One With the Darkness (31 page)

“Whatever you are, Cassius, you are not eager to give power away.” Caligula’s glance slid between his advisors. “It is one of the most reliable things about you.”

Jergan had to try again. “He had Livia Quintus Lucellus attacked. He wanted to prevent her telling you that he was part of the whole.”

Chaerea snorted. “Do you speak of that attack by street scum some nights ago? If I wanted Livia Quintus killed, I would simply send the Guard.”

Jergan watched Asiaticus. With luck, he would be scheming on how to turn this against Chaerea.

“Not if you did not want anyone to know who was behind it. The Guard uniforms are so conspicuous….” Asiaticus sounded almost apologetic.

Caesar screwed up his face in disapproval as he glanced between his two most trusted advisors and wondered what to think.

“I take it you did not order her attacked, Imperial Master?” Jergan asked softly.

That startled Caesar. “No. … No, we did not.” He wouldn’t like the fact that his advisors acted on their own, without his knowledge. Let that feed his paranoia.

“Enough!” Chaerea barked. “Caesar remembers, of course, that it was I who discovered the plot, and revealed it, as part of my job of protecting his person.”

“Perhaps Caesar would like to be informed earlier in the process.” Asiaticus shrugged. “I could have helped you make that decision, if I, his most senior and trusted advisor, had known.”

Chaerea did a most surprising thing. He bowed his head. “Forgive me, Imperial Highness. I meant only to keep one care from your shoulders. It was my mistake, and my mistake alone.”

The man was clever. Jergan would give him that.

Caligula came over and patted Chaerea on the shoulder. “You always think only of our welfare, dear Captain. We are grateful to you. You have our forgiveness.”

Jergan glanced to Asiaticus. He knew Chaerea had just won the bout.

“So, we will torture the woman tomorrow,” the emperor
continued. “And what for this slave?” He walked around Jergan. Jergan felt a palm on his buttocks that made him want to shudder in revulsion. He forced himself to stand still. It slid around his injured hip. The emperor rubbed a finger in Jergan’s bloodied tunic and put the finger into his mouth. He sucked noisily. “Is he too injured for the arena? I’d like to see such a strapping creature fight for his life. In the nude, of course.”

“He’d do well in the arena, Imperial Highness,” Asiaticus prompted. “Barbarians are used to fighting wounded.”

“Then he can be part of tomorrow’s festivities. In the meantime, strip him and bring him to my private chambers, Cassius, with six of your Guard.”

Jergan swallowed, his stomach going hollow. The man apparently had sex with women or with men equally. And he didn’t care who knew of his proclivities. When you were emperor, who could say you nay?

“Of course,” Chaerea answered. He cleared his throat. “But if I may offer a suggestion?”

Caligula frowned. “Yes?”

“Use him as you like, but spare him torture, so he may give you good sport in the arena.”

Caesar’s brow cleared. “Good thought, Chaerea.” He turned to his political advisor. “And I was going to have you invite my sisters to join me, Decimus. But really, they have no self-restraint. They’d whine when I refused to let them torture him. They can be quite tiresome.” He frowned again. This snake would turn soon on his fellow snakes. “No, I’ll see him alone.”

“I advise against it,” Asiaticus said quietly. “The man is too dangerous, even with six of the Guard.”

“You question his orders?” Chaerea challenged.

“I, too, care for his safety.”

“Or perhaps you doubt my ability to control the brute,

Decimus. Remember, I have fought in the arena myself. Chaerea, see to it.” And with that, Caligula waved a hand vaguely and left the room by another door. Asiaticus turned on his heel and strode after his emperor.

“Take her to a cell,” Chaerea ordered. “That old crank who tends to the emperor’s imagined illnesses must have some essence of poppy. I want her dosed every hour. At dawn, stop the drug entirely.”

He turned to Jergan. “And give this one over to the slave handlers to be cleaned for Caesar’s use.” He gestured to six of his men. “Tell the attendants to be quick about their work. Then deliver him to Caesar’s chambers and stay as long as the cat cares to toy with his mouse. But the slave must be in the arena when the sun reaches ten tomorrow morning. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Captain,” the six said in eerie unison.

Chaerea grinned at Jergan. But the smile never reached those flat, hard eyes. “Have an entertaining evening. It will be your last.”

