Caligula (11 page)

Rufus stayed silent. He understood that he had no need to speak. She was talking to him in the way Claudius talked to Bersheba. Using him as a reflector for her thoughts, so that she could consider them from a different perspective. To her, he was little more than a beast to be used for any purpose she thought fit.

'It can be a great burden to be an Emperor's favourite. Would it be an honour to die at the hands of a living god? Would it mean I, Drusilla, would be divine, a goddess in my own right? Or is death just death? An end.'

She looked puzzled for a moment, and he knew this was a subject which perplexed her. But then it was as if a lamp lit behind her eyes.

'My brother's fame will be immortal, and Drusilla's name will be coupled with his. His greatness already outshines the combined light of Divine Julius, Augustus and Tiberius. His reign will last for fifty years and his deeds will be remembered for a thousand. Already people talk of him as a god, and soon he will take his place with the greatest of the gods. Should Gaius, saviour of Rome, bow before Jupiter? No!' Her eyes narrowed, and now an unsettling new persona revealed itself. 'But first he must destroy his enemies. Even now, when his people believe he leads his army to take Rome's bounty to the barbarians of Britannia, he marches to the Rhine to deal with the traitor Gaetulicus and his legions. This creature wishes to supplant him with my own husband, whose throat I will cut with this very hand. Gaius has so many enemies, even among those he would call his friends.

'They don't think I know,' she confided. 'But I see them sneering behind his back and plotting in their whispering nests. Cassius Chaerea, with his little girl's voice – a man, so-called, who will lie with woman, man or beast. Calpurnius, who still blames him for stealing away his wife, as if such a thing mattered. He cannot even trust his own blood. Uncle Claudius, who is a better actor than any on the stage, and that Greek who is never far from his shoulder spread their poison among the Senate and the guard. I have told him to kill them all, but he is too weak. Oh, Chaerea and Calpurnius will have their reckoning, but not Claudius, who is the greatest danger of all. Gaius will spare him because he is
family
.

'My brother is weak, but I would be strong. I would wipe them from the face of the earth in a single day that Rome would remember for a lifetime. Their screams for mercy would be heard the length of the Empire and none would dare follow them in their betrayal.

'My sisters plot too, and my brother's wife, but against me, not him. They know I have his favour and as long as I do they will never rise. Livilla is harmless enough; she can be married off to a husband who will beat her regularly and painfully. And Milonia is but an annoyance. But Agrippina is different. We must watch Agrippina. Agrippina is a witch, and witches are dangerous. She can do more harm with her potions and poultices even than Uncle Claudius. Gaius has not been the same since she cured him of the head sickness. Cured? Poisoned, I say, or drugged to bend him to her will. We will deal with Agrippina in good time.'

As she talked, Drusilla's hand absently stroked Rufus's upper thigh. Now it stroked something else and she purred.

'Yes, puppy dog. We don't have much time and there is a service you can do your mistress before she sends you back to your kennel.'

She lay back and motioned him to her. Drusilla was hungry and practised, but Rufus was young and he was strong; more confident now, with wiles of his own. He had the arrogance of youth and he would not be bested. Their sweating contest of wills seemed to last an age, with each having periods of domination, but eventually it was she who cried out in defeat. A single scream that sent a spear of molten iron through his heart.

'Gaiiuuus!'

XX

It did not take long to discover that her confidence in their secret was misplaced.

Narcissus appeared at the doors of the barn a few days after the night-time excursion as Rufus trimmed Bersheba's feet, a process the huge animal seemed to find thoroughly satisfying.

Rufus had his back to Bersheba, with her left hind leg bent upwards between both of his so that he could work at the horny growth on the sole of her foot with a sharp knife. As he pared away, she shuffled slightly and gave quiet snorts of pleasure.

'I find it amazing that one can get quite that close to something so large, and so obviously dangerous,' Narcissus said after watching the operation for a few moments.

Rufus grunted and wrestled to slice off a particularly tough piece of hardened skin before replying. 'Bersheba may be big, but she is not dangerous – are you, girl?' he said, reaching behind him to pat a wrinkled hindquarter.

'Not at the moment, perhaps. But I have seen the beasts in battle and they can be very fearsome, even if they are facing the other way. You must remember, Rufus,' he added with exaggerated significance, 'you have a powerful weapon in your control.'

