One With the Darkness (32 page)

“I-I-I-’ll … I-I-I-’ll …” Caligula seemed to be affected by his cousin’s stuttering disease.

“Your sword,” Asiaticus ordered.

Jergan fingered the hilt. Giving up the weapon would leave him entirely naked again. But it was of no use to him. Now only Asiaticus could prevent his immediate death. He let it clatter to the floor.

The guards started forward. Asiaticus held up a hand.

“I’ll have him …” Caesar sputtered.

“Wait until you hear what’s in my mind,” Asiaticus soothed. He took the emperor’s arm to steady him. The front of Caesar’s tunic was damp. The sniveling creature had wet himself. “Take him to the arena,” Asiaticus said conversationally to Chaerea, “and see that he’s in shape
to give us a good show tomorrow.” He led the emperor from the room, whispering in his ear.

Chaerea glowered at Jergan. A few guards grabbed Jergan’s arms while one shackled his wrists. Asiaticus must have something in mind he was sure would entertain Caligula and give him supremacy over Chaerea. And that meant that Jergan was not going to like it.

18

L
IVIA WAS CHAINED.
Normally that wouldn’t bother her. Chains couldn’t hold her. But now, now the room was swirling and there was a buzzing sound in her head and she couldn’t call her Companion. She felt sick and weak, and that was so unnatural, it made her want to retch. Stone. She was surrounded by stone. The place smelled of damp earth and urine and old blood. She lifted one of her wrists, marveling at the waves of light that action sent through her field of vision. A horrible clanking sound ensued and echoed in her mind. Where was she? It was dark. The stones were damp. Underground?

She remembered someone coming, forcing her to drink. Several times. Drugs. But it had been a while now. She was feeling slightly less muddled. Were her eyes open? No. Yes.

Yes, she could see her hand in the darkness, glowing white.

Whose hand was that?

Mine.

It was the voice again. Stronger. Louder than the buzzing noise of the drugs.

“Mine, too,” she said aloud. But the sound of her voice cascaded sickeningly. “Who are you?” she whispered. That was better.

I told you. I am you but from a future time. I am called Donnatella then. But once I was Livia Quintus Lucellus.

“Why are you here?” Livia whispered. Was that a stupid question? She couldn’t think.

Because you made a terrible mistake. I made a mistake, and I want to rectify it.

“Can you do that?” That wasn’t what she should be asking, but she couldn’t think right now. She was so muddled.

I’m not sure anymore. Already things are different from the first time.

“What things?”

Little things. Big things. Chaerea didn’t kill Lucius the first time.

Tears sprang to Livia’s eyes. “Poor Lucius,” she whispered.

I didn’t forgive him then, as you have.

Livia blinked. The wavering feeling of being underwater was fading. She knew now what she must ask. “What was the mistake?”

But Donnatella didn’t answer directly. She seemed caught in her own thoughts.
I’ve lived a life of regret. I should have broken the Rules. I almost did, or you almost do, when you see how wounded he is after he fights in the arena.

“Jergan lives?” Hope sprang up in Livia’s heart. She put her hands to her temples as the room wavered again.

Yes. You’ll bury him in Montalcino. The slow failing of his body broke both our hearts.

“But how do we get away from Caligula?”

There was a pause before the voice said, Caligula was assassinated by Chaerea when I lived your experience.

“But Chaerea won’t kill Caligula. He betrayed our plot in order to curry favor with the emperor.”

I know. That’s one of the little things that are different.

“Then what am I to do?”

Let me control the body we both inhabit. I’ll do what’s right. Trust me.

“I don’t know that. I might be going insane. You might be the drugs.”

In your heart you know that’s not true. The drugs let me reach you through that iron will of yours. Let me in. Let down your guard.

Livia rolled her head. The room swirled. Her stomach rebelled, along with some shuddering resistance in her soul. She had always been alone. It was just she and her Companion. And now the thought that something or someone was inside her trying to get control was horrifying. “No!” she shrieked, and clutched her temples. The push inside her relented.

