at each of them in turn before returning her gaze to Titus.