Emperor's Knife

by Emperor's Knife (retail) (epub)

  Silus’ mouth was dry, but he didn’t think it was from thirst. His stomach cramped and clenched, and he didn’t think it was from hunger. He looked over to the bucket. It was malodourous from his having just used it, but he felt as though he might need to make use of it again soon.

  He was scared, but he was also resigned to his fate. What hope was there for him? To go against the Emperor’s explicit orders so egregiously. There would be no forgiveness. And anyway, what did he have to live for? No family. The girl he had tried to protect was gone, and would probably be dead soon. No career. If by some miracle he survived, he would surely be dishonourably dismissed from the military, and then what was he good for? Banditry?

  There was one glimmer of hope, one small chance. The tablet. With the secret engraved into the wax in Titurius’ hand. But how to make use of it? He shifted to scratch an itchy bite on his back against the wall, grimaced as his stomach spasmed and relaxed, and thought once more about using the bucket.

  The door to the cell opened, and though the illumination was minimal, he could see it was Atius.

  His friend stood there, his bulk taking up most of the doorway, looking at him.

  Silus looked away.

  ‘Silus.’ Atius’ voice was strained, choked. ‘Silus, please. Speak to me.’

  ‘I’ve got nothing to say to you.’

  ‘You don’t understand. You don’t know everything.’

  ‘Ha.’ Silus’ barking laugh was bitter and humourless. ‘I know way too much, Atius. That’s the problem.’

  ‘Tituria is safe, for now. I found her and took her to Oclatinius.’

  Silus’ head dipped forward. He had not really expected the girl to survive, but confirmation that she was in her enemy’s hands extinguished the last tiny spark inside him.

  ‘Atius.’ His tone was full of disappointment. ‘Why?’

  ‘I… I had to. He is our commander. I took an oath…’

  ‘They will kill her, Atius.’

  ‘No, they have no need. It was her father who Caracalla wanted dead, and the son so he didn’t try to avenge him. The little girl doesn’t matter.’

  ‘Did Oclatinius tell you that?’

  ‘No, but I assumed…’ Atius trailed off.

  ‘It was all about the girl, Atius. The whole thing. Her father, her family, her household, burning down her house. It was all because she saw something she shouldn’t have. Even Daya died because of it.’

  ‘Daya died because of you,’ said Atius darkly.

  ‘Yes. She died so an innocent child could live. I had to choose between them.’

  ‘You chose the daughter of a stranger, who we had been ordered to kill, over our friend and comrade.’

  ‘Yes, I did. Could you have done the same, Atius? I don’t think you have the inner strength, despite your belief in the god of that Jewish cult, and all the mercy and forgiveness you say that he commands.’

  For a moment the only sounds were dripping water and the scurry of an exploring rodent.

  ‘I am to take you to Caracalla.’

  Silus nodded. His friend was to take him to his execution. Maybe he would even be his executioner. He stood.

  ‘Let’s go.’

  ‘Silus, what did she see?’

  What did it matter now? thought Silus. He would soon be dead. Tituria would soon be dead. Maybe he shouldn’t put his friend’s life in jeopardy by passing the secret to him, but what did he owe Atius now? He was the reason Oclatinius had first become suspicious, the one who had betrayed Silus to the Emperor, the one who had given Tituria over to her death. He felt a surge of anger.

  ‘She saw Caracalla and his stepmother fucking, Atius. That innocent little girl saw the ruler of the Empire committing incest, and the Emperor decreed she and her entire family had to die to keep the secret. And now myself too. Now you know it as well. Will the Emperor spare your life, knowing you have had a chance to talk to me?’

  Atius looked thoughtful.

  ‘Did they send you back for Apicula?’

  Atius nodded reluctantly. ‘I was to kill her as well. But she was gone. Issa too.’

  Silus’ eyes welled with tears that he would never see his little dog again. He hoped Apicula would look after her. He also hoped Apicula had found somewhere safe, to keep away from danger, and to live out her life in freedom and comfort. She deserved it.

  ‘Shall we get this over with?’

