The Senator's Assignment

by Joan E. Histon

  ‘I’ll have you hung for this, Macro,’ Sejanus bellowed. ‘I’ll make sure…’ He lunged forward. His remaining words lost as the emperor’s Praetorian Guards restrained him.

  Macro never flinched. Withdrawing a parchment from the belt of his tunic, he unrolled it and read, ‘I am also placing under arrest…’ His voice carried clearly around the House, only to be drowned out a moment later by the stomping boots of a further detachment of Praetorian Guards, these ones to arrest the supporters of Sejanus.

  Vivius stood up, his arms still folded across his chest, a sense of satisfaction hovering over him, waiting for a convenient time to be wallowed in. His eyes scanned the room as the abusive cries towards Sejanus grew louder. Some of them he noticed, included those who had proposed to be his most ardent followers. Others cringed on their benches, waiting for their names to be called, waiting for the inevitable arrival of Praetorian Guards at their side to drag them off to Mamertine Prison.

  And then a captain in the Praetorian Guards arrived at the trot. Macro paused in his reading of the list to listen to what the captain had to say. Then Macro’s head turned, and with an expression of alarm he pointed the captain in their direction.

  Felix breathed in sharply. ‘Something’s wrong.’

  The captain was panting when he arrived at their bench. ‘Senator Felix Seneca?’

  Felix nodded.

  ‘Sejanus’s children…there’s been an order…Sejanus must have no heirs.’

  Felix grabbed the captain’s shoulder. His face was grim. ‘Where are they?’

  ‘In Prefect Sejanus’s house, Senator. But there’s a unit of Praetorian Guards already on their way there.’

  ‘What? Who sent them?’

  The captain looked uncertain. ‘I…I’m not sure, Senator. But Prefect Macro’s ordered we get them, take them to their mother, the Lady Apicata.’

  ‘Right. Get two of your men.’ He turned to Vivius. ‘Are you armed?’

  Vivius patted his short sword under his toga. He could already feel the adrenalin pulsating through his body, fighting off the tiredness.

  ‘Come on then.’

  But to Vivius’s frustration, getting out of the Senate House was considerably harder than it had been to get it. They were forced to push their way through irate senators who had gathered in the aisles to give full vent to their bruised feelings at being under the rule of Sejanus for so long. Once outside they then had to fight their way through the curious citizens of Rome who had congregated to find out why Praetorian Guards had descended on the House of Senators.

  It took longer than Vivius had expected to get through them, but when they had he, Felix, the captain and his two men ran all the way to Sejanus’s town house. It wasn’t far, a matter of streets that was all. But Vivius slowed down when he caught sight of the house.

  ‘We’re too late,’ he panted and pointed ahead.

  A unit of Praetorian Guards, led by the high-ranking officer who had met him off the boat the previous day, were coming out of the house. The officer was wiping blood off his sword. He watched them approach, his lips pursed, his cleft chin jutting out.

  ‘You’re too late. It’s done! The emperor need have no fears that heirs of Sejanus will be claiming his empire.’

  ‘Why you…You’re on the emperor’s orders?’ Felix demanded incredulously.

  The captain and his two guards ran inside the house.

  ‘Yesterday you supported Sejanus,’ Vivius challenged.

  The officer shrugged. Ignoring Felix’s question he turned smugly to Vivius. ‘You’re the politicians. I simply obey the orders of whoever is in charge at the time.’

  ‘And who ordered you kill these children?’ Felix insisted.

  The officer slid his sword into its sheath. His men, hearing the raised voices, gathered around their commanding officer. Vivius caught sight of the captain at the door. When he caught Vivius’s eye, he pushed his helmet back off his forehead and shook his head.

  Leaving Felix to deal with the Praetorian Guards, Vivius made his way deliberately up to the front door. It was gloomy inside, barely any light coming through the partially closed shutters. At what point he asked himself why he needed to see this slaughter for himself he wasn’t sure. But once inside he knew there was no going back. He wandered through to the living quarters and instantly spotted the smooth leg of a child protruding from behind the couch. It was the boy. Vivius grimaced. He was used to death, he’d seen plenty of it in his time, but he had never been able to reconcile himself with the unnecessary cruelty or death of children. Perhaps it had something to do with his own experience of childhood, he mused, and was surprised that that thought had never occurred to him before.

