Commodus Page 23

  I nodded. This was as private as it was likely to get. And while I was immediately reminded of Cleander speaking to a Praetorian officer in a conspiratorial huddle, though I hated the man I knew him to be loyal to Commodus, which suggested that the Praetorians were, too. Except that one of them had been to Lucilla’s villa . . . Ah, but conspiracies give me a headache. I had no choice, anyway.

  ‘I have suspicions that there is some sort of plot afoot.’

  He laughed. ‘Isn’t there always? The mark of an emperor of note is the fact that someone, somewhere, is whetting a knife for him. But it’s a little early to worry too much yet. Cassius only rose up against Father when he thought the emperor dead. Anyone who planned to move against me at this point would have done so before I returned from Pannonia. They had ample opportunity to close Rome to me and usurp me then.’

  ‘Not if they were with you in Pannonia,’ I muttered.

  His brow creased. ‘What are you saying?’

  This was it. Accusations such as the one I was about to make could easily get a person tortured or executed, especially when levelled against the imperial blood. I took a deep breath.

  ‘I think your sister might be conspiring against you.’

  He laughed, then. ‘My sister? Lucilla, you mean, surely? The others are like mice.’

  I nodded. ‘Lucilla. She has meetings with Quadratus.’

  ‘They are cousins. And since neither of them gets on too well with the rest of us, it is only natural that they should meet from time to time. Come on, Marcia.’

  ‘And others,’ I blurted. ‘The Quintilii? Didius Julianus?’

  He frowned. ‘The Quintilii? Are you sure?’

  ‘I have it on good authority. And Quadratus is covering his tracks. When he visits her, he tells me he’s on business in Ostia or some such.’

  He tutted. ‘It’s tenuous at best, Marcia. Lucilla and I are hardly close, but she is still my sister. We share the same blood.’

  I shrugged. ‘Caligula’s sisters had a hand in his death.’

  ‘Come now, Marcia. You’ve read your Tacitus. Caligula was a madman, and his sisters harpies. Not like our glorious line. You clutch at shadows.’

  ‘Shadows wielding knives.’

  He slumped back in his seat. ‘You insist this is all true?’

  ‘I cannot say what they plan, but I am absolutely convinced that they plan something.’

  ‘And you would take an oath to that on the altar of Apollo?’ He caught the look in my eye and chuckled. ‘All right, on your Jewish god’s altar, then?’

  I nodded. ‘I would.’

  ‘Very well. I will have the Praetorians and the frumentarii look into the matter. They are my hands – one in a gauntlet, the other a calfskin glove. Between them they could uncover a pin in a dung heap.’

  I chewed on my lip for a moment. The frumentarii were the emperor’s own secret force. Spies and assassins hidden among the military, each fanatically loyal to their master. They frightened me as much as they frightened everyone, but no one could doubt their allegiance. As for the Praetorians . . . I had omitted the name of the prefect from my list when I relayed it to the emperor, acutely aware that I was surrounded by his men. How could I possibly tell Commodus not to trust a Praetorian prefect in front of a dozen of his guards?

  I glanced up, as though I might see the shining light of God’s countenance beaming through the clouds on the other side of that grand, vaulted ceiling. All I could see were paintings of gods that weren’t mine. How much easier it must be to place one’s belief in a different deity for everything; how easy to assign blame. I sighed. Mother had always said that God had a plan and, though it might not seem to make sense and would be ineffable, it still mattered. If God did indeed have a plan, then there was a reason for this. I had to trust the divine.

  ‘All right,’ I said, as though Commodus needed my consent to assign his guards. He recognised the humour in that and smiled again.

  ‘I had half a notion you would append Cleander’s name to the list.’

  I frowned. ‘Majesty?’

  ‘Oh come now, it’s hardly a secret. How much you two dislike one another is clear as day. And when you had me send him out, I was almost waiting for his name.’

  I felt chilled by the thought. ‘You believe I would lie to have him killed?’

  ‘I’m sure you would. And when you go back to Quadratus’ house, some small part of you will regret that you hadn’t thought of it, I’d wager.’

