***
Adonibaal was glad for the moonless night. He crouched beside a tree some way off and studied the three guards who barred the front door to Numerius’ house. The litter bearing Fabius had just been carried inside. In the torch light he could see the shape of the men’s helmets. He frowned at some cautionary instinct. The men were making no attempt to be discreet. He could hear their chatter and cocked his head, listening to the tone of their voices but the soldiers sounded relaxed. Maybe they were not expecting trouble. That left seven others within the house. Smoothly Adonibaal rose to his feet and flitted off through the trees until he came to the low wall that marked the boundary of his brother’s land. Whilst he’d been in Numerius’ house he’d taken the chance to thoroughly explore the house and garden and now his prudence was paying off for he knew the layout.
He crouched beside the wall and carefully raised his head above the parapet. More torches and men! With one quick glance he counted three guards beside the doorway that led from the garden into the house. But had they bothered to watch the servant’s entrance? He crawled along the wall like a spider, smooth and silent until he thought he was in the right position. Slowly he raised his head. The side door leading from the garden into the slave’s rooms was dark and looked deserted. He stared at the dark space where he knew the door was. Then he cocked his head but the only sound he could hear was the murmur of the guards and a gentle breeze that rustled through the trees and bushes. Six men outside, four within the house he thought. Plus the slaves but with luck they would be asleep. He lowered his head and turned to lean against the garden wall. Without a sound Centurion slid from its scabbard. Adonibaal felt his heart pounding away. Four men within the house but they would not be expecting him. He sighed and bent down and kissed the blade of his sword and muttered a prayer. The time to end it had come.
He was over the wall in one smooth leap. He landed on his feet and crouched like a wild cat, every sense straining to paint a picture of the darkness before him. Then half bent over he ran across the terrace and crouched beside one of the large flower beds. The night seemed peaceful. Nothing moved. He risked another glance at the door into the slave’s quarters. There was no sign of anything unusual. He could hear the guards by the main terrace door; they were still talking amongst themselves.
It took him only a couple of seconds before he was beside the door. He leaned against the brick wall of the house and waited until his breathing had calmed down. Then he tried the door. It was locked. He had expected that and from a pocket he produced the key he’d stolen from the house when he had been waiting for Numerius. He knew it was the key to the slaves quarters for he had seen one of the slaves use it. The key crunched in the lock and then smoothly the door swung open. Adonibaal took a deep breath and then stepped into the house.
Cautiously he closed the door behind him and then glided down the hall. There was no sound from the darkened rooms that he passed. He felt his heart thumping away but he knew what he was doing. Up ahead a single oil lamp glowed in the atrium. Where were the four remaining soldiers? He paused beside the wall where the hall entered the Atrium. He could hear the steady drip of water onto water close by. His eyes by now accustomed to the dark picked out the pile of boxes he’d seen the slaves carrying. Beside them was the litter in which Fabius had travelled. He strained to hear every sound. Where were the four remaining guards? Then he heard them, the low murmur of voices coming from the waiting room beside the front door. Adonibaal tensed and cocked his head. Yes he had heard correctly, the unmistakable sound of a die being rattled around in a cup. The soldiers were playing dice.
Then he heard a sudden cough and his eyes were drawn towards Numerius’ bedroom. In the room another oil lamp was burning. Was that where Fabius was resting? Adonibaal peeled away from the wall and crossed the atrium and as he did so he had the strangest sensation of déjà vue. He heard the man cough again as he closed in on the door. Centurion glinted. Fabius was sitting on a couch reading a book. He was still dressed in his senatorial toga which Adonibaal had seen him in earlier and his back was turned to the doorway. Adonibaal stepped into the room, raised Centurion and gently touched Fabius’ neck with the cool steel blade.
Fabius froze at the touch. Then slowly he turned round and Adonibaal’s eyes opened wide in shock. The man standing before him was not Fabius at all. He had been dressed up to look like Fabius.
“Please,” the man stammered, “I am just an actor. They hired me. I am not the man you want. Please let me live Sir.”
And as if to prove his point the man reached up to his head and pulled off a white wig.
Adonibaal’s mouth opened in horror and he stumbled backwards wildly pointing Centurion at the imposter as if he were a demon. They had tricked him. He had been fooled all the way. They had lured him into a trap and he hadn’t seen it coming. In despair he stood rooted to the floor waiting for the inevitable appearance of the guards. In a strange way he felt relieved. He would not run. He would fight to the end and die the death of a warrior that he was. That was the way he had always resolved to go.
“He is waiting for you in his study,” the actor stammered edging back against the wall. “He said he wants to speak to you.”
