The Oath Keeper

by Alaric Longward

  I walked in, eyeing the statue of Saturn, hooded and gigantic, the scythe gloomy in the light of the braziers. The feet were swathed with bands of wool. The whole, gigantic, and garishly painted thing was made of wood, and I wondered if it would be a service to set it on fire. It was rumored that it was filled with oil to preserve it.

  I saw Agrippina, her stola and palla over her head, talking to her clients. She was tired and shaky, as she walked with an older senator, and she was whispering thanks to him with a grateful face, as he supported her.

  A lover?

  Perhaps.

  Nothing to condemn her for, right then. Her boys, tall at fourteen and twelve, were walking behind, Drusus Caesar, the smaller one, and Nero Caesar, the taller one.

  Then I saw the young one, Gaius, was missing. He had been with them.

  I looked around and saw a pair of men nearby, and they were walking after the young nobleman. Gaius was oblivious to the danger, as he was wondering at the great heights of the place, his hands high in the air, murmuring something in the midst of a play.

  I hesitated. For some reason, I felt reluctant. It was not fear of a fight.

  No, it was fear.

  It was fear of him, the boy who spoke to himself.

  For a fleeting moment, wind ruffled my cloak, and I was not sure, but I heard someone whispering in that wind, and I felt terror squeezing my heart.

  I could step away, and never meet him. For some reason, I felt Woden wanted me to hide away.

  And yet, the thugs would take him. That might spook Agrippina to flee, even if he was recovered from the two. She might blame Tiberius. The people would.

  I pulled my long pugio and stepped after them.

  The boy turned and saw the two men towering above him. There were none else near, for most were crowded around Agrippina, and it was dark.

  “Well, that’s a pretty one,” murmured one. “They’ll like him fine in Capua.”

  “Fit for lovers who pay,” the other one agreed.

  I stepped behind them and stabbed up to the other man’s side, then quickly at the retreating shadow of the other, and the pugio went through his eye.

  He was grasping my hood and revealed my face to the boy, who was staring with huge eyes at the sight of two dead men around him, and at me.

  He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He was sort of beautiful boy, with golden hair, and I half expected him to sprout wings.

  I shook my head and spoke calmingly. “Well, young Juppiter. You are safe. Nothing can kill you, while I guard you.”

  And at that, his face went lax. Wonder filled his eyes, and he wrung his fingers, shaking with emotion. “That…that is exactly what I have told them! That I feel different. And you see it too?”

  I flinched and pulled him aside.

  “Gaius!” someone was calling, on the other edge of the temple. “Where is he?”

  “You should go,” I said. “That is your mother?”

  “You are…I have seen you,” he said. “When I was young.”

  “You might be a god,” I said in panic, “but you are young now.”

  “Germani Guard,” he murmured.

  I nodded and pulled him even further aside, kneeling before him. “I guess you are right then. I must go. And if you want to repay me, forget I was here. I don’t need the trouble.”

  He had a thoughtful look on his face, and then he nodded. “I think we shall meet again. Unless I die.”

  I smiled. “I think you’ll live forever, and act like a god should,” I laughed. “I bet you have never been sick.”

  “It is true,” he said with wonder. “I haven’t. That means something, no?”

  “Yes,” I said. “Find your mother.”

  “Oh, she is going to a play,” he said. “They are going to see it. She goes so often. They pray, can you imagine? She told Nero that she wants the gods to make him the Princeps.”

  “She wants to do that, eh?” I said and winked. “I think you should do better at the job.”

  “I think so too,” he said. “Will you serve me, one day? Guard me? Gods can die.”

  I got up and turned to go. “If we meet again, perhaps I shall serve you. I would keep you safe. And you’ll run along now.”

  He grinned, and I left.

  Crazy as a rabid dog.

  Behind me, I heard screams as they found him, and the bodies. The chaos went on for a long time, and then I saw the guards rushing out. Gochan appeared. “There is a benna coming. What did you do?”

