CHAPTER 11 (August 1 st, 2 B.C., Rome)
I was looking at Lucius, as the boy, or rather the man, was paraded around the Forum, while tossing coin around from a sack held by a slave. They cheered, and more, as other slaves appeared and proceeded to disperse more coin. Others went into a frenzy, as some men were throwing out fresh bread to the crowds. Lucius and Gaius had been given the right to consecrate buildings, and the fabulous Temple of Mars Ultor in the Forum of Augustus had been their first task, one where Lucius had taken the more visible role. The building had been late in getting finished, and indeed, was still being built discreetly on the back, but none cared. He had given a bad speech, but none again truly cared, because the coin, the bread, and the games that would follow were the reason why they were there. The huge temple with the incredibly high red and white marble pillars, every detail of the façade shockingly beautiful, cast a shadow of comfort over the celebration of the youths. Even the taciturn Gaius was happy that day.
Both were going to leave Rome, and about to begin their ceremonial trail up the cursus honorum. Their way was paved with challenges and expectations, but also assured glory. It was fitting, I supposed, that the two boys would do honor to the God of War. Rome and Mars had a special relationship, and one most soldiers made sure to honor.
Though, there was no war.
Despite agreeing to aid Tiberius, Maroboodus had failed utterly during that past year to give Augustus so much as a pause. It took time to make war, of course, and he had not yet sent men to Rome to give an ultimatum to Augustus, nor to see Postumus, but it vexed Livia terribly. She couldn’t understand why Maroboodus was failing to live up to his end of the deal, though anyone who knew about her dealings with Father, would not be surprised Father was cautious. Despite this, Livia had written to him. Many times. Father had promised her to do something before he sent the men.
That winter, and spring, the tribes of Illyricum had grown restless. While they were all Roman subjects who should know better, there had been stirrings of discontent. This was not unusual in Illyricum, but this time, such discontent was spread wide. The Roman legions based on Danubius, the lengthy lines stretching from Rhaetia, Pannonia, the borders of Dacia into Macedonia, and eventually Greece, had been putting down weak local rebellions that were somewhat threatening, but there had been no more trouble than that. Hundreds had died, but mostly with no serious uprising taking place. Father had not taken a direct approach to the problem.
Amber trouble had caught the interest of Augustus.
The Amber Road was not coughing up the yellow-golden treasures to Roman markets in great quantities. The rich trade route Father had captured when taking the Boii lands was clogging up. Alternative routes were slow, uncertain, and this one was the profitable one, the fastest way to sate the unquenchable thirst for such riches in the Roman lands, but there had been odd issues with the merchants. There were rumors of Romans getting killed in the trading stations up the rivers inside Father’s kingdom.
Some said Maroboodus had sent a scroll to Augustus. Some said the tone had been threatening.
Things were moving, but slowly.
As for my time with Gaius?
Sejanus was right. He was timid. He was moral. Listening to the boy every day, he had many virtuous thoughts about bettering the life of Roman citizens, but I doubted he had the will to deliver, for to change things, one had to break others.
And yet, that weakness of kindness meant I liked him.
I liked him well.
He turned to give me a suffering look as Lucius was laughing at some joke of his. I grinned, and smiled and noted he didn’t direct such looks at Lollius. Neither did he willingly speak to other guards.
I had broken the ice by being blunt.
I remembered the first night I had guarded him alone. I had stood in the room with him, he had stared at me like a haunted animal, noting my many scars, and in the end, I had shrugged. “I won’t bite, you know. Not you, at least.”
He had laughed softly. “They say you are a crude killer, though. And some say you knew my mother, and guarded her?” He had hesitated, and I had decided to be brutally honest with him.
“I guarded her,” I had told him, “and I stopped her from murdering Augustus and Tiberius. She is a bitter lady, my lord. But also, a good woman, in her heart.”
He had stared at me, as if there were no more curious creature in the world. He was unaccustomed to Germani brusqueness, though I heard Wandal and Tudrus had not, while I had been away, been subtle either, and had not pretended to be anything but men of the North.
While he had seen Germani Guards all his life, he had been used to sycophants and liars, and the rather overbearing Marcus.
