Commodus Page 26

  ‘Do come inside,’ he said, smiling again. ‘Get yourself warm. You too, Bruttia. It’s too cold out here for you.’

  ‘I like the cold,’ she replied lightly, eyes narrowing slightly as they passed over me. ‘I think I shall take a walk. I will be along presently.’

  Shrugging, Commodus gestured for me to descend the stairs. In a nearby room, he eschewed modesty entirely and put on his tunic in the room where I waited. I almost averted my eyes from his lithe and powerful form. Almost, but not quite. I suspect he caught me looking, for he smiled wickedly for just a moment before seriousness fell across him once more.

  ‘Is too much fresh air bad for a woman’s fertility?’ he asked in a weirdly offhand way. His arms reached out in an oddly imploring fashion and for a moment I thought he might embrace me as he had once before. But no, that was not going to happen. This wasn’t about me. This was about Bruttia, the witch that kept him from me.

  I frowned. ‘I have no idea, but I cannot imagine so. Why?’ But even as I said it, I knew the answer, and my heart lurched, my blood turned to ice.

  No. Do not make a child with that woman . . .

  ‘Bruttia seems not to be fertile,’ he replied. ‘I wondered if it was to do with her obsession with being out in the cold air or something. It’s not like we haven’t tried.’ He smoothed the clean tunic down over his perfect, perspiring form and grinned. ‘Sometimes I try five times a night.’

  Heartless bastard. Had he no idea how those words cut me? In my head, I drove daggers into the breast of Bruttia Crispina.

  Then the reality of what he was saying hit me and I shivered in a manner that had nothing to do with the cold, remembering that lead tablet I had inscribed with a curse and pushed into the darkness. I had sweated over my guilt in that act ever since, and yet in my more bitter moments I found myself admitting that I would do it again in a heartbeat to keep her from being the mother of his child. I changed the subject rather bluntly.

  ‘You should return to Rome,’ I said.

  ‘Why?’

  He turned again, from where he’d been fastening his belt, with a look of genuine unconcern. My frown deepened. ‘Because you are the emperor. Because the people think you have abandoned them. Perennis is running the empire on your behalf, and Eclectus is his secretary. That cannot go on.’

  Commodus smiled. ‘I see no reason why not. Perennis has the skill for it. I rule, but he governs. It is an excellent arrangement.’

  ‘But it isn’t,’ I insisted. ‘Perennis and the senate cannot get along. He is an equestrian. They do not respect him.’

  ‘I am at best barely concerned with keeping the senate happy,’ Commodus replied, his smile sliding away. ‘Perennis likely treats them better than I would.’

  ‘Nevertheless, you see a man governing for you, but the people will start to see you as Tiberius and Perennis as Sejanus. You must come back. Be your people’s emperor again.’

  ‘Come back to Rome for the summer? The season the rich and the noble leave the city for the countryside? Come, now, Marcia.’

  I had to concede that. No one of note spent the summer in the city, after all. ‘Then when summer ends. Come back for autumn.’

  He laughed. ‘I will consider it, though I am truly enjoying my time here. Will you stay with us? There is plenty of room.’

  I almost snapped up the offer, before my imagination cursed me with thoughts of what it would be like sharing the place with Bruttia Crispina. Sharing Commodus with her. No, I had decided long ago that I could not do that. He would be all mine or not at all. A small, wicked, part of me noted how many would-be empresses had been cast aside by their husbands for not bearing an heir. Perhaps my curse had worked, and soon he would discard her. That brought a faintly wicked smile to my face, but I still could not stay there.

  ‘No, Majesty. I will return to the palace. And I shall then eagerly await your return.’

  I left the villa and the imperial couple in a flurry of mixed emotions. I had been expecting to find Commodus moping in the dark. Instead, I found him the true Hercules I knew lay inside. And in his mind he had not abandoned Rome, just left a skilled deputy running it. He would come back in the autumn, I was sure. So many things to be happy about. But the realisation that where it should have been me helping lift him from his misery it had been Bruttia soured the whole thing for me.

  I returned to Rome for the summer. Now, in my boundless free time, I began to observe. Feeling rather better acquainted with Perennis, and somewhat pleased that his taking up of imperial authority had defanged Cleander, I took an interest. And given that I now knew Commodus was well, everything seemed a little brighter.

