Blood Games (44 page)

"Saturn shrivel your precious balls!” Domitianus burst out, jumping to his feet. “I've been busy for months! Months! While you've been sitting outside Jerusalem whoring with your Jewish queen and your serving boys! I've talked to Senators until my throat felt like Cloaca Maxima, I've spent hours with the Praetorians, I've tried to keep Licinius Mucianus from seizing power for himself, and now you lie here and worry about toasting your famous golden prick!” He turned abruptly and walked the length of the peristyle garden. The sun was a bright glare in the sky, and Domitianus discovered he had a headache.

Startled, Titus rolled onto his side and levered himself up on his elbows. “Domi?” he said speculatively. “Domi, I didn't mean to offend you. I know how hard you've worked for us. You were here in the fighting, and you've done wonders with the Senate these last few months. I realize you've had a lot to deal with.” He also knew that his younger brother was jealous of him, but thought he had better not mention it.

Domitianus stared down at the rosebush beside him. He wanted very much to believe his glorious older brother, but part of his mind rejected this sudden fellowship. “No one realizes how much I've done for our family. Not you, not our father, not anyone. I think you all assume that you can ask anything of me, and I'll do it for you without question.” He did not know how petulant he sounded, though he wished for greater eloquence. “You have been in war, you say? Well, so have I. And I didn't have Berenice to comfort me, or all of the legions in the east to assist me and sing my praises."

"Oh, Domi.” Titus sighed, exasperated. “You sound as if you were the only one who's had to sacrifice for our good. We've all given up things, worked hard, done without pleasures.” He thought he had better not pursue that complaint, because he was aware that Domitianus had some basis for grievance there. “You've been valiant and effective. You deserve the respect that the Praetorians have given you. It's been difficult for all of us. You've had to bear the brunt of the work we've done in Rome, but all the family has had to struggle for this victory. You'll have your recognition in time, Domi."

"Will I?” he asked harshly. He did not turn to face his brother. “It's a simple thing to promise that, but it might not be possible to do as you intend. I'm tired of empty words.” It was terrible to speak so, he told himself, but there was no way to stop the words now. “You're the heir. You're the one all this is for. It's a simple thing to make sacrifices when you know that it will all be to the good someday."

"Galba and Otho and Vitellius thought so, too,” Titus reminded Domitianus. “Our father might outlive both of us, and then what would be the advantage?"

Domitianus pulled one of the roses off the bush and let the petals fall away between his fingers, his shrewd mind working quickly. “You don't believe that, Titus. If you thought that was so, you'd still be in Jerusalem with Berenice. This trip, ostensibly for our father, is really for you, isn't it?” The scent of the flower was left on his long fingers when the bloom had dropped to the ground.

"Nonsense,” Titus said, without conviction. “There are many candidates for the purple, but how many of them ever wear it?” He got off the couch, slapping at a mosquito that had settled on the top of his hip. “Domi, don't fret. You'll have your credit and the respect you want."

"Another easy promise, Titus?” he asked, feeling very sad. “I should be thankful.” At last he looked at his brother. “Rome will love you, unless it learns to know you."

"Rome loves you already,” Titus said with false enthusiasm.

"No.” Domitianus shook his head reluctantly. “No, Rome does not love me and will not love me ever. But Rome will accept me and that might be enough.” He squinted upward; the sky was hot today, looking like hammered brass.

For one of the few times in his life, Titus found nothing to say. He put one hand on his brother's shoulder, only to have it shrugged off.

"You had better be careful with Licinius Mucianus. He's a good general, the Romans know him, his soldiers have followed him faithfully, and he's energetic. Get him into a rivalry with one of the other generals, or there'll be another conspiracy before our father's boats arrive at Ostia. You should also spend a little time at the Senate and listen to the way talk is going. We've got to think about taxes soon, and about land grants for retiring legion soldiers. A few of the legions are behind on their pay. You'll have to change that. You said that our father wants to make a monument for himself in Rome. Let it be another circus, a very big one, because the Circus Maximus isn't big enough to hold all the people who want seats for the Games and wasn't designed for battle, anyway.” He spoke flatly, his eyes on the far side of the peristyle.

