With a curious look as though figuring out how it worked, Commodus twisted the blade first left and then right, and then released his grip, leaving the hilt protruding from the chest.
‘It would appear that justice has been served.’
He turned to the Praetorian prefects, both of whom wore carefully blank expressions. ‘Paternus: have all the known conspirators rounded up and taken into custody. My sister and extended relations are to be taken to the carcer prison while I decide what’s to be done with them. The rest: the mercenaries and the rabble, deal with as you see fit.’
As Paternus saluted, a grim smile of satisfaction on his face, and turned to carry out his orders, Commodus gestured for the two attendant guardsmen to take the assassin’s body away, then turned to the other prefect and the three blood-spattered soldiers.
‘Perennis: The games must go on. I have promised the people, and a delay cannot be countenanced. As soon as Paternus has the conspirators and their men out of here, open up the corridors to the people again, then come and find me in the imperial box. There will be a seat there for you.’
The prefect bowed as Commodus raised an eyebrow at the three combatants.
‘As for you men, you’re a mess and a brutal reminder to anyone who sees you of what almost happened here. Go back outside to my carriage and get out of sight. Tell them to take you back to the Castra Praetoria and get yourselves seen by a medicus and cleaned up. I shall want to see you all tonight, after the last showing. If you’re adequately cleaned up by this afternoon, I urge you to come back to the amphitheatre. I have arranged some spectacular pairings.’
With a wave of dismissal, the golden haired emperor turned and strode off into the tunnels.
Mercator and Icarion shared a grin. ‘A bath, then a cup of wine, then an afternoon at the games? Don’t know about you, but that sounds fine to me.’
Changing his grip, Mercator slung the limp form of Rufinus over his shoulder, raising an unconscious groan from the young soldier.
‘I’ll take that as agreement.’
XXVIII – Aftermath
RUFINUS sagged. ‘It’s going to take me months to get fit after all this.’
The chief medicus of the Castra Praetoria smiled benignly. ‘That’s some of my best work. You’ll be on light duties within a week and full training in three according to my schedule. The wounds may hurt like Hades’ fork, but they’re all small and fast-healing. The man who initially patched you up did a damn good job. Pity you had to then open it all up again, but you’ll just have a few scars and burn marks to show for it in a month or so.’
Rufinus nodded. Given what he’d been through, it was a better result than he could have hoped. It had been a day and a half since the event that had shaken Rome: the first attempt on an emperor’s life since the days of Domitianus a century ago. Mercator and Icarion had apparently escorted him back to the camp as intended but, while their wounds were dealt with in moments and an hour later they were bathed and ready to return to the games, Rufinus had not surfaced from his drug-induced slumber until dark had fallen.
His apologies had been made to the emperor while Mercator and Icarion had been presented and praised appropriately, if briefly, the emperor extremely weary following the day’s drastic events.
The medicus had worked on Rufinus’ wounds that evening and had checked and rebound them the next morning, nodding with appreciation of his own work. Now, as the sun slid cold and watery toward the western horizon, the man had given him another once-over, cleaning and replacing every wrap.
‘You’ll have to come back every two days for the next week for a change of dressings, then once a week after that for a check and change, until I decide bandages are no longer required. Other than that, I presume your time is your own. I have certainly confirmed with the prefects that you are to be excused all duties this week, but I see no reason to keep you cooped up in the ward during that time.’
‘Thank you.’
With just a sharp breath to tell how the wounds were still pinching and pulling, Rufinus slid off the bench and onto his feet, retrieving the cloak from the desk and fastening it about his shoulders.
‘Don’t forget’ the medicus said, wagging a finger at him ‘the day after tomorrow.’
‘I won’t.’
With a nod of thanks he turned and strode from the room, along the access corridor and out of the hospital block into the chilly air. The weather had remained dry but the temperature had dropped again, and the numerous armoured Praetorians bustling around the fortress did so wrapped in wool cloaks, socks protruding from their boots. Mercator and Icarion lounged outside, blowing on their hands, and looked up as their friend emerged.
