by Ahimsa Kerp
None of that stress showed. His face did not as much as twitch. “I hide nothing from you, Caesar. I am your servant.”
Domitian laughed. “Yes, my loyal servant. If half my court were as loyal as you, I would have no cares. I would be the greatest Emperor that Rome had ever seen. Oh, what I could do if all had such loyalty as you, Rufus.”
“Just so, Caesar,” said Rufus, ignoring the obvious sarcasm. He brushed a fly from his arm. It sailed onto the ground and slowly flew back into the air.
“I know you are building an army, Rufus,” the Emperor said.
“It’s not an army, Augustus. I merely worry—”
Domitian laughed again, a high nervous laugh. “You expect my guard to slit your throat right here, I suspect. I know why you have acquired men of valor and fame.” He lowered his voice and leaned in closer to Rufus, though they were alone. “It’s to kill them, isn’t it? You see, I remember. You warned the Senate, fools that they were, and they did not listen.”
Rufus remembered very well who had not listened that day, but it was folly to point that out. “I have learned it is better to take a false threat seriously, than to ignore a credible menace, Caesar. But I did not know the full danger that the creatures represent, of course.”
Domitian was silent for no short amount of time. He looked everywhere in the room, save for at Rufus. At last he said, quietly: “The gladiator Torquatus died soon after his fight. He is no longer dead. He is no longer Torquatus.”
Rufus stared in surprise. There were several flies on Domitian’s arm now, but he did not seem to notice them.
“Caesar, I did not know,” he said.
“No one knows. I have kept this knowledge from all but my most trusted slaves,” Domitian said. “But you know what it means.”
Rufus thought of several things, but was not sure what Domitian meant.
"Mortui non mordent. As Theodotus said to the Egyptians, the dead do not bite. But the world has changed. The dead can return to life,” the Emperor said. “Believe me. When that savage Celt in Dacia sent me the prisoner, it was with dire warnings. I had the creature in here, where you are sitting now. I have it in prison now, in a cell with that philandering actor, Paris. He has been making eyes at my niece, Julia. If Jupiter is good, it will kill him, or at least gnaw off his cock. But this is no joke. What I saw in the amphitheater only confirmed what I had already learned.”
“Ah, how can I help you, Caesar? My men are more than willing to aid, of course.”
Domitian motioned and a servus brought him his wine. It was kept in a chest packed with snow transported daily from the Alps, so that it would always be chilled. That, Rufus mused, was the difference between even the richest, most powerful Senator, and the Emperor.
“My dreams have been troubling of late, Rufus. I dreamt I was in a forest, alone, and then the trees died and shriveled away and there was nothing. And then I saw light, and from that light came Minerva, and she threw away her sword and spear and shield, into the darkness, into non-existence. Her clothes followed, and I was staring at her nipples. They were entirely white, even whiter than her heavy pale breasts, and I couldn’t look away from them. She saw my attention, frowned at me. I think her breasts frowned at me, or at least, I understood they did not appreciate my staring. Suddenly, she was rising, mounted upon a chariot drawn by white horses, and together they turned and plunged into the abyss.”
Rufus had not realized that the Emperor was declining into insanity so quickly. There were flies crawling over him and he still did not notice. “White nipples, Caesar?” he asked.
“The dead are coming back to life. What man does not have secrets? What man does not wish the dead to stay buried?” Domitian said.
“Wise words,” said Rufus.
“Can you picture a small posting station, just north of here? An important man died there, one of the best that Rome has ever seen,” Domitian said. His voice was sad.
Rufus breathed deeply and willed his heart to stop beating so quickly. He knew this too? It was impossible, but somehow the Emperor knew. All this then had been a game.
“Caesar,” he said, fighting the urge to run, “I can explain.”