He had finally smiled, and then he had sat down at his desk, and had looked at a small glass of wine. A slave was always hovering in the shadows, ready to taste it. I had stepped forward instead, and I had lifted the pitcher, a fine, green masterpiece of brilliant glass, speckled with gold, and I had poured myself a mug. I had promptly poured it down my throat. He stared at me with shock.
“Would you,” I had asked, “like to hear of her? What she was like? I understand you were not allowed to see her very much.”
He had swallowed hard. “She had not desired to see us.”
“Nay, lord,” I had answered tiredly. “She was not allowed.”
And with that, choosing my words carefully, he had spent the night talking with me, listening to stories of his mother. I left out the parts about Postumus, of Maroboodus, and instead spoke of his mother’s bravery, and many sorrows, and when I ran out of fine things to say, I invented stories.
I also realized I, almost, missed Julia.
Julia made Gaius and me friends.
Out of all the men there on that field, Gaius called only one man a friend. Yes, he had been married when we were in Rhodes, but there was an awkward silence when his wife was with him. She was young and pouty, often demanding attention, growing braver and a tad more ferocious each passing day. In the evenings, when I was on duty, it was I who tasted his wine, and drank with him, on those rare moments he could have thoughts of his own, and so, we spoke of everything.
With a Northern brute, he had no need to upkeep a fragile mask of the finest of Roman qualities and steely restraint.
We spoke of the lands I had seen, and of the ways of the Germani. He had briefly accompanied Tiberius to the war in the North some years before, but had seen little. We spoke of life, and death, and the many issues of Rome, and while he was well educated, the misery of the common people had been left out of his sight until lately. The need to make life better was buried inside him. The need to study and see new things as well. He was rather scholarly. How much I interfered with the teaching of Marcus Lollius, I had no idea. And yet, Gaius was a survivor, and knew how to hide his thoughts and wishes. With wine, and my company, he learnt of many things.
Including women.
That had been an odd discussion. The man had had no idea what to do. To instruct him on this form of art, was awkward. They had slept together, but apparently, never managed to make love. It was expected, and the lack of such activity was indeed a ground for breaking up a marriage, but he feared it, and perhaps Livilla did as well. I thought of poor Livilla, so young, and knew part of her unhappiness was due to fear Gaius didn’t care for her. On the other hand, I chuckled as I pondered that I might instruct him to wait until he was thirty, but in the end, after far too much wine, and instructions of a very private nature, he probably had the right idea.
That had been the night before, and now he gave her long, appraising looks, and then an uncertain one to me, and I shook my head and rolled my eyes.
He should get it over with.
I gazed at Lucius, who was walking to the side. He had a boyish look about him, an impish, kind grin, and while in Rome men of the nobility began climbing the cursus honorum at around thirty, he and Gaius were special indeed. The Senate had been showering them with rewards, adoration, even to the point of
angering Augustus, who was always wary of what had happened to Julius Caesar, his adoptive father, the man had been thought a tyrant. They had not been wrong, of course. Augustus had more than the same powers, Julii clients, Julii honors, the provinces with all the legions, and the Guard, but he was terrified of the Senate going too far and making him look like the tyrant he also was.
With the boys, the Senate had indeed gone too far.
And yet, Rome loved its heirs. Perhaps Rome was ready for a tyrant.
Senate, Republic, and Consuls apart, most Romans knew the world had changed, and the two boys, and Germanicus to a lesser degree, were the fabric of dreams. I spotted Germanicus skipping in the crowd. Ulrich, the man of the third turma, and some others were walking with him, keeping people away. Young, beautiful, of the best, bravest blood, Lucius was the center of adoration, though an obvious buffoon. People cheered him, loved him, loved his brother who was walking with Livilla at the edge of the temple, and I walked after him, as I had for months. My eyes sought out Sejanus, who was now the centurion, predictably, of a very happy Lollius who saw things going well. I told him of my few meetings with Livia, he rewarded me with kind words and some coin, and he thought he was the one protecting Gaius and his interests. In truth, I was, in more ways than one. More Praetorians were looking on from the doorways of the other temples, while we, the Tall Ones, Wandal, Tudrus, and I, kept walking after Gaius. The young man was stopped briefly by Lollius, his face red from exertion, Gaius agreed to whatever he said, and then Lollius began walking next to me, puffing. He was going to ask me about Livia.