  The people were still concerned about their emperor, but Perennis repeatedly announced largesse on behalf of Commodus, and this imperial generosity kept them relatively content. The senate continued to hold the prefect in low esteem, but few were willing to do more than mutter, given the immense power Perennis now wielded.

  I noted over the summer months a number of arrests and executions of influential nobles on various serious charges, and when I asked Eclectus about them, he confirmed only that appropriate evidence had been produced in each case. His expression, though, suggested something more, and a little investigation made it clear to me that the men who had died were uniformly those who had opposed Perennis at every turn. It was cruel, clearly. It was also expedient. Does the one make the other acceptable? For my own soul, I hope so.

  It was September when the emperor returned to Rome. A messenger came ahead a few days earlier to warn the palace, and so the streets were lined with people cheering. Commodus appeared in style, preceded by his lictors, dressed in his most majestic garb and riding in a rich chariot, the empress in a litter behind him and Praetorians all around.

  If Cleander had hoped that the emperor’s return might mean an end to Perennis’ supremacy and a return of his own authority, he was sadly mistaken. Commodus still had little intention of taking on the day-to-day administration of empire and continued to rely on the prefect for that. Instead, he took to being the face of empire, if not the voice. He began to hold the traditional evening dinner parties once more and to pay for, and attend, races in the circus and games in the amphitheatre, yet it continued to be Perennis who administered everything.

  That October, during the festival of Jupiter Capitolinus and the associated games, the first figurative artillery shot was launched against the beleaguered prefect Perennis. We were gathered at the great theatre of Pompey in the Campus Martius to watch Hosidius Geta’s latest masterpiece, Arrius Varus, the tale of a Praetorian prefect in the civil war a century ago, which had been playing to great appreciative crowds in Sicilia. The bulk of the attendees sat in the vast arc of tiered seats, though the emperor and his party were seated on plush couches in the orchestra. The empress was there, of course, as well as Eclectus, Cleander, Perennis, myself and several other people lucky enough to have been invited to sit with Commodus. Praetorians were everywhere, lining the orchestra, the highest tier, by every entrance and exit. After what had once almost happened in the great amphitheatre, the prefect was taking no chances of a repeat performance.

  As I watched Cleander and Perennis glaring daggers at one another the way he and Saoterus used to do, two men scurried onto the stage and began to set a scene with furnishings and props. An emperor’s luxurious apartment unfolded before our eyes to a gentle hum of conversation that filled the auditorium. The weather was chilly, though the sky remained clear and sprinkled with stars. Someone in the crowd exploded in a coughing fit and Commodus paused in his conversation with Perennis to turn and peer up into the seats. A man with a purple face was standing now, choking and waving his arms as friends tried to help him.

  ‘Pray contain yourself, Aelius Rufus,’ called the emperor with a quizzically tilted eyebrow. ‘If the stage props have such an effect on you, I fear for your health when the real action begins.�
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  The crowd roared in appreciation as the man took his seat once more. Moments later, while the emperor and his prefect were still engaged in conversation, the chorus emerged from the wings and arranged themselves ready, four musicians moving to the side, preparing to issue a fanfare. They had barely started when a lone figure suddenly burst from one of the doors at the rear of the stage and ran forward, coming to a halt at the stage front.

  I watched, rapt. I was not certain whether this was supposed to be part of the act. It seemed oddly out of place, but Hosidius Geta’s work did have a reputation as being unpredictable and unusual. Certainly, the many Praetorians on duty had not reacted. The bearded, ragged-haired man on the stage was naked barring a loincloth, with a gnarled staff in his hand and a satchel over his shoulder.

  The man threw out both arms wide in oratorical style and a murmur of excitement filled the crowd, Commodus exchanging a quiet joke with Cleander that sent the chamberlain off in fits of exaggerated laughter. With a sweep of an arm, the weird, half-naked man spoke.

  ‘You come to see Praetorian fight Praetorian before the gates of Rome. You come to celebrate the great festival of Jupiter.’ His sweeping arm became a pointing finger now, jabbing towards the emperor. ‘But, great Commodus, son of Aurelius, this is no time to celebrate such festivals with the serpents of your court.’

  Commodus’ expression shifted between a smile and a frown, and Perennis’ face suggested that something was wrong. A whistle shrieked above the seats and Praetorians were moving now, converging on the stage. Those soldiers with us in the orchestra were moving too, ready to defend their master.

