Caligula

by Douglas Jackson

  The remaining guards were still well armed, but their shock and terror rendered them defenceless. Together they dropped their swords by the fire and fell to their knees in surrender. But Cupido had neither the time nor the inclination for mercy. He swung right and left and the men fell screaming among the glowing embers at the fire's edge.

  'Finish them,' he said, and ran towards the doors of the villa.

  For a moment, Rufus stood open-mouthed at the order but logic told him the three men were already as good as dead. The first fighter sat in a growing pool of his own blood with a dazed expression, and the others were expiring noisily and roasting at the same time. It was a mercy, really.

  When he entered the villa, time might have been standing still. The only movement came from the young Praetorian mewing pitifully beside the door as he attempted to push his intestines back into the great tear Cupido had just carved in his stomach.

  Beyond him, Cupido's back was to Rufus, and eight paces beyond him was a scar-faced soldier, evidently the leader of the guard detachment. And Aemilia.

  She stared at her brother with a look that might have been irritation. It certainly wasn't fear, although fear would have been perfectly justified given the short sword that pricked beneath her chin and only needed one good push to skewer her. The sword was held by scar-face, who stood with his back to the russet-painted plaster wall and was scared enough for both of them.

  'One more step and I kill her,' he rasped.

  'I thought you were supposed to rape her while she watched me roast alive?' Cupido said conversationally.

  The challenge in Aemilia's captor's face changed to a frown of confusion.

  'That was what Chaerea planned for me, wasn't it? That I would cook over an open fire while you had your way with Aemilia.'

  The soldier spat. 'If you drop that sword maybe we can come to a different arrangement. Something that suits both of us?' The words were an offer of negotiation, but there was a glitter of anticipation in his eyes that betrayed his true plans.

  'I don't think so.' Cupido smiled, and the glitter in scar-face's left eye was extinguished as it magically sprouted a four-foot sword that transfixed his skull and pinned him to the wall.

  Rufus hadn't even seen Cupido move. The stroke was so impressive he felt like applauding. He was never certain whether it was an arena trick honed by a hundred hours of practice, or a sleight of hand Cupido learned at his father's knee. However he came by the skill, it was horrifically effective. The gladiator had whipped the long sword up underhand with a flick of his wrist and speared a target an inch across only a hand-span from Aemilia's right ear.

  'You took your time, brother,' Aemilia said, unwrapping the stricken man's arm from her throat. She looked at him with detached interest. He wasn't dead, but it couldn't be long. His body jerked and shook as he hung there, held fast by the iron blade through his head. His remaining eye went through a range of emotions: dread of what was inevitably to come, puzzlement at how he had been so careless, and perhaps a mute plea to have this dreadful alien thing removed.

  Aemilia spat in his face and wrenched the sword free, allowing him to drop like a stone.

  'I thought you said you didn't have a brother?' Cupido said.

  She stuck out her tongue and handed him his sword. 'Phawwww! You stink.'

  'That's a nice way to talk to your saviour. But you're right, where is the bathhouse? And do they have any other clothes?'

  She gave him instructions and he went off muttering to himself about ungrateful women, leaving Rufus and Aemilia alone apart from the unfortunate, sword-gutted youth who was now attempting to crawl out of the door.

  'Ah, yes,' Aemilia said, as if she had just remembered something important. She bent over the young soldier and pulled at a pouch at his belt.

  'I thought you had it,' she said triumphantly, recovering her jewelled dagger. 'Where are your lusty promises now, Marcus?' And she drew the blade across the boy's throat with appalling suddenness, so that his blood painted the mosaic floor bright red. She looked up and saw the horror on Rufus's face.

  'What do you think he would have done to me if you hadn't come, he and that pig over there?' She pointed at the one-eyed veteran. 'Do you want me to tell you what they planned for me? I'm sure you'd find it instructive.'

  Rufus shook his head. He suddenly felt very tired. He swayed on his feet and might have fallen if Aemilia hadn't taken him in her arms.