  I bridled. ‘My duty is done, Majesty, if that is all?’

  A curt dismissal of an emperor by a plebeian. Ridiculous, yet he chuckled. ‘I believe so. Unless you think it is time I dipped my net and lifted you from my cousin’s pond?’

  I glared at him. ‘No. Not yet. I might yet be useful there.’

  His smile fell away, and he nodded, businesslike.

  I left the palace and went home to the house of a conspirator. In the dark of my room that night, I wondered why I hadn’t thought of adding Cleander’s name to the list. I berated myself for my wickedness well into the night.

  XIII

  CONSPIRACY

  Rome, Maius ad 182

  Months slipped by in a strange sense of tense expectation. I had been sure something important was building to a head with the conspirators at Tibur, but nothing seemed to happen. I visited Commodus as often as I felt I could, which was none too often between affairs of state occupying much of his time and the worry that Quadratus might realise I was on to something.

  Much of what I learned over that time came from Eclectus who, though no longer in one of the leading roles at court, was nonetheless privy to almost everything that happened. I had always trusted this man who came to us from Verus’ own familia, and he became something of a direct link for me to the corridors of power when Commodus was too busy to see me.

  Eclectus had tantalising snippets of information only about the ongoing investigation. The workings of the Praetorian Guard are relatively simple and clear, but their counterparts in the frumentarii, who act as the emperor’s eyes and ears, and occasionally his blade, are shrouded in mystery. Certainly, both agencies were at work around the princess’ villa. Soldiers infiltrating private mercenary armies, spies hunting one another in the vast estate and the like. All very intriguing and exciting, yet no proof seemed to be coming out of the place. Apart from a few trusted friends and some of her family, no one was admitted to the meetings held by Lucilla, even the slaves.

  Commodus, during these months, was busier than ever. The Agonalia festival in Maius was a grand affair at the best of times, and Commodus was determined to make this year’s the greatest in living memory. Lavish banquets and great games were planned, leading to jubilation among the people and a constant slew of worried faces from those po-faced men who dealt with the treasury.

  The day of the festival dawned clear and bright. I paid closer attention to my grooming than usual on the assumption that I would be attending events with or without Quadratus. I was always rather lucky with my looks, but it was equally important to pay attention to my mode of dress. I chose my finest clothes and the best jewellery, even letting my ornatrix put my hair up into an elaborate style, rather than trusting to its natural tumbling tresses. Every bit the imperial lady, if lacking the deportment and the manners true matrons are born to.

  Quadratus awoke that morning full of energy and busyness. He shot out orders at the domus staff like an artillerist on the battlefield, for this day was a grand day of races and fights and feasts, and everyone with a place in Rome’s hierarchy would be making the most of it. On days like this the public enjoyed the spectacles, and so did the nobility, but for them it was also a time to meet and make deals, be seen to be wealthy and important and build webs of finance and patronage. Quadratus, ever the social climber, was more excitable than I had seen him for some time.

  A s
uspicion began to seep into me. Why the urgency of his actions, though, like a man preparing for a visit from an auditor? I swear he was even twitching a little. I enquired as subtly as I could. ‘Am I to attend today?’

  ‘No,’ he said in a distracted manner, leaving me determined to do so on my own funds and merit, but then a strange smile slid across his face. ‘Actually, yes,’ he corrected himself. ‘You can hang around with the familia. There will not be room for you with me.’

  Hardly a surprise. No matter that I knew I was pretty and common men would envy him for my looks: I was a pleb, and the senators and other nobiles would look down on me.

  ‘I shall be in the imperial box, alongside Lucilla and the rest of the imperial family. You can stand at the back. At least you’ll have a good view.’

  For a moment I worried that their long planning at the villa had been leading to this day. I worried for Commodus’ safety, but logic shouted down my fears. In the pulvinar – the imperial box of the amphitheatre – we would be under the watchful eyes of the Praetorians. No one would be able to sneak a weapon in, and if they did they would have scant opportunity to use it before being pinned by guards. Besides, as well as the Praetorians, there would be other trusted men around the emperor. Saoterus, Cleander, Eclectus, Pompeianus. No. Even the nagging memory of a Praetorian prefect’s name on the list of visitors the princess had received would not dent my belief. No one could try anything in the amphitheatre and hope to succeed.

