The Oath Keeper

by Alaric Longward

  He nodded and left.

  Let it shine as it burns.

  BOOK 4: CALIGULA

  CHAPTER 21

  The great pyre was burning, and praetorians were standing around the place in their hundreds. Few knew of the clearing near Rome, but it was close to the harbor and we could hear people screaming in the city.

  “To the river with Tiberius! To the river!” they yelled in unison.

  Caligula was watching the pyre from his horse, and Claudius was near him as were the dozen young friends of Caligula, the worst seeds of the city’s high families.

  Vinicius, Longinus, and Domitian were in the Senate. They were refusing to vote for honors like those Octavian had received.

  Tiberius Gemellus was nearby with Claudius, and Antonia had demanded to be allowed into the cremation. She hovered near the boy.

  Caligula closed his eyes, and waved others away. He pointed a finger at me and I approached, guiding my horse near his.

  He watched me like a hawk. “He will be forgotten. I will not do to him what we did to Sejanus and Livilla with them losing their names, but he will be forgotten. I shall rule with mercy, at least.”

  I nodded. Mercy and Gaius did not go well together, of that I was sure of.

  “And my sisters shall have a larger part in the management of Rome,” he said, eyeing me. “Or at least they will be honored at my side.”

  I shrugged. “As you wish.”

  “No objections?” he asked.

  “I was wondering about their husbands,” I said. “I have no objections, of course.”

  He sneered. “Their husbands will see me rule, they’ll follow my bright light, and they also shall not object, if they know what is good for them.” He clenched his fist. “Agrippina is with a child. Another potential heir. And I have none.”

  I said nothing to that.

  He had plenty of bastards all across Rome. He simply did not consider them important.

  He wanted a child with his sister.

  He cleared his throat as the pyre crashed a bit lower. “Drusilla is mine. All mine. If their husbands behave, I shall see them rise high. If not?” He shrugged. “Things will change now that patience is not needed any longer.”

  The charm and the jokes were gone.

  “It shall be so,” I said.

  “I shall build, Raven,” he whispered. “I shall build god-like monuments, and I will spend gold. Gold can be regained. I can sell the Senators and merchant lords their own houses, if I wish. I can ransack an enemy nation. Or an allied one, for that matter. I am the law, and you are now my justice.”

  I nodded. “Indeed.”

  “But you have no wife,” he murmured. “None.”

  I looked at him, puzzled. Did he intend to marry me off?

  He smiled. “Did you know I have slept with Ennia for years. Macro’s woman. On and off, that is.”

  “I didn’t know,” I said, wondering how degenerated he was. We had had the discussion most every time he saw Macro.

  “It has worked well,” he said. “If a man endures what I do to their loved ones, they endure anything. You too, should marry. I do not trust a man who will not share his wife with me. Any lovers?”

  I leaned closer to him. “I have sight. I see the ends of even the gods, and the gods have given me wisdom. My lover is not to your liking. You do not want to bed her. It is my sword.”

  He thought about that, and of my words, and took them as the warning it was.

  He grinned. “I shall not sleep with her. I like you. You have nerve to speak to me like that. You still do,” he laughed and slapped his knee. “Now, we must have a feast. Old friends, Senators, and scum shall attend. Lepidus, my friend has a birthday. We will celebrate in the house of Octavianus, our first Augustus, which is now mine.” He turned to go. Then he stopped. “Tiberius,” he said, looking back, “told me about this son of Thusnelda. Thumelicus? A bit before you came. They are both dead. I am sorry. Now, feast, and marriages. I feel virile today. I am supposed to have a parade tomorrow.”

  He rode away.

  I sat there for a moment, and thought about his odd, terrible moods.

  I watched Claudius, and Macro and the rest of them. Macro stopped and rode to me. “There is enough for both,” he said.

  “There is,” I told him. “Always was. You saw what I did?” I asked. “Back in Misenium.”

  He shrugged. “I told him nothing.” He nodded at Tiberius Gemellus, who was with Antonia.

  “I have to take him,” he said. “Antonia will object.”