  'I am sorry, Rufus. I wasn't thinking. They told me what that brute Chaerea did to Livia. He will follow these swine over the Styx in his own good time.' She lifted his mouth to hers and before he realized what was happening she kissed him, long and hard, so the breath was driven from his lungs and his hammering heart tried to escape from his chest. 'You saved me, you and my brother. Accept this as the first part of my reward, but not the last.'

  He stepped away from her, confused by the contradictions going through his mind. A second ago this woman had cut a dying boy's throat, and now . . .

  'I . . .' He stopped at the sound of approaching footsteps. Aemilia raised her still bloody dagger, but he waved her away and stepped to the side of the door, sword in hand. He allowed the intruder to walk past him into the room before putting the sword point to his spine with enough force to pierce the cloth of his tunic.

  'Is this the way you greet a friend?' Narcissus demanded irritably. 'Callistus informed me you might need help. He has at last decided which way the wind blows. However, I see you don't require my aid. I am most impressed.' He indicated the prone bodies of scar-face and his comrade and the bloody floor around them.

  'What help would you have provided, eunuch?' Cupido appeared in the doorway dressed in fresh clothing, his hair plastered like strands of gold against his skull. 'I see no sword.'

  Narcissus greeted the jibe with a tight smile, but his eyes gleamed dangerously. 'You are right, of course: not all of us are so adept at dealing death as you. Yet even a simple scribe might be of use in times of danger. I bring a message as well as offering aid, and it is this: the Praetorian tribune Cassius Chaerea and his assassins plan to murder the Emperor today. They must be stopped. You must stop them.'

  Cupido shook his head. 'Why me? I have as much reason to hate Caligula as any man.'

  'It is simple. He trusts you as no other because you have already saved his life. If you need a reason: you have given him your oath. If you need another: you would be stopping a civil war in which thousands of innocents will undoubtedly die. Would you care to have the death of innocents on your conscience along with so many others?'

  The long sword was at his throat before the last word was out. 'Have a care, Greek. One more death would not weigh too heavily.'

  'I have brought a horse,' Claudius's freedman choked, as if the metal had already pierced his flesh. 'The Emperor attends the theatre. You must persuade him to leave before the sixth hour. The sixth hour, you understand, no later. Yet do not act too hastily. The assassins intend to strike at the end of the performance, but if they become aware of your purpose they may take fright and attack early. Caligula normally leaves the theatre to take a noonday meal. That may provide an excuse to manoeuvre his departure by a route which will surprise the plotters.'

  'What about the guards on the road?' Cupido stared at him hard.

  'Chaerea has called off his dogs. He will have other work for them if he succeeds today.'

  Cupido sheathed his sword and picked up his cloak.

  'No,' Rufus shouted. 'Don't trust him. It is a trap!'

  The gladiator smiled sadly. 'He is right, Rufus. I have given my oath. Perhaps by this act I can atone for everything that has gone before. Join me if you can. I will bring him by the shortest route. There is an underground passageway between the theatre and his palace; Aemilia will direct you to it.' Then he was gone.

  'You might remove that thing from my backbone now?' Narcissus suggested testily.

  'Better to fillet you with it. There is something wrong here. Why do you and your master,
who would have had me use Bersheba to kill Caligula, suddenly want to keep him alive?'

  'It is a matter of timing,' Claudius's freedman said. 'I will explain in the carriage.'

  He had come in one of the imperial carriages, splendid with gold leaf and fine metalwork. It had right of passage through Rome at any time of day or night and no one would stand in its way. As they passed through the courtyard Rufus realized that the hour was later than he thought. The sentry fire had burned down to ashes, with the blackened remains of two vaguely familiar shapes smouldering gently at its edge and giving off a strong smell of roasted pig. The aroma made his mouth water, a fact he found profoundly disturbing.

  As they clattered across the cobbles towards the vast bulk of the Palatine hill, Narcissus explained why it was so imperative the Emperor stayed alive.

