Blood Games (19 page)

He had traversed the garden and was almost to the tree over the stableyard when he heard a voice behind him.

"A moment!” The accent was that of Roman Africa, and when Saint-Germain turned, he saw a huge man of swarthy complexion and rough, scarred features. “What's this? What's this?” the Tingitanian demanded as he hefted a large club.

Saint-Germain made no answer. He silently cursed himself for the folly of being seen, but there was no time to be cautious or they would be discovered, which would put Olivia, and himself, in great danger.

The club moved in a quick whooshing arc as the stablehand swung it at Saint-Germain's head. “Sending Persians to spy on Senators now, are they?” the Tingitanian demanded.

By the time the club passed the spot where it would have struck Saint-Germain, he had turned and taken the Tingitanian's shoulder, letting his opponent's weight be pulled by the motion of the club. Another two steps and he was behind the stablehand.

Surprise turned to fury as the Tingitanian fell heavily to the ground. He took up the club, scrambling quickly to his feet to avoid the second kick the foreigner had aimed at his ribs. “Treacherous Persian!” he shouted, thrusting the club at Saint-Germain.

He had to be quick. That shout would be certain to rouse the slaves in the stables. Saint-Germain sprang forward, pushing the club aside and leaping upward at the same time to drive his feet into the Tingitanian's wide, flat stomach. The stablehand collapsed, folding in the middle like a faulty hinge. As he lunged forward, Saint-Germain reached for his chin and snapped his head back with practiced, deadly efficiency. The Tingitanian slumped to the ground and did not move again.

By the time two of the stable slaves had run from their quarters in answer to the shout they had heard about Persians, Saint-Germain was two houses away, going down the hill toward the Circus Maximus, where half a dozen of his bestiarii would appear that day.

As he walked through the gate leading under the stands, he heard the cough of a leopard nearby, and farther away, the sleepy, halfhearted protests of the gladiators’ whore.

TEXT OF A LETTER FROM THE EMPEROR NERO TO THE FOREIGNER RAGOCZY SAINT- GERMAIN FRANCISCUS.

To the distinguished stranger from Dacia, who is not a Daci, Ragoczy Saint-Germain Franciscus, my imperial greetings:

Doubtless you have heard that the Emperor of Armenia is to honor me and all Rome with an official visit, and you must be aware of the importance of this visit, which will seal the peace between Rome and Armenia forever.

You have, among your slaves, an Armenian woman, called Tishtry, I believe, who is a bestiarii with two teams of trained horses. This Tishtry has appeared in many of the Games and has won singular recognition for her skills and her beauty. It would be a great compliment if this woman would prepare new feats to honor Tiridates on his visit, for she is not only a woman of great skill, but as an Armenian, any honor given to her must be a compliment to King Tiridates as well. I am gratified to know that you will do everything in your power to aid in my plans to receive Tiridates with all the splendor that Rome can offer a visiting monarch.

There are a few other matters I wish to mention about this visit: I plan to have a great venation, and I am told that your supply of animals is quite remarkable. You have half a dozen pards in your stock at present, and, I am reliably informed, may get more. I will want all you have and double that amount. Those magnificent cats will certainly impress the Armenian and Persian guests. Some of those African big-horned deer would be good to have. Also a few of those Asiatic goats, the large ones with the heavy coats. Wild boars are always good in venations, for they are strong, bad-tempered and unpredictable. If you should happen to know of some easily available, they would be most effective for the hunt. I would be particularly pleased if you happen to find any ounces. Pards are well enough, but the ounce is so fine a cat, and so rarely seen, that I would be eternally grateful to you for procuring me half a dozen of them for the venation. That big black-and-white bear you imported from the East would also be more than welcome.

If it seems to you that I impose upon you, it is more a token of my respect for your expertise and abilities. I would not make such demands of most of my Romans, for I know that they would not be capable of accomplishing them. You are another matter. You have demonstrated again and again your capacity for doing what would appear impossible.

The time is short, and it is necessary that you go to work at once to get these creatures. I have delayed coming to you because I believed the promises of my Romans, who have yet to procure me more than fifteen hippopotami and one white rhinoceros and a few dozen lions who have yet to be trained to eat men. I look forward to hearing of your progress on my behalf.