‘I thought you two were still on duty?’
Mercator nodded with a smile. ‘Interesting duty, though. You’re overdue a meeting with the emperor, and he still wants to see you. Perennis sent us to get you half an hour ago.’
Rufinus shivered in the cold and pulled the cloak about him. ‘I’m sure it’s a great honour, but I’d really rather just collapse into my bunk with a mug of unwatered wine and a soft cushion. Besides, Acheron is waiting for his evening feed.’
Icarion punched him playfully on the upper arm and immediately regretted the act as Rufinus winced and drew a sharp breath.
‘Sorry.’
‘It’s alright. Actually the thing I want to do most of all is talk to Pompeianus. Any idea where he is? He hasn’t gone back to the villa at Tibur, has he?’
The two veterans frowned at one another. ‘The emperor’s brother-in-law? What would you want with him?’
‘He’s… he’s a friend’ Rufinus said, lamely.
‘Well you’re in luck. He’s staying at the palace as a guest of the emperor. I suppose it’s until he decides what to do next. It’s not like he’ll be following Lucilla, after all.’
Rufinus stopped and furrowed his brow. ‘Following her where?’
Mercator laughed. ‘Of course, you’ve been a bit out of things today. The emperor announced his decisions this afternoon. The whole of Rome is talking about it.’
‘About what?’ demanded Rufinus irritably.
‘Everyone says she should have died for it, like the snivelling little shit you stuck with a spear, but Commodus was lenient. He’s sent Lucilla and her cousin and daughter into exile in the imperial estate on the island of Caprea, down near Pompeii. Sounds a bit too much like a holiday to me, but she was apparently spitting feathers about it all. I say she should think herself lucky her head’s still on her shoulders.’
Rufinus nodded, a chill running down his spine at the thought that such a dangerous woman, and whom he had crossed and foiled, was still alive. One should never leave an enemy alive, they said.
‘What about the others? Annianus and the mercenaries and so on? And the emperor’s other sister?’
Icarion shrugged. ‘Dead. Annianus and Annia Aurelia were executed quietly in the palace grounds and their bodies returned to their families. The others were all herded off the Tarpeian Rock, just like back in the old days. Brutal, it was. Dozens of them. Not Saoterus, though…’
Rufinus’ head shot up and he fixed the small, dark Praetorian with a hard look. ‘What?’
‘Saoterus. The advisor? The freedman?’
‘I know who he is. What’s happened to him?’
‘He was strangled in his cell.’ Icarion sounded confused.
‘What was he doing in a cell?’
‘As one of the conspirators… Paternus grabbed him with all the others in the amphitheatre.’
Rufinus staggered backwards and stumbled against the wall. ‘But Saoterus wasn’t part of this!’
It was Mercator’s turn to frown. ‘He’d been noted as one of the visitors to Lucilla’s villa. You were the one who reported it!’
Rufinus felt as though the world had been swept out from under him. Had he been responsible to the brutal execution of an innocent man? Possibly the only man in the palace keeping Commodus’ government
on track? His blood ran cold.
No. He thought back over the time he’d returned to report. He had been quite specific about Saoterus’ innocence when he’d reported. The fault was down to Paternus, once more. Again, the man had abused his position to dispose of someone he disliked; possibly that he merely considered inconvenient. Dis; Saoterus… how long before the next innocent crossed the prefect?
‘Saoterus was no conspirator.’
‘Well he’s gone anyway. Dumped with the rest of the bodies. Come on. It doesn’t do to keep an emperor waiting. Perennis said he wasn’t in the best of moods this afternoon.’
Rufinus nodded. He could guess why. The three men scurried through the biting wind to the stables, where the master of the horse quickly arranged three steeds to take them across Rome. The journey was strangely subdued, as was the city they passed through.