  He looked down at the boy; he was young; hadn’t even reached puberty, and there were four, five, no six sword stabs in the skinny young body. Vivius examined the scene of the murder. There was blood on the walls, furniture overturned and a sword still in the boy’s hand. At least the lad had put up a good fight, Vivius thought. His mother could be proud of him for that. He glanced around. Two children the captain had said.

  Vivius made his way back across the hall and into the bedroom. He knew what he would find before he got there. Pushing back the door he found himself staring down at a pathetic little figure, barely into womanhood, lying on the bed. Her long, brown hair was spread across the pillow as if she was sleeping. But the open eyes and terrified expression was not one of a young girl’s innocent sleep. Her bodice had been slashed to expose barely formed breasts and her dress had been ripped up to her waist leaving her purity sullied, exposed and bloody. A dagger had sliced her throat. Snatching up a sheet from the floor, Vivius covered the naked body. He wasn’t revolted; he’d seen it before. It was common practice. No Roman would kill a virgin and offend the gods, he knew that. But…

  ‘It was on the emperor’s orders.’

  Vivius turned. Felix was standing at the door staring down at the girl’s foot protruding out of the sheet.

  ‘By Jupiter, Vivius. Do you think we’re simply replacing one monster for another?’ He spoke quietly, confidentially.

  Vivius shook his head. ‘I don’t know. I’m too tired to think straight.’

  They stood in a heavy silence; the euphoria of victory over Sejanus lost in this tragedy.

  Eventually Vivius took a deep breath. ‘I’m going home,’ he said. He looked purposefully at Felix. ‘And then I’m going to get Aurelia.’

  * * *

  It was a combination of the uphill climb in the hot afternoon sunshine, an aching stomach and tiredness that slowed Vivius down. Common sense told him his bags should be lighter without the ledgers and reports, but it didn’t feel that way.

  After an hour he stopped and ran his tongue around the inside of his mouth. It was thick and tasted foul. Making his way over to the high arched aqueduct which brought water into the city, he cupped his hands under the trickle seeping through a crack and drank deeply. Then splashing cold water over his head and face he rubbed his hand around the back of his neck and rolled his shoulders. His head was pounding as though the boots of an entire legion was marching through it.

  Flinging himself and his luggage under the shade of a tree he brought out the small loaf and slab of cheese he had bought on his way through the city. As he still had well over an hour of brisk walking ahead of him, he decided he would rest for no longer than ten minutes.

  It wasn’t a restful ten minutes. He found the bread tasteless, the cheese too strong for his upset stomach, and he spent the entire time brooding over Aurelia—and Felix. His thumb searched out the smooth red ruby in the handle of his dagger as his bruised ego ruminated on the relationship between them. After five minutes he poked his teeth with his tongue to clear the crumbs and cheese, then tossing what remained of his meagre meal in the undergrowth he staggered to his feet again.

  An hour later he turned off the main highway and followed the track to the left, towards the prosperous Suranus stables Dorio had inherited from
his father. The track was rough in places, gouged out by carts from his olive grove and horses from the Suranus stables.

  He paused behind a tree, scanning the green terrain for any sharp reds, silvers or blacks of the Praetorian Guards who hadn’t yet been informed of Sejanus’s arrest, but the estate was quiet. True to his word, Felix had recalled the Praetorian Guards keeping the Suranus stables under observation.

  Vivius was debating whether to check on his prime witness, when a small, bandy-legged man emerged from the villa laughing. Dorio was behind him. The breath going through Vivius’s nostrils let out a faint whistle of relief at the sight of them.

  Deciding he’d had enough of playing nursemaid and he was in no mood to talk to anyone, he waited until they had gone inside before moving back on to the track again. As he followed the boundary around the fields towards his olive grove, the horses from the Suranus estate raised their heads from their grazing. They made no attempt to canter up to investigate; he was after all a familiar figure. A few minutes later, Vivius gave a sigh of pleasure at the most beautiful sight in the world, his olive grove.