From my own hand on the sixth day of June in the 818th Year of the City,

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WHEN THE SLAVE had withdrawn, Justus turned to his visitor. “Well, Drusillus, I am sorry that your sister is not here to receive you. Olivia has gone for the day to the Springs of Faelius to bathe and be treated by the water. Is there anything I may do for you in her place? Is there a message I can deliver?"

Drusillus, who at age eighteen was still awed by the presence of his brother-in-law, shifted from one foot to the other. It was not appropriate for a newly commissioned tribune of the Ninth Legion to feel embarrassed, but it was not so long ago that his family had been so impoverished that Drusillus had seriously considered enlisting as a common soldier. Now, with the help of his sister's husband, he had the rank he longed for, and the opportunity for advancement that would otherwise have been lost to him. “May I talk to you?"

The atrium of Justus’ house was in the old fashion—a large square room with a hole in the ceiling to let in light. The newer houses were more Greek in their design, the atrium resembling a Greek peristyle, almost an interior garden. Justus indicated one of the rooms off the atrium. “If you would like to talk, perhaps we should sit down.” He clapped twice, and three slaves rushed forward. “I will want wine and cakes in my study."

As he followed his host into the room, Drusillus could not help but compare these rich surroundings to the shabbiness of his family's house. They were roughly the same age, but where the murals had cracked and faded in the Clemens house, here they were fresh, the doors were of neatly carved rosewood with golden handles, and Justus’ study was lined with open-fronted chests filled with expensive volumes and neat stacks of
Acta Diurna
that were sold daily throughout Rome. The shutters were thrown back from the window, revealing part of the garden and the new wing that Justus had added six years before. The air was thickly warm, close as a blanket.

"Why not take that chair?” Justus suggested, indicating one of the two diamond-seated chairs near the window.

Drusillus sat down carefully, his new scale lorica jingling and clattering. “I'll try to be brief,” he promised.

May Prometheus’ eagle consume his liver! Justus thought, and smiled ingenuously at Drusillus. “Is it about that Persian spy that killed my stable slave?” he suggested. “I have talked to Tigellinus, but he, predictably, has done nothing. Yet the slaves swear they heard the Tingitanian cry out ‘Treacherous Persian!’ and then a fight. I want that spy caught. I want to see his head lopped off.” He crossed his thick arms over his chest and stared at the very young man who was his brother-in-law.

"It's not about that,” Drusillus said unhappily. “The Watch and the Praetorians...” His smile was as self-effacing as he could make it. “There are other matters I must discuss with you."

"Very well,” Justus said, letting a little of his impatience show, “discuss them. I'm curious to hear what you have to say to me."

Now that he actually faced Justus, Drusillus found that all the well-reasoned arguments he had rehearsed had fled. He stared at his sandaled feet. “You know my brother, Virginius?"

"The one in Gallia, isn't he? I have met him once or twice. Why?” Justus felt his inner sense come alive. There were rumors of conspiracies again, and some of them came from Gallia.

"He's there, yes. At Narbo. There are certain matters that have come up...” He faltered, wondering for the first time if Justus would give away the plans his brother had asked him to reveal in confidence. “The matter is private...."

"By which you mean secret?” Justus said, inwardly delighted. Here was another chance to unmask traitors and gain the favor of the Emperor. He nodded sagely and leaned forward. “A question concerning Lucius Domitius Ahenobarbus?” That had been Nero's name at birth, before Nero was adopted by his stepfather, the Emperor Claudius. “It is only a few short weeks since Vinician conspirators were arrested. Surely there is not another one being hatched, and summer hardly begun?” He studied Drusillus, his ferret's eyes bright.

"You know that Julius Vindex is gathering support for another revolt?” Drusillus asked, strangely breathless. “The men around Piso and Annius Vinicianus were careless. They let themselves be discovered and betrayed. They were too close to Rome and the power here. But Vindex is in Gallia, and he has the might of his legions to fight for him. My brother has already committed himself to this cause, and has urged me to join with him.” The words tumbled out of him, and he looked eagerly at Justus.

