I could only stare at the stump of the ram, and weirdly twisted planks in the bow, and the long furrow the enemy ram had carved to the Black Wave.
“Damned miracle it floated,” Adalwulf muttered.
I nodded in full agreement, depressed. “Damned miracle they all died.”
“The plan will need adjustments,” he muttered.
“It will,” I agreed. “But we are alive.”
He shook his head, giving Sejanus long looks. The man was stalking the water’s edge and looking our way as if searching for acceptance. “It can still work,” he told me. “We’ll find a way.”
I cursed and nodded. “Since we didn’t go to Ràn, we can only try. Let’s go to Tiberius and see if he will have the lot of us beheaded.”
“Wait, until we know how to get there,” Adalwulf said. “Shouldn’t take long before the vultures find us.”
Indeed, the locals flocked for the ship. Many were armed, no doubt hoping they could rob the ship and make the survivors into victims, but the lot changed into traders as soon as they realized it was a Roman trireme and there were a hundred armed men on the beach, staring at them balefully.
“Let’s find out where we are,” I told Adalwulf. I walked to Alexander, whose face was pale with pain as he squatted next to one of his men who had just succumbed to a hidden wound. He lifted his face as I approached and said nothing. “You fought well,” I told him. He had no answer. I went on. “They will hear of it in Rome.”
“They will?” he said brusquely, and closed the eyes of a man. “I saw what you did. I doubt you want to say anything of this fight in Rome. There was murder, my friend, that was committed on my ship. You killed Praetorians in full sight of my men.” He let go of the dead one. “Pray they don’t hear of it in Rome. It is odd they attacked. Isn’t it?”
“No,” I told him. “Roman trappings will never hide tribal grudges. You shall not be blamed for anything. We merely protected ourselves, and the scrolls meant for Tiberius. I would not mention what took place, Alexander. It would be inconvenient for some very powerful men in Rome.”
He nodded darkly. “Oh, I don’t want any part in Roman schemes. Be that as it may, I won’t forget. The sooner you are gone, and never in my sight again, the better. I could just hang the lot of you and have the scrolls delivered to the man, and none would know better. But none of that will bring us back these men. You have your scrolls?”
I nodded and took steps away. “We should get to Tiberius, then. How do we go about it?”
He squinted and pointed at one of two large mountains to the north. “Most of the East Coast is occupied, and the great city of Rhodes itself is in the Northern Coast. That is Akramitis mountain, and I hear the man lives on a valley at the root of it. He visits the city of Rhodes, but mostly stays there, in that valley.” He spat at the direction of the villagers milling amongst his men. “You should get some donkeys from the village, and then make your way there with a guide. Pine and cypress woods, they say, is what Tiberius loves, so perhaps he drinks the resin, but I’d still take him some wine as a gift. They should have some here. Now, get out of here, you dark bird of prey.”
“Thank you, Alexander,” I told him. “Keep your mouth shut, and fortune will smile on you.”
I turned to go, and he stopped me with his outstretched hand. “If you had something to do with this calamity, you and that Praetorian,” he said and nodded at Sejanus, “Fortuna will eventually abandon you.” He nodded and waved me off with his ill-omened words.
I walked to Adalwulf, checked Nightbright, picked up a spear and a shield. Sejanus joined us, looking worried. “What are you planning?”
I pointed towards the north, where the people were streaming towards our galley. “Let’s find that village,” I told them. “And then we shall speak with Tiberius.”
Sejanus frowned. “Ah! Great! Will you share more of your plan?”
“Tiberius will, if he agrees. Just follow, and don’t ask questions, centurion,” Adalwulf answered, hand on sword hilt.
Sejanus grinned and looked happy enough for the title he was sure to inherit. Of course, he had far higher ambitions than that.
We walked off and soon saw buildings on a hillside, not too far. We hiked that way, I stared up to the high, blue sky, and then wondered at the long, pristine beaches, the rough, rocky hills, and the swaths of greenery that spread along the hillsides. It was a beautiful island to be exiled in, but I would pull the crab that was Tiberius out of his shell.