  I showed my disheveled condition and the droplets of blood. “I saved a god.”

  He chuckled and shook his head. “Are we in trouble?”

  “No,” I said. “Not really. Just a bit. There.”

  Out of the temple ran the family. Nero and Gaius with him, and Drusus Caesar as well, guards surrounded Agrippina. Then the guards took the boys, and she stayed behind, nervous to the bone. One handsome, young senator stayed behind as the boys rushed for the way up the hill, not the road that led down to the underground passageway. The guards looked alarmed and alerted, and I saw young Gaius had his hands bloodied.

  “Was he hurt?” Gochan wondered.

  I shook my head. “He put his hands in the blood after I left. Played with it, I guess. Maybe tried to look like he killed them?”

  I was not sure, and Gochan was as confused.

  One Germani Guard stayed behind. He was standing with Agrippina, and I watched them, waiting. She was adjusting her palla, many times, nervously.

  I pulled at a passing man. He looked startled, like an owl pulled out of its nest in the middle of the day.

  I pointed a finger at the man. “Who is that? Do you know?”

  He squinted and nodded. He was quiet. I placed a sestertius on his palm, and he licked his lips. “That, my lords, is Longinus. The high noble of their house. One of the richer…that is Agrippina?”

  “Yes,” I said. “That is. I answered your question, so we are even.” I picked up the coin from his palm in tribute for my effort and pushed him on his way.

  “You have grown cheap as you grow old,” Gochan murmured as he was scowling at the man, hovering nearby.

  “Gernot has poured so much gold into our little game,” I said. “I dare not waste any of it.”

  “I have seen his piles of gold and silver,” he said. “You need not worry.”

  I wondered how he had seen it and suddenly wondered if he would rob us.

  He grinned and shook his head, and I relaxed, as much as I could.

  Longinus. Agrippina.

  And they would see a play. They would pray.

  The benna arrived, the four wheels clattering on the stones. They got on to the covered wagon, and we rushed after it. We were two cowled spies in the city filled with scum, and none took notice.

  CHAPTER 3

  Pollio’s house was one of many he owned, but this one looked far more ramshackle than most. It was a many storied complex, with a small tavern on the bottom floor, and it lay near the banks of Tiber, close to the repulsive Forum Bovarium. The smell of the animals that were still being sold and auctioned there was repulsive in the air. It was worker’s district—butcher streets and those of tanners were nearby it—and an old, formerly garishly painted statue of some forgotten senator or hero was standing outside it. It was leaning slightly to the side. Alleys ran near on both sides of the house, and I decided it was a former storehouse.

  Certainly, there were few senatorial status men living in the area.

  None.

  It was certain.

  But Cicero Pollio was not a man of patrician origins, but plebeian, and only raised to the great Senate by marriage. He was still the wealthiest of the lot, as rumors went.

  You could not see it in his person. The wealth.

  I watched him.

  He wore no toga, but a tunic and simple shoes, and the tall, ancient, and gaunt man with gray, thinning hair was listening to his scribes. His wife was waiting by the doorway, and she too looked
ancient. I did not see her face, only her hands, and they were thin as rods. A brief nod from the man Pollio sent them all inside the vast complex of house as the scribes scattered, and they followed Agrippina, Lepidus, and other senators who had arrived soon after.

  “Damned rotting block of a place,” Gochan murmured, shifting in the shadows. “Domus of the emperor might pale in comparison in size, but the outside? Not so much.”

  I nodded.

  Pale blue painted walls, no guards to note, unless some of the beggars in the streets were there for that purpose, and little to alarm one there might be something of worth inside.

  I still noticed local ruffians avoided the house.

  “And here this Agrippina meets him?” Gochan said. “And others. I am thinking there is something in there that cannot stand the light of day.”

  “I agree, certainly,” I murmured. “They aren’t really acting suspiciously, are they? They met there, they walked about, people saw them together, and then they left, and this is as far as Sejanus has probably gotten too. Here, it stops. Cannot go inside. Not sure what he expects from me.”