The people’s excitement of the grand games had been muted somewhat by the attempt on their beloved emperor’s life, despite Commodus’ best efforts to proceed with the day as though nothing had happened. At the same time, though Rufinus’ spirit soared at the knowledge that he had achieved the unachievable and saved his emperor’s life, the cost had been great to the innocents caught in the middle.
And beneath his elation, and beneath his sadness, a dark wyrm of hatred seethed for the man who had engineered almost everything that had happened in his life since he left the Tenth legion: Paternus.
The great palace of the emperors of Rome stood on the Palatine hill, brooding over the city it dominated. Successive rulers had added wings, complexes, gardens and more, until it covered a greater area than the forum itself. The glinting silver-and-white forms of Praetorians moved around the area, going about their tasks with efficiency. Others stood rigidly at attention by doors and gateways of the palace.
With no ceremony, nor exchange of words, the three men were admitted to a grand structure that led off the square at the centre of the Palatine hill; the tallest and most magnificent building visible, the structure had a delicate columned portico with a colourful pediment, gold and white columns granting it an almost divine appearance.
Up the steps, past the guardsmen and between the beautiful columns, they went, Rufinus’ sour expression hovering constantly on the verge of open rage. The huge bronze doors of the building opened as they approached, as though by some strange mechanism, revealing a room forty feet square.
The floor was a complex design of multi-coloured marbles from around the empire: a dazzling display of opulence and power mirrored by the columns of the same material lining the side walls. The coffered ceiling was gold and reflected the braziers and lamps that lit the hall more than did the delicate glass windows high up near the roof. Behind the side columns, red and gold designs on the walls picked out the great creatures of myth, and centaurs, gryphons and hydra seemed to move and dance in the shimmering light. Doors to left and right and in the rear corners all had their own Praetorians.
The centrepiece of the room, though, was the throne. Installed by Domitianus in the apse at the rear, the great gilded seat had been eschewed as over-the-top by the Antonine dynasty, though the same apparently did not hold for the new emperor, whose cloak of ermine and Tyrian purple wool lay discarded upon it.
The emperor himself had his back to the door, deep in conversation with Perennis. Rufinus took a deep breath as the three men crossed the room towards the ruler of Rome and came to a halt a respectful distance away, waiting to be noticed.
The low angry exchange between the two men came to an end and Perennis looked up, spotting the new arrivals. ‘Guardsman Rufinus is here, majesty.’
Commodus spun on his heel and Rufinus was unsurprised to see the look of drawn anger on his face. More surprising were the signs that he had recently been crying. It was hard to imagine the great Aurelius greeting visitors with fresh tears in his eyes, though his son seemed more prone to public emotion.
‘Rufinus!’ the great man snapped.
‘Majesty?’
‘Tell me about the conspiracy you unearthed at the villa.’ There was no preamble, no sign of appreciation, just a direct, almost accusatory question.
‘Of course, Majesty. There were regular meetings, usually monthly, between the conspirators. They met in a private triclinium in your noble sister’s palace and…’
‘Cut to the chase. Who were they?’
Rufinus bowed his head, sure already where this was going. ‘With respect, majesty, the conspirators have been detailed and apprehended… along with master Saoterus, I believe.’
The change of tack seemed to throw Commodus and he frowned. ‘So you claim never to have labelled him with the others?’
Rufinus shook his head and then straightened. ‘Majesty, I reported master Saoterus’ visit to the villa but once to prefect Paternus. I attempted to make clear my impression that he was there on state business and not for any clandestine reason, an impression that was borne out when I returned and managed to speak to the man. He informed me of a deal he had come to propose, of which you yourself, majesty, had some part in the planning.’
Commodus nodded. ‘My generous offer. Why then does Paternus tell us that you listed my friend among the conspirators?’
Rufinus swallowed nervously. It was never a good thing to accuse a man in such high position of lies and treachery, but Paternus had crossed the line several times now, and Rufinus was beginning to wonder where the man would stop. If he would… ‘Majesty, I believe that the prefect held a personal grudge against master Saoterus. I fear that he may have deliberately misunderstood, or possibly even ignored, my testimony in order to remove your advisor from his position.’
