Caligula (23 page)

XXXIX

Information was power, Narcissus had taught him that. But now he possessed this information what was he to do with it?

In the right hands it could unquestionably destroy his enemy. Yet the right hands belonged to a man who was a greater enemy still. Then there was the question of survival. If the information came from a source close to the heart of power, it would be endowed with the power of that source and its effect would be multiplied. But coming from a slave would it not raise doubts? Yes. First doubts, then suspicions. Rufus shuddered as he considered the consequences of arousing the suspicions of the man with whom he was considering sharing the secret. No. Not that route then.

Time was on his side. He could hold it until he needed a bargaining chip. Then again there was the danger that its power might be devalued, or his need so dire he would be forced to sell it for less than it was worth.

Narcissus, or his master, would pay well for it – he had no doubts on that score. It would give the Greek power over his greatest rival. Who knows, it might even open the door to an Empire, but what kind of Empire? He had witnessed Narcissus at work, seen the cold calculation in the Greek's eyes. Would he trust Narcissus with the gift he had just received? Again, the answer was no.

In truth, there had always been only one choice. But the thing he had in his possession was of such momentous significance it was imperative to consider every option.

'It is very pretty, but why should I want it?' Cupido studied the object in his hand. It was a small, intricately worked metal box of the sort ladies of consequence kept their most valued rings in. The box itself was crafted of silver, but the lid had been worked with gold wire inset in the shape of a dragon being attacked by a leopard. It was very beautiful, and obviously very valuable. 'Did you steal it?' he demanded suspiciously.

'It is a poor creature who has so little faith in his friends,' Rufus commented.

Cupido raised one eyebrow. 'I remember a tale of a boy who was told he could pat a rhinoceros as if it was a dog. This' – he held the box between two fingers – 'looks suspiciously like a rhinoceros.'

'Then your eyesight is patently not what it was. I have been close enough to a rhinoceros to know what one looks like. But, please, let me tell you a story. It begins, as most stories do, quite a long time ago. Almost thirty years, in fact.'

'Then you had better get on with it, because I have important duties, even if you do not.'

'Of course.' Rufus picked up the box with a flourish. 'The tale concerns a certain Germanicus.'

Cupido's head came up sharply as he recognized the name of Caligula's father, and Rufus knew he had his friend's full attention now.

'This Germanicus was generally considered to possess the highest qualities to be desired in a man. Handsome, brave, clever. Orator and warrior. Friend to many and inspiration to all. When the German legions would have disowned Tiberius, he held them to their oaths. When they stared defeat in the face, he turned it into victory by the strength of his own character. Surely, you may ask, such a man would be loved by all?

'But when lesser men look to the heavens and see a star so much brighter than their own, or men less well favoured look into a mirror and see a face less handsome, their minds become twisted. Thus it was with those who regarded Germanicus as a rival.

'It was not enough that he restored order to the Orient, that he vanquished the king of Armenia, and bestowed upon Cappadocia the honour of a province of Rome. No, he must no longer be allowed to cast a greater shadow than his Emperor, or hold greater power than his Emperor's closest adviser.

'So a soldier was dispatched to Antioch, where his deeds and his honours ensured him a welcome and a place in his general's counsel. It was unfortunate that, soon after, Germanicus, who had stood so tall and was so loved, was brought low by a most loathsome disease. His golden skin withered and became covered in dark pustules. The mouth from which so many honeyed words had poured instead spewed froth. And he died, mourned by all, but none more than his Emperor, his Emperor's closest adviser, Gnaius Piso, and the good soldier who had come so untimely to his service.'

'Who told you this?' Cupido demanded.

'But there is more. Do you not want to hear it? Does it not enthral you?'

Cupido's nostrils flared, so that he reminded Rufus of the lion he had confronted. He wondered if he had gone too far, but the gladiator nodded for him to continue.