  ‘Silus, I’m sorry. I was angry. And I didn’t know what to do…’

  Silus extended his hands to be bound, but Atius shook his head. He stood aside, and Silus left the cell in front of him, his best and only friend in the entire world behind him, armed to cut him down if he tried to escape.

  * * *

  Silus squeezed his buttocks together, stupidly wishing he had used the bucket in the cell before leaving. If he died while he had diarrhoea, would he always have diarrhoea in the afterlife?

  There were only four of them in the throne room – Caracalla with Oclatinius to his side, while Atius stood behind him. Caracalla looked thunderous, Oclatinius grave.

  As soon as Silus had come to a standstill, Caracalla started to shout.

  ‘You were one of my most trusted men, Silus. How dare you disobey me? How dare you place your Emperor in danger with your actions?’ He rose from his throne, pointing his finger angrily at Silus.

  ‘I told you I am not to be questioned. That there are reasons why I give orders that may seem distasteful. It is not your position to doubt them. And disobedience to your Emperor is treason. Punishable by death.’

  ‘I know the reason,’ said Silus quietly.

  Caracalla’s face dropped, and he visibly paled.

  ‘You will address your Emperor as Augustus,’ snapped Oclatinius.

  ‘Why? I’m a dead man. What difference does it make now?’

  ‘There are many ways to die, Silus, you know that. Some are much worse than others.’

  Caracalla held up a hand to stop Oclatinius.

  ‘What do you mean, you know the reason?’

  ‘The little girl told me.’

  Caracalla sat back on his throne and stared. Oclatinius looked at Caracalla, uncharacteristically uncertain. Atius stood very still, trying not to be noticed.

  Caracalla held out a hand. ‘Oclatinius, give me your knife.’ Oclatinius passed his blade to the Emperor without hesitation. Caracalla took it, tested the edge with his thumb, a thoughtful look in his eye. Then he rose and advanced on Silus.

  ‘Get on your knees,’ he hissed. Silus did as he was told, sinking down, just wanting it to be over. Caracalla put a hand on Silus’ shoulder, and pressed the tip of the blade to his throat. He leant forward and whispered in Silus’ ear, ‘I trusted you.’

  Silus braced himself, looking forward to the ending. Whatever happened next couldn’t be worse than this existence, even if it was just a long and final sleep.

  And yet, despite this, he found himself whispering back, ‘I have proof.’

  Caracalla held still.

  ‘I don’t believe you,’ he said.

  ‘Then kill me.’

  Silus closed his eyes and waited.

  The pressure of the point at his throat disappeared. He opened his eyes again. Caracalla was looking down at him, the knife clutched so tight in his hand the tip was trembling.

  ‘Oclatinius, Atius, leave us alone.’

  Oclatinius stood and Atius turned, but Silus said, ‘I told Atius, and I’m pretty sure Oclatinius knows already. He is very good at his job.’

  Caracalla turned to Oclatinius, eyes wide. The head of the Arcani lowered his eyes submissively. He looked at Atius who was staring intently at his feet. Then he turned back to Silus.

  ‘What proof?’

  ‘A wax tablet. In Titurius’ handwriting. Detailing exactly what his daughter saw. It is clear evidence of your crime, and also a clear motive for the death of Titurius and his household.’

  ‘Where is this tablet now?’

  ‘Safe.’

/>   ‘Oclatinius. How was this missed?’

  ‘My profound apologies, Augustus. I had no knowledge that this tablet even existed.’

  ‘So where is it now?’

  ‘No doubt in the safekeeping of his slave, but she absconded as soon as Silus was arrested, and I have not been able to locate her.’

  Silus smiled to himself. Good girl.

  Caracalla took a few faltering steps backwards and sank down onto his throne.

  ‘I should cut you down, Silus. This betrayal is so deep, from someone I thought loyal. Have I not been kind to you? Have I not supported you in every way I can?’

  It was true, Caracalla had favoured him, although Silus was sure he had not done so out of pure altruism, but for his own personal gain. Nevertheless, he did feel a pang of guilt at the hurt in his Emperor’s eyes.

  ‘Augustus, I never intended to betray you. But I couldn’t allow another child to die. Not after losing my own to violence.’

  Caracalla nodded. ‘And what if I tell you that Tituria is my hostage, and I will kill her if you don’t hand over the tablet to me?’

