Apparently, anticipating the worst, Gallus and his family had quietly slipped away as was the custom in a trial of that magnitude and returned home. Upon order of the consul, the senators returned to their seats. “Senator Gallus,” the consul bellowed, “is hereby allowed twenty-four hours to arrange his affairs. If he has not at the end of that period, the Senate will reconvene the following morning, and Caesar will pass sentence.”
It was common knowledge what that meant. Gallus would be allowed the honorable choice of committing suicide and thereby keeping the family’s titles and properties from confiscation. It also meant the younger Gallus, my former commanding officer, would not lose his position of command or rank in the army. If the elder Gallus procrastinated, he would surely be sentenced to death by strangling or beheading. He could also be exiled. But a sentence of exile could be dangerous, as he might plan another coup, death was the only alternative. Either way, his family would lose all.
I went to bed that night believing it was all over.
Chapter 35
Early the next morning I was rousted from bed. Someone tugged my shoulder vigorously.
I turned over in the snug goose-down bed.
“Sir, wake up!” he persisted. It was Alexias. He had recovered quickly; his wounds by the assassins had not been serious. “The emperor has pardoned Senator Gallus!”
“What?” I answered groggily. “Is this some sort of bad dream?”
The firm hand on my shoulder said otherwise. “No, sir, Gallus is free.”
His words pierced my clouded brain, as I struggled to believe my ears. Opening my eyes, I looked into those of Sabinus’s Greek freedman. He usually left waking me up to one of his underlings.
I pulled back the blanket and got out of bed. “There must be some mistake.” I quickly dressed.
“No mistake, sir. A messenger came from the palace early this morning.”
“What was your master’s reaction?” I asked as I finished buckling a dagger to my belt.
“He hasn’t said a word, but seemed disturbed.”
I snorted. “That’s an understatement. Old Gallus must be laughing.”
“Perhaps.”
A young slave stuck his head through the doorway and informed Alexias a messenger from the palace was at the door.
“Don’t stand there like a fool,” he snapped, “let him in.” The slave made a quick retreat, and Alexias excused himself, mumbling something about the inefficient help they were getting these days. “Don’t they realize the master will eventually free them?” he added.
As I staggered to the kitchen for breakfast, I found Sabinus questioning a Praetorian Guard centurion in the atrium. “Are you positive?” the senator asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“Very well, you may leave.”
Sabinus motioned to me. Dark circles surrounded the bloodshot eyes in his unshaven face. “This has been a strange—” he remarked in a musing tone. “No, perhaps an ironic morning is more like it.”
“Sir?”
“I should be pleased, but I feel nothing, absolutely nothing.”
Pleased? At a pardon?
“After a sleepless night, I was awakened to the news the emperor had pardoned Senator Gallus. Given Claudius’s erratic behavior, I wasn’t too surprised,” he said in a sardonic voice. “I wonder what old Gallus will scheme next.”
He hesitated. “And now, I receive this.” Sabinus held up a piece of perfumed parchment, with the emperor’s seal. “The gods tricked them both,” he said. “Gallus the Elder took his own life before the proclamation of pardon reached his home.”
“No one deserved it more than he,” I said, relieved the old man had died after all. “How did he do it?”
Sabinus snorted, “Gallus knew all was lost. He proceeded to his bath and undressed. Afterwards, he stepped into a hot tub of water, opened his wrists, and died.”
By committing suicide, an honorable death, Gallus saved his estates and titles from being confiscated by the state and his family from disgrace. That also meant the younger Gallus would one day return to Rome and claim his father’s seat in the Senate.
“Nonetheless, I am sad,” Sabinus said. “Not for Gallus, but for the Senate. With every conspiracy, they lose more power to the emperor. Soon, they will be no more effective than the people’s tribune in court. Gods pray I won’t be of this world when it happens.”
He closed his eyes, shook his head, and exhaled heavily, and for a few seconds seemed lost in thought. “Have you seen her this morning?” he whispered softly.
“Her?” I asked, taken aback by the sudden change in conversation.
“Rome is so beautiful and innocent cloaked in a light dusting of snow,” he replied as if thinking aloud. After all the turmoil, he still considered her beautiful. I realized then how much he loved the only mistress he would ever know.
He opened his eyes and asked quietly, “Have you eaten breakfast?”
“No, sir, not yet.”
“Once you have, come and join me for a stiff drink of Syrian whiskey. I can’t face my clients or the emperor this morning without something to numb my senses.”
“If you don’t mind, I’ll join you now.”
He clasped my shoulders and smiled for the first time in days. “Fair enough.”
Again, Rome had triumphed in her moment of peril, drama greater than any seen in any amphitheater. But there were other traitors and murders and would-be emperors awaiting their hour of glory and death. Only later did I learn that the elder Gallus had planned his revenge from the grave.
More To Follow
The Broken Lance Page 30