Blood Games (48 page)

The great lake is drained now, and the worst of the insects have disappeared since it became dry, though many of the slaves have fever and before the summer is gone, there will be need to replace those who have died. There are a great number of Jews here, of all persuasions and disciplines, though the number of Christians is rather few. That must be because so few of us joined the revolt in Jerusalem. Those of us who did, perhaps we deserve this condemnation for seeking worldly justice instead of heavenly salvation. This is a message I hope to preach to those who are prisoners with me. They have so little hope and I have so much that it would be wrong of me to deny them the comforts of our faith and its promise.

The first of the foundation stones has been laid, and though there is very little of the structure yet above ground, yet already there are beggars and old whores and those who practice forbidden arts living in the crannies of this place. Most of them are proud to be living in what they already call the Flavian Circus, though it will be years before Games can be held here. I have wished I could go among these people and tell them how grave their errors are and tell them the joys that await them when they embrace the faith of Our Lord. Sadly, we slaves are not supposed to talk to these poor wretches, and for that reason, it will be dangerous to make the attempt. In a month or so, when the guards are less careful in their watching, I will make an attempt to reach a few of them. They may even be willing to aid in our correspondence. That is for the future, and as God wills it.

I have thought often of you and of our Brothers and Sisters in the name of the Risen Christ. When last I came to worship with all of you, there was such pleasure between us. You must tell Sister Philomena that her food would have satisfied Our Lord beyond any other on this earth, and the love that we gave each other afterward is still fresh in my mind. It is wrong, of course, to prefer one of our number to any other, for it is contrary to the teaching of Our Lord, but Sister Philomena delights me as none of the others do. Sister Jeremia chided me for it, and said that Our Lord would not approve of this in me. She was right. If we are to obtain His Grace, there must be no limitations in our love for each other, and all who desire it must have it freely. Think of the great love shared by Our Lord and His apostles, each of whom He embraced with the same holy passion that was known by the Greek philosophers long ago. Surely if ever I escape this pestilential hole, I will ask pardon of Sister Jeremia and lie by her side all one night. Brother Adrianus is here, but with another working crew and we do not often see each other or get to speak, but that may change with time.

I was appalled to meet one of those benighted followers of Paul and Timothy who call themselves Christians but who practice the most stringent and hateful austerity in complete contradiction of the rules of Our Lord. This man, Cephas, has told me that what we do is sinful, and despicable. He insists that the love Our Lord spoke of was the kind removed from the love of the body, which is not true. I tried to correct him in his error, and showed him how the words used by Our Lord to indicate love were those words that relate to the love in the body that exalts the soul, and that to deny this was to deny all the teachings of Our Lord and pervert their intent so that the very thing He most despised would be done in His Name. This poor Paulist sincerely believes that he must fast and deny the body and turn away from life so that all his mind is bent on the life that is to come. He calls women a snare. A snare! And insists that Jesus never embraced his apostles with love. He's most adamant in his error, and declares that only Paul has correctly interpreted the words of Our Lord. I hope that I may reason with him and persuade him that all he has come to believe is unfortunate error. Pray for me in this endeavor.

How I long to be with you once again and to join with you in the joys of worship. For now, this is not possible, but I must not despair, for that is the denial of the Holy Spirit, and it cannot enter where such inner darkness holds sway. In my prayers I remember you all, and give thanks that you are safe. Time will deliver me, either from the chains I wear or from the body. Be it soon or late, we will meet again. Say my name at your next Wedding Supper, and remember me to all those who have been my brides in the Name of Our Lord.

In the Name and the Sign,?

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BEHIND HIS easygoing facade, the Emperor had an astute and crafty mind. His many years of uncertain fortune had given him a curious tolerance in some matters and complete inflexibility in others. Justus knew enough to be wary of this, and adapted his mood to that of his august host.

"The building on the new circus is going well?” he asked, solicitous of Vespasianus’ pet project.