At the village, we found a tavern, rested, and in the morning, we found a boy for a guide. Soon, the infuriatingly happy boy was running on well-trodden trails for the interior of the island, and we rode donkeys with decorated, gay-colored saddles and reins. We also had two amphorae of sweet, local wine on a vicious donkey laden with gear.
We rode until the afternoon, the great mountain towered over us, and the boy, asking directions, guided us to a valley through a forest of pine. Soon, we saw an estate of white stone, and gardens.
***
I had visited Tiberius on the way back from Syria. He had been in the town of Rhodes at that time, staying in the villa of the local governor, but I had imagined something modest for his actual home in the countryside. If one wished to live far from Roman influence, this was it. And yet, he had not entirely abandoned Rome in his exile.
The villa was huge, and modest was not a word to describe it.
Sprawling gardens spread along the edge of pine woods, while cattle and horses in corrals reminded me of home, Germania. There, back home, men were rich for life if they had a flock of such animals, unless they lost them to raiders. Here, the very best horses, muscular and strong, made nervous noises as we approached, and some servants in gray tunics stopped and saw us approaching. Then some ran off, and guards walked out of the main building, a many storied, wide and plain walled house with a sturdy gate. They were probably locals hired to keep him alive. There were few, then ten. He no longer had Germani Guards as he had no more position, or powers.
The man himself would be in there, hopefully, and then I stiffened in fear that he might be elsewhere. And, even if he was inside, the long exile could have changed him into a mad hermit, a pitiful man with no desire or ability to come back home, not even for honor, or even for the safety of his son. He had hunted for the killer of his brother. He had found it to be his mother. He could very well be a drunk, a broken soul, and half dead with sorrow.
We arrived at the gate, and jumped down.
The guards stared at us, and I stepped forward. “Tiberius. We bring news.”
“Is Augustus dead?” asked one man, stepping forward to receive the scrolls.
I withheld them. “Personal news,” I said haughtily, “to be delivered in person. Tell him the Raven has arrived.”
He looked at me oddly, and then disappeared inside, dodging through the gate that was slightly ajar. Boys rushed to get our accursed mounts, which seemed as relieved to be rid of us as we were of them. We waited, and walked about. An hour passed, evening arrived, and I wondered if we would spend the night standing there, and if Tiberius was unwilling to speak to me.
Then, Sejanus nudged me and we turned.
The gates opened.
A yard opened before us, and a dog ran across it, chasing a butterfly.
A guard was walking out of the gate, and waved us inside. He went forward, to another doorway, and I hopped up a set of steps after him, and Adalwulf and Sejanus followed. He stopped and pointed finger at them.
“You will wait here, and you shall eat. There is wine as well,” the man said, and pointed a finger at a small table under an olive tree, where a slave stood with a pitcher, and food was served on the table. My belly crumbled, I knew it was part fear, and then I entered the inner part of the villa. A soldier emerged from the side and pointed me through a corridor and then walked after me. I felt his spear hovering near as we walked.
We came to the middle of the complex, and I found yet another large garden with
flowers and more olive trees, and it oddly reminded me of Livia’s domus.
And there, ten men were bowing before Tiberius.
I realized that the islanders came to him, and likely stayed in the house before traveling back to the villages and towns, and Tiberius, with his keen mind, likely drilled them for every detail he could possibly absorb on the matters of the island, and perhaps of Rome and the rest of the world. Some of the men were the scribes of Tiberius, furiously making notes.
The man’s eyes flashed as he watched me. He hardly noticed the men, as he stood before the pond, now deep in his thoughts. The Stone-Jaw didn’t let a single emotion show, as he wiped aside dark hair. He looked much the same as he always had. He finally dismissed the men with a curt nod, and the nod was barely perceptible. He waited until they left, and I took a step into the garden so the men who trundled for the door could get out. Tiberius grasped a chunk of bread from the table and turned to the pond, and began to feed the fish, and the water splashed gaily as the fish went into a feeding frenzy. The sound also reminded one of a drowning man’s struggles.