  “He is to die?” I asked.

  “No,” he answered. “He shall live in nearby here, under guard.”

  And there he would die, one day soon, I thought.

  I rode away from the ashes of Tiberius later, to the complaints of Antonia, as Gemellus was taken away.

  Tiberius was buried in silence in the Mausoleum of Augustus and forgotten.

  ***

  On the 20th of March, the next day, Gaius entered Rome.

  Never was there quite a reception like that for anyone in the family. Surrounded by thousands of men, his family riding in golden chariots, minus the husbands, the young god was riding a white horse with a silver saddle. He was wearing gold and silver too, in his head a richly decorated diadem, and his sword was that of Julius Caesar. The crowds called him their “golden boy,” or, “their baby.”

  On the outside, Caligula’s sheen was golden.

  The people of Rome cheered so hard the city echoed like it was under siege.

  Few wondered about Tiberius Gemellus.

  They finally had the ruler they had always hoped for.

  Germanicus’ son was almost as popular as Germanicus, and the young, handsome hero was hailed wherever he went. He threw fistfuls of coin lavishly around as he rode. His eyes shone in competition with the Sunna in the sky.

  He was a god, that day.

  He rode to the Temple of Concordia, where he dismounted, and we followed him in, and all the Senators gave way for him.

  What was about to happen, would be terrifying.

  He stood amid the great temple, and two hundred men, many of them new blood stood up to clap at him. They stood and saluted him, as we and his guards entered the Senate’s presence. Longinus and Vinicius were there, their eyes full of doubt and fear. The two consuls, Proculus and Nigrinus, stood up, and bowed deep, and Proculus spoke, after Caligula in his splendor walked to him. “Here, the very first citizen of Rome, your place.”

  Caligula watched the seat between the two men.

  Then he spoke. “I hold all the powers of my adopted father. Is this not so? All the powers you gave him once, are mine.”

  Proculus, and old man with a slight limp, nodded. “The Senate does not dispute it. It was so decided last night. We—”

  “Are famed for disputing the simplest of things,” Caligula said. “Sit down.”

  They hesitated. They began to sit down.

  “Sit down with the Senators,” Caligula said coldly. “I am now the first, and my sweet Claudius the second Consul. I shall name whoever takes the second seat next year, but I shall be the first consul from now on to eternity.”

  There was an astonished silence.

  The Consuls walked back, no longer consuls, and sat down amid their fellows. Some were jeering them, the rabble, and crooks, many of them Senators of our making, as we had cleansed much of the better men off Rome’s Senate during the past years.

  Caligula dragged Claudius out of the group of guards and had him sit on the floor next to him. He sat in the middle seat and rested his feet on the man’s lap.

  Claudius, apparently fully aware what was asked for, removed Gaius’ boots, and began massaging his feet. It was an odd sight, like a play on the street by bad actors, except the Senators were incredibly quiet, smelling at last the madness in the air.

  “I, Gaius Julius Caesar, will want your pledges,” Gaius called. “I’ll take the pledges on your knees. And you will not only pledge your
very lives and allegiance to me, but to my sisters. All my sisters shall get your oaths of loyalty. Agrippina, Drusilla, Livilla. All of them. They shall be added to the official pledge, and the pledge will be used across the empire, when needed.”

  None denied him.

  It was unprecedented. But just one such item on an extensive list to come. They all went to their knees, and slowly, softly, chanted oaths to him.

  When it was done, they remained on their knees.

  “Thank you. I shall be quick. Hear me. I shall name Drusilla my heir,” Gaius said. “And she shall inherit my power, should I die. But gods do not die.”

  At that point, there were actually some muttering and whispers in the Senate.

  They went quiet, when Cassius Chaerea stepped to stand near Gaius.

  Gaius shook his head and smiled. “Ah, the doubt. I smell it. But there are men wiser than you are. Raven, he knows. Tell them Raven.”

  I steeled my heart and made myself openly an enemy of Rome.

