The clang of something large and metallic rang above their heads. We could see clearly; a heavy iron grate was carried over the hole of the pit before being lowered, sealing them in. Through the gaps in the grating they stared up at the glowing heads of the eunuchs. The three of them crouched inside the pit, staring upwards as the bulk of something massive then loomed over the top of the grate.
It was alive – a silent, cloven-hoofed beast.
‘The black bull,’ said Livia. ‘They’ve drugged it. You must endure this like a man would.’
‘I am already a man,’ Drusus replied indignantly, but he didn’t see Livia’s excited eyes in the gloom as she stared hungrily at the beast above them. Then he asked, ‘Will we die in here?’
‘We won’t die,’ said Livia. ‘We’ll be reborn by it. And then we will know the truth.’
Marcus Livius’s voice rose in sudden song: ‘O Holy Mother, Lady of Might. O Holy Mother, Lady of Might.’
The phrase was repeated by all the other men and eunuchs in a powerful chorus, although Tiberius Nero and myself stayed silent where we crouched, not knowing the prayer. The volume of the singing made us guess that there were still many more people in the shadows than we had so far seen. Within the pit Livia merely mouthed the words.
‘O Holy Mother Cybele,’ sang Marcus Livius. ‘O Holy Mother, Dindymus’s Queen, grant that these children’s house, the House of the Claudii, will never know the madness thou can send.’
Suddenly the air was filled with frenzied drumming from the eunuchs. We saw a flash of something silver and sharp. The silent bull crashed heavily forward on its front legs, buckling the grate with its massive weight.
‘It’s going to crush us,’ Drusus cried, and the little boy squeezed his finger as if to break it.
‘Endure!’ Livia shouted.
A torrent of blood gushed through the grating, thick, red and steaming, drenching them to the skin, and gluing their clothes and hair to their bodies. It stuck their eyelids closed and pooled at their feet. The life-fluid of the bull clogged their ears and nostrils, running to the backs of their throats, salty and foul, making them choke with it.
Drusus heard his father singing: ‘Cybele … Cybele …’
The drumming drowned out all sounds and the little boy slipped from Drusus’s grasp into the bath of blood. My master’s brother struggled blindly to retrieve him but found nothing but Livia’s slender ankles in the dripping, stinking mess.
Drusus came to consciousness to find he had been pulled from the hole and lay stretched on the cavern floor, sodden in his blood-soaked toga. Tiberius Nero and I stood as near to him as we dared, watching his chest rise and fall as he breathed. When he opened his eyes he saw only his father’s face.
Claudius Nero held a finger to his lips. ‘You are unhurt. Stand on your feet.’
He helped him to rise and Drusus saw Livia waiting for him, standing with Marcus Livius and dripping in her own ruined clothes.
‘Hold Livia’s hand again,’ Marcus Livius called to him.
Drusus obediently approached and did so.
There was no sign now of the eunuchs. Only the party of Claudii remained in the cavern’s silence.
Marcus Livius cleared his throat.
‘We have initiated our children in the goddess’s rites,’ he declared in a strong, clear voice, ‘as was your direction, Thrasyllus.’
Drusus stared around him, not knowing whom Marcus Livius was addressing. Tiberius Nero and I had no idea either. But Livia knew and she nudged Drusus with her elbow to stay quiet.
‘You have seen the boy and the girl together,’ Marcus Livius continued in his strong, clear voice. ‘You have shared their rebirth in the eyes of the Great Mother. So tell us now – is it Drusus, Thrasyllus? Is Drusus the one?’
A cloaked figure emerged from the dark recesses, its face hidden by a cowl. Only the flesh of its hands was visible – the fingers long and bony, unnaturally pale. Under the voluminous shroud it was difficult to determine whether this cowled being was man or woman. It wasn’t tall; the shoulders were sharp and thin under the cloak; its body was not obese like the eunuchs. Long, dark hair fell from the hood, keeping the face covered. A white dove was cupped in its palms.
Drusus saw then that the tiny child had returned to the lionskin, cleaned of blood as if the sacrifice of the bull had never happened. The child put down his knucklebones to pick up a short-bladed knife. Drusus watched, mesmerised, as did Tiberius Nero and I. The cowled one knelt on the lionskin and held the bird out in front of the child. Like he was cracking a whip, the boy slashed through the air at the bony hands, and slashed again. Unscathed by the blade, the cowled one placed the dove on the rocky floor – it was neatly beheaded. A scarlet line seeped into the crisp white feathers of the dove’s belly. It had been eviscerated too.