“I killed him,” Domitian said, not listening. “I plotted against him and when he fell ill, at the very same location our father died. How fitting. I poisoned him! How could I not? The gods could not have spoken to me more clearly. Now, Minerva has fallen to the abyss. She who is divine has left the world we’ve created. What power has the gods when the dead roam the earth? I know he is out there. I know that Titus is coming for me.”
Rufus’ felt relief, but it was short-lived. Hearing a confession such as this was tantamount to a death sentence in its own right. He was also surprised, too surprised to hide it. Another fly landed on Rufus’ arm. He tried to brush it off, but the creature did not move. He flicked it, and his finger connected solidly—the insect went flying away.
“Vile rumors, Caesar. I knew you both and this does not—”
Once again, Domitian interrupted him.
“The sea hare. I have to take action, Rufus. Titus is coming for me. I can’t even guess who else. Our father? Nero, whom we dethroned? Augustus Caesar himself? The dead rise and all of them will come for me. If they still exist, the gods must be laughing now—to be Emperor now, when the world is ending.”
“Take action, then,” Rufus urged. “I will head north, with my men, and kill any lifeless we see. They need never reach Rome.” Rufus was fairly certain that Proculus was really dead, but it would not hurt to be prudent. He had a niggling feeling that even if alive, Proculus was not a problem worth considering. If he met with Titus, he could make sure the emperor’s walking corpse stayed dead as well.
“North,” Domitian said. “That’s a start. I still have intelligence, you know. There are still some loyal to the throne, even if the gods themselves have abandoned us. I sent out spies after you warned us. At first, I heard nothing. Just another system of rumors that fed upon themselves. Recently, the reports have multiplied. The creatures have moved from Dacia, into both Moesias. Soon they will be in Italy herself. Ever do they draw closer. Ever does he draw closer.”
“What can I do?” Rufus asked. Three flies were on his arm now. They were sluggish and uncoordinated. He suddenly realized what that meant and forgot to breathe.
“Emperor,” he said, his voice rushed and urgent, “you said you had the creature in here? I think these flies must have something of the curse. They must have sucked from his sweat or his blood. If they could bite, we would both be dead. Or worse.”
Rufus slapped at the one on him, squishing them and smearing their guts against his arms and legs. They smelled awful, like rotting guts and feces. Domitian reached into a sheaf of papyrus on his desk and his hand emerged with a stylus. He stabbed the creatures. They offered no resistance and many fell to his blade.
Two guards were beside the Emperor immediately, but he shook them off with a smirk. For the first time in ages, Domitian actually looked happy. He had stabbed a dozen of more flies and for now, the room was empty of them. Rufus called for a servus to wash the guts from his arm.
“Decisive action,” Domitian said. “I need more of that. Every great emperor took decisive action when the time came, and every failed Emperor did not.” He spoke slower now, the manic cadence of his speech fading away. “This then is my Actium. I am raising five new legions. The port cities will be closed—Ostia, Brundisium, Ravenna, Pisa and Misenum. And send the Legio II Adiutrix to Tuscany. I want them to build a wall so big that it stops anyone—anything—from invading. A wall that stretches from sea to sea.”
“You want to close down Italy?”
“That is what I said. It’s the only way to be safe.”
“Dominus, I assure you—we need the ports. Food, slaves, wine, everything comes from overseas. The people will starve.”
“Oh, let them starve,” Domitian agreed cheerfully. “Enough circuses and even the bread doesn’t matter.”
Rufus tried once more. “Our grain grows overseas. Our fleets buy fish from overseas. Our beer and wine come from overseas. Without our ports, Rome is nothing. Money will be meaningless and chaos will spread. The empire will crumble.”
Domitian’s face didn’t change in the slightest. He gave no indication that he had even heard the Senator. “He won’t get me. I won’t let him. I killed him once and I’ll do it again, if need be.” He stabbed the stylus into the wood before him. The thin blade quivered once, twice, and then fell over onto the desk with a muffled clang.
