Arena (18 page)

Looking into her hurt dark eyes, I knew otherwise. He would, to preserve our partnership, keep me free of dangerous entanglements that might hinder our progress. Acte hurried on, “After you won the sword and moved into your house I came to visit you several times. The servants turned me away. They said you’d issued orders. I died then, Cassius. A little at a time I died.”

No longer could I stand beside her unmoved. The months of denying vanished in an instant when I took her in my arms. I cursed my own stupidity and held her tight while strangers stared.

“I issued no orders like that, Acte. He must have bribed my servants. He was always afraid of you. Afraid that my interest in you would blunt our drive to success. I said goodbye to him in the city. I’d give my life to have him here for one minute. I’d kill him.”

Acte shuddered against me. “Don’t, my darling. Don’t speak of death. Not when time is so short and —”

Time had all run out. From the prow of the Levantine a wiry sailor leaned over the dock and blew three blasts on a bull’s horn. Men scurried on the deck. The captain of the vessel bawled down, “Master Cassius! Hop aboard, if you please!”

“I love you, Acte. I’ve lied to myself, told myself otherwise. I’ve slept with other women. But it’s you I love.”

With a sad smile she answered, “Is that one of the women, Cassius? That red-haired one watching you from the rail? With more hate than I’ve ever seen on a human being’s face?”

Swiftly I spun, catching only a glimpse of coppery curls disappearing over the deck. Ropes creaked. Men cursed each other in the universal Greek. Idlers shoved along the mole to watch the departure of the vessel. In seconds I must undo months of blindness.

“Acte, within a year I’ll be back in Rome. I’ll have the rank of eques. Wait for me. I’ve no right to ask it but — will you wait?”

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Too overcome to speak, she only nodded.

“Master Cassius, we can’t delay!”

“A moment more, Captain,” I shouted, gathering her in my arms for one last kiss.

Her love poured out in the heat of her lips and her salt tears. The Levantine mariners began to lift the plank. Like flesh parting from flesh when a sword cuts deep, I released her hand.

I leaped high, caught the plank line and scrambled aboard. The men hauled away and the tiller went over. The big sails caught the wind and the merchantman began to glide past the dock, sweeping fast toward the harbor mouth.

Face tear-shining, Acte waved. She grew smaller and smaller still. My mind was a blur of things — the deceitful face of Syrax; my own ignorant misreading of the facts; my months of loneliness that could have been filled with her warmth and her tenderness. Had I received a single one of her messages, or seen her at my house, I might not now be riding this belling-sailed bird out toward the blue swell of the sea’s horizon, and Africa, and unicorns for a mad Emperor.

I wanted to fix my eyes on her figure on the mole until the last moment. My attention was distracted. Sunlight glared off a chariot that must have rumbled onto the dock while I held her in my arms. The last face I saw, small but recognizable for one fearful instant, was that of Ofonius Tigellinus, peering over the shoulder of his charioteer.

Had he been watching long? Had he come down to gloat as I went into exile, and seen me embrace her? All at once I was ready to leap the rail and swim back. A hand on my shoulder restrained me.

“Master Cassius?” It was the portly captain. “I was instructed to give this to you after we sailed. I trust you and the lady will have a pleasant crossing. Good day.”

He sauntered off, leaving me with the rolled parchment. I grew cold at the sight of the Imperial eagles in the wax.

The letter’s first few lines revealed the depth of my own stupidity. The parchment dropped from my hands. At once Locusta was there, picking it up. She scanned it once, then a second time. She was first incredulous, then angry.

“So, Cassius. So, Nero Augustus Caesar had an afterthought which he saw fit to address to you in a letter signed not by himself but by one of his ministers. Now do you see how eminent you are, Cassius, beast-man? How mighty? How clever?”

She brandished the letter at me, growing hysterical. The crewmen stopped working to stare as the canvas cracked and the merchantman leaped toward the harbor mouth. Her voice dripped venom.

“He forgot to tell you he won’t accept a rhino horn. He’s not like the street rabble who’ll believe in anything. You’re not to return until you find a true unicorn. The unicorn he knows doesn’t existanywhere on the face of this earth! ”

She flung the letter in my face and ran.

