by Alex Scarrow
‘Yes, sir.’
‘I have no choice, do I? Crassus has made sure of that.’
He thought he saw a grim smile play across his tribune’s lips. ‘Yes. Atellus, I want the men ready to decamp.’
‘Sir … you are considering marching on Rome?’ Atellus hesitated. ‘Confronting Caligula?’
‘Of course I am!’
‘The men, sir … they may not take well to the idea.’
Atellus was quite right. The legions, officers and men’s allegiance was broadly with the emperor. His was the hand that fed them and fed them very well. Lepidus couldn’t be sure his men were going to be behind him. And should an order for his arrest arrive as well …
‘Might I make a suggestion, sir?’
‘Go on.’
‘Let them believe the Guard is moving against the emperor.’
Lepidus nodded slowly. Yes, of course.
‘Mobilize the men, sir. Let them believe we’re marching on Rome to protect Caligula from a palace coup. Tell them the emperor will reward them for their loyalty … that the Guard will be disgraced, disbanded as a result of this treachery.’
Yes … there’s no love lost there between the legions and the Guard.
‘Atellus … every officer in here in half an hour. Move!’
‘Yes, sir!’ The tribune saluted, turned on his heel and swept out of Lepidus’s private quarters.
By first light he was going to have both the Tenth and the Eleventh assembled and ready to march. However the next few days panned out … whether he was going to need to confront the Guard or not, whether he was going to attempt to move against Caligula or not, it would be better to be ready for it; to have his men in their armour and on their feet.
CHAPTER 54
AD 54, Rome
Crassus heard the banging on the large wooden gates to his courtyard. He topped up his cup with the last of his wine as he watched his slave, Tosca, hurry across the courtyard clutching a flickering oil lamp to answer the insistent knocking.
Here they come. He tipped the wine insistently down his throat. A little crimson courage.
Crassus knew his strengths and his weaknesses. He wasn’t a brave man. If he had an ounce of courage in him, he would have stood shoulder to shoulder with all the other senators who’d tried defying the emperor years ago.
Tonight he was going to try and make up for that.
The gates swung in and he saw the purple cloaks of a dozen Praetorian Guards sweeping in past his slave.
‘Master! Master!’ cried Tosca in a panic.
‘Marcus Cornelius Crassus!’ barked a centurion. ‘I have orders for your arrest!’
Crassus recognized the voice. Fronto.
Cato had given the arrest order to an officer he trusted to handle Crassus humanely, gently.
Thank you, Cato.
‘I am here,’ he said shakily, stepping out of the shadows beneath his portico. ‘Whatever is the matter?’
Fronto approached, flanked by his men. He adopted his best officious voice. ‘Marcus Cornelius Crassus, I have orders to escort you to the emperor’s palace. He wishes to speak to you!’
Crassus smiled calmly at Fronto. ‘At this time of night, Centurion? Is he lonely?’
Fronto worked to keep the flicker of a smile off his face. ‘Best come along immediately, sir.’
The old man nodded. ‘Yes, of course … can’t keep a god waiting, can I?’
Tosca hurried forward with a cloak for him. ‘Master! What is happening?’
Crassus patted his slave on the arm affectionately. ‘Nothing to worry about, Tosca, old friend. I shall be back for breakfast no doubt.’
‘Sir?’ said Fronto insistently.
‘Lock the door, Tosca,’ he said quietly. He turned to Fronto, fastening the cloak round his narrow shoulders with a clasp. ‘Centurion? I’m all yours.’
Caligula looked up from the small battle being fought between wooden figurines on the low table in front of him. He’d heard the clatter and jangle of armour, the slap of sandals on stone, all the way from the entrance hall.
‘Ahh … good evening, Crassus.’ He smiled coolly.
Crassus nodded politely as his escort of Praetorians came to a halt a couple of yards before the emperor. ‘Your divinity.’
‘Well … a curious thing happened earlier this evening. Would you like to know what it was?’
Crassus said nothing.
‘Oh? Not in the slightest bit curious?’
‘I suspect you plan to tell me anyway.’
