by Miller, Ian
A thought then struck him. The situation must be extraordinarily bad when he, a member of one of Rome's most privileged families, a man with a most promising future and with everything to lose, was contemplating a revolt. Not only that, but personal ambition had absolutely nothing to do with it. He knew he was ordinarily ridiculed, behind his back, for his loyalty to Gaius Caesar, and in the usual sense he was loyal. The problem was, Little Boots was so arrogant, and he was ruining Rome. Why should any woman have to be summoned? For what? He knew what Vipsania feared, but was that true? And what about Vipsania? Would he stand back, a spineless coward, and let all this happen? But what could he do, against a man with infinite power?
Timothy came into his quarters, shook the snow off his coat, and began standing in front of a log fire. Timothy was about to say something, then saw Gaius' dark expression, and flinched back.
"Timothy, my friend," Gaius said wearily, "I think you might find me unsuitable as a companion, and maybe you might wish to go some other way. I promise you, I understand."
"Gaius, what's wrong?"
"What's wrong?" Gaius asked bleakly. "What's wrong is quite simple. There is something very wrong about to happen, and I have to do something to stop it, or at least try. I probably will not survive, and neither will those around me."
"Then I shall stay with you," Timothy smiled, "although," he added, "logic tells me I should have my bags packed for a fast escape."
Gaius gave a wan smile and said, "It sounds as if logic offers wise counsel."
Chapter 10
There was nothing for it but to go back. He could not leave her that way, and fortunately he had an excuse. In two days time the feast of Saturnalia was to commence, and in return for the invitation to Timothy and him to join their family in the celebrations, he had promised to take some supplies. Being eager to please him, the Iazyges had been very willing to sell him some fresh venison, in addition to what they wished to have delivered to their hostage family members. Now was as good a time as any to deliver it, so he loaded the animals onto the back of a cart and set off. It was only when he was half way there he realized the incongruity of what he was doing: people of senatorial class got somebody else to drive around on carts filled with carcasses.
It was only when he arrived that he realized that men of senatorial class do not bang on the servants' door, but neither does a load of carcasses turn up at the main entrance. He smiled a little as he eased the cart around to the rear of the building, and then he realized he was unsure of where exactly to go. He was saved by a young man who ran out, seemingly to get firewood, and who almost collided with the cart. He swore, muttered something about idiots begat of dogs who did not know where they were going or where carts went, then saw Gaius. He fell to his knees, fearfully.
"For goodness sake, get up," Gaius said calmly. "You'll freeze doing that."
"I I'm s sorry . . ."
"Forget it!" Gaius said calmly, "but you can do me a favour."
"Sir?"
"Take this venison to the kitchen, would you, and let the cook know it's from me for the Saturnalia."
"Yes sir," the young slave said, and glanced fearfully around.
Gaius understood. The slave had other instructions. "Do this first," he said, "and if anyone questions you, say I ordered it. Anyone who beats you will answer to me, I promise."
"Yes sir." The man was a little more comfortable, but only a little, as Gaius got down from the cart.
"Here's a little something for you," Gaius said, feeling in his pouch. He handed the young man a couple of denarii, and shrugged as he said, "It's a bit early, I suppose, but, well, Io, Saturnalia!"
"Io, Saturnalia!" came the bemused reply. However, the young man was glad. Two denarii were very much better than a beating.
Gaius then walked around toward the main entrance. Unfortunately he was somewhat preoccupied, and he forgot that running away from the corner of the house was a small raised stone fence, now buried in the snow. He was wondering what he could say to Vipsania when his foot caught the fence, he slipped, then began rolling down the slope to end in a snowdrift where the flat garden began. He picked himself up, shook himself, then walked towards the door.
The slave who opened the door gasped at the snow-covered apparition, then called her mistress. A rather foul-mooded Vipsania came to the door to see what was going on, saw Gaius, and laughed, albeit briefly.
"You'd better come in," she said, "at least after you shake off the snow."
"I thought you might like to come for a walk," Gaius said, somewhat stiffly.
"Looking at you, that doesn't seem to be much of an offer," she retorted.