  ‘What if I tell you that if anything happens to the girl, the wax tablet will be handed to Geta?’ Answering the Emperor back like this might have been the bravest thing Silus had ever done, he realised, and his loose bowels nearly opened at the magnitude of what he had just said. Caracalla was staring at him in disbelief, and he could feel Atius’ eyes burning holes in the back of his head. Only Oclatinius looked thoughtful.

  ‘It seems we have an impasse,’ he said. ‘Both of you have the ability to do great harm to the other.’

  Caracalla and Silus waited for the old man to say more. He considered, stroking his chin. ‘Would an exchange be acceptable? The tablet in return for the girl?’

  ‘No!’ said Caracalla and Silus simultaneously.

  ‘The girl was the original problem,’ clarified Caracalla. ‘If she is released, Domna and I will be in perpetual danger that one day she will open her mouth and spill our private secrets.’

  ‘If I give him the tablet in exchange for the girl,’ said Silus, ‘he will destroy it, and then send assassins after the girl again. She will never be safe.’

  Oclatinius nodded. ‘Then there is only one solution. The Emperor must keep the girl, and Silus must keep the tablet.’

  Silus and Caracalla both looked like they wanted to speak, but couldn’t find the words.

  ‘It works for me,’ said Atius.

  ‘Shut the fuck up,’ snapped Silus.

  ‘It’s not enough,’ said Caracalla.

  ‘It is the deal on the table,’ said Silus, still wondering at his boldness.

  ‘I am the ruler of the civilised world. I command the legions. Senators and kings bow to me.’ Caracalla’s voice was rising. ‘I will not be dictated to by a lowly assassin!’

  Silus bowed his head, trying not to tremble at the anger in the Emperor’s voice, only just holding himself together enough not to run from the room in terror.

  ‘Augustus,’ said Oclatinius tentatively. ‘I believe that Silus could still be a loyal servant to you. He has served you well in the past, with bravery and skill. He can still be useful to your cause.’

  Caracalla narrowed his eyes. ‘Go on.’

  ‘Maybe an oath of personal loyalty to you from Silus would renew the bond between you. You are losing no dignitas by forgiving Silus his crime – only the people in this room will ever know about it. Be mindful, Augustus, that the true struggle for the throne has yet to come. Silus could be an invaluable weapon in that fight.’

  Silus remained on his knees, head bowed, waiting for Caracalla’s answer with bated breath, a racing heart, and gurgling guts.

  ‘Silus,’ said Caracalla. ‘The girl will remain my hostage. She will be taken to an island and guarded. She will be raised in good conditions, provided you remain loyal to me. You will keep this wax tablet, and will take steps to ensure it can never be found by anyone except yourself. And you will swear to obey me and serve me in all matters from here forward. Because if I discover the slightest disobedience, the slightest disloyalty, the girl will suffer. She will live, as assurance that the tablet will remain hidden. But her well-being will depend on you, Silus. Life can be made very unpleasant for a girl while still keeping her alive. And finally, if anything happens to me, if I die unexpectedly, of any cause, the girl dies too.’

  A chill ran down Silus’ spine. He didn’t doubt that Caracalla meant every word. He knew how ruthless he could be in protecting and advancing his own position.

  ‘Do we have an agreement?’

  ‘Yes, Augustus,’ said Silus. ‘I ask one favour, prevailing on your mercy. May I see her before she is taken from Rome?’

  Caracalla considered. ‘Very well. Oclatinius. Administer the oath of loyalty.’

  * * *

  The small cubiculum was clean and freshly decorated, the walls painted with a fresco of fruit trees and songbirds. The bed was clean, with a soft mattress, and there was a table with a hand mirror and a selection of make-up, hairbrushes and jewellery.

  When Silus entered, Tituria was holding the mirror in one hand and combing her hair with the other. It seemed at first a scene of normality for a young girl alone in her room, but as he watched, he realised she was combing the same strand of hair over and over, repetitively, though it was completely tangle free. In fact the over-grooming was so marked that the hair was beginning to come out.

  ‘Tituria,’ he said softly.

  She turned, startled. When she saw who it was, she returned to the repetitive combing.