Caligula grinned then frowned curiously. ‘Hmmm, that’s not like you, Crassus. You’re normally so … so meek.’ He leaned forward over his battlelines of miniature wooden legionaries and sniffed the air in front of the old man. ‘Been drinking, have we? A little anxious perhaps?’
‘I am working my way through the wine I have left. Before Rome falls into complete anarchy and is looted by the mob.’
‘Tsk-tsk.’ Caligula shook his head. ‘I won’t let Rome fall into anarchy. Soon every citizen will be showered with wealth … with their very own casks of wine.’
‘Ahhh … you’re still holding out hope for your special day, are you?’
‘The day Heaven opens for me? Yes, of course. And it is very soon in fact.’
‘If you say so.’
‘I do say so.’ Caligula’s face tightened. ‘You know this troubles me, Crassus; perhaps you can answer this for me. If those dirty savages in Judaea could believe a young, uneducated man, a simple craftsman of some kind I believe … if they could believe this mere troublemaker was to be the king of kings, the son of God … why is it so difficult to believe a Roman emperor could be –’
‘You are quite mad,’ replied Crassus. ‘And a danger to Rome.’
Caligula was dumbstruck at the man’s candour.
‘There are no gods … or god. These are morality tales, nothing more. Any man with half his wits can see that.’
‘Crassus …’ Caligula’s eyes widened playfully. ‘You do seem to have found your tongue tonight.’
‘You had a reason for bringing me here?’
Caligula stood up. ‘Yes … yes, I do.’ He looked over the old man’s shoulder. ‘Ahhh, Tribune! Come forward.’
Cato joined them and offered Caligula a crisp salute.
‘Tribune … why don’t you tell Crassus here all about your interesting find, hmmm?’
Cato turned to the old man. He kept his voice dry and officious. ‘Correspondence between yourself and Quintus Antonius Lepidus, containing invocations to acts of sedition and treachery.’
‘Pouring your poison into Lepidus’s ears. Very, very naughty of you. Lepidus was a faithful man. A good man.’ Caligula shook his head sadly. ‘I’m sure he believed in me until you started working on him. Now …’ He picked up a wooden soldier from the table. ‘Now I really can’t trust him any more, can I?’
Crassus laughed drily. ‘You can trust no one. No one loves you … many fear you. Me? I just pity you. Your days are numbered.’
Caligula kicked the table between them, sending his wooden soldiers cascading on to the floor. ‘Why? Why can’t you all just wait! Just wait and see!!’
‘Wait? Wait for you to become a god?!’
‘YES!!!!’ Caligula turned away from them all and screamed with frustration into the gloom of the atrium. ‘Just wait!! Wait and see!!!’
Crassus glanced at Cato quickly to see the tribune shaking his head almost imperceptibly. The message was quite clear: don’t provoke him any more. Not necessary.
The old man smiled at his friend. A smile that told Cato that he knew where this exchange was going to take them. That he was ready for it. But most importantly, that Cato should let this happen. To try and stop it … to try to save him, to try and lunge at Caligula would be futile; the emperor’s Stone Men stood close by. Too close.
‘You will never be a god, Caligula … “little boot”. You are nothing more than a failed emperor and a deluded fool!’
; Caligula whirled round. ‘Tribune! Your sword!’
Cato looked at the emperor uncertainly.
‘Give me your sword! NOW!’
Cato unsheathed it slowly and presented the handle to Caligula. ‘Caesar, I suggest Crassus be kept alive! He will be a useful source of informa–’
Caligula ignored him and grabbed his sword. He pressed the tip of the blade into the hollow at the base of Crassus’s throat. It drew blood, a small trickle that rolled along the old man’s prominent collarbone, over the edge and soaked into the linen of his toga.
Caligula giggled at the sight of it. ‘Crassus … you do seem to be full of surprises tonight. Do you have a death wish?’
‘I am quite ready to die.’ He glanced quickly at Cato. ‘Ready to make way for a new generation of senators.’ He turned back to Caligula and smiled defiantly. ‘Senators who will very soon be replacing you.’