CHAPTER XXI
Rome: 88 CE, Winter
If Hyacinthus thought their owner’s abrupt departure was odd, he said nothing of it. Felix said nothing either. Though he was a man grown for a long time now, he still felt half-a-child around the big Greek. It was good seeing him again, but it felt odd. They had not yet developed a relationship based on the men they had become.
They stood outside their master’s litter. He had been summoned by the Emperor, and then disappeared. That had been increasingly long ago, and Felix was bored. There was nothing to do this close to the palace, and the only people to pass them were guards, Senators, or slaves. They were all coming or going, and none of these doors were guarded. They were too far into the inner-sanctum for that. Even the slaves who had carried the litter had left, awaiting their summons in their dark rooms. Standing there made Felix anxious. He didn’t belong here, so far from the hippodrome, and he suspected that everyone knew it.
“When I brought you to our first master, you promised to buy your freedom by thirty,” Hyacinthus said suddenly. “Do you remember?”
“I do not remember,” Felix said with a small laugh. “But I had many follies as a child.”
“So you have not saved enough money?”
Felix laughed. “I have enough money, thrice over. And I will have that much again, by the time I am old enough to become free. Should I live that long,” he added. He stretched his arms into the dusty air and yawned elaborately. “But the cap is for fools. There are more starving freedman in the city than even you can count, and yet every servus gets meals and shelter.”
“You are growing wiser,” Hyacinthus conceded. “Yet, there is something you are missing.”
He ended his sentence abruptly as a man stumbled from the door before them. Felix knew him almost instantly, it was the actor Paris. He was infamous throughout the city. Like his namesake, he habitually stole women from men of higher rank than him. It had taken, rumor had it, a patron placed very highly indeed to keep him alive.
“What is he doing here?” he asked.
Hyacinthus shushed him. “Look,” he hissed.
It only took half a second for Felix to realize that the man was not drunk. He was not, in fact, a man any longer. His white eyes, lacking pupils, swept the street before him. His neck had been bitten savagely, as a clotted mess of blood attested to. He walked with the same shuffling gate that the monster in the amphitheatre had.
Felix instinctively grabbed for his falx, but when his hand closed on air, he felt conspicuously unarmed. His stomach leaped into his mouth and he suppressed the urge to vomit. It had been disturbing to see the thing from afar. This close, however, the wrongness of it shouted at him, blinded him, and nauseated him. The smell of carnage and rotting death assailed his nostrils, and the sound of its shuffling feet made the hairs on the back of his neck rise.
His real father’s words suddenly came back to him, for the first time in a decade. You can recognize evil from the very sight of it. The thing that had been Paris was not far from them, but they were on the other side of the litter from it. It would stumble past and not see them.
“We must kill it,” Felix whispered. “It is evil. We must kill it.”
“Evil perhaps, but it is dangerous,” said the Greek man. “How can we stop it? You saw what the other one did to the two gladiators.”
“I do not know,” said Felix, “but it must die.”
“Wait. We can call the guards,” he said.
It was too late. Felix was running directly at the thing that had been Paris. “Follow me!” he shouted as he rushed the monster. Paris was just reacting to the new presence, confronting the man, when it was punched in the head. Felix wasn’t strong in the way that some gladiators and praetorians were strong. His muscles did not ripple, but he had a wiry strength born from restraining a thousand horses through a thousand tight turns.
Paris’ head jerked back from the force of the blow. Its arms flew up as one foot swung clumsily behind. Felix hooked his foot behind Paris’ and pushed the thing down to the ground.
“Now!” he yelled to Hyacinthus. “Sit on this thing.” The lifeless was on its back but it was already struggling to rise. The young man placed both his hands on the creature’s chest.
“That is foolish,” Hyacinthus said, taking a step back. “I don’t want to turn into one.”
“They only attack through biting,” Felix said. That seemed to be true from the earlier fight, but there was no way to be certain.
The creature flung Felix’s arms off and began to rise. Felix punched it in the nose, three times in quick succession, and then put his hands back on its chest.
