The Snake Catcher

by Bilinmeyen

  I shook my head. “I was there when he was hurt, but his brother was present when he passed away. He gave me to Tiberius as a legacy, and I’m trying to decide … trying to help him still. Your husband. Trying to help my fallen lord.”

  Her eyes twinkled gratefully. “You serve him well still,” she said thickly. “And I thank you for your service.”

  “They say a woman—”

  She put a finger over my mouth and looked up at me. “So, that is what they have made you do. Help them uncover Julia’s crimes. I feel sorry for you.” There were feet thrumming on the stairway now, and I heard Tiberius yelling hoarse orders. Tudrus stepped away from the door, and sheathed his sword. She took away her finger and whispered to me, “Search for the truth. Search the half truths. Search for answers, seek out the secrets. You’ll find everyone has an agenda, and you must pick the one you can best live with. I’ll be living in Palatine, closely looked after by Augustus. My children are his backup plan, eh?” She smiled sadly. “Perhaps he’ll send me to the countryside, but I can’t hide forever. He’ll want me to remarry, but I shall not, not ever. You know why.”

  I bowed. “Your husband was an exceptional man. Not someone you replace easily.”

  “No, never,” she agreed. “And now, I’ll fight for my children. I’ll try to steer the tide, and hope they will grow up wise and kind. In them lives the blood of Augustus. Blood he craves to the throne. He has his daughter, but should—”

  “Julia wants them dead, to secure her son’s future. They’ll be in danger again,” I said.

  She smiled at me, and shook her head, almost sadly. “Julia. Find out, will you. As I said, come to me when things are dark. Find the one trying to kill Tiberius. I know Julia could easily be to blame, at least so that she approves of it.”

  I bowed, blood dripping to the floor. “I’ll do my best. I’ll find the one responsible for this, and the one who killed Drusus.”

  She turned away abruptly. “Be careful. There are many games in this family. Julia’s is but one.”

  I turned to look at Tiberius, who stepped into the room. He gazed at Antonia, then at Tudrus and me, and stepped in. Behind him, there was Agetan, Bohscyld, and armed lictors. The owner of the domus was downstairs, complaining loudly as a man was yelling at him.

  “Antonia?” Tiberius asked. “They came after you?”

  She nodded, and briefly hugged Tiberius, her eyes on me. “They did. But, they failed.”

  “This will never happen again,” Tiberius growled. “I’ll have a troop of the guard with you at all times. Even in Palatine. It has been arranged.” He broke off the embrace and looked at me furiously. “And you were supposed to guard me.”

  “I—” I began, but the man stepped near me.

  He leaned close and whispered to me, “You will stay in Rome. You will take your orders from mother, and you will get to the bottom of this. Antonia and the children. They must survive this shit. I gave you the option before. That is off the table. Do you understand?”

  I’d have to figure out a way to send Cassia and Mathildis north on their own, with someone to guard them.

  He nodded and whispered more, “Good. And since you failed to guard me, I have a reason to punish you in Rome, with tedious, nightly duty with the wife I hate. They will truly think I detest you.” He straightened his back, his jaw rigid with anger as he whirled on his feet and stalked out of the room. He yelled orders, and I heard soldiers running outside, trying to find who was to blame for the murder attempt.

  The guards filled the room, and Tudrus and I walked out. My friend grinned at me. Brimwulf appeared. “Your first scar in Rome, Hraban,” he snorted, and pointed a finger at the men in the corridor. “The men had been smuggled into the house before Antonia took residence. Hidden inside the kitchen. They had been there for a day. Someone very powerful is looking to kill the children.”

  I rubbed my face and looked at Brimwulf. “Listen.”

  “What?” he asked suspiciously. “You’re bleeding. You need to get that cleaned and stitched. Pray it won’t infect.”

  “I’ll pray,” I told him. “Smarts as Hel’s lash. You will turn back with Cassia and Mathildis. Take them, and guard them.”

  He shook his head and looked grim. “No.”

  “What?” I asked. “No?”

  He looked sorry. “Livia just left the city. She travelled ahead. She was feeling sick.”

  I frowned. I smelled a rat. Cassia?

  He went on. “She was seeking someone to accompany her. Someone who knew about medicine. And …” His voice faltered off.

