The Raven and the Rose (28 page)

“I heard,” Verrix replied, pulling her by the arm, looking anxiously around him for shelter. There was none.

“He knew,” she murmured. “He was planning this the night he came to see me and told me to transfer my money from the banks. Casca was planning this all along!”

“It doesn’t matter now,” Verrix said, glancing over his shoulder at the advancing mob. “You have to get home.” He gestured to the bearers urgently. “Dump the litter behind the stall and leave it there.”

Larthia looked at him.

“It has your crest on it,” he explained. “If these people are pro-Caesar they might not be too fond of any of Casca’s relatives right now.”

Larthia closed her eyes, then opened them. When he pulled her along a second time she did not resist.
 

The slave boys followed close behind them, tearing off their tunic belts with the Sejanus crest stitched on them and tossing them aside.

When they reached the other end of the street Verrix saw another tentacle of the mob coming around the corner. He pulled Larthia into an alley and began to run.

“What’s the shortest cut to the Palatine?” he panted to one of the bearers.

The boy pointed, and Verrix shoved him to the front of their little band.

“You go, we’ll follow,” he said, and the boy darted ahead with his companion. Verrix and Larthia ran after them in silence; when one of Larthia’s sandals came loose she pulled it off and dropped it, running on with one foot bare, her skirts clutched in her hands.

The boy turned left, dodging wicker crates of garbage left for collection that evening, and the others weaved after him. When they finally emerged between two buildings the Sejanus house loomed above them, at the end of a long path up the Palatine hill.

Verrix grabbed Larthia’s hand, not caring at that moment who saw him.

“Come on,” he said. “Once inside the house you’ll be safe, nobody’s seen you yet.” He pulled Larthia along after him, then stopped short as three men emerged from a doorway across the street and spotted Larthia.

“There’s the Sejana!” one of them shouted to the other two. “That’s Casca’s granddaughter.”
 

As one body they turned and advanced on Verrix and Larthia and the two boys, seeing only one man who could oppose them.
 

Verrix shoved Larthia behind him and didn’t wait to be attacked. He ran forward and punched the first man in the stomach as hard as he could. The man doubled up and crumpled to the ground, gasping.

Verrix whirled and kicked his companion in the groin, then tripped him, then grabbed the third as he launched himself onto Verrix’ back. Verrix hauled his attacker over his head and slammed him to the ground, then kicked him in the jaw when he had the temerity to move again.
 

All three stirred for a few seconds more, groaning, and then lay still.

Verrix stood over them, panting, making sure they were out, as Larthia and the slave boys looked on in shock, mouths open, speechless. Larthia had never seen a person move faster in her life; it was all over in several blinks of an eye.

Verrix grabbed Larthia’s hand again and dragged her forward with him.

“Let’s go,” he said. “There may be others coming, we have to get back to the house.”

They fled uphill once more, as the angry sound of the mob increased behind them. When Larthia stumbled, her gait uneven because of her lost shoe, Verrix scooped her up without missing a step and ran with her in his arms the rest of the way.
 

Nestor opened the door to them and they dashed past him. He watched as Verrix grabbed the yellow ash crossbar from the hall and barred the door with it. Then he ran into the tablinum and looked out the strip window that had a narrow view of the winding descent to the forum.

“There’s nobody coming up the hill,” he said to Larthia, who was right behind him. She collapsed into his arms. He held her tightly, stroking her hair, then looked over her shoulder to see Nestor and the two bearers standing the doorway, watching them.

He stepped back from Larthia, who glanced around and said, “It’s all right, the danger has passed. Caesar is dead and I fear we may become targets of revenge for his murder, as my grandfather was involved in it. Nestor, lock and bar all the other doors. Cato and Domitius, you two stand as lookouts on the back portico and let me know immediately if you see anyone approaching the house. You may go now.”

When the servants had left Larthia closed the door behind them and said, “They saw us.”

Verrix nodded and said, “I know, but that may be the least of our troubles. Word is obviously getting around that Casca was one of the murderers. You can’t be seen in the town, you have to stay inside here until we see which group wins the struggle.”

Larthia sighed, still trying to take it all in; so much had happened in such a short space of time. “I wanted to leave Rome just as soon as you took the message to Julia about where we were going,” she said.
 

He sat on the couch and she sank into his lap, drawing her legs up like a child. He noticed that her feet were covered with scratches from their run up the Palatine.
 

“I’ll get to Julia,” he said, “but you have to remain here, Larthia. You can’t risk attracting attention, these people are crazy. I’ve seen mobs before, men who were perfectly sane a day earlier get caught up in the frenzy and do unspeakable things.”

Larthia shuddered. “You don’t have to convince me. Did you see the look on the faces of those men who came after us? Blind hatred, and they don’t even know me!”

“They know your grandfather killed Caesar. That’s enough for them.”

Larthia dropped her head to his shoulder. “Casca was planning this for a long time, Verrix, without a thought for Julia or me. His envy of Caesar was overmastering, it ate him up for years. Caesar was witty and charming and brilliant, my grandfather was none of those things. All he had was money, and in the end it was not enough for him.”

“Caesar was ruthless and amoral; he only showed kindness or mercy after he had already achieved his objectives. Don’t make a hero out of him now that he is dead,” Verrix replied flatly.

Larthia looked up and traced the line of his full lower lip with her finger. “I don’t expect you to be one of his admirers,” she said. “But he knew how to get people to follow him, he inspired loyalty; all Casca knows is how to bribe people to get what he wants.”