  A welcoming whine and the cantering of hooves told him his horse had sensed his approach, as she always did. He clicked his tongue at her, although he knew she was too far away to hear him. But sure enough, she was at the fence when he came over the rise, her ears up, her tail swishing away the flies, her nose blowing fiercely in greeting. Vivius dropped his bags by the fence and rested his head on the animal’s silky muzzle. She was warm, the touch of her flesh familiar, she smelled of horse feed and had flies buzzing around her but he didn’t mind. He reckoned he didn’t smell too good himself.

  He stroked her ears. ‘I can’t live without her, you know that?’ he whispered. ‘I have to get her back.’

  The animal snorted into his neck as though she understood the comment was not directed towards her but the other woman in his life, Aurelia.

  ‘Why did I never tell her that?’

  The horse nudged him. He continued stroking her silky neck.

  ‘Vivius!’

  Vivius felt his heart lurch, then it moved into a steady gallop.

  ‘Vivius?’

  He could hear the swish of her feet on the grass. He turned slowly and watched her approach as though he was seeing her for the first time. He noticed that she didn’t have the voluptuous figure of Claudia; Aurelia was thin, painfully thin. Nor did she possess the strong sexual attraction that had drawn him to the Procurator’s wife in the first place but…

  ‘You’re beautiful,’ he said, and to his embarrassment his voice cracked. ‘You’re the most beautiful woman I…’ He was surprised at how easily those words had come out of his mouth.

  She raised her eyebrows, equally surprised, and then she was by his side, her small hand tucked into his, her expression questioning this unexpected openness in him. He buried his head in her shoulder and for the first time in his life, Vivius Marcianus wept—not out loud, not so that she would notice, but silently and deep within himself. If Aurelia was confused by his behaviour she didn’t show it, but held him close, rubbing his back, her breath warm in his ear as she whispered how much she loved him.

  Vivius never imagined he had the capacity to love someone as much as he did at that moment. Nor did he imagine his heart could be open enough to receive so much love back. All he wanted to do was soak in it, so he took the risk, and did. Only when he believed he was sufficiently in control of his emotions again did he lift his head.

  ‘When I got your letter…I…I would do anything for you, anything…But…you and Felix…’ Confused by his inability to string a sentence together, he rested his lips on the top of her head so she wouldn’t see his face. Her hair was soft and silky. Aurelia stepped back.

  ‘Anything Vivius?’ she asked. Taking his face into her hands she regarded him steadily. ‘Does that include compromising your integrity?’ She didn’t speak accusingly but gently. ‘I need to know, Vivius. Sejanus said you had concealed evidence from Julius’s trial.’

  Vivius didn’t answer, not at first and when he did, he said, ‘Once. I did it once, to save you being arrested alongside Julius.’ He paused. ‘You…and Felix?’

  She shook her head. ‘I went to him because I was afraid Sejanus would arrest me.’ She paused. ‘Felix wanted me to go to his summer villa but…I couldn’t bear to be so far away from you, my love. So I persuaded Phaedo to bring me here, not that he needed much persuading. I’ve been staying with him. As for me and Felix, it was a long time ago and…’ A teasing smile played across her lips. ‘Don’t tell me you’re jealous, Vivius?’

  He gave a crooked smile. She laughed up at him, running her fingers through his hair.

  The horse nudged them to remind them she was there, but they ignored her.

  But then Aurelia knitted her brow and examined her fingers. Stepping back she looked him up and down.

  ‘I love you, Vivius,’ she said tenderly. ‘I love you dearly, but…’ Her eyes twinkled mischievously and she wrinkled her nose. ‘But you’re all crumpled and dirty, and my dearest senator, you smell disgusting!’

  * * *

  After a brief inspection of his new and completed villa, and a relaxing sampling of his new sophisticated bathing facilities with its underfloor heating, Vivius and Aurelia made their way to the Suranus villa. Vivius to check on his witness for the prosecution and Aurelia to see her brother. The only difference was, after their evening meal together, Vivius made his way home alone. Aurelia insisted on staying with her wounded brother, who angrily told her to stop fussing, insisting that he wasn’t wounded, he had simply lost an arm in Palestine.