Perennis, behind the emperor’s shoulder, nodded approvingly at Rufinus. ‘I have to say, majesty,’ the prefect said calmly, ‘that I am inclined to trust young Rufinus’ word on this. I have noted increasingly erratic behaviour on the part of my colleague over the past two years, though it would have been unprofessional for me to have brought such to your attention without good reason.’
Commodus spun back, his eyes narrowing as he glared at his prefect, and then turned once again to Rufinus. ‘Would you swear to the truth of your testimony on the altar of Apollo?’
‘I would, majesty.’
Again, Commodus spun to look at Perennis. ‘Go find your counterpart and have him attend the temple of Apollo. I believe he is in the libraries.’
Perennis saluted and scurried off through the rear left door. As the portal shut behind him with a click, the emperor of Rome turned to Rufinus again, suddenly seeming to become aware of the two other guardsmen standing at his shoulders.
‘Thank you, men. You two have my gratitude for the part you played and your next wage will reflect my appreciation. You may return to your barracks.’
Mercator and Icarion saluted and gave their young friend an uncertain look as Commodus gestured for Rufinus to follow him, making for one of the side doors. As he passed through, the guards by the side saluting him, he waited with Rufinus at the far side until the door closed with a click, and began to saunter slowly through this new and highly decorated room.
They were alone.
Commodus put an arm around Rufinus and the young guardsman nearly pulled away. Such contact was unheard of… forbidden. The emperor smiled at him.
‘Pompeianus tells me as is his wont, for he is a creature of plain speech, that my court is a hotbed of intrigue and that serpents crawl and slither in my palace, hissing falsehoods in my ears. Such has always been the case, of course, even with the best of men in control.’
The golden-haired emperor slouched slightly, as a sparkle returned to his eye that Rufinus had not seen since the bath house of Vindobona’s fortress. ‘I could not in good conscience place myself up with those best of men, of course, and I simply do not have time to devote to the personal management of every aspect of empire. My father was one of the greatest rulers in the history of the world, and even he had to bring Verus to his side to help him rule. It is too bi
g a job for one man, Rufinus.’
Rufinus nodded. He could hardly imagine the power and pressure the position must load upon a man. The image of the tired and pale Aurelius back in the hall at Vindobona sprang to mind.
Commodus smiled as he went on. ‘Perhaps someday a man will rise to the top and take a similar role with me as Verus had with my father. I had offered it to Pompeianus’ son and may yet do so, in time. I would, almost certainly, have considered Saoterus for the honour, but he would have had to have served in the army, the senate and attained a consulship first before I could realistically do so. Until such a time, those very snakes will have to continue to writhe in my chambers.’
He grinned, and all signs of the morose and tearful man had now gone. ‘It warms the heart to see that there is still honour and honesty in Rome, especially in the Praetorian Guard, given recent events.’
They had reached the far door and Commodus led him through it, into a wide garden surrounded by a delicate, beautiful portico. The sky was beginning to slip from cold blue to purple with the onset of night, and slaves scurried around lighting lamps and closing windows.
‘It would appear that I am indebted to you, guardsman Rufinus, to the tune of a life.’
Rufinus shook his head.
‘I know’ the emperor said with a smile, ‘It is the sole purpose of the Praetorian Guard to do that very thing, but it would be remiss of me to treat your actions as simple adherence to duty. Forgive my initial anger. Saoterus was my only true friend and his loss will… I will find it hard.’
He straightened and appeared to brush away another dark thought. ‘As I say: forgive my anger. In truth I have been told by both prefects what you have done and what you have suffered in the name of duty. Know that I am grateful. I will see another phalera medal added to that rather empty harness you own, and shall meet and exceed the financial reward that I plan for your comrades.’
Praetorian: The Great Game Page 45