The child pressed down upon the dove’s corpse and its innards spat out. He picked up a string of purple intestines in his fingers and held them up before the fire, fluid running to his elbows.
‘Haruspex Thrasyllus,’ called Marcus Livius, ‘is Drusus the one?’
The tiny boy answered in a voice that was an ancient deity’s; fathomless like the cave. ‘He is not, Marcus Livius.’
Drusus’s stomach tightened like a ball and he let loose a gust of air from his lungs, turning to stare in shock at his father.
Claudius Nero mirrored his older son, but for a different reason. ‘How could this be – ?’
Marcus Livius was reeling too. ‘Thrasyllus – have you misunderstood me? I asked you whether it is this young man whom you witnessed be initiated – this young man, Drusus, who meets your previous prophecy. Is he the one?’
I caught a flash of the cowled one’s full, sensuous lips beneath the veil of hair, open and muttering without voice. The child Thrasyllus said nothing else.
‘Let’s leave this hole,’ Claudius called to his sons – and then to his bearded cousin he said, ‘You have failed us, Marcus Livius, and shamed us in the eyes of the Great Mother.’
‘Wait,’ Marcus Livius demanded. ‘I will try another way – the answer must be Drusus. It can only be the heir to your line.’
Something suddenly compelled Tiberius Nero, cringing in fear next to me, to stumble forward, casting him into the light of the fire.
Immediately the lids on Thrasyllus’s eyes seemed to peel back and sink into his skull as he stared at the dove’s intestines. ‘It is the other.’
The deity’s voice rang through the vast chamber, and below my feet I felt the slow rumble of the giant that dwelled deep inside the earth.
Marcus Livius was growing angrier than Claudius Nero now. ‘What other?’
The cowled one’s bony hand slowly pointed to my astonished young master, Tiberius Nero.
‘Mother Cybele,’ Marcus Livius mumbled in shock.
Claudius looked from his older son to his younger one with incredulous fury. ‘This is disgusting lies. The haruspex is lying.’
Marcus Livius, too, tried to make sense of what was happening, and Claudius rounded on him. ‘It can’t be Tiberius Nero. You know it can’t be.’
Marcus Livius stared at Claudius Nero, and then looked to my young master again. Of all the males of the Claudii, only Tiberius Nero lacked the coal-black eyes and thick jet hair of the clan. He was short and fair; quite unlike them in physical appearance at all.
‘Why can’t it be him if the haruspex says it is?’ Marcus Livius asked in a dangerous voice.
Claudius could have struck him. ‘You know why, cousin.’
It became clear to me then that, as my young master’s humble companion slave, there was a dark family secret that I had never been party to.
‘The boy is a bastard,’ Claudius spat. ‘His mother slept with a slave.’
Tiberius Nero gave a cry of pain at this exposure, covering his face. Clearly he already knew this shameful truth.
‘What if you have always been wrong about that?’ said Marcus Livius.
‘I am not wrong
!’
‘You slept with your wife too, Claudius Nero – how can anyone but the gods know who really quickened her?’
‘Because I caught the bitch, she was fucking a Gaul,’ Claudius hissed. ‘He was short and fair – just like the boy is!’
Marcus Livius blocked Claudius out. ‘Tiberius Nero – take your cousin’s Livia’s hand,’ he instructed my humiliated young master.
Tiberius Nero stood rooted to the rock.
‘Take Livia’s hand – hold it in your own!’ Marcus Livius screamed at him.
Livia held out her hand to him and her expressionless eyes now rested properly on Tiberius Nero’s for the first time since our arrival. He took her slim fingers in his. Standing next to her he was shorter by half a head, and he was two years younger, but his limbs were sturdy and his pale hair shone like amber in the firelight. He was not unattractive for a boy sired by a Gaul.
From a glitter of light within her hard black eyes, Tiberius Nero saw hope. Maybe there was the slimmest chance that she did not dislike him? He was still fearful and ashamed at what had been exposed about him, but now he clung to what he could see within Livia’s mystery. Perhaps she alone among the Claudii would not condemn him?