"Please?"
"Then shake off that snow, and wait a little," she said. "If I'm going to go outside with a snowman, I might as well have a coat and boots on."
Eventually she emerged, well wrapped up with furs. He led her down the path, and put his arm around her waste. They walked in silence, until Gaius finally said, "I wanted to talk privately."
"Well?"
"It's about Little Boots. I've thought about this a bit, and . . ."
"Gaius! There's no point!" she said, and broke away. "There's nothing even you can do!"
"Maybe not," he replied, "but we can try."
"And what's this plan of yours?"
He held her eyes, shrugged, and said, "Little Boots seemingly wants a virgin. Simply tell him he's too late! You're no longer one."
Vipsania stepped back, and shook her head. "That'll only make him mad! He'll say it's just a smart way of saying no, then he'll ask me who did it, then he'll cut off that man's head for deflowering a virgin before a God could."
"Tell him you can't go and you're not a virgin because you're married," Gaius shrugged. "Tell him your husband won't let you leave." He paused then added, "Even Little Boots will realize a wife can't leave her husband, and a married woman's hardly likely to be a virgin."
"He won't believe that," she said sadly.
"Why not?" Gaius asked. "It's not as if women don't get married."
"But I'm not," she pointed out.
There was a pause, then Gaius took a breath and said, "If you will have me," he said simply, "we can remedy that."
Vipsania blushed a little, and asked, "Are you asking me to marry you?"
"I thought that's what I said," he said irritably.
She stepped back and stared at him and shook her head. "You're just feeling sorry for me . . ."
"No, I'm not!" Gaius said abruptly.
"You realize this will only bring you to Little Boots' attention. It won't save me."
"It will if all Little Boots wants is to deflower virgins," Gaius smiled.
"That's not all he wants," she shuddered. She grasped his arms, and said firmly, "Gaius, thank you, but I can't."
"What?" Gaius looked shattered.
"I can't let you wreck your career, and lose your life."
"I don't think Gaius Caesar would do that . . ." Gaius started.
"Listen, Gaius!" she shook him. "Just for once, really listen to me. You're always making excuses for him, but he is vile, he is cruel, and he takes pleasure in torturing anyone who opposes him. He's a spoiled brat who's been given unlimited power, it's gone to his head, and . . ."
"From what I've heard," Gaius interrupted, "he is most certainly a spoiled brat, and he does the things you say, but he is also very intelligent. He takes pleasure at gloating over those who argue with him and lose, but we still don't know what happens when he loses, but isn't seen to lose by anyone else. Just once, at least, he was a gracious loser, even if he did moan about me later."
"What're you getting at?" she frowned.
"We have to put him in the position where he can accept what has happened with good grace."
"And exactly how do you manage that?" Her tone showed that she had little faith in this being a successful strategy.
"We invite Gaius Caesar to the wedding," he said simply, "and the legates of the Rhine and Danube legion
s. The invitations will be to honour my . . ." He paused and added quickly, "I know it's ours, and maybe more yours, but for this I'm more important . . ."
"Oh yes, and why's that?" she asked tartly.
"I'm a Claudian."
"Oh well, aren't I just the lucky one!"
"Being a Claudian is important for two reasons."
"Two?" Vipsania laughed without humour. "I can't even see one."
"If what your father said is true, Caesar doesn't want you. He wants a Valerian. If you marry me, you will be a Claudian, which gets you off the hook."
"Or you onto the hook, as you put it. And what's the second reason?"
"Gaius Caesar is at least associated with the Claudian gens," Gaius said flatly, "and he will probably claim to be head of it. His grandmother married Tiberius."
"A rather thin reason why you would be safe," she pointed out.
"That's not the point," Gaius shook his head. "It's not what is that counts, but what might be."
"I don't follow," she shook her head doubtfully, "but believe me this is not a matter for philosophy."
"I'm talking about strategy," Gaius responded.
"Well?" she said doubtfully.
"The invitations will be to honour my . . . a Claudian's wedding, but more importantly, the invitations will also specifically announce that the guests will at the same time honour the head of the Claudian gens, and renew their pledges of loyalty to Caesar," he said.