'Such illnesses are not uncommon in the Orient, or so I am told. Those who grieved for their general would have been content to believe his death was mere fate – but for two things. When his body was reduced to ashes in the fierce heat of the funeral fire, his heart was found entire among his bones, which, as your witch of a sister will no doubt have told you, is a certain sign of poison. And among his effects was found something which was pretty,' he raised the little box so it glinted in the lamplight, 'but seemed an unlikely trinket for a commander who lived a simple life.'

He handed the box to Cupido and the young German stared at it, as if he was trying to unlock its secrets by sheer force of will.

'One among the general's staff was not content. He took the pretty trinket to a certain medical man with knowledge of things he did not care to advertise among his friends. This medical man carried out tests, I know not how, which proved that the contents of the little box you hold had included some distillation of the red-spot mushroom. Even the slightest dose would have proved fatal to anyone who consumed it.'

'Narcissus!' Cupido exclaimed. 'It was Narcissus who revealed all this to you. Only he with his contacts in the east could have unearthed such a detailed report. You did this for me? You placed yourself even deeper in his debt for a friend?'

Rufus smiled modestly and recalled Callistus's final words when they had parted the previous evening. 'Let him believe anything, as long as it is not the truth.'

'And who was this simple soldier,' Cupido asked, though he knew the answer already, 'who was so trusted by his general, but whose appearance proved a harbinger of such tragedy?'

Rufus smiled coldly. 'Why, our good friend Cassius Chaerea.'

They spent the rest of the night discussing the best use of what Rufus had discovered. From time to time Rufus noticed Cupido giving him a strange look, as if he could not quite believe him capable of providing this deadly combination of intelligence and evidence.

'You are certain of its provenance?' he demanded at one point. 'You trust the source of this information with your life?'

'More than that. I trust him with your life,' Rufus said evenly.

In the end it was decided. Cupido would seek a meeting with Chaerea in some neutral place, repeat the story as Rufus had just told it and show him only the slightest glimpse of the silver box. If Chaerea reacted as they hoped, Cupido would tell him he wanted nothing to do with his plots, and leave him in no doubt that if there was any further interference in either his or Rufus's affairs, the information would reach Caligula.

'You must convince him it will come from someone in power,' Rufus repeated for the third time. 'If he thinks a senator like Claudius, or Helicon, the chamberlain, is ready to denounce him at your signal, he will not dare act against us, for to do so would be death.'

'It is your death I will think on if I am left with Chaerea thanking me for the gift of a pretty jewel box for one of his whores,' Cupido said wryly.

'You won't be. But don't rush into the meeting. Set it up for four days from now and let Chaerea fret about your intentions. He is still looking over his shoulder after the last attempt on Caligula's life. This will unsettle him even more.'

Cupido nodded, his expression grim. 'I have something to give Narcissus in return for this gift.'

Rufus stared at him. Cupido seldom revealed information about his dealings with the Emperor. This was a sign of the true extent of their peril.

'The guard is split. Cassius Chaerea has suborned many with his promises of wealth and position, but not all. There are some who see him for what he is, a jackal who feeds on the carrion others provide. They know it will be Chaerea who dons the purple if his plan succeeds, and not the mysterious other he claims to support. And when he does, they understand what will happen to his enemies. Some of these are officers held in high esteem by their men. They are not innocents, but Caligula has disgraced them by using them as executioners instead of soldiers. He has lost their loyalty. They will not act against him directly. They wish him gone, but not to be replaced by Chaerea. They need someone to follow, someone worthy of their support. Claudius.'

Rufus's head spun with the enormity of what he was being told and the opportunity it represented. Then reality intervened.

'But Claudius would never agree to be Emperor. Remember what I told you of his conversation with Bersheba. He wants a return to sanity. A republic.'

'I understand that, but the Guard, those who are against Chaerea, will not support a republic. They believe it will weaken the Empire and lead to anarchy. They seek a return to the prosperity and security Augustus brought. Only one of Augustus's blood can provide it.' He shrugged. 'Claudius is not perfect, but he is available.'

'But I told you. He will not do it.'

'What if someone engineered it so he had no choice?' Cupido suggested. 'Someone who had much to gain if his master rose to the very pinnacle of power?'

Someone like Narcissus.

