Finally, bored with his little game, Gallus peered up from the scroll. “Greetings, Marcellus, I have been expecting you.”
“I’m curious to hear more about your proposal,” I said.
He grinned. “Since your wife is involved, I assume you’re more than just curious.”
“Come to the point!” I snapped. Then I forced myself to grovel. “Go on, please.”
“My dear Marcellus, you were never one for wasting words.” His voice grew stern. “It is within my power to obtain the release of Lady Eleyne. Once I give the word, she will be discharged in a matter of hours.”
A surge of relief and excitement welled within me. I called on all my strength to maintain my self-control. “What is the price for her freedom?”
“Nothing.”
I studied Gallus in stunned silence. He lied. By freeing Eleyne, I would again be under an unknown obligation. One I would be compelled to honor. We both knew it.
“You never grant favors,” I said, “without expecting something in return. I haven’t forgotten my repayment of your loan at one hundred percent interest in Britannia.”
Gallus brushed off the remark with a wave of the hand. “That was long ago. I assure you I want nothing that is yours.”
In other words, don’t interfere with his schemes. I had no doubt he would extract a heavy price at a future time, and I would pay it. “By what means,” I asked, “do you intend to free her?”
He glanced toward the entrance before he turned back to me. “For a fee, there is a magistrate who will sign the appropriate documents.”
“Of course, what other way is there?” I shook my head. “But she’ll never sacrifice to the emperor.”
He raised his thin eyebrows as in mock surprise. “No one is asking her to do any such thing. The judge and two hand-picked witnesses will testify she did.”
“You must have reached far inside your toga for him.”
“Far enough.”
“But why?”
“Never mind,” he growled, “I have my reasons. Be grateful I did.”
“I am.” I exhaled, hating myself.
“It so happens she is here—not free, mind you—but here.” He motioned for me to follow and stepped into an adjoining room with a stone wall. He swept aside a velvet curtain and gestured to me to look through the peephole. My heart pounded when I saw her. Eleyne sat amongst the flowers between pink Numidian columns of a peristilium. I was too far away to call her, but close enough to see she was unharmed. Chulainn stood near the peristyle, leaning against a pillar, hanging his head. In my concern for Eleyne, I had forgotten Chulainn, and his wife’s desperate plea for help.
Then I saw little Regan peeking from behind the bench where Eleyne sat. She scooted out and nearly tripped on her long homespun tunic. She squealed and crawled onto Eleyne’s lap and giggled. She was no longer ill. Was this the work of Paul?
“Her release,” I said turning to Gallus, “includes her servant, Chulainn, and his daughter.”
Gallus moved to the peephole without answering. A few seconds passed. “It goes without saying the child is to be freed. She is innocent, and I hate to see children suffer. As for your man servant, I am impressed by his loyalty to your wife. He was willing to do anything to see her free.” Gallus lingered, staring blankly at them. “Loyalty, and a willingness to do anything, are virtues I greatly admire.”
His voice dropped and spoke softly, as if thinking aloud. “His skin was . . . so . . . soft, and . . . ” He caught himself. “Of course, he is to be freed, too. But should you ever decide to sell him, send for my slave buyer, immediately.”
Gallus escorted me to the entrance of his house and paused briefly. A dark expression crossed his face. “I have arranged this favor for you. In turn, the time will come when I shall ask you the same. When that hour arrives, remember this day.” He grinned and gave a slight mocking bow of the head.
*
Gallus kept his promise. An hour before dawn, I waited outside Latumiae Prison, enduring the jail’s overwhelming stench. When the iron door swung open, I caught Eleyne’s small, cloak-draped figure and Chulainn’s wiry frame. He carried his daughter asleep in his arms. Stiffly, they trudged to the lane where I waited with a litter and an extra horse.
Although I had observed them wearing clean clothing at Gallus’s home the night before, their garments now reeked of prison filth. It did not prevent me from giving Eleyne a quick embrace and a pat on Chulainn’s back. Despite foul-smelling clothing, his face was scrubbed and clean shaven.