  After an evening of continual chatter, Vivius was relieved to be alone. He needed time to think, which was why he didn’t go directly to his new villa but stopped by the long flat rock at the edge of his olive grove.

  Sitting down he lifted his face to the cold night air, took a deep breath, then closing his eyes lost himself in the vastness of the heavens. Only his ears picked up the chirp of crickets, rustle of one animal stalking another, and the whisper of leaves from his olive trees.

  For the first time in weeks, Vivius rested.

  When he opened his eyes again, he found they landed on a blaze of lights stretching the length and breadth of the city of Rome. Somewhere down there the position of power was shifting, he mused. Sejanus and his supporters would be in prison. Tiberius would be in control. There’d be court cases he would be asked to judge, but…that was for another day.

  Swivelling around he viewed the single lamp burning in the kitchen of his new villa; young wispy bushes waving around a patio, and from this angle… Vivius’s gaze drifted towards the old farmhouse. Half demolished it was barely recognizable. Once it was completely demolished he would never need to think of his father or his childhood…or.…

  The silence around him seemed loud. Loud enough for him not to feel awkward in breaking through that stillness. He ran his tongue around his mouth. Each word he spoke was stilted, clipped.

  ‘Fact; my…father…never…loved…me.’

  It was a shock to hear the truth spoken from his own lips.

  ‘Nothing…I…did…ever pleased him.’

  The trees in his olive grove seemed to rustle their leaves in a whispered understanding; the way they always had.

  ‘My father was a harsh and unforgiving man.’

  Vivius found he was getting used to the sound of his own voice. It seemed to him like…speaking out crimes and facts, the way he spoke them out in his courtroom.

  ‘Fact; my father only loved himself.’

  The crickets chirped nearby, their musical notes urgent before the night settled down to wait for dawn. Vivius rested his arms on his knees as a thought occurred to him.

  ‘So why do I still search for his approval?’

  This time he murmured because he wasn’t stating a fact, he was asking a question of himself.

  ‘Why do I still wish that he’ll love me, even from his grave? Why do I sti
ll need to prove I’m a better man than he was?’

  Vivius waited, as though expecting an answer. But the night was still.

  It was an impulse that drove him to his feet. Vivius found that strange because, unlike Aurelia, he wasn’t given to impulsive actions. Yet as he made his way towards what remained of the old farmhouse he sensed this impulse was different. There seemed to be a reason, even logic behind it, although he couldn’t quite figure out what that was—yet.

  The moon gave little light so he had to pick his way carefully through the wood piled up outside waiting for the builders to dispose of. He viewed the old kitchen dispassionately. All that remained were a few shelves, chairs, a dismantled cupboard and… His eye fell on a familiar object in the corner, a basin. He picked it up. Bad memories of the morning Fabiana had whipped the clothes off him and left him stark naked in front of Aurelia surged back. Pursing his lips, he threw the basin outside as if he was flinging away an unwanted relic from the past.

  He paused. He wasn’t sure what made him heave a cupboard door on to his shoulders and stagger outside with it. He was already exhausted so his knees buckled under the weight and he stumbled over the builders’ debris. But he found a deep sense of satisfaction in hurling the door on to the pile of rotten wood stacked for burning.

  He stared at the dry timber.

  Then moving briskly towards his new villa he marched into the kitchen and snatched up one of the lanterns. His housekeeper threw him a puzzled look but he had no intention of enlightening her. In fact, Vivius realised he wasn’t too sure what he was doing himself. For the first time in his life he was following his instincts rather than logic or reason, and it felt good.

  The lantern lit his way back to the old farmhouse. He stopped by the woodpile, stared at it momentarily, and then hurled the lantern on to the rotten wood. The oil dripped through the rotten beams and on to the old kitchen door. A tongue of flame caught the oil, flared and then lapped it up. Vivius gave a grunt of satisfaction and marched back into the old farmhouse kitchen feeling like a man who had been given an assignment.