  Still, my nerves remained taut as we left the domus, and our first meeting did little to diminish them. In front of Quadratus’ home on the Caelian Hill stood a group of rough-looking mercenary guards and miserable slaves around a litter. The curtain of the ornate box was pulled back to reveal the sour face of Lucilla, who nodded at Quadratus and then gestured at me with a bony finger.

  ‘You’re bringing her?’

  ‘She is a close friend of the emperor,’ Quadratus reminded her.

  Lucilla looked less than enthusiastic, then shrugged. ‘She’s your problem, then. Keep her out of the way.’

  We set off through Rome, me in a litter somewhat less elegant than Lucilla’s, Quadratus on foot, unusually active. It was ironic, I thought, that one of the first structures we passed on the Caelian Hill was the Castra Peregrina, the camp of the secretive frumentarii who had been investigating this woman for months. We met other relations of Lucilla’s as we neared our destination, including her sister Fadilla, one of the few young Antonine women with whom I had been on reasonable terms in our youth.

  The streets around the great Flavian amphitheatre were a heaving sea of humanity. The emperor had paid for some of the most lavish spectacles in that arena in many decades and it had attracted record crowds. Fantastical beasts had been imported from Africa and Asia and beyond, and the best gladiators to be found across the empire were here, though admittedly there were many fewer to choose from these days since the wars and the plague had thinned their ranks.

  The amphitheatre was already open and the seats filling, and the vast majority of the mob outside would not find a place among the stands, relegated to listening to the cheering of the lucky viewers. I reminded myself that many of these people would be here purely to see Commodus as he passed on the way to the games.

  ‘Is the emperor not already in the pulvinar?’ I asked, curiously. Commodus habitually watched even the opening parade, such was his love of the games.

  Lucilla ignored me entirely as though I’d said nothing. Quadratus too. Fadilla turned to me. ‘He’s been delayed by some official business or other. He was in a meeting with Sextus Quintilius Condianus when I left the palace, but rest assured he will be here in time for his grand entrance. He was firm on that.’

  I nodded as we moved through the crowd. One of the Quintilii, another of the visitors to Lucilla’s villa, had delayed the emperor at the palace. My mind snapped back to the histories I’d read in those cold days in Carnuntum. Caesar’s murder on the curia steps had only been so straightforward because Cimber had distracted Caesar and directed him to a side room. Before I could mull this over any further, and despite the building conviction in me that something was very wrong, we were ushered through the arch and into the great amphitheatre.

  Though the seating and the arena itself are in the open air and occasionally shaded from the bright sun by great canvas awnings, the bulk of the structure consists of darkened tunnels and vertiginous staircases. They are adequately lit on event days with torches and lamps, but there is still an air of oppressive gloom about them. The place seemed to be filled as much with Praetorians as with spectators, which I found slightly heartening. Even if there was something off with a Praetorian prefect, surely rot could not have spread throughout an entire legion of men? Certainly, they looked noble and attentive in their pristine white and shining steel, one man standing in each arch high up, watching every surge of the crowd.

  We moved through the tunnels, the private mercenary guard continually surrounding us, moving ahead and clearing our path through the brutal application of knuckles and knees, keeping the public at bay to each side and behind. The Praetorians watched us with a disapproving eye as we made our way to the arena, their dislike of such private forces evident in their expressions, but they made no move to halt the violence. This was the emperor’s sister and cousin, after all, and besides, even the lowliest noble of Rome had his mercenaries for security.

  Somewhere in the bowels of the place as we climbed towards our seats, a young man called to us. Quadratus acknowledged him with an offhand wave, while Lucilla ignored him entirely. I had no idea who he was, but the lad’s colouring and facial features reminded me closely of Pompeianus, suggesting he was some relative.