Justus pretended to give the matter some thought. “This follows closely on the Vinician effort, perhaps too closely. It would be a simple thing to surprise Nero"—he carefully avoided calling the Emperor by his rank—"if he had not had so many other attempts made already. He is a young man, with foolish delights and demanding appetites. We could indulge him, win his confidence, if he had not become so suspicious.” He looked past Drusillus’ shoulder toward one of his open chests. “So far, the daily journals have not got wind of this, except to say that Vindex is active in Gallia. If he dreams of the purple, he has chosen a difficult task."

Drusillus was encouraged. “You say that Nero is young, and that he is wayward. I am younger than he, much younger, and yet I have not indulged myself and given youth as my excuse.” He was keenly aware that any such opportunities had been denied him by the poverty of his family. “Nero spends his nights in debauch, and builds a palace that may consume the entire city before he's through, and sings Greek tragedies. He's even having the king of Armenia on a state visit to make peace instead of letting Corbulo take the Cat's Paw Legion and...and make Armenia a mouse.” His color heightened with his indignation.

"Nero,” Justus said with a cultured sneer, “is not fond of war. Peace, he says, is the greater ideal. That's more Greek nonsense, for though Seneca was a Stoic, he taught Nero true Roman virtues."

"Which he has discarded for effeminate Greek philosophies.” Impetuously Drusillus got to his feet, his fists clenched. “It's bad enough that we must honor these foreigners, when it's Romans who conquered them. Vindex may not be born to the manner, but he is more of an Emperor in Gallia right now than Nero is in Rome, for all his splendor!” His voice had risen to a childish treble and he stared around the study in confusion. “How can you abide to live in his shadow, Silius?"

Justus smiled easily. “We can't all abandon Rome to Nero and his favorites. The entire city would be Greek, if we did. Who would have thought to see so many of them in such high places? You would hardly think that Greece has been conquered at all.” It was so absurdly simple to make this armored child betray himself, Justus thought. “There are those of us who know that Rome must endure, no matter what our rulers may do in their folly."

"Folly?” Drusillus said hotly. “Madness, rather."

"Perhaps,” Justus said silkily. “That is not for any of us to judge. No..."—he raised his hand—"say nothing more of madness. You never knew Gaius Caligula. There was madness, my boy. Nero is nothing to him. I am amazed that we have any equestrian ranks left, after the way he butchered them.” He studied Drusillus carefully. “What do you want from me, Drusillus? Money? Assurances? Aid? Protection? What?"

Drusillus was anxious for this invitation, and he sat on the chair again, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “We want you with us. We want you in our numbers, those of us who wish to put Vindex in power and bring down this...this painted actor who calls himself Caesar. What do you say?"

"I am a cautious man, Drusillus. I have survived when others were less fortunate because of that caution. Yet there is a great deal in what you say. Your complaints about Nero are most persuasive and I have a sympathy with your cause. Let me agree to this: I will lend you support when Vindex marches to Rome. Until then, it would be too grave a risk to support you, for it would not only endanger me, but all of your family: your father, your brothers, your sister and your mother. If your plan were to be found out, there is nothing I could do to save any of them.” He did an admirable job of convincing the lad that it was his concern for others that kept him from joining with Drusillus and Virginius in their foolish plot to unseat the Emperor. “You cannot know what your trust means to me, Drusillus, but there is much more at stake here than just my honor. How could I endanger so many to feel myself a true Roman again?” He spread his big, thick hands wide.

"Yes,” Drusillus nodded, deeply moved that Justus would be so concerned for his family. “The head of the house who honors his obligations has Roman virtues, too.” He wished there was something more he could say to his impressive brother-in-law. His awe of Justus until then had been accompanied by a feeling of doubt, but now that doubt was banished. He realized how much Justus took his familial responsibilities to heart.

By the Balls of Mars, the boy was gullible, Justus said to himself, almost smiling with satisfaction. With an effort he kept his features severe and sighed heavily. “If there were a way for me to satisfy my honor without hazarding those who depend on me, I would be with you in a moment.... Well, I don't know what to do.” He smacked his palms together and twisted the hands, one against the other.