Rufus was surprised to hear Narcissus claim he had been in a fight. The Greek gave the impression of being . . . not soft, but unworldly.

'No.' Narcissus laughed, reading his mind. 'I was not a military man. I was accompanying my former master – not Senator Claudius – on a diplomatic mission when the natives objected particularly violently to something. Taxes, probably. They didn't bargain for the squadron of war elephants the local potentate used against them.'

Rufus had cared for Bersheba for so long that he never thought of her as dangerous, not in a warlike sort of way. Clumsy, perhaps. An animal of her size could crush a man accidentally and barely notice it. And when she was in one of her moods . . .

'What were they like? Were they different from Bersheba? Bigger?'

'No, just the same sort of lumbering beast. Although I think they may have had smaller ears, and more of a humped back. They were armoured here,' he said, indicating the front of her head, 'and on their flanks. They were controlled by little brown men who sat on their shoulders, and they carried a . . . a sort of basket, with a bowman in it.'

'I could see why they might be good against cavalry,' Rufus said, considering the matter. 'Any horse that comes anywhere near Bersheba gets nervous as soon as it smells her. I suppose it would take a lot to stop her?'

'Yes it does. I saw one elephant stuck so full of arrows it looked very like a large hedgehog.' Rufus grimaced at the description, but Narcissus affected not to notice. 'It was very angry and very effective for a time, and then it seemed to lose its mind.'

'What happened to it?'

'It turned on its own people and charged directly towards the potentate and my diplomat. The little man on its shoulders took a large spike and hammered it straight into the back of its neck with a mallet. It went down like a fallen tree. Stone dead.'

They looked at Bersheba in silence for a moment, considering the unlikelihood of such an animal being brought down with a single blow.

'I know, it doesn't seem possible. But I saw it with my own eyes. Now, have you anything for me? A little gossip perhaps? I understand you have been keeping interesting company.'

Rufus froze.

Narcissus smiled reassuringly. 'Oh, don't worry, your secret is safe with me. But the Palatine is a dangerous place, and nowhere is more dangerous than the quarter you entered three nights ago. The person who inhabits that room is beautiful in the way a sea snake is beautiful. It dances sinuously in the current and its colours enchant, but treat it with disrespect and you will be dead before you can blink an eye. Now, what do you have for me?'

Rufus hesitated. 'Gaetulicus.'

'Ah, our poetic governor of Upper Germany. What does she say of him?'

Rufus told how the British invasion was to be a deception, while the true target was the popular governor and the legions that followed him.

Narcissus greeted the news with a bray of laughter. 'How could she be so utterly wrong and so out of date? Gaetulicus is already dead at his master's hand, but Caligula lost his nerve when it came to taking his revenge on the legions. Instead, he added the First and the Twentieth to his army for this so-called invasion of Britain. Only a fool would believe he could lead a force across the sea at this season. He hadn't even arranged for ships to transport the army. It is all over the Senate. Just two days ago I heard one former consul declare that Caligula was more likely to collect seashells than ships. Of course, Rome being Rome, the story spread and now the mob believes their Emperor took four legions to the very ends of Gaul to gather clams. When he returns, he will find himself a laughing stock. Surely your meeting was more productive than this?'

'She said no one would know,' Rufus said miserably.

'Drusilla has her brother's power to protect her, but in the darker ways of the Palatine she is an untutored child.'

Narcissus raised his hands so Rufus could see them, and his fingers flickered through an intricate series of designs, tapping against the fingers or palm of his other hand.

Rufus stared. Was the Greek mad?

'It is a method of communication I discovered quite by accident,' Narcissus explained. 'How does she think those poor mute sisters transmit information? By fluttering their eyelashes? But how I know is of little consequence. It is sufficient that I do know, and if I know you can be sure others will know.' Narcissus looked grave. 'You are in great peril, Rufus, if you do not find someone you can trust.'

'I would trust Cupido with my life.'

The Greek shook his head sadly. 'That might not be wise. I fear the honourable gladiator is not the man he was. The palace can destroy a person, but it also has the power to seduce one. Take the Emperor: vain, arrogant, unpredictable and cruel.' Rufus looked around instinctively to see if anyone was in earshot. Even to listen to this was treason. But Narcissus was not finished. 'But he can also be loyal, sympathetic, generous and brilliant. He is a little like the sun; those who stray into his orbit may burn like a moth in a flame or merely bask in the warmth of his presence. Your friend has seen an aspect of our Emperor few others are privileged to see. It may cloud his judgement.'