  I stepped forward. “Indeed, I, the man who walked the lands of the dead, the only one to come back from beyond, bring you good news. Gaius, the seed of Juppiter, blesses Rome with his divine wisdom.”

  They stared at me, knowing a man who was taking an advantage of Gaius, and of all of them.

  Gaius waved his hand lazily at me. “See? You all saw him die. Most did. I have never been sick in my life. Another proof!”

  “Surely, none denies this,” said Gaius Calpurnius Piso, one of the old blood. “Rule well. Life will be easy and safe, as you—”

  Caligula smiled and gazed at him. “And you got married today?”

  He smiled, expecting congratulations. “I did. To Cornelia Orestilla. We have been in love for twenty years.”

  “Is she fertile?” Gaius asked. He poked Claudius, who had grown slow in his massage. The fool began working briskly.

  “She…yes,” said Piso. “I—"

  “Good,” said Caligula. “To prove me your undying loyalty, you shall give me a gift. I order you to declare your marriage annulled. Then, this evening, in the feast, you shall deliver her to me, and I shall marry her instead. I shall marry her with your blessing. I shall bless her with my seed. You shall thank me now.”

  Piso was stammering.

  Gaius looked at Lepidus. “Fly. He swallowed a fly.”

  The man laughed cruelly.

  Gaius leaned back and yawned, and spoke on, bored. “And then, tomorrow, I shall divorce her, Piso, and I also order you shall never meet again after. Like I suffer for Rome’s well-being, you too must be able to. It is time Senators learnt to be like the Romans of old: self-sacrificing, tough to the bone, pious.”

  Piso bowed his head, sweat dripping profusely.

  He and his former wife would one day soon be exiled for adultery, as Gaius wanted to be rid of both.

  You could smell the fear now.

  Macro and Cassius had their hands on their sword’s hilts and I was walking back and forth, eyeing the sea of angry, stunned faces. They knew me now, the Raven of Rome, and many were whispering as they watched me.

  I was their death.

  Rome’s.

  It was what I had worked for. It had worked well.

  And still, I was troubled. The innocents would suffer terribly.

  Caligula toed Claudius away. “Shoo. Sit in the corner. Leave the boots here, you idiot.” Gaius looked back to the Senators. “I have noticed Rome is extraordinarily rich. I ask you, good men, what good is coin rotting away in the temples and the Tabularium. Nay, it must be used to bring glory to our lives. I shall make momentous changes. We will allow the unfortunate souls out there to run for offices, and everyone may see how we spent the coin. There will be grand temples and statues, and aqueducts to quench the thirst of the public. They shall love me, if you will not. Defy me, and you will make them terribly upset. I am not the fool Tiberius. And my Raven, the new Sejanus knows what you are, and who you are.”

  I did. They knew it. They watched me with loathing and fear.

  Silence.

  None clapped. They did not know better yet.

  “We shall,” he said softly, a sure sign of danger, “surely have an enjoyable time together, senators of Rome. Husbands to my sisters. Make sure Claudius is going to be obeyed in all the matters I send him to you with. Raven, and Macro will be upset, children, if you do not obey, and my pretty Cassius shall slice you up. And you are all, of course, invited to the feast this evening. I am getting married. Twice.”

  At that, he left.

  The “twice” made an impression on all of them, and I watched the last might of Rome shivering with fear and confusion, and it would turn to blistering hate very soon.

  Especially after the feast.

  ***

  The feast had been set up under Mani’s light, and the guests were being served across Palatine’s streets.

  Caligula held sway in the hall of Augustus.

  I watched from the shadows.

  With him, next to him on a sofa, lay the pretty Drusilla.

  I was sure they had been lovers before.

  I knew the bastard loved her, in some truly odd way, and around him, the other two sisters lay, both far more worried than Drusilla.

  It was possible Drusilla was, in fact, the most afraid of them all, but knew how to survive.

  He held her hand, he kissed her cheek, and the drunker he came, the more intimate and daring his moves. He would sit her on his lap, and his hands were under her dress, over her belly, and eventually, he was stripping her for all to see.

  Lepidus was cheering him on.