  We emerged into the stands at the pulvinar and were admitted to that hallowed space by more Praetorians. Already the stands were almost full, the hum and murmur of thousands of people filling the great arena. Lucilla, Quadratus and Fadilla took their places in comfortable, expensive seats with an unimpeded view of the entire place. I was relegated to the periphery with some mercenary that smelled of garum, and Quadratus’ personal slave, present in case he needed anything.

  I waited, the sense of anticipation building in me all the time. Other notables and bearers of the Antonine blood arrived and were admitted, and finally the opening parade began. The Gate of Life at the eastern edge of the arena opened to great fanfare. The musicians emerged first, blasting their horns and rapping their drums. A troupe of eastern acrobats appeared through the gate behind them onto the as yet bloodless sand, leaping and tumbling, and I could see the shapes of carts behind them, decorated lavishly, trundling through the shadow towards the light. It was a grand spectacle, and one that I usually enjoyed, right down to the arrival of the gladiators at the end, but my attention was drawn away from it as the pulvinar’s door opened. I turned to see Bruttia Crispina, her ash-blonde hair elegantly curled and piled up, clad in an ensemble that cost enough to outfit a small navy. She entered with her slave, her guards gathering outside with the others, awaiting our time to depart. The only soldiers in the box other than Lucilla’s own bodyguard, who smelled of dead fish, were half a dozen rigid Praetorians.

  Bruttia flashed a pleasant smile around and greeted me warmly, the only hint of anything other than joviality a flintiness in her eyes as they locked with mine. It was a great honour for someone as low-born as I, and I managed to return the smile and the greeting with polite formality, stepping carefully well out of the way as the empress moved across to her seat, greeting Quadratus and Lucilla with equal ease and civility. Lord, but she was pleasant and quiet and pretty, at least on the surface. Lord, how I hated her. The very sight of her reminded me that I had locked my heart away in a box because I could not have the man I loved, while this pretty little viper had him all to herself. I fought down my need and my anger, though. This was not the time. It might be worth noting that this was likely the only thing upon which Lucilla and I ever a
greed. The princess was equally warm and polite in her greeting to the empress, but I saw her eyes and the fiery bolts of hatred they unleashed.

  I suddenly felt very claustrophobic, sharing this box with two women and one man whom I hated in varying degrees. I would happily miss the rest of the parade and the announcements, the pre-game entertainment and the rest, while they waited for the emperor’s grand arrival. I would do almost anything at that point not to be in that place with those people.

  ‘I feel a little queasy, I’m afraid,’ I said suddenly, gulping in air. It was true, in fact. I was standing too close to that mercenary who reeked of fish sauce.

  ‘I can understand that,’ Lucilla said nastily, making sure not to look as though she was referring to the empress, though a quick flick of her eyes confirmed that for me. ‘Go and throw up somewhere.’

  ‘Yes,’ Quadratus snapped irritably. ‘I don’t want to spend the day with the aroma of your stomach contents around me. Go on.’

  I needed no further urging, and knocked on the door. The Praetorians let me past and I heaved a sigh of relief as I returned to the tunnels. Two of Quadratus’ bodyguards fell in behind me and I almost waved them away, but the amphitheatre can be as dangerous as any backstreet of Rome. Despite the Praetorians in evidence around us, thugs and robbers would be at work wherever they could, and a woman would not be safe in these tunnels without a strong escort.

  There would be time, I reasoned, to stretch my legs and explore a little before I needed to be back in the pulvinar. As long as I was there when Commodus arrived. I could see, as I descended a stairwell, the line of white-clad guardsmen clearing the route for their emperor’s arrival, and decided that, just like any other member of his adoring public, I would watch his arrival in glory. As long as I stayed on this side, ahead of his route, then I could be back in my place in the box before him.

  With a little time to kill, I bought a couple of trinkets from a stall in one of the archways, treated myself to a sweet pastry and then a small cup of good wine. I almost began to enjoy myself, not focusing on those women and that ape in a toga that occupied the pulvinar above.