J
ERGAN’S HAIR WAS
still damp as he stalked, naked and limping, escorted by his fully armored guard. His skin was flushed from scrubbing. He’d been purged and his wound stitched while he hung from chains. The attendants had been impersonal and efficient. The ritual left him feeling empty and more than a little disconcerted. They’d treated him like an animal. He was a sacrifice to Caesar, self-proclaimed god of the Roman Empire. Now he was being marched to Caesar’s private quarters to complete the sacrifice.

By Belatucadros’s horn, he would
not
feel like a victim here. That’s what they wanted. The ritual of cleansing had given him time to think. He had a plan. Asiaticus had shown him the way. The emperor was vain about his
fighting prowess. Jergan’s biggest problem was that he didn’t know where Livia was. So the Guard would have to show him.

He straightened his back. He had once vowed to be the worst slave Livia had ever encountered. He hadn’t kept that vow. He almost smiled, even here in the belly of the beast that was Rome, to think of that vow … and Livia. So it was time to redeem himself.

The great golden doors behind this set of Nubian giants were set with lapis lazuli and exotic corals. They opened on a vast room that looked out through columns over the city of Rome and the Fora. Jergan slid his eyes around the room. The floor was heated, of course. There was a pool from which steam rose. A giant cushioned bed with a frame holding up elaborate curtained hangings occupied the center of the room. The usual marble busts stood on pedestals scattered about the fringes. On the far wall hung some ceremonial weapons: a sword, a lance, an ax. Possibilities. Plates of meat and cheeses, fruits, and wine stood on a sideboard—an embarrassment of waste for just one man, and a scrawny one at that. The food looked as though it had hardly been touched.

Sitting in a wooden U-shaped chair was the petulant ruler himself, two nearly naked slave girls massaging his neck and shoulders.

At the entry of Jergan’s contingent, the emperor jumped up, pulling his toga over his right arm. His eyes were covetous as they roved over Jergan’s naked body. Apparently Caligula did have hungers. They just weren’t for food.

“They have cleaned you well.” He snapped his fingers at the slave girls. “You can go.” They hurried from the room, their relief obvious.

The leader of Jergan’s guards bowed. “How may we assist you?”

“Stand away,” Caligula ordered. “But be prepared to subdue him. No swords. We want him fit for the arena tomorrow.”

The guards drifted into the shadowed corners of the room, twenty, maybe thirty feet away. Jergan clenched his jaw.

“Where did we leave off when your witch-mistress spirited you away?” Caligula approached Jergan, moving sinuously. Jergan half-expected the creature to have the vertically slitted eyes of a snake. “She won’t be able to help you tonight.”

Jergan thought of Livia. Her image might keep him sane no matter what happened.

“We seem to remember that you were going to suck the imperial organ until it spurted into your mouth.”

“I would bite off your cock before I’d suck it.” Jergan stared straight ahead.

“But you know you will obey, just to spare your mistress pain.”

Jergan managed a smile. “You will make her suffer no matter what I do.”

Caesar looked taken aback. “We can make
you
suffer, slave.”

“If you torture me, you lose the pleasure of watching me die in the arena.”

“We can make your mistress’s death long or short.” The creature’s voice was rising. He wasn’t used to anyone refusing him.

“It wouldn’t matter what you promised. Chaerea promised to spare Lucius Lucellus and his family. Then he killed Lucius and sent his family to the arena. Rome doesn’t keep promises, so yours are worthless.” Caligula’s face grew redder. Jergan took some small pleasure in that.

“I might as well take your manhood if I get the chance.” Caligula would never have the courage to demand he service the imperial prick now. One threat gone. Could he avoid the next?

“It will take you
days
to die.” Caesar was trembling in anger.

“I accept that.” Jergan was hoping to deny the worm that pleasure, too.

“Guards!” the emperor cried. They plunged out of the shadows. “Put him on his knees.”

Guards each took an arm and kicked Jergan’s feet out from under him. “Frightened of me, Emperor?” he panted as his knees hit the marble floor. “Can’t take me yourself?”

“I’ve fought against better than you, barbarian.” Caesar was so angry he’d dropped the imperial “we.” He grabbed a sword from one of the guards and put the point at the back of Jergan’s neck. The creature was as vain as Jergan had hoped. “Stand away,” Caligula ordered the guards. They stepped back.

