One With the Darkness (36 page)

Livia and Jergan fell to the ground.

But power still hummed in the air. The machine stopped entirely. Caligula fell past them, stumbling into
the machine. Time stretched and snapped forward. Everyone in the room screamed, including Livia and Jergan, as the air seemed to tear itself apart.

Darkness fell. There was no glow. Even the lanterns were out.

Livia struggled up, groping for Jergan. Outside the room, she could hear the soldiers yelling, asking what had happened. Only a few had seen the machine or that it had disappeared. Boots scraped into the room. A lantern flickered. Livia looked up and saw a cherub-faced young man in a guard’s uniform hold it high and look around, eyes wide. It was the soldier who had been the head of Claudius’s guard.

The room was empty, except for the nichelike crypts that lined it, and those trying to gather their wits and rise from the dusty floor. The machine was gone.

As was their only chance to escape to the future.

What had she done? Jergan looked at her with big eyes. She crawled into his arms. “It wasn’t right,” she whispered. “It wasn’t right to go.”

“Where is the emperor?” Asiaticus coughed, getting to his feet.

Everyone looked around.

But Caligula had disappeared. Did he go back to the crypt under the Basilica of the Duomo? The machine had been fading. Who knew whether it could actually return all the way to the place and time from which it came?

“You’ve killed him,” Chaerea accused, pointing at Livia. But there was a secret smile of satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. Now they would run Jergan through, and she’d have lost the one thing she had lived for, traveled through time for. She would have lost everything.

Unless …

She glanced to Asiaticus. He was confused. She willed
him to raise his eyes to hers. His gaze drifted up and she held it. He must see what she was about to give him as the incredible opportunity it was. “You pushed Caesar into the machine, Chaerea.” She let her voice carry. “You killed the emperor.” Several of the Guard positioned in the doorway turned startled eyes toward their captain.

“N-nonsense,” Chaerea sputtered.

Asiaticus rose to his full height. His silver hair gleamed in the lamplight. The man was really amazingly calm. “Arrest this man!” His voice was that of a born orator. It carried through the catacombs. The Guard hovered, uncertain.

“Touch me and I’ll have you crucified,” Chaerea growled.

“My dear Chaerea, the captain of the Guard serves at the whim of the emperor, at least ostensibly.” Asiaticus sighed in mock resignation. “And as of one minute ago, we have no emperor, directly through your act.” He grabbed the cherub-faced soldier. “You are the new captain of the Praetorian Guard. The Guard will be essential to keeping order in the next days, and protecting the new emperor until he can be voted on by the Senate and installed.”

“Me, sir?” the lad asked, incredulous.

“If you show your mettle, you’ll keep the job.” Asiaticus patted him on the back. “Now give the order.”

The cherub’s eyes sifted through the possibilities, and he liked his chances. “Take him,” he said to the others. “A tribunal will sort it out.” The Guard surged forward. Several had doubt in their eyes at handling their commander, but they had a direct order from the man who had just been named the new captain. And they were shaken by the fact that their old captain was being accused of murdering the emperor.

They’ll do it, she thought.

The cherub glanced to Asiaticus as Chaerea was hustled out, fuming. “I will have your full support?”

“What is your name, boy?” Ambition flashed through the advisor’s eyes.

“Priaus Anticus Gratus, sir.”

“Well, now I know how to name the new captain of the Praetorian Guard. Take Chaerea to the cells below the arena, Gratus. They are closest. Then bring a contingent to the palace. The new emperor will need protection.”

“And … and who might that be, sir?” The cherub frowned.

“Who better than me?” Asiaticus asked, as though the thought had just occurred. “I have been the only one who cared about the empire for some time now, one way or another.”

Gratus nodded, thoughtful. But no “Hail, Caesar” spilled from his lips. “The Guard has always supported the Claudian line.”

Asiaticus waved a deprecating hand. “The only one left of that line—”

“Is Tiberius Claudius Drusus Nero Germanicus,” Gratus interrupted.

Asiaticus narrowed his eyes. “You can be replaced as easily as you were promoted.”

Gratus blinked twice. “If you think replacing me would have a different result, then by all means do so.” He cocked his head and studied Asiaticus. “However, the emperor would need an advisor.”