A squirt of blue liquid shot from Thrasyllus’s mouth in a shiny arc and splashed at their feet. To Drusus it suddenly felt as if his feet had begun to sizzle. ‘It’s hot,’ he said.
‘Take the older boy away,’ said Marcus Livius without any further interest in him.
‘This makes no sense,’ Claudius fought to intervene, ‘Tiberius Nero is a false Claudian. He is not of my line.’
‘Just take Drusus away,’ Marcus Livius ordered.
‘Tiberius Nero is not the heir to my line, he is a bastard,’ Claudius tried to make him comprehend. ‘Drusus is my heir!’
Marcus Livius dismissed him. ‘I neither understand it nor care.’
I moved awkwardly towards Drusus, wondering if it should fall to me to escort him to the surface, but one of Marcus Livius’s custos slaves stepped forward and pulled poor Drusus towards the passage.
‘It’s burning me,’ Drusus shouted as he disappeared. ‘It’s burning my feet!’
Yet as the strange blue liquid pooled under their own toes, Livia and Tiberius Nero felt nothing. It was cool on their skin.
Then the deep groans beneath the ground intensified in my ears. ‘Can you feel it?’ I tried to whisper to Tiberius Nero. ‘Can you feel the beast again, domine?’
He looked at me blankly. Then he turned to his cousin Livia. ‘What will they do to me?’ he whined at her.
‘Don’t worry, I’ll protect you,’ she said. ‘I’m very strong.’
Bastard or not, Tiberius Nero’s Claudian pride came through. ‘I will protect you, Livia. I’m a male. I’m stronger.’
Livia lowered her eyes, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.
Marcus Livius called out to the infant haruspex once more. ‘Is Tiberius Nero the one, Thrasyllus? Is it this boy Tiberius Nero?’
Thrasyllus’s eyes snapped closed as his hands felt for the dove’s heart among the entrails. He read the pulpy flesh as if it was printed with words.
‘From the two, four will come, four who will rule. The first will be he who nests for the cuckoo. The second will be he who wears his father’s crown. The third will be he whose heart has no eyes. The fourth will be he who poisons the breast.’
The men of the Claudii were robbed of all words. Eventually, the awed Marcus Livius found his voice again. ‘Then Tiberius Nero is to be my daughter’s betrothed?’ he asked Thrasyllus softly.
Without realising it, Tiberius Nero had guessed the day’s purpose when he was still in the cave passage. But the marriage was to be his own.
‘Two houses joined,’ Thrasyllus continued. ‘One takes the other’s name. But it is only the name, not the blood, never the blood; the blood stays sure for all four.’
The rumble from below thrashed and whipped beneath the ground as if the great beast were fighting against chains.
‘Does no-one else hear it?’ I whispered into the shadows.
Marcus Livius turned triumphantly to the Claudii. ‘Do you hear the words of the haruspex? Do you believe me now? It’s the will of the gods.’
I caught another glimpse of the cowled one – the lips were turned up in a sly smile.
‘But he tells of kings, men who rule.’ Claudius’s voice was thin and rasping in the face of Marcus Livius’s absolute surety. ‘Rome has no more kings.’
‘Don’t we have a king on the throne now?’
A new ripple went through them all. ‘You are reckless,’ said Claudius.
‘Why? He’s a king by any other name, isn’t he?’
Claudius feared this topic too much. ‘Where is the Republic in the entrails of that bird?’
‘This haruspex is the voice of Cybele,’ said Marcus Livius. ‘Listen to what the Great Mother tells us about your bastard son and my daughter.’ He turned to Thrasyllus again. ‘One takes the other’s name, you said, haruspex, and the blood will stay pure. Tiberius Nero takes the Claudian name whether he’s a bastard or not; he is still of the Claudii. He was not exposed at birth; and he will still be Claudian if he marries my daughter – the blood will stay pure through her. Tiberius Nero will sire the four who will rule – is this what you see, haruspex?’
The infant’s eyes fluttered open as he squeezed the dove’s heart in his fist until the organ popped. ‘Murder brings the promise of power. Do not quail from the blade – use it without fear or feeling. Murder brings the promise of power.’ With that, Thrasyllus slumped unconscious.