The sea wind swept over me. I strained to see the Ostia mole again. It was gone, a white smudge behind the butterfly patterns of small fishing skiffs darting among the anchored triremes. I turned my back on the Rome I would never see again.

And the woman I loved who would remain forever lost.

From a cabin somewhere below, I heard shrill laughter peal. I realized then that I was traveling onto the shining sea with a woman who wished me dead.

I turned to the rail once more. I struck my fist against it. Again, then again. Again.Again, until the skin broke and blood came and I wept as the merchantman gathered the wind and carried me over the Tyrrhenian Sea to Africa.

A worse blow was still to come.

Days later we berthed at the bustling, sunny port of Iol Caesaria, the capitol of the desert province of Caesariensis, more commonly called Numidia. The decurion Cornelius Publius was out of the city touring his forts. Locusta and I took quarters in the city, barely speaking, to await
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his return.

The hot and alien sun gave our days a strange monotony. Presently another ship put in from Rome. A letter arrived from Serenus.

I regret deeply(it ran in part)that I must deliver this ill news. But one way or another, Ofonius Tigellinus learned that you were enamored of the young lady whose name is A.

My heart went cold. Had he known it before he saw us on the wharf? No matter. The damage was done. I read on.

At many public gatherings the Sicilian has been talking openly of his hatred of you. In this I saw a definite danger to the young woman. Cassius, do not think badly of me. I am growing old. I always harbored a certain fondness for her, as you know. Also, the Emperor’s shipboard instructions about the unicorn horn have been widely circulated, probably on purpose. It must be clear to you, as it is to those of us here, that you have been exiled from Rome the rest of your mortal life. Exactly why this happened, perhaps only you know. Nevertheless, since I am growing old, I yearn for companionship. And I fear for the life of the young woman. When I explained the circumstances to her, she appeared very sad. But after a week or so, and much persuasion on my part about the good sense of the move, she relented. We struck a sort of bargain. She agreed to become my wife.

From the harbor drifted the chanting of Numidians loading a galley with sesame oil. The sunlight in my chamber was blinding as death. I struggled to read the close of the letter.

I beg your forgiveness for my selfishness, Cassius my good friend. I earnestly hope you will not find it in your heart to quarrel with my action, which I took not merely for my sake, but also for yours. Whatever else happens, A. will be safe with me. Please allow me to remain your obedient —

I could read no more. I could not even weep. Some shocks are beyond pain.

And that is how, on the parched African coast, I faced the total ruin of all my dreams.

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60–62 A.D.

Poison and Unicorns

IWILL NOT dwell on the dismal days before the decurion returned to Iol Caesaria, except to say that I lost myself in a state of uncaring despondency from which none could rouse me, neither for food nor bathing nor conversation. None, that is, except the wine seller who visited my chambers regularly, left two fresh skins of cheap, sour stuff and took away the ones I’d emptied.

But a man cannot exist forever in such a state of despair, unless he plans to do away with himself.

That was not my intent, I realized, when the effects of my debauch gradually wore off. I began to pay attention to my appearance again, and to the slave who camped on my doorstep.

He reported that the decurion had been awaiting me at his house for five days and nights. So I went, to make the best of my bad situation.

In a cool grove of fig trees on his estate, I met the man who governed the bustling port city.

Cornelius Publius was well into middle years, an overweight widower with bright red cheeks that testified to good living. He seemed kindly and thoughtful. He treated me as an equal, and did not question my delay in arriving.

I related as much of my background as I dared, and presented my first letter from Serenus. I had torn the second one to shreds in a rage.

After looking over the scroll, Publius reached for a pale green sliver of Numidian cucumber in a bowl between us, sprinkled it with grainy black cumin and said,

“A hundred stadia or so down in the desert, we maintain a fort. It’s one of a string of them set up in the days when Caesar conquered the Gaetulian tribe and raised Juba to the local throne.

Game’s plentiful nearby. I can furnish guides, transportation and introductions to the
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commander.”

“If you think the fort will serve as a good headquarters, Publius, I accept your word.”

“That’s more than the Emperor does when I send in my regular reports.” Publius clapped for a slave and ordered writing materials. “Since I never receive any answers I assume he never reads them.”