Asiaticus sighed and stared at the ceiling of the crypt. He could not do it without the Guard’s support. And the Guard stood for Claudius, wonder of wonders. Livia realized that she was seeing an empire negotiated between a canny realist and a boy soldier.

“I suppose chief advisor is almost as good as emperor.”

Gratus nodded. “You shall have the Guard’s full support, sir, as advisor, as long as Claudius has yours.” Gratus turned on his heel and left.

The corridor cleared. But Asiaticus made no move to leave. Livia sat, clutching Jergan. His breath came in ragged gasps. He’d lost much blood, more than warranted, thanks to her. She must get him to safety and stitch his wounds. Could he stand another bout of transporting? Did she have enough power left to transport? And where would they go? She considered using compulsion to force Asiaticus to let them go. But perhaps it wasn’t necessary. If Asiaticus had wanted to imprison them, he would have ordered the Guard to take them as well as Chaerea.

“So what will you do with us?”

“What does one do with a witch who disappears and heals impossible injuries and seems to command even time? If that’s really what just happened.” Asiaticus tapped his lips with one finger. “I hardly think I can imprison you. I’m not sure I can kill you. But you plotted to kill Caesar and fomented all this talk about the republic. Did you really think those bickering fools in the Senate could hold together an empire this complex?” Now he seemed truly curious.

“A younger self did.” She sighed. “The one who planned the assassination.”

“And you aren’t a younger self?”

“Not entirely. Now I’m mixed with the me who came back with that machine.” She looked at him steadily, daring him to contradict her, with what he had just seen.

He shook his head. “A republic could never hold.”

“It did once before.” This, surprisingly, came from Jergan. The history of the empire was known even as far as
Britannia. In some ways he was defending her and her naïveté.

“Simpler times, my barbarian, simpler times.” Asiaticus shook his head. “The empire was much smaller, the problems smaller, too.”

“Maybe the empire should fall,” Jergan said through gritted teeth.

“Maybe.” Asiaticus smiled. “But for all its faults, it spreads roads and rule of law, learning, and … efficiency. The world runs better when it is run by Rome, in spite of the debauchery in the city itself.” He looked to Livia. Curiosity flitted through his eyes. “Does it fall?”

He believed her. “Not for three hundred-some years.”

“How?”

“Sacked by the Goths.”

“I’m glad I shan’t be here to see it. And after?”

“Darkness. For almost a thousand years. It takes me three hundred years to get all the elements in place for the Renaissance, once I see my way clear.”

“I notice you didn’t protest Claudius.”

“It turns out he’s a good emperor, in his way, a capable administrator.”

Asiaticus blew out the breath he’d been holding. “So we win through. Now he can admit his cunning.”

“You knew?”

Asiaticus chuffed a weary laugh. “It took me a while. He is that clever.”

“We could do worse. Advise him well.”

“Anything in particular you’d like him to accomplish?”

A strange tribute from a strange man. “More aqueducts should be built to provide more arable land so the city doesn’t starve in winter. He’ll expand the empire, too.” She wouldn’t say his primary conquest would be
Britannia. That would only hurt Jergan. And there was no use telling Asiaticus that ultimately Claudius would execute him.

Asiaticus nodded and turned on his heel.

“Wait,” she called. “Free Titus and the others.”

He paused. “Titus is already in Elysium,” he said with his back still turned. “His heart gave out when Chaerea arrested him. I’ll free the others. They’re nothing without your leadership.” Still he paused. “I don’t have to tell you that neither of you will be welcome in Rome?”

Poor Titus. Had he died that way in Donnatella’s experience? She couldn’t quite remember. “I was thinking of going north, to Tuscany.”

“And the slave?”

She glanced up to Jergan. “There is no slave here, only a free citizen of Centii on the island of Britannia. He goes where he will.”

“He would be advised to leave as soon as he is able.”

Asiaticus was gone. She heard his sandals on the stone stairs.

She stood and reached a hand to Jergan, who was looking very pale. “Come. Let’s get you stitched up.”

“The house is a shambles,” he muttered, staggering to his feet as she pulled him up.