He was not pleased I was there.
A table to the side, under a cypress tree was set with olives and wine, and a stack of writing tablets were spread on another right next to it. The scribes were not using it; it was his own.
His eyes flickered to me again, and the jaw went even more rigid, if possible. He turned back to the fish, and kept tearing bread for them to eat. Apparently, that had been a permission to advance.
The guard nodded.
I walked for Tiberius, and saw fat, brown fish with bulging lips appear in the murky water’s surface to gobble down bread. I stopped near him, and flipped my helmet off, while I hung on to my sack of scrolls. He crushed a fistful of bread, and threw the crumbs into the water, and there was an instant chaos which was oddly fascinating to watch.
“Rather like people in general,” Tiberius said softly. “Feed them, and they come to you, fighting for positions and honors. But when you need help in return, none appear. They all have better things to do.”
“I am yours,” I said evenly. “Like I was your brother’s. I am here to help you, for I have nothing better to do.”
He laughed so bitterly, it made my mouth dry. “Still, Hraban? Still you are mine?” His eyes flickered to my hand. The bag was bulging, and I thought I saw a look of helpless thirst for information on his face. Instead, he turned away. “Still mine. Still alive, I see. So, the scroll I gave back to you at least helped you that much. She fears the truth still. She spared you.”
“She does fear the truth,” I agreed. “She is incapable of feeling sorry, though.”
He was nodding. “You had trouble, I hear?” he asked. “At the sea?”
He had heard already? “Pirates,” I answered. “We fought them off. It got rather bloody. Lost quite a few Praetorians on board the ship.”
“Praetorians,” he mused. “You were accompanied by Praetorians. How odd for a Germani Guard to be so watched after. And I hear you have one with you, even.” He chuckled and nodded at my scrolls. “My mother writes to me, and it seems you have more of her lies stored in that bag. In the past scrolls, she claims you are an evil shit she would like to see hung from the balls. Doesn’t trust you, but says she uses you to guard my interests in Rome, while she seeks the truth to the death of my brother Drusus.” He gave me a mocking bow. “I thank you for your protection in Rome. You can tell my mother to go and die in a heap of cow dung. Did she ask you to finally come over to convince me she has been framed? That Kleitos lied in his testimony? I’d not believe you if Juppiter appeared to sing your praises and kiss your cock. Is this why you came here?”
I shrugged. “No. I doubt Juppiter has any interest in me, my stories, lies, or cock. And yes, there are scrolls from your mother that likely claim she had nothing to do the death of Drusus. She would do anything for you to believe her. That is all she desires really.”
“I do not,” he snarled. “I will not. Kleitos spoke the truth. You know it.”
“Nor should you believe her,” I agreed. “She is guilty. I know it well. So do others she is holding hostage.”
He turned to me.
I gathered my bravery. “But she is right in one thing. Rome needs you.”
He tossed a fist-sized chunk of bread to the water, and chuckled darkly. “Well. Augustus doesn’t seem to think so. He is cursing my name like he would a cheap whore. Daily, I hear. Quite a feat for the old man to curse me so often, to so many willing ears. I hear he calls senators to his house, just to tell them I am shit. He couldn’t speak of a leper he accidentally slept with in worse terms.”
“He feels betrayed,” I told him. “He wanted to make a new Agrippa out of you.”
He looked at me with such malice I had to hold myself in place. “Are you, Raven, telling me what was expected of me? Will you also tell me how to court a woman, or how to give a speech, perhaps? Will you give me my lessons for the day, rector?”
I went on, trying to imagine I was not in a mortal danger. “He vouched for you, gave you power he trusts none with, and you left for a holiday.”
He grinned savagely and hissed out some words, unintelligible, until he took some long breaths. “Holiday? You …” He wiped his face of the sweat, which fell in droplets around him. Then he spoke. “What the old goat needed, Hraban, was a busy sword that would guard his land until the sons of Julia are all grown up. Yes, I was to be like his Agrippa. I curse Agrippa often, Corvus. That old fool died of fucking snot, and left Julia for me to marry,” he snarled and walked for the tree. I followed, and stood near as he sat down in the shade, and seemed to deflate like an empty wineskin. He rubbed his eyes, and spoke miserably. “Aye, I know the honors he gave me were rare, and I spat on his face by denying him his wish. I can see why he feels betrayed. But how could I have stayed? How? My mother? My mother.”