  “Cassia left with her?” I whispered. She had made sure I’d not get rid of her.

  “Mathildis joined in the rebellion, if it is any consolation,” he said grimly. “Not willingly, but she didn’t want to leave Cassia. We are screwed. We stay in Rome. All of us.”

  “We stay in Rome,” I said weakly, and swiped my hand around the house. “Can’t be helped now.” I clapped a hand on Tudrus’s shoulder. “Thank you. Well thrown.”

  “I was always better than you with the spear.” He smiled wolfishly. “Any spear.”

  I snorted. “I whipped you the day my father returned with a staff. But, you are probably right.” I smiled, looking back at where Antonia was giving orders to clear blood and bodies off the domus. Servants were rushing to obey. “They are after her children. The sons of Drusus. And she said Julia is trying to kill Tiberius. She believes it. But, I’m not sure what else she said.”

  Tudrus frowned and shuddered. “It’s a filthier place than home. We need to play it as dirty. What did that man yell when he attacked?”

  “Istros,” I answered. “Like he was proclaiming something.” We exited the upper floor. Agetan and Bohscyld appeared, and shadowed us like walking boulders. “It sounds like a name, perhaps.”

  “Professional fighter,” Tudrus grumbled. “Expansive, no doubt. And we leave for Rome now.” He frowned. “I think we should use Gernot to root out these beings that live in shadows. He might be perfect for it.”

  I hesitated, and cursed. “We will see what we shall do with him. But, at least we have a name. It’s the end of the string, and we have to find the other end.”

  Tudrus snorted. “Even if it is hidden in a rear end. It will cost us blood.”

  He was right.

  BOOK 2: GERMANI CORPORES CUSTODES

  “Just orders. You know how it goes.”

  Grim to Hraban

  CHAPTER 5

  The mountains and the hills of the Samnite tribes, and where the Etruscans once lived, rose around Rome. They peaked in the horizons like icy knuckles of jotuns. The forests, hills, and fields dominated the land. Gernot bit his lips as we rode together. He clutched his stump tightly. “I had envisioned something else when we left for Rome. The cities are fine enough. They are an odd mix of filth and riches, but I didn’t know there would be so much untouched land everywhere.”

  “Wandal was saying something similar,” I said. “Earlier.”

  “I’m happy we are staying,” he said. “I think it will be rough and dangerous, of course, but I have no wish to go back home.”

  “Well,” I answered, as we rode on and the morning’s fog disappeared, “that is not untouched land.”

  Gernot muttered. “Not at all.”

  I thought he fell in love with Rome the moment he saw it. I did as well.

  The city looked like a dream. Not real, but just a speck of imagination. We were passing through a thin-branched forest, and stared at the hills that emerged from the morning’s brilliance. There were many rolling slopes rising gently over the surrounding flatness, but the Collis Hortulorum, the hill of gardens and not one of the Seven Hills that defined Rome, showed up best with greenery sprouting all across it. It—and the other hills—jutted on the east side of the river Tiber, which snaked around the city. It was full of palatial residences and lush gardens.

  Beyond this hill, a wall built of tufa—volcanic rock—encircled Collis Quirin
alis and Collis Viminalis, where the legends said the Sabines had once lived. The wall was brown, with a touch of red, snaking on the slopes and impressive, with fossa, a deep ditch, making it even more impregnable in places. Towers rose along its length.

  The lazy Tiber River was near us as we rode to Via Salaria, a road that ran straight as an arrow. It seemed to lead directly past the hill of gardens. Farther in the south, more hills appeared, and on one, the Capitolium, the gigantic temple of Jupiter Optimus Maximus could barely be made out in its gigantic glory. It seemed to rule the land from its lofty position, and I noticed all the Germani were muttering with astonishment.

  Tudrus was scowling next to me. “I wonder how many riches it holds.”

  “We won’t take any,” Wandal answered. “The god would twist our necks.”

  “Only if he runs fast,” Brimwulf answered.

  The vast slopes of the hazy, dream-like hills were filled with houses, streets running between them. Reds, white, gray, and all the shades of the browns dotted the landscape. You could see the hills simmering in the midday heat.