Regan’s face was a healthy pink. Chulainn smiled.
“Thank God you came,” Eleyne whispered, her gaunt face riddled with pain. “I don’t know much longer I could have endured that foul place. We found Paul—Regan is healed.”
“I’m glad for all of you, darling,” I said. “But let’s get quickly away from here. This place sickens me.”
I whisked them home. Chulainn said nothing during the trip and avoided my eyes. I knew the unspoken wound he had suffered to protect his mistress.
The entire household, including young Marcellus and Sabinus, awoke early to welcome us. Chulainn’s mute wife, Imogen, pregnant with their third child, gave him an awkward hug. For a moment, Chulainn stood near tears, then met her embrace with equal tenderness.
Before discussing her terrible ordeal, Eleyne quietly ordered a bath.
When Eleyne departed in Imogen’s company, Chulainn and I went to the library. I motioned for him to take a seat in front of the desk from where I sat. As the pulsating light from two lamps sitting on tripods lit his haggard face, he licked his chapped lips, swallowed, and reluctantly spoke.
“The mistress and I,” Chulainn said, his eyes avoiding contact with mine, “traveled to the catacombs. The place was lighted by the lanterns of hundreds of worshipers.”
Paul, who had been expected to address the gathering, never arrived. By the time the services concluded, rumors circulated that Tigellinus had placed the apostle under arrest.
“We were disappointed,” Chulainn said, “and the faithful began to leave. Within a few minutes one of the members returned shouting, ‘Guards! Run for your lives.’
“There were three entrances to the great vault. People crowded and clogged the passageways trying to escape. But it was impossible. The Praetorians blocked all exits. Few worshippers resisted, which saved our lives.”
Chulainn swallowed. “The troops were eager for slaughter.”
My heart leaped into my throat, and I took several deep breaths. I wasn’t surprised by the Praetorians’ action. “Go on.”
“I would’ve fought them if the mistress hadn’t ordered me to stop. Seven guards surrounded me sticking their javelins in my face.”
“You were wise to refrain, I know those butchers. Continue.”
He nodded. “After we were herded through streets to the prison, they stuffed us like cabbages into stinking dungeon holds. We took turns sitting and standing in the dark and filthy cell. It was so stifling we could hardly breathe. Except where you sat or stood, there was no place to relieve yourself.
“We received one meal of maggot-infested food in three days,” Chulainn said bitterly, “and little water. There wasn’t enough for all. Little Regan suffered badly. Her breathing grew shallower, and her face turned gray. I thought she would die at any time.”
I balled my fists and shook my head. “How did the Lady Eleyne withstand the conditions?”
Chulainn nodded. “The mistress endured everything without complaint. She was more concerned about Regan and constantly comforted her. She attempted to help others who didn’t fare so well, especially the children. Like my daughter, they suffered the most.”
On the night before Eleyne and Chulainn’s release, Paul was shoved into the cell by two burly guards. Despite the cell’s cramped conditions, everyone crowded around the Christian leader, asking questions about his arrest and for his blessing.
Eleyne managed to push her way to Paul’s side. “He re
cognized the mistress at once,” Chulainn said. “‘The baby,’ is all she said. Then Paul nodded and laid his hands on Regan’s cheeks and his lips moved in silent prayer. He removed his hands and whispered something to the mistress who thanked him. At first, I didn’t see any change. Then the color returned to Regan’s face, and her breathing grew stronger.
“When she awakened and started crying from hunger, I knew she would live.”
“I’m thankful for the both of you,” I said.
Chulainn swallowed. “It wasn’t over yet. The night was on us when guards carrying torches arrived and yanked nearly sixty men and women from prison, including us.”
I shuddered, and chills ran through my body.