“Preparing to fall down from heat, Marcus?” I asked him. “You need to lose weight.”
Lollius was smiling, and didn’t mind my brevity. “I’m just getting old. Far too old for this nonsense. I’ve always been heavy, and still could ride for days. Look at Lucius! I suppose I remember him at the inauguration of the Theatre of Marcellus. Just a small lad, and full of curiosity, while his brother was the serious one, already weighted down by great responsibility. Heard anything from Livia?”
He had asked this every day since we began.
I shrugged. “She is too desperate with worry over Tiberius to plan for any trouble. She hasn’t asked me directly, or anyone I might know to make a move for the boy before next spring. She did after all, leave it for me to start planning for his demise. She is not concerned yet. I will keep my ears open, and eyes as well.”
“I am happy to have an ally in you,” he chuckled.
I nodded, having little to say to that. I enjoyed my duty, and missed Cassia and Gervas, for some reason, Gaius filled a small hole. Working as Gaius’s guard had got me close to the family life I missed. Germanicus as well, still sought me out, and we spoke of war, always of war, and his great father, and during that winter I began to avoid him. With Gaius, I was calm and happy.
“Tell me again,” Lollius prompted me. “She was raging?”
It took me a moment to realize what he was trying to say. It was about my last discussion with Livia, obviously. Then it came to me. “Yes, she is enraged Gaius is going to the East. Livid. And as I just said, she expects me to come up with a plan to kill him there.”
“The preparations for Gaius’s trip are going well,” Lollius said. “Tiberius is expected to meet us on the way, even. I worry about that. Gaius is timid.”
I nodded, surprised. “Tiberius?”
“It is customary to pay him a visit,” Lollius said. “We’ll make Gaius less scared together. Speak to him of bravery. Some old tales of heroes. Rome has plenty. And I shall speak to him of other things to make him confident.”
“I will tell him of Roman-slaying heroes,” I told him. “They are truly brave.”
He sighed. “He sees people all the time. Senators, dignitaries, but we need to work hard as he seems to listen only to you and I.” He gave me a wry smile. “Hardly thought I’d have to work with a Germani barbarian on something like rearing a future Roman god, but you have a way with young men.”
I gave him an upset scowl. “God?”
“God, yes. When he dies, one day, he shall no doubt be deified by the Senate, no? God. They are all gods. Like the legions worship their eagles, the commoners pray to Julius Caesar, our Augustus, and one day; Gaius.” He looked sad. “Gods for soldiers and men, and we shall die mortal.”
I snorted. “They’ll sing of my deeds in the halls of the North. Someone will, perhaps come and offer you wine in your grave.”
He roared with laughter, and clapped my back. “You Germani!” Then he went sour, and I perked my ears. He was obviously angered by something and I noticed his eyes were following Germanicus around. He spoke softly. “They are making trouble up north. Augustus is not happy about that.”
“He is not, you say?” I asked, wondering at the man’s scrutiny of Germanicus. “I heard Maroboodus sent him a scroll.”
He nodded. “This Maroboodus, he has taken the once familiar lands of the Boii.”
“I know of it.”
He was nodding, as he always was when reciting well-known facts. “Boii are Celts with few balls between them, the war wasn’t much of a one. Though, of course and to be fair, the Boii were already half dead from their recent war with the Dacian king. This Maroboodus, reputedly the man who killed Drusus, holds that land under Marcomanni thumb.”
I nodded. “They are making trouble, you said?”
He shrugged. “They always make trouble. There have been uprisings with the Illyrian tribes. And now more. Our Roman traders that used to stay with the Boii and the Hermanduri no longer feel safe. Men have died, and he is not favoring Roman merchants like he is the Greek, for example. And he is building a peculiar army.”
“Is he?”
“He is building a Roman style, Roman trained army of foot, and Germanic horse. A large army. See, the trade of amber from the North used to run to Vindabona and Carnutum.”