  “Look, its green,” Tudrus wondered, and then pointed a finger further down, “and then when it goes near the city, light brown? Almost … blond.”

  He was pointing at the Tiber.

  Indeed, the river changed color. “There’s another river near there, see?” Brimwulf wondered, and indeed, another river, Anine, poured into Tiber, changing its color. Barges travelled the Tiber, and, near us, one was being pulled on the shores by teams of wiry men. It was heaped with wood.

  “They need to burn tons of it to keep the city going,” Wandal murmured. “I wish they saw Germania’s woods. Would probably ruin some merchant’s business totally, if they had such easy access to it.”

  “They got plenty of it here,” I said. I turned to see if Cassia had an opinion, and remembered she was already in Rome, the conniving, treacherous woman. I cursed Mathildis, as well, for not stopping her, and most of all Livia, who couldn’t take no for an answer.

  As we travelled the road, coughing with dust, the day turned into an afternoon. Via Sacra ran a bit uphill now, and we passed graveyards to our right, massive and monumental, with well-maintained roads of their own.

  The huge procession trekked past the hill of the gardens, where the beauty and riches of the delicate noble residencies awed us to silence. I could read in Gernot’s eyes how much he desired to own such a house. We began to pass people standing on the roadsides, many obviously wealthy, judging by their toga virilis. They were nobles, out to be seen paying their respects by the highest family of Rome. Augustus and Tiberius were far in the front, and we had to wait as the ever-growing party bulked up with people joining it. The nobles and officials of Rome took their places behind Drusus’s corpse. I was astonished how many people were now walking with the group. The Batavi gave delighted shouts, as the walls ringing Quirinalis and Viminalis came to closer. We topped a small hill, and saw much of the city.

  Hard Hill would be a tiny, rubble-filled hillside in comparison.

  Moganticum would fit in a tiny block of the city.

  It was a miracle of marble, stone, wood, and people, stretching with fine precision to the south, hills filled with beautiful structures of god-like proportions, and the building infested valleys. Forums and markets dotted the busy valleys.

  Outside the city, ramshackle dwellings of the opportunistic merchants looked like something Rome had vomited out of its gates. Before the hamlets, more dead cities of marble, stone, and tears, as the graveyards spread around the city, as if the dead were reluctant to move too far from their former homes.

  “Roofs,” Gernot breathed. “Is there an end to them?”

  “No clue,” I whispered.

  Thousands and thousands of houses filled the hillsides and the valleys. Mighty colonnaded rooftops of palaces, greenery mixed with white, gray, red made for a spectacular show. Color and detail began to show. There was so much color, as Rome was not shy to decorate statues and even buildings generously.

  “Do they drink from the river?” Tudrus wondered.

  “Only if they want to get sick,” said the familiar centurion with a chortle. “There’s disease enough in the infested alleys. No, you don’t drink from the Tiber. Water is brought in via aqueducts. Most run underground. They need it in the city, and you can’t fart water, can you? It has to be transported in, just like food and wood. They plan to build many more, and the power-hungry rich fools will pay just to plaster their name on them. There’s not a building in Rome someone hasn’t sponsored. Many are Agrippa’s.”

  He was right. The thousands of public buildings glimmered in the hillsides, and I could imagine how one seeking a political office might pay for something like that. The number of insulae was shocking. Thousands, I thought. Thousands of them. I despaired. How would we do anything useful inside a place like that?

  “I love how you lot always go silent when you see it,” the centurion chuckled. “Ran to find you so I could mock you. Half a million people, most likely more. Do you understand that?”

  We shook our heads. It was impossible.

  “Like ten of your nations,” he roared with laughter. “Most are just scum, though.”

  Might as well, I thought. “Do you,” I asked him, “know a man called Istros?”

  He frowned. “Hmm. That’s a Dacian name. Killed Dacians in one campaign. Tough fighters all. But, that’s a slave name, perhaps? Means, ‘swift.’ Maybe a charioteer, or a gladiator? Former one? Or even a current one. They sometimes do odd jobs for their masters.” He looked at me shrewdly. “Someone you know?”

  “One to find,” I said, still staring at the city I was supposed to be able to navigate, as I searched for the truth in the matter of Drusus. Livia said I’d be perfect since I was untouched by the filth. I felt I could use someone filthy on my side.