"Domi?” Titus said, distressed by his brother's behavior.

Angrily Domitianus faced him. “This is what you want from me, isn't it? Then listen and act on what you learn."

Titus’ face softened. “Domi, don't be angry. We didn't endure all that we have to end up angry with each other. Our father is Emperor now, and it is time we learned to enjoy our privileges as well as accept our responsibilities. Once we've got ourselves officially installed in whichever palace our father likes best, take a few months off. Find a few inventive companions and amuse yourself with them. You're feeling this way because you've had so little chance to take your full pleasure. You've been chiding me for Berenice. Isn't there some woman you'd like to bed? As the Emperor's son, you'll find many opportunities for that sport. Husbands and fathers will look the other way when you see a woman you like."

This wakened a lingering memory. “It's true, perhaps,” Domitianus said to himself. “Justus offered his wife..."

"There.” Titus smiled broadly. “You see? All you'll have to do is choose among the ones you want. No one would be stupid enough to deny you, especially the women. You'll have to reward them occasionally, but you're in a position to do that now.” This time when he put his hand on Domitianus’ shoulder, it stayed there. “I'll tell your father that you should be given public credit for all you've done. That will help. You'll see that it does. And in a year or so, you can establish a private villa of your own so that you may have privacy for your various recreations.” He chuckled. “We've got to remember the question of public morals. Romans can be oddly priggish."

Domitianus heard only part of this. He was thinking of the subtle offer that Cornelius Justus Silius had made only ten days ago. He had said that his wife was passionate, and a woman of strange, submissive tastes. That covert offer had sounded echoes in his mind. Atta Olivia Clemens was not the sort of woman that attracted him, but if she had a desire that was the complement of his own..."What were you saying?” he asked Titus.

"Nothing,” Titus answered blithely. “Come. It's hot. Let's go in. An hour or so in the frigidarium and we'll both feel better. Then we can get dressed and start evening visits to all these men that our father wants to know better.” He sighed rather deeply. “After all this effort, there's more required still. We'll have to shoulder the weight awhile more, I fear."

"We can do it.” Domitianus swallowed his resentment and let himself fall under the spell of his handsome, charming brother. He put an arm around his waist as he had when they were boys. “A bath would be welcome."

Titus cuffed his shoulder affectionately. “You're the most dependable of us all. Do you think the slaves will gossip if we go through the palace like this?"

"Slaves always gossip,” Domitianus said philosophically, “and if there is nothing to gossip about, then they make it up.” He began to walk toward the side of the house and the corridor that led to the baths in the palace. Once in the shade he looked back toward Titus, who still stood, beautifully nude, in the peristyle, posed like a piece of Greek sculpture. Domitianus sighed and resumed walking toward the palace baths.

Only when he was certain that Domitianus was no longer watching him did Titus abandon the pose he had worked so long to effect. He knew the posture had not been quite perfect. It would take a little more practice to achieve the resemblance to Apollo that he wanted. He rubbed his chest once more and thought it was time he was shaved again. Body stubble was nothing like Apollo, he thought wryly as he strode into the darkened corridor.

PORTION OF A REPORT BY THE PRAETORIAN GUARD, SUBMITTED TO THE SENATE AND THE NEW EMPEROR TITUS FLAVIUS VESPASIANUS.

In the matter of the merchant Titiano, we have found that the accusations against him are for the most part true. Dyes and textiles on which he has paid no tax have been found in his warehouse and there were spices seized at his warehouse near the Theatre of Marcellus. He has admitted that he lied in the testimony that we questioned him on before and he has refused to say more because of the others that are involved in his operations. It is our recommendation that the man be sentenced according to the law, and be given the chances to name his accomplices, in exchange for a lessening of the severity of his punishment. If he refuses, send him to the arena. We re quest authorization to subject him to the equuleus—stretching his limbs may stretch some truth out of him.