Caligula’s face bloomed a dark crimson. He thrust the sword forward, hard, until it grated on bone somewhere inside the old man. He laughed excitedly as Crassus gurgled blood, his mouth jerking open and closed several times before he dropped to his knees and flopped forward on to the floor.
Caligula squatted down to examine the old man.
‘Caesar.’
He looked up at Cato. ‘Yes?’
‘What are your orders?’
‘Orders?’
‘General Lepidus? You had a messenger despatched earlier? A message for him to report to you immediately? He will be warned now. He may even now be provoked to make a move on you.’
Caligula nodded, his mind clearing aside the dwindling rage. ‘Yes … yes, you’re quite right. We must do something about that.’
‘May I suggest you mobilize the Praetorian cohorts garrisoned outside the city? Lepidus has two legions at his command … and they are less than a day’s march from here.’
Caligula stood up slowly, Crassus’s body already forgotten about. ‘Yes, we must move quickly, mustn’t we?’
Cato nodded. ‘Immediately, sire. If Lepidus already knows he’s under suspicion, he could be readying his men to march on Rome right now. The Guard should be readied to march out and meet them.’
‘You’re right!’ Caligula spat a curse. ‘Where is your damned praefectus? I sent for him hours ago!’
Cato turned to Fronto. ‘Find out where he is. We need his authority to –’
‘No, we don’t! I’m the emperor! I want word sent to all of the Praetorian cohorts to assemble outside the east gates on the Via Praenestina at first light. Is that understood!’
Fronto nodded. ‘Yes, Caesar.’
‘Well, go on, then! Now!’
Cato watched his centurion hurry out of the atrium. His gaze rested on Stern, standing to attention dutifully just behind Caligula. ‘Your Stone Men, sire …? Might I suggest you send them along? They have something of a reputation.’
Caligula stroked his chin thoughtfully.
‘And Lepidus has two legions to our one.’
‘Hmmm. Maybe you’re right.’ He pressed his lips together thoughtfully. ‘Although, if there are other whisperers like Crassus around, I would rather they remained by my side.’
Cato wondered how far he could push his advice. For the moment Caligula seemed to be listening to it, even welcoming it. ‘You have my cohort here, sire, to guard you; to guard the palace and the government district.’
‘Yes, perhaps I should send some of them …’ Caligula was thinking aloud more than talking to Cato.
‘Enough to be sure of a decisive victory, sire?’
‘Hmmm … yes. It certainly needs to be decisive. Can’t have every other disgruntled general out there following Lepidus’s example, can we?’
‘No, sire.’
CHAPTER 55
AD 54, Subura District, Rome
Sal looked out of the small window of their room down on to the narrow alley below. There were people emerging from their homes and the avenue was illuminated by the flames of oil lamps and torches carried outside by the curious.
‘What’s going on down there?’ asked Maddy.
‘People … gathering in the street. Something’s going on.’
Maddy joined her, jostling for shoulder space to crane her neck out over the rough, flaking plaster of the ledge. ‘It’s like a town council meeting.’
‘Something’s happened already.’
Across the tiled rooftops they could see the walls of other narrow streets faintly illuminated from below by torches carried outside; the glow coming from dozens of window shutters opened, spilling light over the top of hunched shoulders and curious, craning necks.
‘It’s like Chinese whispers,’ said Maddy. ‘Something’s going round.’ Rumours in this city seemed to spread even faster than they used to back in her time. She laughed. No need for the Internet or Facebook or Twitter here in Rome, it seemed, when you could apparently just as easily shout through paper-thin walls or gossip across cramped courtyards.
‘Maybe they’ve gone and killed Caligula already.’
‘I don’t know. It can’t have been that easy … surely.’
Maddy looked down, past a shutter banging open directly beneath them and several more curious heads poking out. She could see the entrance to the rat run that led into their apartment block’s inner courtyard. Down there, the unmistakable bulk of Bob moving around.
‘Macro’s right, though … whatever happens over the next few days, it’s going to be complete chaos.’
‘Altogether, lads,’ grunted Macro. Liam and Bob and several other men from the apartment block hefted the cart up on one side. ‘One … two … three … now!’ barked Macro.