If Caligula lives, there will be no time to do what you must to right my mistake. So you have to escape into my time. Go to the cave in your garden. The voice receded. Use what you find there. And hurry. There is not much time.

Something clanked in the metal of the door. The door creaked open. “Why? Why is there not much time?”

The voice was very faint.
The machine is fading. I can feel it….

“There’s not much time because the emperor has decreed your death in the arena, woman. And the death of the barbarian slave.” Chaerea stood in the doorway.

“Livia,” Jergan’s voice cried, hoarse, behind him. “Are you all right?”

“Yes,” she said, though the room still wavered and her words seemed to echo in her head. Jergan was near. He was well enough to shout to her.

“Not for long.” Chaerea came into the room and bent
over her, peeling up her eyelids and staring at her pupils. “Good,” he said, standing upright. “Still drugged, but conscious.” He turned to Jergan. Now she could see him in the doorway, heavily chained and naked. Would they make him fight without armor, without even clothing? The voice had said he lived through this experience. She had to believe that, though the voice also had said things were not turning out as they once did. Jergan’s life couldn’t be part of what changed, could it?

“Asiaticus has thought up a good entertainment, I’ll give him that,” Chaerea muttered. “You’re going to suffer, Livia Quintus.”

“You are the barbarian, Chaerea. Let her go.” Jergan struggled against the guards who held him. “I’ll fight whatever enemy you choose.”

“You’ll fight anyway,” Chaerea said.

“I won’t give you good sport. I’ll just let them kill me. The emperor will blame you for spoiling his entertainment.” Jergan sounded desperate.

Chaerea laughed. “Asiaticus has ensured that you’ll fight.” Livia couldn’t see Jergan, but she could hear his growl of frustration and the clanking of chains as they dragged him away.

“Livia,” she heard him call.

“Don’t hurt him,” she moaned.

“Worry about yourself. Strip her,” Chaerea ordered. “Wrap her in a toga and take her up to the arena.” The guards stepped up and tore her clothing from her body. The buzzing sound she had been hearing resolved itself into the distant roar of a crowd.

T
HE GUARDS SHOVED
Jergan out into the searing sunlight, bright and clear for January. He stumbled, nearly blind after the darkness of the warren below the
arena. At least Livia was safe below. But for how long? He had never seen so many people in one place. Row upon row of them layered up into the blue sky until they were but dots of white and color. In such massive numbers, people did not sound human. Their voices overlapped into a constant roar.

His nakedness should have bothered him. But he had other fears. He looked around. He was alone in the arena. There was a post to one side of the center with manacles hanging from it. And to the other side of center was a marble block like a pedestal. That was all. Did they mean to chain him to the post and let animals tear at him? Was the marble square a chopping block for cutting off hands? He couldn’t see his way.

Between the post and the low pedestal lay a small round shield and a sword. He limped over to pick them up. He must live through what would happen here today, that he might have a chance to help Livia. He did not know how to get her out of the dungeons under the arena unless she could get free of the drugs and transport away.

He had to think of something. Asiaticus knew Livia could burn.

Jergan noticed for the first time that the post and the pedestal were positioned in front of a purple awning. Hanging down the stone wall in front of the awning was a white cloth with the imperial insignia of a laurel wreath in gold thread. And in the shadows under the awning sat Caesar and his sisters with various slaves and attendants pouring wine, presenting plates of food. Jergan thought he could pick out Asiaticus standing by Caesar’s side. Was that Chaerea making his way into the imperial box?

Doors on either side of the arena opened at once. The crowd went wild in anticipation. The roar was deafening. From one side poured what must be gladiators. Each was
a muscled professional warrior, dressed in leather armor and greaves, and carrying the same small shield Jergan wielded. But each wore an outlandish leather mask that made him look like a grotesque animal, and each carried a weapon—an ax, a trident, a mace, a pair of knives, or a lance.

Jergan quieted his breathing. At least now he knew. There were eight of them. They split into two streams as they poured in. Four ran toward the post, and four to the pedestal.

From the other door marched another contingent of the Praetorian Guard looking, as usual, like black insects with shiny carapaces. They carried a bundle wrapped in white.