  'Chaerea believes nothing stands in his way if he kills Caligula today, but he is wrong. If the Emperor dies without a successor a dozen generals will descend on Rome with their legions, each with a better reason than the one before for taking power. The German guard, who oppose Chaerea, hold the key, and it is all about power and timing. If they can be persuaded to proclaim a member of the imperial family as Caligula's heir and march with him to the Senate, he will have the power of both the army and the people behind him. The generals will stay in their provinces and we will have peace.'

  'And a new Emperor. Claudius.'

  The Greek shrugged. 'My master took much persuading, but he realizes the times are too' – he searched for the right word – 'too turbulent to convince the Senate of the wisdom of a republic. Now all that remains is to agree a price with the Germans – you would be surprised how tedious avarice becomes – but for that I need time, which is why Cupido must save the Emperor today.'

  'But Caligula must die in the end?'

  Narcissus smiled. 'We all must die in the end, Rufus, but yes, Caligula will die – at a time of our choosing. Does our bargain still hold?'

  'No.'

  The smile didn't falter. 'I thought not. You always were an unlikely assassin. You see too much good in people.' He glanced across the carriage at Aemilia, who appeared to be sleeping. 'It is a trait that will get you into trouble one day.'

  XLIV

  By the time they reached the Palatine it was already close to midday. Rufus jumped from the carriage. Narcissus took his arm. 'Remember. You must win me some time. If you can escort the Emperor to his palace he will be safe there. The guard are all Germans and loyal.'

  Rufus turned to Aemilia. 'Go there and wait for me,' he ordered.

  The look she gave him would have felled a bullock and her voice fairly dripped with contempt. 'Do you think you can keep me from my Emperor?' The change in her left him utterly confused. Where was the girl with the sweet lips who had kissed him an hour earlier? He tried to make his voice as hard as hers.

  'Very well, but if you slow me down I will leave you.'

  'I am my brother's sister. It is not I who will slow you down.' She set off at a soldier's jog, and even though her skirts hampered her he had difficulty keeping up.

  By the time they reached the pillared entrance to the passageway she had slowed to a more sensible pace. Rufus tried to discuss with her what had happened in the villa and the contrast in the way she had treated him minutes earlier, but she refused even to acknowledge him. Her mood had shifted again. Now she was quiet and withdrawn, but her face bore a look of resolute determination. They walked side by side through the corridor in silence. It was wide enough to take half a dozen soldiers marching abreast, but it was a gloomy cavern of a place lit only where sunlight filtered through tiny square windows that pierced its roof every twenty paces or so. In some ways it reminded Rufus of the Cloaca Palatina, but the air was fresher. The walls were lined with white marble and the mosaic floor – at least where it could be seen in the poor light – was astonishing. It had been decorated in sections by the finest craftsmen in the Empire. They had created wonderful scenes featuring angry gods and wild-eyed monsters so finely wrought it seemed sacrilege to walk upon them. At one point Rufus glanced down to see a sinuous sea-dragon with emerald scales and rows of fearsome teeth entwined round a great whale which was struggling for its very survival. A few steps onwards Jupiter fired bolts of jagged, golden lightning across a perfect Tyrrhenian sky towards a bearded giant holding a trident who must have been Neptune. Set into the corridor walls were large curtained alcoves containing statues of the famous emperors and generals who had made Rome great. The interiors of the alcoves were shadowed and hidden and Rufus grew more nervous with every step. Narcissus had been certain Chaerea had called off his men, but if they met a stray patrol of Scorpions their lives would be measured in seconds.

  They were almost halfway when Aemilia stopped abruptly. Rufus halted beside her and tore at his sword with his mind screaming panic. What had she seen that he'd missed? He stood at her side, blade in his right hand, and waited, his ears filled with the sound of his own thundering heart.

  Slim, warm fingers clutched at his free hand and held it tight. He turned in surprise to find her staring at him with a look of infinite sadness that scared him as much as anything he'd experienced this terrible day. It was the look of someone who had lost everything but her soul; the look she must have worn on the day when she was taken into bondage as her whole world burned around her.

  She reached up to touch his face with the palm of her left hand. When she spoke, her voice was the voice of a child. He realized he'd forgotten how young she was. Somehow the sadness made her even more beautiful.