“Nothing money can’t cure.” She put her arm around him. They had made it through. And everyone thought Chaerea killed Caligula. History seemed to be reverting to the river channel it had already cut in time. Did that mean that all Donnatella’s effort to come back and change the fact that Jergan did not live as long as she did was in vain?

She took a breath and they started up the stairs toward fresh air and a new start. But maybe it was an old start. He
would stay with her, if history had its way. He wouldn’t go back to Britannia. They would have a few years of love tinged with regret. They would have Gian. That at least. But now she knew she wanted more.

20

L
IVIA GLANCED UP
from where she sat on the side of the bed. The clatter in the street outside was even louder than the racket that had been going on all afternoon. The city was celebrating. Apparently, the Senate had finally confirmed Claudius as emperor. All this noise might wake Jergan, and he had just gotten to sleep. But he did not stir. His long hair tangled on the pillow. His skin was a rich color against the white linen of the bed. The only times she had left his side in the past week were once to attend the funeral of Titus and once to augment her strength with two cups of blood at Drusus Lucellus’s place of business.

The thud of many boots stopped outside her door. Livia rose quickly. That could only mean trouble. Jergan was getting his strength back, but it was slow going. He needed at least another week before she would risk starting for Tuscany. So there was no avoiding whatever stopped outside their door.

Maybe it isn’t trouble.
She had grown used to Donnatella’s voice. The full feeling of two of herself inside had come to seem almost natural. Sometimes she couldn’t tell Donnatella apart from her own thoughts. They were in new territory together, never quite knowing whether what Donnatella had experienced would be exactly what happened in Livia’s new experience. What did not seem natural
was the confusion she felt about questions like destiny, and whether one could change the world at all. Donnatella had come back to change things. But maybe that wasn’t possible.

Someone pounded on the street door. Livia hurried out of her bedroom. The house was almost bare but clean and livable again. The rubble of broken furniture had been cleared away. The larder was again stocked. She stopped in the front courtyard. One of the servants who had been sent by Drusus Lucellus hovered near the door. It reverberated with a pounding demand for entrance. She smiled reassurance to him, and nodded to him to open it.

Gratus, the new captain of the Praetorian Guard, stood in the doorway. His cherub face had taken on a new gravity. It was rumored he had whisked Claudius to the Guard’s camp for safekeeping while the Senate wrangled over whether to confirm him. Livia’s dream of a republic had never had a chance. A depressed feeling of being totally ineffectual had hung around her all week.

“What do you want, Gratus?” she asked. If he thought to betray Asiaticus’s promise and try to take her or Jergan prisoner again, he would have a fight on his hands. He did not know the half of her powers.

“It is not what I want, Livia Quintus. It is what the new emperor wants.” Gratus stood aside, and Claudius limped through the door into the courtyard, followed by a cadre of guards and Caligula’s sisters, Julia Lavilla and Agrippina. “I present Tiberius Claudius Caesar Augustus Germanicus.”

What was toward? Why would Claudius bring those two here? “Emperor.” Livia smiled as she bowed. “I see you have adopted the name of your grandfather, Augustus. A wise tribute.” It reminded everyone that he was the only male left in the line of Augustus. Claudius would
need the gravitas of his grandfather to overcome the impression, still held by some, that he was not fit to be emperor. “January 24 will be hailed as a propitious day for Rome in days to come.”

He looked amused and sighed. “I n-never wanted this. I hope y-you know that.”

“Sometimes history cannot be denied.” That thought made her wince.

“I h-hope I am up to this task.”

“You will be.” Of that she was sure, if of nothing else.

“Decimus says you are a witch who knows the f-future.”

“I think I know very little, even about the present.”

“I w-want to ask you questions, but it may be b-better not to know.”

“You are wiser than Asiaticus.” Claudius’s stutter was much improved. She glanced to Julia and Agrippina. They were obviously frightened. They had never treated Claudius well, and now he was the emperor. They looked as though they had no idea why they were here, either.

“May I offer the emperor whatever my poor house can provide in hospitality?” Livia asked.

Claudius shook his head. “We do not wish to d-disturb you. But we have need of your wisdom. It will take but a m-moment of your time.” The emperor had slipped into the imperial “we,” but he didn’t use it naturally.