Rufus frowned. One part of him wanted to deny what Narcissus was saying, but another knew the Greek was right, or at least partially right. Cupido had changed, but Rufus sensed the change was not as deep-seated as Narcissus believed, and that there were other reasons for it.

'If I cannot trust Cupido, whom can I trust? Fronto might as well be in Africa for all the help he can be to me in this place. I have no other friends here, unless . . .'

Narcissus smiled like a teacher whose most recalcitrant pupil has finally grasped a simple problem.

'Why should I trust you, who had me brought here against my will, and still refuse to tell me why? And how can you help me, when everyone but the palace mousecatcher appears to know that you and Claudius plot?'

The smile froze on Narcissus's face, and the corner of his right eye twitched. He opened his mouth to speak, but, for once, he didn't seem to have anything to say.

'Drusilla, who is but a child in the darker ways of the Palatine,' Rufus mimicked the Greek's cultured Latin, 'has been spying on you and just about everyone else in the palace. Even now she may be urging the Emperor to have you and your master arrested and taken before the inquisitors,' he added, enjoying the freedman's obvious discomfort.

'What else did she say?' Narcissus cleared his throat nervously.

Rufus shrugged. 'You are not the only ones she suspects. She mentioned the Praetorian commander Chaerea, and Calpurnius, husband of Cornelia. She despises the Emperor's wife and hates her sister Agrippina, whom she accuses of witchcraft and dabbling in poisons. She believes Agrippina has drugged her brother.'

'It does not matter how many others are suspect. It only takes a single accusation for a man to be condemned.' Narcissus chewed his lip, thinking aloud. 'You say she believes Agrippina to be a sorceress. That is interesting. I was not aware of it. We will talk of this matter of trust again, Rufus, but for the moment I have urgent business to attend to.'

Narcissus scurried off, and as he watched the tall freedman's retreating back as he walked across the park, Rufus had a suspicion that he had said more than he should have.

XXI

The memory of his night with Drusilla ate at Rufus's mind like a swarm of fire ants. He would wake in his bed, sweating, with images of her lithe body dancing in front of him and the scent of her in his nostrils. When it happened, he'd spend the rest of the night in a fever, anticipating the knock on the door that would herald an invitation to return to the curtained bedchamber.

At other times, he would stop, paralysed, in the middle of some task, overwhelmed by what he'd done and the terrible retribution that might follow. On these occasions he would take Bersheba off to some far corner of the park, as if fleeing there would somehow save him from his fate.

And then there was Aemilia.

Milonia Caesonia had shown little interest in the elephant after that first encounter, but as the summer faded and the relentless heat abated it was not unusual for the royal family to spend time in the park, allowing the Emperor's daughter and Agrippina's son, Nero, to play together on the grass.

It was on one of these occasions, while he was mending part of Bersheba's harness in front of the barn, that Rufus noticed a shadow on the ground beside him. He looked up to see a tall figure watching him, her golden hair catching the sunlight.

'If you are busy, I will not disturb you,' she said in an accented Latin which reminded him of Cupido's. Her voice was not the only similarity. The way she stood, tall and straight, with the balance of an athlete and the awareness of a warrior, was evidence of her lineage. This was no pliant slave girl, bonded from birth and cowed by the powerlessness of her position.

'No, please.' He straightened to face her. 'Bersheba is not needed today.'

She was holding little Drusilla in her arms. The child must have been close to a year old, with a mop of dark curls and a face that permanently mirrored her mother's petulance.

Aemilia saw his look. 'She is growing heavier every day. Soon I won't be able to carry her any distance. She should be walking by now, but she is spoiled, I think, and if she prefers to crawl, then crawl she will.' She turned to look over her shoulder where Milonia and Agrippina sat on cushions on the grass, in the shade of a canopy held by two Nubian slaves.

Bersheba appeared at the door of the barn, sniffing the air with her trunk.

'She is a magnificent animal, but I would wish her back in the wild places of her childhood and not chained in the darkness to await one man's pleasure.' There was a hint of sadness in Aemilia's voice, and Rufus understood that she was linking Bersheba's position to her own. 'What would she do if you unchained her, do you think? Would she wander far and wide until she came to some stream she once knew, or some hill she looked out from? No, I am being foolish. Of course she would be hunted down and killed before she ever came close to the thing she once knew as freedom.'