The cart clattered over on to its side, forming a rudimentary barricade blocking up most of the entrance to the rat run. There were gaps either side that needed filling and Macro started to bully his tenants into a human chain, ferrying bric-a-brac lying around the courtyard to stack either side of the overturned cart.
Liam stepped on a box and looked over the top, Bob standing beside him watching the gathering people.
‘Can you make out what they’re saying out there, Bob?’
‘I will try.’ He frowned, concentrating for a moment on the growing babble of voices out in the alleyway. ‘They are discussing the news that the Praetorian Guard are leaving the city.’ He cocked his head, listening more intently. ‘There seems to be another rumour that Caligula has been killed by the Praetorians.’
Bob smiled. ‘And there’s another rumour that demons from the underworld have arisen from the sewers and are rampaging through the city.’
Liam watched as a cluster of young men emerged from a doorway further up the alley, all of them clutching knives, hatchets, clubs.
Macro joined Liam and Bob. Shorter even than Liam, he stood on tiptoes on a crate to peek over the top. ‘It’s begun already, then,’ he said.
‘What has?’ asked Liam.
‘Troublemakers …’ Macro sighed. ‘First sign of a riot and out comes the scum of the earth looking for easy pickings.’ He cursed and spat over the top of the cart. ‘I tell you, if they even think about touching my property …’ He pulled out his butcher’s hatchet from a pouch on the leather apron tied round his waist. ‘I’ll give ’em what for. I’m tellin’ you.’
Liam looked at the glint of light playing across the thick, rusty blade. ‘So you, uh … you saw quite a lot of action when you were a soldier in the legions, Macro?’
Macro grinned a gap-toothed smile. ‘You are joking with me, aren’t you, lad?’
Liam’s bud quickly translated that. But the incredulous look on Macro’s face was more than answer enough.
CHAPTER 56
AD 54, Imperial Palace, Rome
Cato unrolled a map of the city across a table in the palace gardens, and weighted the corners down with several stones.
‘Gather round, gentlemen,’ he said to the assembled officers, the centurions and optiones of the first cohort. His men. Some of them roused from their c
ots only minutes ago were still bleary-eyed as they fiddled with the straps and buckles of their armour.
They pressed forward around the table as their tribune began to brief them quickly.
‘I’m sure you’ve all heard by now that the rest of the Guard will be mustering outside the Castra Praetoria at first light.’
‘What’s happened, sir?’
Cato looked up at a bull-necked centurion with a flattened boxer’s nose and a fuzz of blond hair clipped short almost to the scalp.
‘It seems the general in charge of the Tenth and Eleventh has decided he’s had enough of our emperor, Rufus. The Guard will be marching out to meet them.’
‘Bit sudden, isn’t it, sir? I thought Lepidus was the emperor’s man.’
Cato shrugged. ‘You know what it’s like with these equites … they all think they’re entitled to the job one way or the other. Anyway, to the point. Our cohort is being left behind to guard the city. When everyone wakes up tomorrow morning and hears of this … and they discover the majority of the Guard have packed up and gone, we’re going to have riots in every district. A complete breakdown of order. So, it’s going to be down to us to protect the city’s infrastructure where we can.’
Cato leaned across the map. ‘Starting with you, Rufus, I want your second century deployed over here in Campus Martius to protect the temple buildings. You as well, Lectus, your century over here guarding the Stratum. Sulla, Marcellus, I want your men protecting the aqueduct here and here. The rest of you, I’ll be assigning perimeter positions in the Palatinus District to protect the government buildings.’ He turned to Fronto. ‘And your men, Fronto, will provide security for the palace itself.’
‘Yes, sir.’
Rufus cocked his head. ‘Just one century to protect the emperor?’
Cato looked at him. Rufus was like most of the men in the Guard: tough, but certainly not stupid. ‘The emperor has his personal bodyguards.’
‘The Stone Men,’ uttered one of the optiones.
Cato disliked the term. It implied a supernatural quality about them. Now he knew they were just muscle-and-bone devices made by men from a more advanced time, the name smacked of superstition.