“We don’t know that, Felix. And I’m not willing to take the chance.”
“Hyacinthus!” Felix thundered. “Sit on this creature right now!”
His tone brooked no disapproval. The big Greek man moved over and hefted his bulk over the struggling creature.
He sat down with oomph, as his large arse pinned the lifeless creature’s torso to the ground. Felix held its arms together above its head. It gnashed teeth at them, groaning miserably, but it could do nothing.
Felix laughed. “It worked. It actually worked.”
The Greek man glowered at him, “You didn’t think it would?”
“I was not entirely sure. I had a hope.” He smiled at his friend, and it was the smile that had won him friends and maidens, but it was not effective now.
“You had a hope? If I turn into one of these drooling creatures, the first thing I will do is come for you and kill you,” Hyacinthus said.
“You’ll have to catch me first. You might be the first lifeless that is too slow to catch its own food.”
Hyacinthus grunted. "That might be true. Which is all the more reason for me not to get bitten."
Felix was still smiling until he looked at the thing below them. “Its eyes … what’s wrong with its eyes?”
“How can it see?” Hyacinthus asked. “Moreover, how can it live? There is much to study here.”
Another voice interrupted them. “What are you two doing?” Rufus asked, as he walked from Emperor’s chambers. He was accompanied by two Praetorians.
Felix and Hyacinthus looked quickly at one another and then back to their master. “Already we excel at the mission you have set before us, master,” the Greek man quickly said. “We have captured a lifeless creature for you.”
“Here? This close to the palace?” Rufus moved closer, peering at the pinned creature who struggled helplessly against the weight of the big man. “He looks familiar.”
“It’s Paris, Senator,” Felix said, “the actor.”
“The actor,” Rufus said, his voice flat. He stopped still for a moment, and then motioned to the Praetorians. They stepped up, drawing their short swords in unison. “Kill it,” he said. “Aim for the head.”
They stabbed it through the head without hesitation. “Senator,” Hyacinthus protested, “there is much to learn from these creatures.”
Rufus barked out a single laugh. “Ever the man of learning. Not to worry, there will be more inside.”
“How do you know?” Hyacinthus asked.
“This one was meant to be in a cell. If it escaped, the other did as well. And any who got in their way. It’s time to go hunting.”
****
“There were many,” Felix said defensively. “Perhaps I killed them all.”
The stern captain be
side him said nothing. He was flanked by a score of men, all of whom had leaped to attention when Felix and Hyacinthus had burst into their room. Since then, they had followed the littered trail of corpses back, but had not seen any of them still capable of movement.
He had killed six of them on the journey there, and there did not seem to be more, but it was nearly impossible to be certain. It didn’t take much skill to kill them, which was indeed fortunate. Felix had borrowed a sword from one of the Praetorians, and he was able to use it to good effect, but there were already too many of the creatures. It was stunning to think what one creature could do.
Four of the lifeless had been prisoners, but two had been guards. The Praetorian Captain was a seasoned veteran, but Felix knew that the tales he’d been told were wildly difficult to believe. Once dead, there was little clue that they had even been monsters. If he could not show them a marauding lifeless, or the Senator, soon, he could be in trouble.
They found Senator Rufus and both Praetorians standing out in the cool evening air. Rufus sent the Praetorian Captain to look after the Emperor and then returned to the others. He had a look of disgust on his face. “I can’t stand the way they smell,” he said. “Did you see many?”
“The lad killed half a dozen,” Hyacinthus answered. “But we have not seen any for some time.”
The Senator nodded. “We found only three, including the gladiator. They will not walk again, but I mistrust this city—there are too many people, living too closely to one another. We will leave tonight.”
“So soon?” Felix blurted out. “What about our training?”
The Senator laughed his single syllable laugh again. “You will have training enough before long, young man. More than enough.”
CHAPTER XXII
Dacia: 88 CE, Winter