“As the Praetorians escorted us and the other Christians through a tunnel and out into the Forum, a soldier suddenly pulled the mistress and Regan out of the line. My daughter broke free from his grasp and ran to my side, screaming. She would not leave me. The soldier seemed confused and looked about. I followed his gaze to a commander on horseback. Even in the torchlight, I recognized Tribune Faenus Rufus. He nodded his approval and spared the three of us.”
“Thank the gods, he did,” I said. “I plan to see him later. Go on, Chulainn.”
He nodded. “Tribune Rufus ordered the mistress to remove her golden stola and give it to him. She refused, but he warned her that if she did not obey, she would be crucified.”
I jolted. “What happened?”
“She complied and was left wearing only a white, woolen undershift. A guard grabbed the mistress and dragged her into the dim light of the hallway. I feared the worst.”
He exhaled. “Thank God, the centurion in charge of the escort ordered the guard to stop and return the mistress, my daughter, and me to a cell.
“A few hours later, the door opened, and the guard ordered the three of us out. I was afraid the centurion had changed his mind. They placed the mistress and Regan in a private cell, and other guards escorted me to Senator Gallus’s house for questioning.” Chulainn paused. He swallowed hard and licked his dry lips.
“You don’t have to speak if you don’t want.”
“Gallus then said that before the mistress was crucified he would have her.”
My face grew hot. That filthy bastard! He deserves death!
“He threatened crucifixion again,” Chulainn continued, “and I begged him to spare my daughter and Lady Eleyne. I said I would do anything to save their lives.”
‘Anything?’ Gallus had asked. I could only nod. He said, ‘Your mistress by force, or you willingly—either would be amusing.’ He parted the robe from his otherwise nude body and stepped closer to me and forced me to kneel. He ran his fingers through my hair,” Chulainn struggled to go on, “and made me . . .”
“Say no more,” I said, sensing the outrage he endured. I tried comforting him, grateful for his loyalty, but when I reached across the desk and touched his shoulder, he pulled away.
“I’m sorry, sir,” he said an instant later.
“Someday, Gallus will pay for your humiliation, I promise.”
After a minute of silence, Chulainn resumed his story. Later, Eleyne joined him in Gallus’s peristyle, and afterward both returned to prison. The turnkey said Eleyne’s detention had been a mistake, and she and her slave and the child would be released. When the door to freedom sprang open, Eleyne whispered, Thank you, Lord, for our deliverance.
When Chulainn finished his story, I told him of the prisoners’ fates. He smashed a fist into his other palm. He fled to his room.
*
Later, after Eleyne had bathed and dressed, I went to the bedroom. Imogen had finished combing her hair, and Eleyne motioned for the mute servant to leave. Eleyne’s impassiveness gave way to sobs. I took her into my arms.
“Marcellus!” She softly wept and later fell asleep.
I held her the rest of the morning. I swore my revenge to the gods, cursing her dead Jew who allowed this man named Gallus to live.
Chapter 26: 64-69 AD
Chapter 26
64-69 AD
During the next five turbulent years, my fortunes and that of Sabinus fluctuated like the ocean tides.
Within days after Eleyne’s release from prison, I sent her and our sons, along with Chulainn and his family, to Hispania. As their ship moved away from Ostia’s dock and headed for the open sea, I turned away to hide the tears sliding down my cheeks. Although I had made the right decision, it had been gut wrenching. I missed my family already, not knowing when I would see them again. My only consolation was the remoteness of the latifundia, sixty miles from the nearest seaport, which would keep them out of sight and harm’s way.
The situation in Rome grew worse. Nero’s neglect and greed inspired a series of conspiracies against his life. Some, patently fabricated by Tigellinus, allowed the emperor to seize the estates of prominent and blameless noblemen. The Stoic philosopher, Lucius Seneca, was forced to commit suicide while many others were executed. Sabinus and I stayed quietly in the background, performing the mundane duties of city administration and law enforcement.
Because the emperor had neglected to visit legion garrisons strung along the empire’s frontier, he failed to hold the loyalty of the army. Then he made the fatal mistake of allowing their pay to fall into arrears. Only the Praetorians, commanded by Tigellinus, and City Guard, which I led, were paid on a regular basis.