'I think it more likely that she would stand where she was until the handler who had been so carelessly neglectful decided to feed her, for Bersheba's moods are ruled by her stomach, are they not, girl?' he said, trying to lighten the mood.

'Yes, you are right.' Aemilia smiled sadly. 'We must be thankful for the small gifts our captivity brings.'

Drusilla squirmed, almost dislodging herself, and Aemilia placed the little girl carefully on the grass. The child immediately began to explore her surroundings.

'Better here than near her cousin,' Aemilia said. 'Poor Nero, she scratches his face until he cries. I fear for the boy once all her teeth grow in.'

A cloud covered the sun for a moment, and Aemilia shivered, growing serious again. 'I thank you for being my brother's friend. I hope we too can be friends,' she said, and Rufus struggled to cover his disappointment. He wanted more than this girl's – this woman's – friendship. 'I came here to warn you that you may be in danger. Milonia Caesonia talks openly of a slave she calls Drusilla's puppy dog. She does so in the crudest terms and in the wrong company. I urge you to beware. Whatever your feelings for Drusilla, stay away from her. If the Emperor became aware of your relationship she could not save you.'

Rufus opened his mouth to deny he had any feelings for Drusilla. Who did this haughty German girl think she was, to come here and throw his shame in his face? Did she believe she was the only slave who still had pride? But before he could say anything, Aemilia gave a stifled scream.

Rufus looked round to see what had startled her.

Inside the barn Drusilla was playing in the hay directly between Bersheba's enormous legs. The elephant had only to shuffle her feet and Caligula's daughter would be crushed.

But Bersheba was Bersheba. She bowed her head to look at the interloper beneath her, and with the tip of her trunk gently pushed the laughing infant through the hay to safety.

Rufus picked up the wriggling bundle and plucked the straw from her tangled hair, while Drusilla hissed at him and demanded in childish gurgles to be allowed to return to her huge playmate. Aemilia, pale as a ghost, took the child from him.

'This is a dangerous place, Aemilia, and we must always be wary, but sometimes the fates contrive to undo even the most careful. I am a slave, and if the Emperor's sister demands it, I must attend her. But do not shame me by believing my attendance means anything more.' He turned to walk away.

'Rufus?' The note of apology in Aemilia's voice stopped him.

When he turned back she looked at him as if she was seeing him for the first time. What was he to her, this tall, fresh-faced young man with the untidy, russet-bronze mop of hair and the gentle, almost emerald eyes? She had noticed the way he looked at her; how could she not when he made it so obvious. He desired her, but then so did a lot of men. He was undoubtedly handsome, in a wholesome, rustic sort of way, and she liked him, but there were many people she liked. Sometimes, if they met by accident, she experienced an inner confusion and a fluttering in her breast she couldn't explain. Was that love? She knew of love; the palace ladies talked of little else. She was curious about the
act
but was in no rush to experience it. In any case, what could he offer her? He was a slave. Yes, she too was a slave, but Milonia had promised that when the time was right she would be freed, and that she would be found a suitable husband. So they could not be more than friends. But would that be enough for him?

'My words were ill-chosen and I beg your forgiveness. I meant what I said when I offered you my friendship, and I offer it again. Show me your hands.'

Puzzled, Rufus put out his hands, palms up. He was conscious of the roughness of his skin as she took his right hand in hers, still holding Drusilla in the crook of her left arm.

'When I was young, the women of my tribe believed I had the gift. I don't know if that's true, but I can read men's thoughts, sometimes, and see things I don't understand, and when I place my hand over another's, like this, I can sometimes feel the future.'

She closed her eyes, and Rufus felt an energy pulsing in his right arm that had not been there before. Maybe it was the warmth of her hand on his that caused the effect, but it was there, and as the seconds passed he felt its power flow through his shoulder and into his chest.

She opened her eyes, and he was drawn into their fathomless depths. When she spoke it was in the measured tones of an oracle.

'You are strong, Rufus, stronger than you will ever know. You will survive this place while others will not, and you will travel far, over land and sea, to a place where you will witness the last stand of the tyrants.'

Rufus shuddered. He didn't understand why – or how – it would happen. But he felt in his heart it was true. 'Will Cupido be at my side? And you?'

She smiled distractedly. 'Perhaps. But our story is already written and our fate decided. If the gods will it, we will be there with you.'