In the matter of the slave dealer Nurex, despite our exhaustive investigation, we can find no evidence that he was cheated by the Cappadocian who bought the three slaves from him. There was no way either Nurex or the Cappadocian could have known, from the beginning, of those slaves’ particular talents. Nurex will have to bear his misfortune with fortitude.

In the matter of Ragoczy Saint-Germain Franciscus, our investigation has not shown any indication that he has knowingly participated in smuggling operations, or other illegal activities. However, there has been no concrete proof to the contrary, either, and so far, our investigations have not turned up any further information either way. Were Franciscus a Roman, we would recommend that the matter be dropped, but as Franciscus is a foreigner and something of a mystery, we would prefer to continue out observations of him for another half-year at least. We have received two more anonymous letters about Franciscus, and still have not been able to discover who is the author of them and why he or she bears Franciscus a grudge, for such would seem to be the case. We would like not to make any final decisions regarding this man yet, but if more funds could be authorized, perhaps it would be possible to learn more about his associates in Egypt and other eastern countries. We would also like to discover who is writing those letters, and why.

In the matter of the murder of Janarius Oppoius Rufus, it has been found that two of his body slaves conspired in his death. Under the law, all his slaves must be condemned to death for their act, and in this case, we would recommend that the slaves be sent to the arena, where they would provide an excellent example of the work of Roman law. It would also discourage the gladiators and other combatants from rebelling, since this would demonstrate that justice is swift and sure.

In the matter of the shipbuilder Polyclitus...investigation has shown that he was not lax in his building, but that the wood supplied to him was not as specified, being too young and not treated as the shipbuilder so designated. The man responsible, Cradoc, is a freedman residing near Bononia. We would suggest that this Cradoc be fined and watched for a year, and that any further infractions of the law or the instructions of those who order wood from him be punishable by public flogging.

In the matter of Cerrinius Metellus Daecio, it has been found that he has indeed made use of his wife's monies and estates, and in violation of her marital rights as set down by Divus Julius and Divus Claudius. It is our recommendation that he be required to pay her full and complete restitution with an additional sum of damages not to exceed half of the actual sum to be restored. We further recommend that her request for a full divorce be granted immediately and that the claim of his family against her for slander be denied. Investigation has also shown that Daecio has many gambling debts that were pledged on the strength of his wife's fortune, and for that reason, we would stipulate that there may be no claim made upon her by his gaming creditors, who might otherwise approach her for settlement. If the Senate will authorize the sale of his property, both land and slaves, for the discharge of his debts and damages, the matter may quickly be settled and the conflict between husband and wife speedily resolved.

In the matter of the water theft from the Claudian Aqueduct...

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HER FATHER'S HOUSE was cold. Olivia sat in a corner of what had been her mother's room, three stolae around her shoulders, a single oil lamp burning while she tried to read from the scroll she had brought from the library. Her attention wandered, but she was determined to postpone as long as possible the time she would rise and climb into the bed that waited against the far wall, for the blankets were thin, the mattress hard and the drafts through the room on this chilly night conspired to keep her awake. She hoped to make herself sufficiently exhausted to sleep, no matter how cold, how uncomfortable the room.

She sighed as she tried to make sense of the faded Greek letters on the scroll. Her knowledge of the language was adequate but not scholarly, and in the poor light she had a great deal of trouble deciphering the tale.

In the month she had lived in her father's empty house, she had felt hope ebb within her. At first she had been delighted at what seemed an escape from her husband's increasingly violent demands, but that had proved not to be the case, for when the need was on him, he would bring men to her here. He no longer bothered to hide while she was ravished, but stood nearby, watching critically.

A spot of moisture dropped onto the scroll and she wiped it away angrily. She would not weep! That had been her decision on the day that Vespasianus came to Rome, almost a month ago. All Rome spoke of new beginnings, and she had decided then that hers would be to abandon her futile sorrows. Her hands trembled on the scroll and she made a soft, strangled cry in her throat.