“No longer?” I enjoyed seeing him speaking aloud of loss of coin. It made him look like a man choking on a rotten fish. His face went blue and white, and he panted.
“He is making fortunes, and Romans have to go to his trade villages. People love the piss-colored stuff, and he knows it. We all know he took the Boii land for this very reason, and is making many tribes dependent on him. They say Marcomanni have subjugated several Hermanduri tribes up there. Some say he is also riling up the northern tribes even further, where the Cherusci are our main allies.” He smiled. “You come from there. Is he a powerful man? He is threatening Augustus with cutting off the trade, unless Rome recognizes his kingdom. He is calling himself a king, see? He must be powerful, no? As a man?”
I smiled. Maroboodus was making war with Rome, as agreed, but slowly, and wisely. “I only saw him slaying Drusus, lord,” I lied. “He seemed like a man they would follow to Hades. Chatti were there, even Cherusci. He knows how to lead.”
Could this tactic make Augustus take note?
“He does indeed,” he mused. “He does. And now, our traders from Noricum and Pannonia, even Dalmatia are competing for amber with the Greeks, and while Roman coin is being heaped in his lap, he is stirring some serious rhetoric. Augustus was livid last week. They say Maroboodus skinned two Roman nobles who were traveling north to see if they could trade with the other Germani. They were from the North, rustic and uncouth, but Roman nobles still. He skinned them, peeled them like he would a turnip, and sent them home ripe as week old legs of mutton.” He was shaking his head, and cursing.
“How is Augustus going to respond?”
He shrugged. “He will give it due notice. He is always fearful of those people.” He gave me an apologetic smile. “And of Pannonians and Thracians as well. He has seen the world in flames. He fears another such war in his lifetime. He has no Agrippa.”
Augustus, occasionally quite ill, kept his hold on the rudder of the state, but he was terrified of war, and terrified of dying too soon. Always had been. The boys were growing up, they were inexperienced, and some years of well-gui
ded diplomacy and supervised war with victory would be proof of skills.
Tiberius would die on that island should Augustus still refuse to recall him.
And so, our time was growing short.
“You haven’t been elevated yet?” he asked. “I hinted at Augustus that you might be a suitable one for the job of Decurion, but he wasn’t willing to discuss it. Was too busy.”
It didn’t matter.
“I am doing my duty,” I told him. “Perhaps later. Adalwulf’s death was not something I desired. Though it was needed.”
He looked distraught “I am grateful to you and Sejanus for getting rid of the man,” he answered, with true feeling thrumming in his words. He placed a hand on my shoulder, and the touch left me reeling with uncomfortable confusion. A Roman showing affection could mean many things, and rarely anything to make one happy. “Adalwulf and I had a long history. He served interests other than mine. He served Tiberius best, served well indeed. And I? I made a mistake. I tried to … fix it, but Adalwulf stopped me, and so we were enemies for life. I have endured him, but knew Tiberius gave him to Livia. I know she is seething with jealousy and deceit. And together, we are pulling her fangs, one by one. Augustus need not know, we need not suffer, and we shall do well.” He sighed. “And yet, after the fact, we are all guilty of terrible things. All of them keep me awake, and I have had nightmares of the deed you had to perform. I am grateful. Relieved and grateful” He shook his head. “And I am sorry for every death I have caused. It is age, perhaps?”
“Truly?” I asked, bewildered. He was a shifty shit, and yet, oddly open and honest at times.
He smiled, and his face brightened. “Truly. Ah, here is Varus!”
I turned my head to see the grim, older Senator, and a close friend of Augustus, and the man whose legions I had preceded to Jerusalem to catch Livia’s murderous servant Antius. There too, the incredible fortune captured by one Sabinus, who was there to collect taxes off Herod’s fortune. I could well guess Varus had made himself fabulously wealthy. He smiled grimly as Lollius embraced him, and his eyes went to mine as we walked after Gaius. Lollius noticed, and waved his hand towards me. “He likes his old name. Corvus. Hraban, I think, he is called in Germania. He is a fine man who guards Gaius with his men. And thus, he guards me on the side, just a bit.”
The Bane of Gods: A Novel of Germania and Rome (Hraban Chronicles Book 5) Page 16
