by AM Kirkby
***
Servius' anger was colder than Tanaquil's, but would last as long. He'd heard the news before Tarquinius told him, but too late to do much good; from Rasce, who'd heard from one of the few soldiers to have escaped the city. On the way to the palace, early, too late to do anything about the situation, or send messages to anyone who mattered. But at least Tarquinius wouldn't have the change to surprise him; and he had enough time to marshal his thoughts, to start thinking about what line he should take.
"Velx fallen?"
"Without a fight. They got in the hard way, up the cliffs."
Damn. He'd always thought that was a weak spot, but Avle would never listen; or not enough – he'd posted a few sentries at the top of the cliff, but they'd have been easy to pick off, too far apart to defend the ground effectively. If you had climbers, good and quiet climbers, you could take the city with a few men; he knew how he'd do it, if he'd been asked, sending up an advance party and waiting till the city was quiet, then taking one of the gates from the inside. No one ever expect an attack to start behind their own lines, however well prepared they thought they were. Even so, he thought he'd left the city better defended, and said so.
"The army's fallen apart since the Change," Rasce said. "And Velzna helped. The old enemy. They had men waiting."
Men who weren't, officially, enemies. God, how slack had Velx become since he'd left?
They were already half way across the Forum; the limb to the Palatine would soon start. There was little time left. What did he need to know? Two things. Rasce could only tell him one.
"The Vipienas?"
"Prisoners."
Damn, fuck, Vanth and hell.
"Where?"
"Velzna."
"Where in Velzna?"
"In the shafts below the city."
That was bad. That was very bad. He'd hoped they'd be held at the shrine, as honoured enemies usually were, while ransom negotiations played out; but if they were in the wormholes of tufa, ransom wasn't Tarquinius' game. He wanted them dead.
He felt cold air on the back of his neck, and twitched. Drainage shafts, air shafts, cellars, where the air shifted oddly, and strange echoes confused the ear. He remembered the cave of Cacus, and Tanaquil's oracular cave; though he didn't believe that things came in threes, as the superstitious did, he couldn't help wondering why the underground spaces that made him so uneasy kept recurring in his life.
He had one more question, to which Rasce couldn't tell him the answer. He knew why he'd been kept in the dark, but Tanaquil clearly had been, too; she'd supported the truce with Velx, believed the partnership might work. Besides, he'd always thought she shared Tarquinius' policies; he'd even wondered if she made them. There could only be one reason for Tarquinius cutting her out, he realised, in a sudden insight; because Tarquinius didn't trust her not to tell him. Because for Tarquinius, Servius was Tanaquil's man.
He'd gone from son-in-law and heir apparent to outsider and suspect, dragging Tanaquil with him. He still couldn't work out when that had changed. Was it just the result of the move on Velx, making Servius an outsider again? Had Tarquinius seen Tanaquil's growing closeness, her attempts to teach him augury; was he jealous? Or was Tarquinius, as old men did, growing more suspicious as he aged? Watch out for purges, Servius thought. He ran his fingers round the neck of his tunic, feeling his skin, warm now, thinking: I'd like to keep this neck uncut.
Now he had the clarity he'd been asking for, he wasn't sure he liked it. And there would be more such moves, he was sure of it. Was Tarchna next? Or Cisra? Even Curtun?
"The old man's got conquest in his teeth. He won't let it go," he said, more to himself than to Rasce, but the older man heard, and answered.
"Like a rabid fox. Only one way to deal with them. Kill'em."
They were starting up the slope now, talking fast and low, short of breath.
"Who's on who's side?"
"Rome with Velzna. Sveama."
"Tarchna with Velzna?"
"Don't think so. I reckon Tarchna's next."
That would put Tanaquil at war with her husband. As this move had tested Servius' loyalties...
"Is this a test?"
"Test of what?"
"Is he testing me? Waiting to see if I'm loyal to Rome?"
Rasce sucked his teeth. "He left Tarchna and never went back. Expects you to be the same, I should think."
But Servius wasn't the man Tarquinius was. Tarquinius took his name from a city he'd left forever; Servius was Mcstrna, Master, still the general's boy and Avle's and Caile's. He'd stick to the Vipienas and their city the way a man always remembers his first wife. (The way he remembered the Gaulish woman he'd never married.)
Or was it a double bluff? Another of Tarquinius' tricks? Suddenly the clarity fell away, and Servius was back lost in those mazes of illusion where every move reflected another, and nothing was certain; and though he couldn't think of any reason why Tarquinius would want him to make a move, still he was suspicious, like a man suddenly blinded by strong light feeling his way along a dark road, fearing he'd stumble and fall.