"Go on," she said, without any particular enthusiasm.
"To start with, the other Legates won't be quite sure what is going on, but they won't dare not come, because if they didn't it would be an insult to Gaius Caesar."
"So?"
"Little Boots has trodden on everyone, he enjoys demonstrating his power, but he's also frightfully insecure. He knows people in higher positions hate him, and he's terrified of plots. I'll take a small bet that when Gaius Caesar sees all the other Legates are invited, he will add up the number of Legions they represent, and they would be sufficient to control Rome. I think he'll suspect that somebody will try to assassinate him. I'll bet he won't attend," Gaius said.
"He'll bring part of his Praetorian guard," Vipsania pointed out.
"They'd last no time at all," Gaius snorted. "They'd put the fear up the average senator, but they'd last five minutes at the most against a century of the first cohort."
She stared at him in disbelief. "You'd do this for me?" she gasped.
"My guess is Little Boots won't let it come to that," he said. "My guess is, with the promise of a pledge of loyalty from the legion commanders, he'll stay safely at home and accept the pledge. Especially if you get your friendly Governor to plead with him privately."
"And you're that sure you want to risk your career?"
"I don't think Gaius Caesar's as bad as you seem to think, and I'm sure he's not stupid," Gaius said, "and in any case, that's not really the reason I'm asking."
"You're sure?"
"It's part of the reason I'm asking now," Gaius nodded, "but the last few weeks, well, I've been wondering how to get around to it and . . ."
"There'll be no dowry," she pointed out. "Little Boots has announced he'll confiscate our entire estate, unless . . ."
"A Claudian has no need for dowries," Gaius pointed out proudly, and somewhat pompously.
"Claudii are amongst the greedier and most devious in Rome," Vipsania agreed.
He stared at her, then suddenly burst out laughing.
"And what's so funny?"
"Here I am, trying to get you to marry me, and all I seem to have achieved is to start a fight. Someone once told me I was not much good with women, and it seems . . ."
"Gaius!"
"Yes?"
"You'll have to get my father's permission."
"And if I do?" he asked.
"Then I wouldn't have any choice, would I?" she teased.
"Of course you would," Gaius grinned. "I've seen . . ."
"Please," she said, and came close to him and kissed him, "try to persuade my father."
"I'll see what I can do," Gaius replied, and returned her kiss.
"And he'd better not say no," Vipsania said firmly, and grasped him. He wrapped his arms about her, then somehow one of them lost their footing and they fell over into the snow. As they got up, she threw a snowball at him.
* * *
"So you propose to marry Vipsania?"" Messala asked. "What does your father say about this?"
"My father's dead," Gaius replied simply. "I may have mentioned that I believe he was killed by Little Boots' thugs."
"I'm sorry. I forgot. This's a bit of a surprise to me."
Especially if you were going to use Vipsania to get you off your own hook, Gaius thought to himself, but said nothing.
"You've asked Vipsania and she's agreed?"
"Yes," Gaius replied simply.
"You realize this could get you badly offside with Caesar?"
"Perhaps, but I don't think it will."
"Then I'd better not say no," her father said. "Especially if I want to stay alive."
* * *
"Your father agreed," Gaius announced. "You will soon be married."
"And you'll be really in deep trouble. Gaius, I'm really grateful, but can you afford to go through with this?"
"I can't not go through with it now," Gaius shrugged, "added to which, I should let you into a secret. If a prophecy I once received is right, everything's going to be all right."
"Oh, a prophecy! Well . . . And who gave you this?"
"She . . ."
"Oh! A she!" Vipsania interrupted tartly.
"She called herself Pallas Athene."
"I thought you didn't believe in the Gods?" a bemused Vipsania said.
"It was rather weird," Gaius said. "It was a sort of a dream, when I went to sleep at a temple to Athene . . ."
"You went to sleep in a temple. That shows strong belief! And what did this prophecy say?"
"It said quite a bit, some of which has come to pass. The fact that there's a lot more to come means I can't die yet."