The Emperor stopped to pull a handful of grapes from those that trailed over the arbor. “Not as fast as I would like, but well. These Jews know how to build, I'll say that for them, but they don't like to have Roman collars.” He sank onto a bench and began to eat the grapes.

Justus would have liked to emulate him, but knew that this would not serve his purpose with Vespasianus. He remained standing, hands clasped behind his back. “All Rome talks about the new circus. When do you think it will be ready?"

Vespasianus took a moment to swallow his grapes. “Five years is what the architects tell me, but I know something about that breed. Seven years at the least. Perhaps more.” He gave a wry smile. “My son Titus is as fond of the project as I am, and if there are problems, he can finish it."

"Caesar!” Justus said, shocked. “You must not say that. It's because there has been so much imperial strife that you think that way. Consider Augustus’ reign..."

"Augustus did not come to the purple so late in life. I am almost sixty-two. What I start, I intend that my sons and their sons shall finish. The Julian House did well enough, but I intend that the Flavian House will last longer.” He said this flatly, with the calm of long ambition.

"Admirable,” Justus responded promptly. “Rome needs a leader and a house that will endure, for only with that kind of continuity will the empire survive.” He risked taking a more personable stance with Vespasianus. “When I had the pleasure to speak with your son Domitianus, we talked of this. You did well to have him put at the head of the Praetorian Guard."

"And as well to remove him and make Titus their prefect,” said the Emperor as he reached for another bunch of grapes. The air was warm, almost sultry, and the soft drone of bees filled the arbor like a cat's purr.

"Didn't Domitianus object?” Justus wondered aloud. He had seen wounded pride in the young man then, and this would only make it worse, he was certain.

"Domi objects to everything,” the Emperor responded, and paused to spit grape pips at the vines. “He complains that he lives in Titus’ shadow, but he is a younger son. He's there to ensure the line, not to head it.” From the tone of his voice, this was not a thing that Vespasianus cared to discuss.

At last Justus sat on the bench opposite the Emperor. “You have indicated that you are going to make some changes in the government. I thought that was what you wanted to discuss with me."

"Naturally. You have been most helpful to my...cause. I think it would be pleasant to have time alone with each Senator, but this is impossible, and I am more inclined to speak with those who supported me than with those who stood in opposition to my claim.” His narrow, shrewd eyes flicked over Justus. “You aided me very nearly from the first. I've often wondered why."

Justus considered telling the truth, and decided on a modified form. “There's always been the question of wheat shipments, of course, and that put you in a powerful position. Yet, had there been a strong Emperor here, the wheat would have been shipped if it took soldiers to do it. So it was apparent that the men who wore the purple did not know how to manage their great office, while you, in Egypt, did. My first interest is for the benefit of Rome, which must mean a strong Caesar. Your actions showed that you are such a one, and despite your background, are of the mettle of the born patrician. Your father, I believe, was of equestrian rank and a tax collector, wasn't he?"

"He was,” Vespasianus answered without embarrassment. “If it hadn't been for Claudius’ freedman Narcissus, I wouldn't have been able to advance as I've done. There's no disgrace in admitting that.” He finished the grapes and cast the stems aside. “I like your reasons for supporting me. It indicates you have sense, which is sadly lacking in Rome."

"I've thought so often,” Justus agreed, nodding sagely. “I have had reason to think so, more than you know.” He allowed himself to wear a distant, sad expression. “Never mind that. What is it you'd like to talk about."

"In a moment,” Vespasianus said, intrigued by this turn in Justus, as he was meant to be. “What did you mean by that?"

"By what, Caesar?” he said with forced lightness.

"By that remark, that you have reason to think that there is little sense in Rome?” He wiped his fingers on the edge of the loose talaris he wore. This long-sleeved, ankle-length tunica was of thinnest Egyptian cotton and only the purple band, the augustus clavus, distinguished his rank. “Well?"

"It is merely a personal consideration, Caesar. It's not appropriate to talk about it here with you.” He let his voice drop and he would not meet Vespasianus’ bright eyes.