Adonibaal felt the sudden sweat on his forehead.
“Who?”, he whispered hoarsely.
The actor swallowed nervously, “The master of this house,” he replied.
***
Numerius sat alone in the library of his house on the Janiculum. It was night and outside the sky was black like tar. A few oil lamps bathed the library in a dim reddish glow. On the desk before him lay a bundle of scrolls held together by a wax mark and the imprint of the family’s seal. The histories were done and the story he had started to write with Publius was finally finished. He smiled as he thought of Publius and with his desire to please and his dog like loyalty. He missed Publius but he was happy that he had found a new son. The young man called Titus would be his new son. The boy was sharp and ambitious but he had a good heart and Numerius had decided to write him into his will. Titus would inherit everything when he was gone. He smiled as he wondered what his ancestors would think of having a Samnite in the family.
He glanced at the long line of black masks which sat silently in their alcoves staring down at him. Pompeia had come to him and they had sat in his garden, like they used to do, and had talked. They were allowing her to quietly retire with a small state pension. The high priest was now apparently eager to forget the whole matter. He’d declared that no record of her trial would be kept. Numerius had asked her if she would now marry but she said she had decided not to. Cantilius had been her love and with his death something had changed in her. The rape had scarred her like no sword ever could and she would not trust a man to be with her again.
He’d listened to her words with sadness for he had grown concerned that she would not find happiness but she had surprised him. She was opening an orphanage she had told him and was going to dedicate her life to the well being of the city’s children. She would find happiness in that she had told him and he knew she would.
Sitting together in his garden they had talked about Caeso. She had told him about the man who had grabbed her arm in the street and the words he had spoken. Pompeia had then asked him then to tell her the truth and finally he had. He had told her that Caeso was her father. He had told her how he Numerius had adopted her when she was a baby and he’d talked about her mother Flavia and what she had been like. Pompeia had been surprised but not disappointed. She had asked just the one question which was why had her mother chosen Caeso and not him. He had been unable to answer and she had said it didn’t matter anyway for he would always be her true father and she had no interest in meeting Caeso.
Numerius leaned back in his chair and raised the cup of wine to his lips before pouring the contents down his throat. The wine was amongst his finest stock and for a moment he savoured the taste. The house was silent but he knew his visitor would be close by. He’d seen
through Caeso’ decoy plan right away and when the Macedonian double agent had come to him with news that his brother was hiding in his house he’d known what to do. It had been hard to resist having the house surrounded there and then but it was better if it happened this way he thought.
He touched the cloth of his toga. It was his best one, the one he would only wear on important occasions. Then he straightened up. He had heard a noise. Something moved in the darkened doorway. He sighed and slowly rose to his feet and from the folds of his toga he took a Spanish short sword and laid it on the desk.
“Hello Caeso,” he said calmly.
The doorway was silent but then a figure stepped out of the darkness beyond, his black cloak materialising from the gloom like magic. Adonibaal was holding a sword. He looked uncertain and his eyes kept darting around the room.
“We are alone,” Numerius said, “but Fabius has a hundred men surrounding this house. There is no way out, brother.”
“There is always a way out,” Caeso muttered raising Centurion.
“We have half an hour,” Numerius said quietly, “then they will come for you. I arranged that much with Fabius.”
Caeso smiled. “You hold all the cards brother,” he retorted, “You led me into a fine trap. Tell me was it that Macedonian who told you about me?”
Numerius nodded.
Caeso’ eyes smouldered. “And Fabius where is he?”
“Fabius left the city yesterday with the army that has gone south to watch Hannibal,” Numerius said. “He has issued orders that you are to be taken alive and publicly executed in the forum as an example.”
Caeso grunted in surprise. “An example?” he repeated in mock horror.
“But that is not going to happen,” Numerius replied.
Caeso shrugged and then glanced at the line of masks in their alcoves.
“Still think Ambustus was the greatest do you?” he said with a faint smile.
“Yes I do,” Numerius said glancing at the masks.
Caeso turned to look at his brother and his face suddenly hardened.
“So tell me how you sleep at night knowing what you did to me all those years ago,” he snapped.
“I am not the one who killed our father,” Numerius said, “I too loved Flavia, you took her from me, she made a bad choice when she chose you.”
“A bad choice,” Caeso grew angry, “I would have made her happy, I loved her, I am loyal to her still.”
“You did nothing for her,” Numerius interrupted, “You barged into her life like some Legionary assault. There was never ever going to be any chance of her marrying you. How could you make her happy when our father would never approve of it? You ignored the reality of our situation.”
“Ha,” Caeso spat onto the ground, “What do you know about it. You are just a jealous coward. She chose me because I was more of a man than you.”