Jergan breathed. Calm descended upon him. He glanced to the guards. Thirty feet might be enough. The weapons hanging on the far wall were too remote to be of practical use. But one weapon was only too near. Its point pricked his skin at his nape.

“Spread your buttocks,” the emperor hissed.

Instead, Jergan rolled out from under the sword and landed on his feet. The guards charged forward, shouting. Caligula’s eyes were wide as Jergan plunged in, wresting the sword from the emperor’s grip by the crosspiece of the hilt. Jergan whirled the sword into the air to grasp it by its hilt even as he grabbed a fistful of the emperor’s toga and slammed the imperial head against the nearest
marble bust. A dull thud sounded. Jergan pulled the emperor back to his feet and laid the blade against his throat.

The guards practically skidded to a halt and stood, frozen.

“The tables are turned,” Jergan panted. He couldn’t escape the palace. And inside there were so many guards he couldn’t hold them off. Except if the cost for capturing him was the emperor’s life.

“I’ll have you chopped up piece by piece,” Caligula wailed.

Doors on all sides of the chamber burst open. Both Chaerea and Asiaticus charged in, in response to the guards’ shouts. Apparently both had been hovering just outside. But when they saw the situation, they, too, stopped stock-still.

“You fool,” Asiaticus muttered. Footsteps thundered toward the room from far away.

“Let him go,” Chaerea commanded Jergan.

“Take me to Livia Quintus Lucellus. I want her freed,” Jergan growled.

“You’ll be dead before you reach the street.” Chaerea drew himself up, trying to maintain some semblance of calm.

“Then so will your precious emperor.”

It was then that Jergan saw it. A flicker of satisfaction in Chaerea’s eyes. The man
wanted
him to kill the emperor. It was the worst possible outcome. It meant the emperor was of no value to him. And Chaerea could kill Jergan afterward and proclaim himself a hero. Perhaps even declare himself the next emperor. Who would stand in his way? The frightened Senate, who had to be fooled into taking power?

Jergan knew he was beaten. He’d failed Livia.

“I wonder at you, Chaerea.”

Chaerea turned to that calm and cultured voice. Asiaticus stepped forward. “How could you put His Imperial Majesty in such danger?” He shook his head as if in sorrow. “To let such a barbarian alone with him. I warned you.”

“He wasn’t alone,” Chaerea bit out. “He had six of my finest.”

“You are not careful enough of our emperor’s person. Strange, that.”

The subject of their conversation was openly crying in Jergan’s hold. Jergan could feel his silent sobs.

“It makes me question your explanation of the assassination plot.” Asiaticus did not give Chaerea a chance to answer but turned to Jergan. “We have a difficult situation. You don’t believe in promises. So anything I tell you will be suspect. But you cannot hold him forever. And Chaerea here won’t take you to her.”

“Then bring Lady Lucellus here.” Jergan was grasping at straws and he knew it. He could not force them if they didn’t care about their emperor. And Chaerea, at least, did not care. It might be that Asiaticus was Jergan’s only ally in the room. Could Asiaticus stop Chaerea from provoking the emperor’s death? Once Caligula was killed, nothing would save Jergan, or Livia, for that matter.

“I think not.” Asiaticus’s tone said he was truly sorry. “But we will make a more practical bargain. Caesar.” This was said sharply to focus the attention of the sobbing emperor. The creature snuffled in Jergan’s hold and turned his head, as much as Jergan’s sword would allow, toward his advisor. “I have a delicious game for you tomorrow in the arena with this slave and Livia Quintus. He must be allowed to live, though, to perform it for you.” He spoke as to a child. “Do you understand me?”

With another snuffle, Caesar nodded.

“Let him go, slave.”

“What prevents you from killing me as soon as I let him go?” Jergan asked.

“The fact that your death tomorrow will be spectacular. I have a unique idea.”

Jergan barked a laugh. Strangely, it might work. He would join Livia in the arena. At least he knew where she was. His own death was inevitable now. But he might be able to save her. And Asiaticus had hit upon the only believable reason Caligula would let him live.

There was still Chaerea. He stood glowering at the tableau.

Asiaticus saw Jergan staring at Chaerea. “Oh, Chaerea would not dare deprive the emperor of the game I shall propose.”

Chaerea threw up his hands in disgust.

Asiaticus had won. Jergan thrust the emperor away. Caligula stumbled to his knees, then scrambled up, sniffing and adjusting his toga as though that could return his dignity.