  A Dacian name. I chuckled. I had a hunch there were countless such men in the gigantic city.

  The man muttered. “Yes, it’s hard. Like looking for a pearl in the ass, that. You should ask at the Circus. Ask a bookie, someone who takes bets. They know all the names.”

  I bowed in thanks.

  ***

  We sat outside Porta Collina, the massive gates. Tiberius was speaking to perfumed, toga wearing Romans, some older men with stained tunics, senators, and officials of the city. He was standing before a temple of Honos and Virtus. Augustus was near, on a small field surrounded by his lictors, the first man of Rome, and the two consuls of the year. Drusus had been a consul, and his replacement was bowing his fair head at the great man, his eyes teared. Whether the tears were genuine or not, I had no idea.

  Drusus had been carried inside, and I could hear the hubbub as he passed through the streets to lie in state in the Forum.

  We, in the meanwhile, were about to be confronted by our new duties.

  An officer was seated on a horse. He was dressed in a brilliant lorica hamata, and wore a white cape. His beard, unusual in Rome, was well groomed, and he stared at us as if we were born of dogs. He adjusted his helmet, decorated with long horsehair. Placing his thumb under his belt, he snubbed us in disgust, and waited for Tiberius. The horse neighed nervously as wind whipped past us, and we were all sweating, even if Sunna was nearly gone from the sky. The air was stifling.

  Finally, Tiberius noticed the officer, walked to him, and smiled dryly. He pointed a finger at us. “Decurion Maximus. This is Nero Claudius Corvus. He’ll join the guard with these scum.” Tiberius, the grim man, turned a furious face my way. “He was made a citizen.”

  “Huh?” Maximus asked, his eyes agog. “A citizen? Then why is he—”

  Tiberius signaled our way. “Because my brother made him one. I’m keeping his promise. But, he swore to serve in the Guard before he was made one, so in the Guard he serves. Make the best of it.” I was surprised how good an actor Tiberius was. His disdain for me was dripping from each word.

  Maximus frowned. “The Prefect will hate this. You know
him. He’ll shit his loincloth. He already did when he heard you bypassed him and had the third and the fourth turma take over Palatine until further notice. Some said he cried with rage.”

  Tiberius slapped his thigh, irritated and short-tempered. Maximus bowed as the great man spoke on. “My brother was killed. Some say murdered. Someone tried to murder Antonia. So we shall use the two turma Drusus trusted the best. Augustus agreed. And it’s his damned guard, not Kleitos’s. Tell him to wipe his tears and obey, or he may come to me, and I’ll explain it in a very final way.” He faced me. “As for the citizen, he left his post the other night. He saved Antonia, perhaps, but he failed me. Make the sorry bastard guard at night, as often as possible.” Maximus flashed a sympathetic smile my way. Tiberius went on. “In fact, let him guard my wife. That should be a punishment enough for him. Let the Decurion of the fourth deal with it. Put him, and the dogs, into the fourth.”

  The man nodded. He was a leader of a turma, thirty men strong unit of riders, but not of the fourth, apparently. “Indeed?” His eyes fixed on Gernot’s hand. “All of them?”

  Tiberius shrugged. “Not all will fight, but find a role for those who cannot. I don’t have to deal with every detail, do I, Maximus?”

  “It shall be so, even if Kleitos complains,” he muttered. “And you, Lord?”

  “I’ll take the sixth and seventh with me,” Tiberius said and eyed me. He’d be very securely guarded. “They’ll keep my hide in one piece.”

  Maximus, clearly a Germani, shuffled uncomfortably. “Yes. We were sent word. They are ready. They have twenty-five men each. Happy to see their homes.”

  “You were sent word?” Tiberius said, clenching his jaws. “Livia?”

  “Your mother indeed, Lord,” said Maximus apologetically. “I am not sure what business she has commanding the bodyguards of the Princeps, but the Princeps is content when we guard his family, and keep the praetorians in line, and so I saw no harm in arranging this. They are ready to leave, all chomping at their bits. They’ll sleep at your feet, and wade into battle around you. Ask them to lie down in shit, and they will, Lord.”