Jergan froze. Livia. The purpose of the post with manacles snapped to clarity. He glanced up. The sun suddenly seemed relentless. A shiver of dread shot through him as he remembered her face and her hands the day she had freed him. Curse Asiaticus to the Underworld. Jergan hoped to Brid that Livia was still drugged.

The warrior creatures ranged themselves in front of the pedestal and the post. One of Livia’s guards broke away from the group. He carried a cup, careful not to spill the contents, and placed it on the pedestal. What was in that cup?

The Praetorians took their bundle, straightened it, and fumbled under the white cloth. To Jergan’s horror, they produced two small hands they clapped in the manacles. The bundle hung forlornly. Then Livia’s guard marched back to the opening in the far wall through which they had come, leaving only a single soldier and the four fierce warriors crouched in front of her, their weapons bristling.

Jergan knew then. The cup held more of the drug that could give Livia surcease from pain. Asiaticus stood at
the edge of the emperor’s box, shouting to explain the game. They were to see a witch fry to death in the sunlight. Her champion, a slave chosen especially by the emperor, could win her life only by besting the four gladiators who surrounded her. But he could only save her pain by also besting the four who guarded the cup that held the drug. By the actions of her champion would her guilt be judged. If her champion failed, she was evil, and would be left in the sun to fry. If her champion prevailed, then she was declared a force of good, and would be spared further torture.

Jergan hefted the sword in his hand, feeling its grip. He stilled the thumping of his heart. Fear for Livia would not save her. He put away his hatred of Chaerea and Asiaticus for later. There was room only for the sword, the shield, the moves his body knew better than he knew his name.

He watched the guard tear off the cloth and drop it to the ground. The crowd gasped as they realized she was naked. Her white body, so perfectly formed, hung in her chains, her dark hair a curtain shading her face and breasts. The dark thatch at her crotch only emphasized her pallor. Shrieking applause broke out around the arena. Roman beasts. Livia began to twist in her bonds. Already that lovely skin began to redden. She did not have enough drugs in her system to forestall the pain.

He’d take the four in front of Livia first. He could get the toga and stop the burning. Then he could fight the four for the drug that would stop the pain.

Time to go on the attack. He raced to the warrior on the far right. The man had a mace. Jergan wouldn’t think about what was happening to Livia. The roar of the crowd faded. All depended on what the rules of the game were. If the gladiators all descended on him at once, it might be
over quickly, and there was probably nothing he could do about it.

But he was willing to bet that no one wanted this over quickly.

Sure enough, when he engaged the creature with the mace, the others hung back. They were going to let Jergan struggle on, wounded by progressive adversaries, until he finally collapsed. All the while Livia burned.

He slashed at the shield of the mace wielder, even as Livia’s first moans cycled up and struck to his heart. He steeled himself. The mace thumped his shield and the spikes of the mace stuck. He braced himself and jerked. Even before he knew whether the creature had lost his grip on his weapon, Jergan thrust in, under his adversary’s shield. The mace spun free. The man dropped to his knees as Jergan whirled, slashing, on the creature next to him. Jergan’s blow was parried by a trident, so he spun again and slashed for the groin. His sword felt flesh, then bone, and he was away, thrusting his shield up to parry the ax of the next brute, slashing low for the thigh and, as the gladiator fell, pushing through to the fourth of his foes.

The sword that pierced his side surprised him. But it didn’t stop him. As the man drew out his weapon, Jergan slashed up. Livia was screaming now. He couldn’t listen. He couldn’t listen to his hip or his side. He thrust backward into the neck of the man with the ax, who had gotten up and attacked from behind. Apparently, once Jergan had engaged each of them, they could attack together if he hadn’t finished them. His sword seemed to swing of his own volition into the neck of the creature that held the short sword.

Four lay around him. But he was leaking blood. He braced himself and turned to Livia. His eyes told him her pristine body was red and blistering, almost as though she
was melting in the sun. Her shrieks were coming from low in her belly like an animal. His senses were shocked. He was glad her hair hid her face. He scooped up the toga and threw it over her. The crowd booed. Let them.