But before Rufus could arrange a meeting with the Greek, their lives would hang by a thread . . .

He and Livia were sitting in their little home three nights later. It was the eve of the sacrifice of the October Horse and there was a festival air to Rome which had even penetrated the room behind the barn. The couple had mellowed lately, and Rufus was trying to come to terms with the enormous upheaval about to occur in his life. An upheaval that drew closer each day as Livia's belly grew rounder and fatter. His stomach was just dealing with the disturbing detail of childbirth when the door burst open.

His hand darted for the knife he kept beneath the bed and he rose ready to use it. But he froze when he saw the figure in the doorway.

This was an Aemilia Rufus barely recognized. Her eyes were wide and her blond hair was matted, with small twigs and leaves tangled among it, as if she had just spent a night on a forest floor. Her breath came in short, desperate bursts and her chest heaved against the thin cloth of the expensive dress she wore.

'I didn't know where else to go,' she gasped. 'You must help me.'

The words were directed at Rufus and it was apparent that she had not even noticed Livia was in the room.

Rufus opened his mouth to reassure her, but it was Livia who spoke. The Palatine was a small community and she knew Aemilia by sight, knew too that she was Cupido's sister. But they had never met and she slightly resented the girl's position in Milonia's household.

'What has happened that you must enter our house without invitation in the dead of night?' she demanded in a voice that was, if not frosty, certainly not welcoming.

Aemilia looked from the tiny figure to Rufus as if she was a deer seeking escape from a pack of hounds.

'Enough of this,' Rufus said. 'She has come to us for aid and we will give it. Bring water. Aemilia will explain herself in her own time.'

'But she is right, Rufus: you must know. My presence here is a danger to us all.' Aemilia's voice shook and her head drooped so she did not have to meet their eyes. 'The Emperor. I was dining with Milonia – a favour to her, she said. He came to her quarters as we ate and placed himself on the couch beside me. I was a fool, because I was honoured by his attentions. Then he began to touch me. First my hair.' She took a handful of the golden mass in her fist as if she wanted to tear it from her head. 'Then my skin. He touched my skin and it crawled as if a serpent had been placed upon it. Then he spoke to me of things I did not understand, or want to understand. Of the nature of love. What do I know of love, or care, in this place where each of us is a commodity to be bartered? He said I must share their bed. I looked to Milonia for aid, but she only smiled, and there was something in her smile that chilled me. She knew. She knew and she approved. The Emperor took me by the hand, and said, "Come." But I could not. I shook myself free, and I ran.' She sobbed, a great heart-wrenching breath from deep in her body. 'I have nowhere else to go.'

Rufus listened in silence. He was appalled. Not because of his sympathy for Aemilia's ordeal, but because she had placed them in mortal danger. And for no reason. How could she be such a fool? This was no sanctuary. It was a trap.

As if the gods were able to read his mind there came a thundering knock at the door.

'Open up, quickly.'

He breathed a sigh of relief. Cupido. Cupido would know what to do.

Rufus opened the door cautiously and the young German, wearing a long cloak over his armour, bustled past him.

'I heard she had come this way, and I decided to check before the patro–' He stopped, open-mouthed, staring at Aemilia. 'You? I was only told it was a girl.' He shook his head in disbelief. 'I didn't . . . No one said . . .'

Aemilia ran to him, crying his name, and he took her protectively in his arms. But the eyes that met Rufus's across her shoulder were filled with confusion.

'You must get her out of here, now.' Livia's voice was cracked with tension. 'The child . . . If they find her here, you know what they will do.'

'It is too late,' Cupido said, and Rufus heard something in his tone that was as out of place in Cupido the warrior as snow in a Tuscan summer. Defeat.

He was right. Already they could hear the clash of weaponry as the soldiers of the Emperor's guard made their way down the slope from the palace.

'Wait. I will talk to them.' Cupido tried to thrust Aemilia away from him, but she held tight and forced him to look at her.

'No,' she said. Her face was set in a savage expression that reminded Rufus of tales of fierce women fighters who were as deadly in battle as any man. 'Kill me.'