  He snorted. “He expects you to take all the risks, to capture one of them, and to make them speak. That is what he hopes for. Tiberius cannot afford any scandal.”

  Of course, he was right.

  “That Pollio,” I cursed. “He looks ordinary as shit. And still, Gernot says the man avoids the Senate, lives here and there, and favors a seedy tavern to the marble of the rich houses.”

  “He avoids the Senate as a rebuke to the Princeps,” Gochan said. “Many do not really attend. There are some two hundred that are there in Curia Julia, or one of the temples where Augustus liked to meet, and there are six hundred actual Senators—”

  I was staring at him.

  He shrugged. “I need to learn. I have been doing just that.”

  “You are damned surprising,” I murmured. “Gernot is making you into something else than a Sarmatian war-king.”

  “Good,” he answered. “That’s the way I prefer to be. Something else. I like Rome.”

  “So,” I sighed. “How will we capture one who knows what is in there? And where would we take him?”

  He was murmuring and shrugged. “Lights out first, then we carry them away. It is going to be night. Any alley will do.”

  I nodded. “Has to be someone from inside. Servant?”

  He shook his shoulders, uncertain. “They know shit.”

  I watched the people coming and going. They were servants, mostly, but also people who brought them coin and other items. He was doing business all the time.

  “Old, old family friend to the Caesars and to the family of Livia,” said Sejanus. “But if he was no patrician, no knight back then, then what was he?”

  “Yes, indeed, eh?” I wondered and watched. “We need someone who is inside. That’s the problem.”

  And then I saw the gladiators.

  There were guards in leather and chain walking the muddy street, and gladiators were with them. Unarmed, unarmored, still hulking, and wide of shoulders, three men were being escorted to Pollio. I did not see their faces.

  Gochan was murmuring again. “Lucius, Ox, Neptune?”

  “What,” I whispered. “What are they up to? What can they possibly be doing there. They pray too?”

  “I guess we shall find out,” he murmured. “We have to lure someone out. One of the senators?”

  I cursed.

  “Pollio?” he wondered. “I could pretend to be a bag of coin.”

  I cursed him harder.

  “Gladiator?” he murmured. “They are unarmed, are they not?”

  I did not say a word.

  He was encouraged. “They are not nobles, but scum of the mud. One might go missing, and while a champion, it would not enrage…” He went quiet, nodding, expecting my next question.

  “How?” I snarled, and watched the people leaving.

  A bushy haired boy was running out, his eyes huge with purpose. He had been with the gladiators and was put to the task of fetching something. He was so fast we could not catch him with a horse. “What shall we do?” he finally asked.

  I turned to look around the street.

  I saw a large house right next door and wondered at the activity around it. It was late, but men were carrying inside what I thought was a thick trunk of wood. “Carpenter?”

  “Aye, that it is,” he said. “Carpentry shop.”

  I turned to look at Gochan. He gave me a suspicious look. “Do you think,” I wondered, “that there might be oil in that carpentry?”

  “I suppose,” he rumbled. “They need oil for lots of things. Why? You want to cook something? Or need some for your arse hole? You will get in there by selling yourself cheap to the guards? They will make you squeal. I saw a horse once, who—”

  I slapped him softly. He looked hurt. “Shut up. No. I want to cook that building. Make it burn like Vestal fire.”

  He looked at me with horrified eyes. “What?”

  “A fire, you idiot,” I said softly. “Rome has plenty of fires every day. That’s why they have the vigiles.”

  He was shaking his head so hard spittle was flying. “No. Look. I might not know a lot about fire, but the whole city might—”

  I sighed. “I really don’t care if it goes up in flames. I doubt it will. Not while I am alive to see it. Nay. A fire will drive the fox out of the hole,” I said.

  He sneered. “I said that I like Rome, and you want to burn it down immediately.”