“Caesar was not above bribery; that’s one of the reasons he got into such trouble with the Senate.”

“He got into trouble with the Senate because he admitted Gauls like you into its ranks,” Larthia replied, grinning.

He shot her a disgusted glance.

“It’s true. He permitted Gauls to become citizens and then to represent their home districts in the Senate, instead of appointing Romans to represent them as had previously been the custom. Haven’t you heard the song the children sing?”

Verrix shook his head.

Larthia struck a pose.

“Caesar led the Gauls in triumph,

Led them uphill, led them down,

To the Senate House he took them,

Once the glory of our town.

‘Pull those breeches off,’ he shouted.

‘Change into a purple gown!’”

Larthia finished singing and sat up to catch his reaction. He smiled at her thinly.

“Very funny,” he said.

“I like your trousers,” she said, running her hand up his leg.

“I especially like them off, as the song says.” She bent forward to kiss him and he cupped the back of her head, his fingers sinking into her hair, his mouth exploring hers gently.

There was a knock at the door and Nestor’s voice said, “Mistress, I must speak with you.”

Verrix slid Larthia off his lap and said grimly, “This time I AM going to kill him.”
 

Larthia caught his arm. “You promised me you would leave him alone. We have enough to worry about without fighting among the servants.”

Verrix subsided and let her pass by him to open the tablinum door.

“What is it, Nestor?” Larthia said to him.

“Senator Gracchus has just sent word with his steward that your kinsman, the poet Helvius Cinna, was murdered on the Via Sacra a short time ago. The mob mistook him for his brother, Cornelius Cinna, who had just delivered a bitter speech against Caesar yesterday. They are now marching through the forum with the head of Helvius stuck on the point of a pilum. The Senator urges you to remain indoors and keep your servants closeted with you.”

Larthia swallowed, then nodded. “Give the steward a gold piece for coming over here,” she said to Nestor. “And convey my thanks to the Senator for the warning.”

When the old slave had left Verrix said, “What relation is the dead man to you?”

“A distant cousin,” Larthia replied. “What a shame! He was never interested in politics, they killed him by mistake. Cornelius is his twin, allied with Casca’s faction. I guess for the mob it was a close enough connection.”
 

“Do you think your grandfather would come here?” Verrix asked.

Larthia shook her head. “No, he had it all planned. He’s holed up somewhere, his money safe, waiting to see which way the wind will blow.”

“What weapons do you have in the house?”

“Weapons?” Larthia said softly. She had never thought about it.

“You must have some spades, picks, axes, the gardening tools if nothing else, that I can sharpen and give to the slaves to defend themselves.”

She stared at him, her eyes huge. “Do you think it will come to that?” she whispered.

“I don’t know, but we have to be prepared. Tell Nestor to give me the key to the gardening shed.”

“All right.” She took his hand and held it up to her cheek caressingly. “You must be sorry you ever met me, look at the mess you’re in now.”

He turned his head and kissed her fingers. “I’d rather be in this mess with you than king of Gaul without you.”

“Do you mean that?”

“I do. Now come on and let’s get those tools.”

Larthia followed him out of the room.

* * *

For the next several days Rome was in flames and decent citizens kept to their homes with their doors locked. Mark Antony managed to convene an emergency session of the Senate, and the majority of the Senators, while not condoning Caesar’s murder, still condemned him as a tyrant. Prepared for this reaction, Antony replied that if Caesar was a tyrant, his edicts must be invalidated and all the Senators he appointed must resign. Faced with the prospect of new elections, the Senators rose en masse and protested, whereupon Antony proposed a compromise: he would forego vengeance for Caesar, and the assassins would not be prosecuted, if all Caesar’s edicts and decrees were confirmed, because his policies were advantageous to the future of the commonwealth.

This was agreed.

Marcus stood in the atrium of the Senate Hall with Tiberius and Septimus, his arms folded, watching Mark Antony put into practice the first part of his plan. The military men were not permitted inside the Senate chamber, since they had not been elected; non-Senators entered the Senate only on those occasions when they were requested to appear as guests. But from their station near the building’s entrance the men could hear everything.
 

“It went just as he said,” Septimus commented.

“He learned his methods from the master,” Tiberius replied dryly. “Caesar will never be dead as long as that one draws breath, he’s a copy of the original.”

“Now he’ll bring up the will,” Septimus said.

Antony raised his arms to quiet the murmuring crowd of white togaed men, waiting until they had all fallen silent and were looking at him.

“At the request of Lucius Piso, father of Caesar’s wife, Calpurnia, I petition all of you for permission to obtain Caesar’s will from the Chief Vestal, Livia Versalia, and to make its provisions public, to content the people,” he said.

A babble arose from the Senate seats, and Septimus cast a sidelong glance at Marcus. This was tricky. The contents of the will could be controversial. “We would not want it to appear to the citizens of Rome that we were concealing Caesar’s last message to them, ”Antony added craftily.

The Senators were looking at one another, nonplused. Marcus smiled. They all knew it was customary for high public officials to make bequests to the people in their wills. If the Senate refused to vote a public reading of Caesar’s will the citizens of Rome would certainly think they were being cheated.

The measure passed.

“So far, so good,” Antony said in a low tone as he joined the men waiting for him. “Now let’s get the will before they have too much time to think about it.”

They left the Senate hall together.

* * *

Julia marched back and forth, toying with her veil, ignoring Margo, who was following her around patiently with a plate of sliced fruit.

“Please eat something,” the servant said. “You’ve refused breakfast for three days running, Julia, you’re thinner every time I look at you.”