The cowled one picked up the remains of the dove and tossed them into the cauldron. In the heat of the fire, the veil of hair blew back from the hood, but no-one saw the cowled one’s face clearly except me. I stared at a pair of green phosphorescent eyes in that brief moment of illumination, and I knew then that it was a young man beneath the cowl. His robe fell open just as he stooped to pick up Thrasyllus and I saw other features to him, which I would never forget. He had a man’s thick sex hanging between his legs, but at his chest he had the stretched breasts of a woman who was suckling a child.
I understood then what he was. ‘Hermaphroditus …’
As a slave, I was invisible to the cowled one, but he turned his head sharply to hold Livia’s gaze in his bright green eyes. She too saw what he was. He smiled at her, showing teeth that were clean and white. With his full lips, he had a woman’s smile. ‘We will meet again, girl,’ he whispered to her. Then he rolled Thrasyllus’s tiny form inside the lionskin before carrying him away to the dark.
Tiberius Nero let go of Livia’s hand and ran to his father.
‘You must show courage now,’ Marcus Livius called after him as he ran. ‘Things are not as we planned, but the words have been spoken. You heard them yourself.’
‘Tiberius Nero is betrothed elsewhere,’ said Claudius angrily. ‘And we already ended Drusus’s engagement under this witchcraft.’
‘Tiberius Nero’s engagement must be broken too – he will marry Livia, by my order as pater familias of the clan.’
‘I don’t want to marry her,’ Tiberius Nero pleaded. ‘I have no feeling for her.’
The sudden, violent blow from Marcus Livius behind him sent Tiberius Nero sprawling.
‘You will marry her, boy, if I order it,’ said Marcus Livius. He wordlessly challenged Claudius to intervene at this assault but my young master’s father said nothing.
I crept to Tiberius Nero and knelt beside him, wanting him to know that I was there as his humble companion slave, but also that I couldn’t see his face of shame. Again I felt the thrashing of the great beast, but I knew now that I was totally alone in sensing its frightening presence.
Marcus Livius turned to his daughter. ‘Four rulers will come from your womb,’ he said softly to Livia. ‘It is prophesied. We have known of it for some time, but the male that will sire the line upon you has never been known – only guessed at. This haru
spex has more powers than any other soothsayer I have seen. He knows.’
The snivelling Tiberius Nero stared plaintively at his father. ‘How can this be true? She’s just a girl – and I’m not even a man yet. We’re not in prophecies.’
‘Listen to my bastard son,’ Claudius spat impotently at Marcus Livius. ‘He’s the wisest one here.’
Marcus Livius ignored him. ‘Do you believe what you have been told here, child?’ he addressed Livia. ‘Do you believe what I say?’
She looked at him for a long time before replying. ‘Of course I believe it, Father. I’ve always believed everything you tell me.’
I thought I saw the briefest look pass across her brow – a look that did not reflect the apparent sincerity of her words. Was it mockery? If it was, Marcus Livius missed it. He stroked Livia’s lovely cheek and the look that passed across his own face was both loving and apologetic. ‘Have faith in the plans Tiberius Nero will make for you when the time comes, child. To look at him now, I know it seems unlikely – but have faith that he will one day lead you to greatness.’
Livia kept her eyes fixed upon her father’s. ‘But can we be sure of what the haruspex meant?’
This startled her father. ‘You said you believed it, child.’
I saw the flash of mockery again, like lightning behind her night-black eyes.
‘Yet the words were very strange,’ said Livia. ‘There could be other meanings to them.’
‘There is no doubt to the words. Not for me.’
The ground beneath my feet shuddered so strongly that I almost toppled backwards. No-one else moved. Livia looked to Tiberius Nero, his pale hair still shining in the firelight. I crouched behind his shoulder, staring at Livia’s dark beauty just as my young master was. But she saw me without seeing me. I was nothing to her.
‘I could come to desire my betrothed then, Father,’ she said.
Marcus Livius smiled. ‘That is good – but do you know what desire is?’
Having seen her mockery already, I wondered what was really in her mind. I was then only twelve years of age and no more mature than either eleven-year-old Tiberius Nero or thirteen-year-old Livia. In my childish ignorance I imagined lust to be something akin to eating one’s lover. Tiberius Nero was small and soft but I hoped that Livia indeed liked his plump, round toes and his neatly cut nails. I hoped that she liked the pleasing roundness of the developing muscles in his arms and calves too. I hoped that she liked all these things and many more about him, because I hoped that Livia would let me serve her through him.
Empress Of Rome 1: Den Of Wolves Page 3