"Merely personal, you say? Personal fortunes can topple an empire, Justus. Tell me what troubles you.” He made himself more comfortable on the marble bench, putting his feet up and crossing them at the ankles. “It's part of the Emperor's duty to be concerned for the lives of his people."

Again Justus hesitated, then said with a great show of reluctance, “You know I have a young wife?"

"Certainly. Her father and brothers were part of one of the conspiracies against Nero, weren't they? The sons went to the galleys or arena or some such, and the father was executed, I believe. The mother is living away from Rome, and there is one daughter other than your wife, somewhere in Gallia, if I remember correctly. I have not been idle since I came to Rome, Justus. I don't want any of those conspirators deciding that they would like to replace me.” He looked at Justus. “What is it, man?"

"As I have said, she is young.” He made a dismissing gesture. “It is nothing, Caesar. Let us talk about your plans, or the heat or the number of ships in the harbor at Ostia, but not, I must ask you, about my wife.” He folded his arms and looked resigned, inwardly satisfied that now Vespasianus would begin an investigation and would learn precisely what Justus wanted him to learn. “I must admit,” he said in another voice, “that I didn't understand why you had those arena slaves arrested last month. When I heard of it, I was quite shocked."

Vespasianus studied Justus for a bit before he spoke. “It seemed to be a wise thing to do,” he said rather stiffly. “There are a great many skillful fighters who speak several languages in the arena. They have ways of passing messages. I know that some of my own men received news through gladiators and charioteers. I also know that there are a few of the great patrician houses that are not pleased to have the son of a tax collector elevated above them. They cannot suborn the legions, since the legions must remain outside of Rome. I know that the Thunder-Clap Legion has been discontented for some time. Well, those opponents of mine can find a ready-made army in their arena slaves. Most of Rome knows them and worships them. I would not like to fight an army of those killers. Fifty gladiators and fifty charioteers to carry them, a few essedarii to pull a square to pieces and half a dozen retriarii to net the stragglers, they'd be the most powerful, most destructive fighting force that Rome has ever faced. Add to it that most of them have foreign associations, and they would bring Rome to her knees in a matter of months.” His face had grown hard and he leaned forward, hands closing to fists as he spoke. “You may think that this is a useless and unpopular precaution, but I assure you it is necessary. It's important that all the Roman nobles understand that I intend to remain on the throne, and that my son and his sons will follow after me. I won't allow anything to change that. They're anxious to put me to the test, I know, but this time I will move to thwart them before they can act against me. It's the only sensible thing I can do, short of open accusations against men of ancient and distinguished families. I don't intend to have another year of four Caesars."

"But surely some of those men object? Arena slaves are valuable and they're a major investment for some of the—"

"Would you sacrifice a dozen slaves in order to remove yourself from the ranks of suspected traitors?” He chuckled and it was not a pleasant sound. “Most of those distinguished Romans are rushing about to make sure their slaves are among those condemned, proving the masters are innocent of any wrongdoing. It's a master's right to punish a disloyal or rebellious slave.” He waved at a bee that had come too close to his face.

"But what about the law forbidding slave abuse? Can't the condemned slaves sue their masters?” Justus was aware that the old law of Divus Julius would not be valid in these circumstances, but there might be those in the Senate who would want to test the interpretation.

"That,” Vespasianus said with a smile of real satisfaction, “is possible, but what would be their defense? They can claim that the slaves were not rebelling, but how could it be proven? An arena fighter, Justus, is trained to kill. He is in the arena to defend his life in combat. That means that he's worth any four soldiers in any legion, most of the time. There are few men in the legions would be willing to go up against rebellious gladiators and charioteers. Opinion is with me, I think.” He gave half a smile.

"I hope you're right,” Justus said carefully. “If not, there will be a great outcry against you.” He made his features sympathetic and gave the Emperor a searching look. “Have you had objections yet?"