  I rolled my eyes at him. “No. It will simply make things interesting. They will be fighting the fire like mad bees attack a gluttonous bear. Everyone will run out. The gladiators will join. Everyone will. Agrippina will go home, for it will take a long time to put out, if they even can. The roof of that bastard’s house looks as dry as Tiberius. And perhaps we can take one of the gladiators and have a chat with him.” I squinted past the house and down an alley. “There is a well there. See.”

  Indeed, far past the house, there was a small festival of some sort, and fires marked a gushing fountain.

  “They’ll need water,” I said. “It will be fabulous.”

  He stared at me.

  “When the Sunna sets fully,” I said, “and it is getting a bit darker. I need a nod from you.”

  He did not nod. “I suppose you want me…”

  I nodded.

  “In that case, yes,” he said, suddenly excited. “I have never burned down a city.”

  ***

  In the hora undecimal, the ninth hour, the Sunna was setting, and there were many people outside still. It was the festival, and people were spending precious oil on lamps and torches. It was warm, and still cool, and the air was echoing from the greetings of people enjoying company, before they would be setting for their homes, if they had any. Indeed, some people on sight were families recently expelled from their rented flats and were vulnerable and weak as hay shivered on the street. Finding work would save them, but not before night took some.

  I was praying to Woden.

  Gochan was in the carpentry shop.

  I had no visibility to inside the shop, but I had no doubt the brute would be setting the place on fire, and that whoever disagreed with his plans, would burn up brightly with the shop.

  I cursed him for taking so long. I wondered if he had found a meal there and was busy devouring it.

  I watched the doorway, and then I saw the doorway filling, and Gochan came to it and walked across the street for me. He looked like he had not a care in the world.

  He did not make it before the fire began.

  The house behind him first sprouted smoke out of every one of its many holes, and the smoke was gray and thin, and then savagely dark, and I blanched, as the doorways and the small windows exploded outwards.

  “Fiiiiiiire!” Gochan yelled. “Fire!”

  And that is how the conflagration began. It would burn all night and day, and much of the block around it would burn to crisp, eve
ntually.

  The street burst alive.

  Like a beehive, every doorway opened to show bleary eyed men and women. Those who were outside already were screaming, women rushing away with children, and every able-bodied man ran to fetch water.

  Cicero’s house was no exception.

  Gochan got to me. He was panting, and I started at the men who came out.

  Scribes ran out, and slaves. Some ran back in. Then Pollio appeared.

  Gochan pointed to the alley. “There.”

  He had come from a side door, slave’s entrance, and his servants were appearing with buckets, urns, and anything that might hold water. The fire above them was illuminating the chaos, and I then saw some of the gladiators with the servants, rushing about in the terrible press.

  I nodded. “Get there, and to the fountain. We grab one of them.”

  “They will see, but fine,” he murmured, pulling his hood lower.

  I ran out and pushed to the crowds with Gochan. We were staring at the blazing building as we ran, and I heard men screaming inside. A burning figure was on the roof of the building, standing amid a mesmerizing shower of sparks escaping the guts of the dying house. Then Pollio’s screams echoed across the area.

  “Pull down houses around it! Anything that can catch fire and burn! Wet the ceilings and walls of my house!” he yelled, as his servants went to obey.

  I grinned. I saw that on top, the building was already starting to burn, the roof made of wood.

  And then, I saw one of the gladiators rushing for the end of the alley beyond, carrying an empty pail. He was a thick-chested man with bald head, save for the very top, where a long braid swung. His sandals were slapping on mud and stone as he went ahead.

  We passed to the alley. We passed Pollio’s servants, and his men, and went forward. I pushed past women escaping the house, and I looked inside the doorway.

  There, I saw a gladiator in murmillo armor, helping Agrippina out, with Lepidus near them.

  They were fighting there?

  It was not allowed. Only during the games.

  Many people were rushing towards us, carrying water in anything they could have found.