"I wouldn't bet on that too much," Vipsania sighed. "Tell me something about this prophecy to convince me."
"The woman in my life," Gaius said simply, then realized he was being a little sparing with the truth, "would be absolutely beautiful."
"Flattering," Vipsania replied, "but not exactly definitive."
"Further, Athene said I would ignore her. Recall what happened at the bridge?"
"But that's . . ." She found that she did not know how to continue.
"I've actually mentioned this prophecy to Little Boots before. In the invitation to him, I should add that you have been clearly identified by Athene, and I must fulfil my part of that aspect of the prophecy."
"You think that'll do any good?"
"One other part of the prophecy was that my legion would be the most loyal of all," Gaius explained. "I have already told Caesar that, and hopefully Caesar will let that part of the prophecy run."
"Well," Vipsania said in a tone of almost total disbelief. "Aren't I the lucky one, attached to one blessed by the Gods!"
It was only later that Gaius realized that she might be cursed. There were to be two women in his life. Well, the ugliest of all could definitely be put off until later, and in any case, the prophecy said nothing about that one being his wife.
Chapter 11
Slave's day: the day of the Saturnalia when everything was turned upside down. For this one day in a year the slaves played the role of masters, and the masters served the slaves. Because there was always tomorrow, the slaves tried to make their points with good humour. On the other hand, they were reasonably safe because a master who later beat a slave for something that others had laughed at would at the least lose so much face he would regret doing so for a very long time.
When Gaius arrived, he was greeted by Vipsania. As she remarked, today there were no slaves to open doors, or do anything else, for that matter. Their abs
ence, however, did let Gaius get a quick kiss before he entered. As he expected, he soon noticed one of the slaves dressed up in military attire, and on closer inspection, he saw it was the young man who had run into his cart. As he said to Vipsania, he now had some idea of what was likely to come.
He had to hang up his own cloak, then he returned to the main room, where the slaves were gathered around a fire.
"A poor fire!" one of the slaves said loudly. "It needs more wood."
"Yes, Master," Vipsania's father said, and put the last of the wood on the fire.
"You!" another said, pointing to Gaius. "Refill the box, and make sure there's enough to last all day."
"Yes, Master!" Gaius bowed. He smiled to himself as he went back collect his cloak. He went to the back door, wrapped himself up, and headed to where he suspected the woodshed was. As he suspected, the large number of footprints in the snow did not go to the woodshed. The slaves had carefully set him up, for the largest number of footprints seemed to disappear down a path that went over a rise. Nevertheless, someone must have used the woodshed that morning. He looked carefully around, and there were tracks, almost concealed by the fresh snow, and he followed those. There was the woodshed.
He looked around the woodshed, and saw that there was adequate wood cut for the day, but only just. That was definitely a hint, so Gaius shrugged and took an axe. He looked at the edge, and as expected, it was probably an old axe, and it was rather blunt. He took it to the stone, and spent some time sharpening it, then he took it back to the selection of logs, pulled one out, and after hanging up his cloak he began swinging.
The work kept him warm and, for a while at least, it was quite pleasant to be in this rustic shed. The floor was liberally covered with wood chips, and he felt that these somehow kept the shed a little warmer than outside. The rough-hewn logs that comprised the outside wall gave the shed a feeling of solidity; it might be snowing outside, and the roof might be carrying quite a weight, but these small trees would hold it. The steeply sloping roof above also gave him a feeling of both safety, for not too much snow would be able to lie there without rolling off, but also of nervous sanctuary. All sorts of things could be living up there, for at the top it was so dark that he could see nothing, and he was sure there were bats, maybe blood-sucking bats. Still, there were no skeletons on the floor, so, keep chopping! He had quickly achieved the rhythmic swing, with the power coming through the entire upper body. One of the problems with being a Legate was that there was a tendency to become relatively unfit, or alternatively fitness resided in the legs and lungs. These were good to have, but the difference between life and death came from strength in the upper body, the arms and the shoulders. He was only too well aware that getting on the wrong side of Little Boots could well mean that either this was his last winter, or he could have to use all his skills at fighting and evasion.