During this time, a period of approximately four years, I had corresponded with Eleyne and our sons, young Marcellus and Sabinus, and managed to spend three summers with them. But before each time I left for Rome, the farewell to my family became a prolonged, heart-breaking experience full of long hugs and tears. Still, I refused to allow them to return to the city, and I’m glad I did.
*
68 AD
After I returned from my last leave, events in Rome reached a critical stage. After two unsuccessful revolts in Gaul and Germania, the commander of Hispania’s only legion, General Galba, then past seventy, declared himself emperor and marched on Rome. The rumors I had heard when in Hispania were true when I returned to Rome just ahead of Galba. I served under the old man as a young cavalry sergeant in Germania. The Senate sentenced Nero, who earlier went into hiding, to death in absentia branding him an enemy of the state. Galba’s agents promised a substantial bonus to the Praetorian Guard if they pledged their allegiance to the still vigorous Legate. They did, and the army followed suit. Not wanting to be executed as a traitor, I had little choice but to include my troops.
Nero fled to a freedman’s house in Rome’s suburbs. Because Tigellinus was dying from cancer, there was no one to protect the emperor from the wrath of the Senate. Too cowardly to open his own veins or take poison, Nero whined and begged his mistress, the freedwoman, Acte, to cut his throat with a dagger. Groveling to the end, he died at barely thirty-two.
When Galba arrived in Rome, he immediately dismissed Sabinus as city prefect and chief magistrate, replacing him with one of his own men. I was transferred to the fleet at Ravenna on the northeastern coast of Italy. My orders stated the purpose was to broaden my experience and value as a commanding officer. I had been field commander of the City Guard too long. In reality, Galba feared the loyalty of the city troops, which I still retained. The emperor demanded this for himself. Although I had a reputation for unquestioned loyalty to the throne, the emperor was not impressed, and decided such fealty was better suited for an officer in the navy. He kept me far enough away to have little political influence in Rome, but close enough to be well within his reach.
Instead of being angry and resentful, my whole body sagged in relief. I was grateful for the opportunity to leave Rome and thanked the gods. I had spent too many years in a high-profile position, subject to the scrutiny and political foibles of madmen and murderers.
However, to further ensure my loyalty I was ordered to return Eleyne from Hispania to Rome. Although angry, she knew neither of us had a choice. Fortunately, three months earlier young Marcellus,
now twenty, and young Sabinus, nineteen, had been appointed as tribunes in the army and assigned to the Twentieth Legion based safely in Britannia.
When Eleyne returned to Rome, I worried that her life could be in jeopardy once again. Would Galba continue the persecution of Christians?
*
69 AD
One rainy January morning during the seventh month of Galba’s reign, the Praetorians murdered the emperor in the Forum, after he refused to pay the bonus he had promised them. Marcus Otho, a foppish nobleman, pledged the troops the same bribe if they acclaimed him emperor. He decided to move against the old man when he discovered Galba had not kept his promise to adopt and make him heir to the throne.
After Galba’s death, Emperor Otho recalled Sabinus and reinstated him as city prefect, but I was left to languish with the fleet in Ravenna. I was second-in-command in name only. The real authority remained with its commander, Admiral Lucilius Bassus.
No sooner had Otho claimed the Imperial purple than the bejowled commander of the Upper Germania Legions, Aulus Vitellius, declared himself emperor. His father, Lucius Vitellius the Elder, had been one of Sabinus’s closest friends during the reign of Claudius. He marched south in early spring to Northern Italy and defeated Otho in a bloody battle on the plains north of the River Pedus, near the village of Bedriacum. Otho committed suicide, and Vitellius announced a general amnesty.
Although relieved that Vitellius was not taking any reprisals, I wondered how long the peace would last. Too many rumors floated about. I suspected more conspiracies loomed on the horizon. I prayed I was wrong.
The Peacekeeper Page 27