“I wouldn’t blame you,” I said simply, “though perhaps I should. You promised me many things if only I served well. Yet,” I said, seeing the incredulous look on his face and sensed wrath building again, “we are only your servants and still are. Few could deny you some peace after what we discovered.”
He looked slightly mollified. “Life is peaceful here. Rather makes one think Rome is a pit of piss, don’t you agree?”
“It is peaceful, and perhaps Rome is a shit-house,” I agreed, “though I smell of donkey’s arse and cannot fully appreciate this peace.”
He sniffled with some rare humor and eyed the pristine sky and tall, green hills around his estate. “It is what any man could aspire for when their duty is done. Something reserved for ancient men.”
“And yet, for the younger men there is still duty,” I said.
His eyes went to mine and he was nodding sagely. “Yes. Duty. Augustus and Mother speak of duty. And at the same time, how can I do my duty, and still avoid having my own mother executed? Tell me that, Hraban. How?” He nodded at the sack. “Show the bag of lies to me. Nay, empty it,” he said, as I moved to hand it over. Instead, I emptied the scrolls at my feet. I squatted there and handed him the ones I had received from his mother. He smiled, and popped open the seal and eyed the text. “She didn’t do it. No, she didn’t. Did you know? She claims she only wanted to see my brother lose a war. She merely wished to strip him of his fame, so the armies would not follow him. And yet, oddly, your father seemed determined to kill Drusus for Antius, and Antius worked for her. It is odd how someone can beat a general without risking the general’s life. She pretends to be a simple woman thinking of the best of her sons. She says here, right here,” he snarled and smashed a finger to the scroll, “that she would have seen Drusus shy away from his Republican desires. And she would have seen me rule after Augustus, because I was the only one who could. She says she is still working to find out whom Antius truly worked for, and who twisted her orders so. She says Drusus should have survived the battle.” He laughed bitterly. “She knows nothing of strategy! Or duty! And nothing of honor!
” He spat in rage. “Such lies! As if I have not soldiered at all. She should seek help when she tells lies of military nature. Just another excuse. There are many others. But this is the lie she clings on to. Give Tiberius just a shred of truth, a small admission to guilt, and Tiberius will feel doubt, and doubt will grow into forgiveness, and she thinks I will crawl back to her like a beggar!”
He tossed the scroll far from him.
I spoke calmly. “Father was specifically to make sure Drusus and his Republican love affair would be doused forever. He was to make sure no Roman could be blamed,” I said simply, and he nodded. “And yes, Antius did exactly what your mother asked for. As I said, I do know what your mother is. Mine died because of her, and she was a kind, wise woman I loved dearly. I hate your mother.”
His eyes blinked at my words. “Livia the Liar,” he said and tossed the other scroll, unopened, to the side. There wind fluttered the letter, and the scroll rolled out of sight, and that amused Tiberius. “Drusus. I miss him so. Do you know this? I miss him. There are days when I think I am merely waiting for my days to end so I might see him again.” He shook the ominous words away, and pointed a finger at me. “But why are you here? Why would she send you? Unsupervised? Does she trust you enough—”
I chuckled. “No. And I wasn’t unsupervised at all. The battle at the sea was fruitful in a surprising way. All the people sent to watch and possibly to slay me are now fish food.”
We both glanced at the pond and he smiled, but then looked troubled. “Let me guess. There is something taking place in Rome, and you are in the middle of it.”
I nodded.
He sighed. “Thanks to your bravery, Hraban, I found out the truth. I have cursed you for it, as well, but also thanked you. You were faithful to me, served my mother as I asked, but I take it your family is still hidden away by her, no?”
“They are still hidden,” I said, and handed him the scroll of Kleitos. “They are still in danger. Here.”
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