“Perhaps,” Numerius stood his ground, “but if you had waited just one more year you would have been free to do what you wanted. Our father was a dying man. He hid it from us but he had the same illness that now infects me.”
Caeso blinked in surprise. “I did not know that,” he muttered.
Numerius nodded. “His doctor told me afterwards.” He paused.
“Did you know that our father left everything to you in his will? He never changed it.”
“No?” Caeso shook his head the colour draining from his cheeks.
“He loved us I think,” Numerius continued, “I inherited everything in your absence and Janus was made a freeman.”
“Janus told me he got the house,” Caeso muttered.
Numerius shook his head. “No, he was lying. I sold the house. He must have purchased it from my buyer.”
Caeso closed his eyes. “The bastard lied to me to make me jealous.”
The room fell silent as the two brothers considered what had been said.
“And my daughter,” Caeso said quietly, “Why was I not told the truth?”
Numerius looked down at the ground. “I was going to brother, I was going to but events moved too fast for me. I am sorry. Not a day has passed since then when I have not wished I had acted faster.”
Numerius looked up at Caeso, studying him.
“I would like to see her,” Caeso said but Numerius shook his head. “No, I’m afraid she will not see you.”
Caeso’s shoulders seemed to sag a little.
“What do you want?” he said lifting his head and looking at his brother.
Numerius swallowed. “Forgiveness,” he said. “I want us to forgive each other for what has happened.”
“Why, will that make you feel better?” there was a mocking tone in Caeso’ voice but it lacked conviction.
“We should do it to honour our father and my son, both of whom you killed,” Numerius said. “I do not want them to have died in vain. I would like to be your brother again like we once were. Can you do that? Can you find that in your heart?”
Numerius straightened up and looked at his brother. Caeso was watching him.
“Your son?” he inquired.
“Yes the boy you killed in your first attempt on Fabius.”
Caeso nodded as he remembered then and he looked down at the floor.
“Forgiveness,” he repeated the word rolling it around in his mouth. “I never thought about it,” he looked up, “I wanted to come home and walk again in the forum and be someone people treated with respect,” his eyes widened, “but now I think I never shall.”
“You are a passenger on someone else’s ship,” Numerius said,
“You have no control over your destiny. Why not come home brother and be at peace,” and with those words Numerius stretched out his arm.
Caeso stared at him.
“Home,” he muttered sadly, “I have forgotten what home is.”
Then slowly he took a step forwards and peered at the family masks that looked down on them in silence.
“Does my daughter know about me?” he asked.
Numerius nodded. “I have told the truth, she knows who you are and what you did.”
Caeso ran his hand through his hair. “Good,” he muttered, “I am glad.”
He peered closer at the masks. “I see that both Hercules and Ambustus are present. Our father’s library was different.”
“Yes I added them. Somehow they reminded me of being a boy again and growing up.”
Caeso was staring at the sword lying on the desk.
“So what now,” he said with a faint sad smile.
Numerius swallowed. “Our time is nearly finished,” he said. Fabius will have you executed tomorrow in the forum.” Numerius paused, “But I will not let him do that.” He paused again and glanced up at the death masks. “I think it is time that we stopped talking about them and go to meet them, brother,” he said with a sad smile. “Let’s go together, like brothers, and face our demons and show the spirits of the departed that we are not afraid.”
A great burden seemed to lift from Caeso’s shoulders. His eyes twinkled in the flickering light and then slowly he nodded.
“Hold my arm Numerius and do not let go,” Caeso smiled wearily.
“I won’t let go,” Numerius replied.
***
Pompeia stood in the library looking down at the two dead men. It was morning and the soldiers and slaves of the house crowded behind her trying to get a glimpse of the bodies. Numerius lay on his side; his fine white toga stained dark red by blood and just beyond him was Caeso on his stomach, his face touching the floor. His left hand still gripped a bloodied sword and across the dividing space the arms of the two men were linked together in the Legionary way, held together with the firmness of death. Pompeia wiped at her eyes. In her hand she held the scroll that was Numerius’ final will and within it the revelation that Caeso had been her father. Numerius had written that it had been his great hope that Pompeia would be the reason around which the two brothers could be reconciled. Now she crouched down and placed her hand over the
spot where the men’s hands still grasped each other so that all three of them were linked.
“Go and join them,” she whispered. “And be at peace.”
***
Later that day the two bodies were placed on a cart and taken across the Tiber to the family mausoleum where they were buried beside their mother and father in a stone vault facing south along the Appian Way in accordance with the instructions in Numerius’ will.
The end
The Shield of Rome Page 29