  'Whatever happens, please don't think badly of me, Rufus. Whatever pain you suffer, I will suffer more, and I could not bear it if you hated me. There are times in a person's life when they do not control it; it controls them. Once I thought I could have loved you, as you loved me. But first there was Livia and now there is the Emperor. Even to share a smile would be death.'

  He attempted to reply, but his mind was a whirlpool of confusion, thoughts forming and shattering, hopes dashed against the diamondhard certainty of her words.

  She put a finger to his lips and said softly: 'You must live your life and I will live mine, whatever that life brings. Promise me.'

  He shook his head, still struck mute by confusion and conflicting emotions. He wouldn't allow hope to die, even if it might mean his own death.

  She would have spoken again, but the sound of raised voices echoed down the passageway and Rufus stepped protectively in front of her, his sword raised.

  'Why can we not wait for my litter bearers? It is unseemly for an Emperor to walk when he can be carried.' Caligula's strident, complaining voice was instantly recognizable, and when Cupido replied his words came back to them clear and strong.

  'I am more concerned for your life than I am for your dignity, Caesar. You must keep moving.'

  Rufus almost sobbed with relief. Cupido was here. Now they were safe. The gladiator would take charge and his indomitable presence and nerveless courage would see them through. A few seconds before he had been scared of his own shadow, but with Cupido by their side he knew they could overcome any odds. He held the sword tighter. Already it felt more comfortable in his hand.

  Two figures appeared at the far end of the shallow curve of the corridor. At first it looked as if they were wrestling, but Rufus quickly realized that one held the other and was hustling him along the passage as fast as he was able.

  'Unhand your Emperor, you fool,' Caligula shouted, struggling against Cupido's grip on his toga. 'Mnester was just reaching the climax of Cinyras and I have seen him dance but once. The public expect to see their Emperor at the games and the public will see him.'

  'I have told you, great Caesar, and I will tell you again: if we do not reach the palace you will never have the chance to see Mnester dance again because you will be dead. Don't you understand the Scorpions are at our heels? You have been betrayed. My Wolves are too few to hold them for more than a few minutes, and if we do not hurry Rome will not have an Em
peror.'

  The last words seemed to penetrate the wall of outraged dignity and Caligula allowed himself to be carried along for a few more steps.

  'Who?' he asked in a tone of mixed bewilderment and disbelief. 'Who has betrayed Rome?'

  'Narcissus will name the conspirators when we reach the palace,' Cupido said. Caligula went rigid and the gladiator knew instantly he had made a mistake.

  'Narcissus?' The Emperor's voice was shrill. 'My uncle's pet Greek spy? Why, I have the order for his arrest in my litter. What trickery is this that you drag me to meet my enemy?'

  'Cupido!' Rufus cried.

  The young German froze, the long sword instantly at the ready. Caligula looked puzzled. 'Why is my slave here when he should be with my elephant?'

  Cupido smiled and sheathed his blade. 'They are friends, great Caesar. You need have no fear.'

  Rufus sensed Aemilia stiffen at his side. He could feel the tension in her as if they were connected by some physical bond. Finally he realized why her moods had fluctuated so disconcertingly. He cursed himself for an insensitive fool. How could he not have seen it? She was on the cusp of some momentous decision. With every fibre of his spirit he willed her to remain where she was. Where she belonged. At his side. Please, he thought, let her rule her own life. The Fates would have their day, but let it not be this day.

  'Caesar!' she cried. And his heart turned to ice.

  He watched her run towards the Emperor in her long skirt, the golden tresses of her hair flying free behind her. It was as if the gods had slowed time. Each beat of his heart seemed to take an eternity. Breath became unnecessary. With each step she took he felt her spirit floating away from him. He had to bite his lip to keep from calling her name.

  Caligula stood to Cupido's right, hands tugging at the folds of his toga in an attempt to return it to its proper shape. The expression on his face betrayed his bewilderment. It seemed Aemilia's public show of affection was as much a surprise to him as it was to Rufus, and to a clearly mystified Cupido.