  She stood there, suddenly aware things had changed from scandalous and forbidden, into something far more dangerous.

  There were drunken cheers echoing, as Gaius spun the girl around, and open shock in the faces of men, depending on their quality and rank, and Agrippina tried to say something to stop it.

  “Silence!” Caligula roared. “Lepidus! Do you object if I divorce her from Longinus, and you marry her this night? We can have a double wedding?”

  “No!” his friend roared. “May that be the official dress in Palatine from now on! I cheer my wife for her bravery!”

  “Longinus!” Gaius turned to the husband, leaning on a wall, not far. “And you?”

  Longinus opened his mouth.

  He closed it. His face was red with shame.

  “A wise man,” Caligula said. “Macro! Find my new wife! Let the feast go on, while I get to know her.”

  He spun Drusilla onto his lap, and took wine, roaring with joy.

  Drusilla was weeping.

  I closed my eyes.

  When I opened them up later, I saw how Gaius paced back and forth, and drank more, and eyed the crowds, dragging Drusilla behind him.

  Most avoided his eyes, even his sycophants.

  Macro finally appeared, and dragged with him a middle-aged older woman, and the weeping senator Piso, and Caligula sneered. He lifted his hand and pointed a fist at the woman. “Come, wife,” he said, and opened his hand. “We shall celebrate our union, and my sister’s new marriage.” She, braver than Piso, walked forward, shaking with fear. Gaius took her to his arms, and squeezed her, and Drusilla to his chest, and spoke so loudly, it could be heard across the feast. “Worry not, for tomorrow, we are already divorced. And Lepidus! Come, get to know my sister, your wife, our dear shared treasure.”

  “Gaius, please—” Drusilla begged.

  He growled. “Julius, Marcus!” he called for two more of the scum. “Tonight, I shall be very generous. I told you; I shall share even the most precious treasures with my friends. Drusilla and Livilla. Agrippina! You come too. Macro! And Raven!” he called.

  I did not move. I stood still in the shadows.

  He looked around, as the others stood there.

  “All of you,” he told them. “Undress here! That way you can find the clothing later. Trust me. I know what I am talking about, you little shits. Raven!”

  I said nothing.<
br />
  He licked his lips in fury. “Where is he?”

  Macro cleared his throat. “Probably on duty, somewhere. I am sorry.”

  Gaius clearly considered finding me.

  Then he hesitated, probably remembered I was married to my sword, and turned. “Come, come! We shall not let that ruin our night. His loss! Let us have some fun! It is a day of celebrations! Golden glory for Rome during the day, but the gods play at night! Come, you all, undress.”

  They did, the women horrified, the scum excited, Macro shocked, and the guards, shaking in terror.

  When they were done, he led them off.

  He led them to a room where once Octavian had met his clients, and when they were in, he closed the doors.

  I turned and left.

  As I left, I saw Cassius watching the closed doors, and with him, stood Claudius, speaking and shivering.

  The next morning found Senate of Rome terrified and cowed. Vinicius, Longinus, and Domitius were especially humiliated, smeared to the bone, their wives’, or in the case of Longinus, former wife’s long humiliation common tale across Rome.

  And they could do nothing.

  Caligula had also married again, for one Senator, Publius Regulus had tried to admonish him after he returned from what could only be described as a mass rape of his sisters and his unwilling wife. The man was the bravest of all, and still, regretted his bravery soon enough.

  Not a man rose to stand with him.

  And his wife too, Lollia Paulina had been ordered divorced from her husband, married to Gaius, and taken to Gaius’ bed. Later, she had been ordered never to see her husband again, but to Gaius’s credit he actually only divorced her later, during Saturnalia, when it was clear she was too old for children.

  She too, was never allowed to see her former husband again.

  Later, she would be one of the women the next Princeps would choose from, as he tried to decide on a wife.

  From that day forward, a drunken, dark god of debauchery, far worse than any ruler before, set to devouring Rome.

  They all feared him.

  One day, soon, that fear would turn into anger.

  Then, there would be bravery. Gaius was happy. So incredibly happy.