Somewhat embarrassed to bring up the subject, I said, “The true nature of my mission —”

He interrupted. “I know. It’s been all over town for days. Unicorns.”

“The fact that none has even turned up doesn’t rule out the chance that they exist. Does it?”

“That’s false hope shining in your eyes, Cassius. I judge you to be smart enough to recognize it.”

“I am. I have no choice. Nero refuses to accept a rhino’s horn.”

Applying himself to writing, Publius commented, “Even rhinos are scarce in this part of Africa.

You’d have a terrible time journeying far enough south to trap some. I’m not sure you’d make it on your own, let alone with the charming lady who is your mistress.”

On that score I said nothing. I didn’t wish to tell him that my mistress was drinking practically as heavily as I had been, and never spoke to me except to shrilly denounce my stupidity. Publius finished his letter.

“Actually, Cassius, your presence here makes me wonder what fills the heads of the Emperor and the people of Rome. Do they only worry about finding mythical beasts to gratify their desire for pleasure?” He passed over the scroll. “The liberty in which the Republic was founded can’t last long, it seems to me, when no one tends it. But perhaps the Emperor doesn’t plan for it to last.”

“You may be right. His cult of personal power increases day by day.”

Publius indicated the dark green foliage of the fig trees rustling in the humid breeze. “Personally I prefer my isolation here. In my opinion the bloodline of the Julian Caesars bears a distinct bad taint these days. A taint that forecasts its end. On my last visit to Rome it was apparent that the place was becoming a sinkhole of public and private vice.”

He cast an oblique glance at me, to test my reaction. When I nodded he laid a gnarled and kindly hand on my arm.

“Your return, I hear, is contingent upon finding the horn of that fictitious animal. Perhaps you’d do well to accept the futility of the search right now. Learn to live content in Africa. The air is sultry, but it’s fresher by far than the wind blowing off the Palatine. And much more free.”

Remembering Agrippina’s hacked body and the disillusionment of Seneca, I said, “I am beginning to believe it, sir. Once I thought Rome was bright and happy. I wanted to be part of it. Lately I’ve seen some of the tarnish under the brightness.” I looked at the sealed letter in my lap. “Still, I am a partner in the Cassian School. I’ll go on my hunt, for unicorns as well as more practical quarry, and trust to luck.”

Publius rose. “Generally I’m here at all time, except for inspection tours. Feel free to call on me for assistance. Now, about your departure …”

Inside the house, he summoned his steward and we made preparations. When I returned to my quarters, I reluctantly went to inform Locusta that we would leave in four days. I found her sitting in a state of dishevelment in her apartment, fanned by a shining-black Numidian girl she had insisted I hire. I could hardly stand to look at her any longer. Her coppery hair showed whitish streaks. Her greenish eyes were dull. Her breasts seemed to sag. She smelled of wine, watching me owlishly while I related my news, concluding, “It makes no difference to me whether you stay or remain, Locusta. If you find the city more comfortable —”

“Comfortable!” she jeered. “A sunbaked wallow for hogs! I’ll go with you.”

“Why? Obviously you dislike the idea.”

“Dislike it? I detest it. I detest you, and all the misery you’ve brought me.”

“Then why in the name of the gods do you continue to hang on me like a leech?” I shouted.

The Numidian girl ceased fanning, biting her lip. Locusta rose, kicking over a cup of wine that ran like blood on the sunlit parquetry. There was devious mirth in her greenish eyes as she
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advanced on me and flicked my chin with a pointed, painted nail.

“Because, my dear Cassius, it is you who have brought me to his unhappy state. I mean to stay with you, to make certain you bring me out of it again. What you’ve done, you must undo.”

On the point of telling her it was impossible, I hesitated. The gleam in her eyes was unbalanced.

She wasn’t clinging to me out of passion, or even out of hope, really. She knew the odds against our returning to Rome were monumental. What I saw in her glance — the real reason for her clinging — chilled me through.

I saw hate, deep and devious, feeding and feeding upon itself. One day that hate would be grown so large it would need to devour someone else. I had no doubt about the victim. I had best watch her closely.