  ‘I’ve brought Helen.’ Silus held out the doll. He had gone back to his apartment to find it. The place had been ransacked of course, soldiers or others sent to look for the wax tablet in case he had been stupid enough to leave it in his apartment. But they had taken nothing of value, and the doll had remained where it had been discarded.

  Tituria snatched the doll from him, then retreated to her bed. She sat, knees pulled up to her chest, the doll pressed to her face, and looked at him with eyes full of fear and hate.

  Silus moved towards her but she shrank back, so he sat on the stool by the dressing table.

  ‘I want you to know how sorry I am. For everything. I thought I was doing the right thing. For the Emperor, for the Empire. But when I saw you there, all I could see was my own daughter, who I miss dreadfully.’

  Tituria said nothing, but her eyes were fixed intently on Silus.

  ‘The woman who killed your father. I loved her, you know. And I chose you over her. It was the only way to save you.’

  ‘You killed my mother,’ said Tituria, speaking at last, her tone dead.

  Silus nodded, and his eyes filled with tears. ‘She died as bravely as any Roman matron, thinking of her children.’

  For a moment, Tituria was silent. Then she said, voice so quiet Silus could barely hear, ‘Was it all because of me?’

  Silus grasped for words. Should he lie? Could he? But could the child live with the truth?

  ‘It isn’t your fault,’ he said, the words sounding lame to his own ears. ‘The Emperor did wrong, and you found out. He sent me to… to cover up. The sin is all his. Not yours. Not even mine.’

  ‘You killed my mother. You saved my life. Should I be grateful to you, or hate you?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Silus truthfully.

  ‘What will happen to me now?’

  ‘I made a deal with the Emperor to keep you alive and safe. But part of that deal was that I have to keep working for him. Doing things I don’t want to do any more.’

  ‘Should I thank you?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ he said again. ‘You are to go to an island somewhere. I don’t know which one. You will be looked after. You will live in grace and comfort. You will have everything you wish for.’

  ‘Except my family.’

  Silus bowed his head, and tears dropped from his overflowing orbits onto the mosaic floor.

  ‘Silus,’ said Titu
ria. ‘I have nobody in this world who cares whether I live or die. Except you.’

  She put her doll down and stood, then tentatively stepped forward. Silus looked at her, eyes full of sadness. Then she ran into his arms, and hugged him. The floodgates opened, and both of them wept, great sobs from the depths of their misery.

  When they had both cried themselves out, Tituria stepped back.

  ‘I will never forgive you for what you have done. But you are all I have. Silus, I don’t want to go. Will you come with me?’

  ‘I can’t,’ he said, desperately wishing he could do more to make amends. ‘The Emperor has demanded my service in exchange for your safety.’

  Tituria nodded. ‘Maybe when your service is over, you could come and find me.’

  ‘I will. I swear to all the gods, and on the shades of my family, that I will do everything in my power to come to you when I can.’

  ‘Thank you. You can leave me now.’

  Silus desperately wanted to hug her once more, but he knew the time had passed, that the outrushing of emotions was a momentary release that was unlikely to be repeated.

  ‘You will have a fine family of your own one day,’ said Silus. ‘And when you do, I will be very proud.’

  Tituria picked up the hand mirror and the comb, and turned away from him. He closed his eyes for a moment, then walked to the door.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Tituria looked out across the sea, watching the sun slowly sink beneath the horizon. She clutched her doll against her belly with both hands. She was bored. It had been months since she had been brought here, to the island of Lipari. She lived in a beautiful villa, with plenty of good food, fruits and sweet treats. There were baths on the island she could use. Her guardian, a Greek freedwoman called Myrtis, cared well for her, continued her education in Greek and Latin, in rhetoric and philosophy, and played games of ludus latrunculorum or knucklebones when she wanted.

  Silus had seen her off at the docks at Ostia on the boat that was to take her to her prison. She was under no illusion that this was a gaol for her, and she felt she deserved it, for the tragedy she had brought on her family and herself. Silus had warned her to say nothing of what she had seen to anyone ever again. Not the guards on the island, not her tutor, not any visitors. He had made it clear that if she did, it would be the end of her.