  ‘Majesty,’ the man went on, watching the Praetorians closing on him from all sides, ‘the blade of the snake Perennis sits at your throat! The danger is not in your provinces, Emperor of Rome. Not in Britannia, or Dacia or Hispania. It is by your side, and death will stalk and take you if you do not heed the warnings.’

  Praetorians were on the stage now and running for the man. I sat, as rapt as any play might make me. Oddly, there did not seem to be much danger. This may be unplanned, but the man was unarmed apart from a stick, and seemed to be shouting words of warning and support for the emperor, rather than threats.

  As the Praetorians reached the bearded man, he made one last impassioned speech, pulling away from men trying to grasp him, pointing still at Commodus. ‘Majesty, your prefect fills his own coffers and raises an army to unseat you. Already his sons command the swelling armies of Pannonia, and his favourite equestrians take control of the legions in Britannia.’

  White-clad soldiers now had him and forced him down to the stage, ripping the staff away. The man must have been stronger than he looked, for he tore himself free for a moment and lurched to his knees.

  ‘Act or die, Commodus. Act or die.’

  That was the last he said, as he disappeared beneath a pile of Praetorians, who dragged him from the stage, leaving a bloody trail. I turned to the others beside me. Commodus was staring in shock, then spun to look at his Praetorian prefect, who had gone puce with rage. As the emperor reached out to steady Perennis, nothing but disbelief in his eyes, I caught sight of Cleander behind him, and I knew in that moment that the chamberlain was behind this. I had no idea how, but somehow the snake had engineered this accusation, which I found impossible to credit.

  One glance around the theatre told me I was in the minority. The people of Rome had been watching the prefect ruling them and occasionally doing away with difficult senators while their emperor languished in exquisite exile. Now they saw him as a new Sejanus. It mattered not whether the accusation was true or false, for the damage had been done. Doubt would flood outwards through the city and the empire like the ripples from a stone cast into a pond.

  I fumed and deliberated that night. Back in the safety of my quiet apartment, I decided I wanted to save Perennis from what seemed to be lurking in his future. He was innocent, but his reputation had been tarnished, possibly irreparably. Cleander was so clearly behind it, but only he and I knew that, and I had not a jot of evidence. I was more than tempted to go to Commodus and tell him what I thought, but finally reasoned the move would be foolish. Cleander was a master of manipulation, and the emperor knew how much we disliked one another. Commodus would be unlikely to give credence to my theory, and voicing it would give Cleander new ammunition to use in his war against any who might oppose him.

  I spoke to Eclectus and aired my concerns. Even he was doubtful, and he had always been one of those few to whom I felt close.

  Winter came, and as the days rolled by I watched Perennis’ reputation turn to ashes in the fire of public condemnation. It transpired that the prefect’s two sons were indeed in command of Pannonia now, and they were certainly militarily strong, though there seemed to be no evidence of wrongdoing, just mile upon mile of suspicion and accusation.

  The prefect’s authority more or less collapsed. Even his own Praetorians began to turn on him.

  Then came the final hammer blow. During the spring a small force of soldiers arrived at the palace, disarmed, of course, and travel-worn. They were led by a provincial officer and claimed to be from some cohort stationed in far-off Britannia. What they did have, and I have no idea how they acquired them, was a large number of coins stamped with the likeness of Perennis, portraying him as an emperor.

  Perennis was dumbfounded, and vehement in his denial. He had never seen them before and most certainly had not commissioned them. I believed him. I think that even then, with the evidence mounting against him, Commodus believed him too. But the pressure to deal with the powerful prefect had risen to a critical point. The senators universally called for his prosecution and now the ordinary populace gathered daily outside the palace walls, demanding that the prefect be brought to justice.

  I met Perennis for the final time on that same balcony, overlooking the Circus Maximus, he again with a cup of wine, I with a sad expression. I had only known Perennis for four years, since that first attempt on the emperor’s life in the amphitheatre, and yet in that short time I had come to see him as an honourable and noble man, with more grace in his soul than almost any of those who called for his head, and certainly far better than the man I was sure had somehow engineered the soldiers and the coins. Few men could manage to arrange for the minting of coins, and even fewer had the skill and the guts to cover their tracks and bare-face their way out of it.

  ‘This was all Cleander,’ I said with a sigh, leaning on the rail.

  ‘Of that I am certain,’ he replied. ‘I have done what I can to protect my family. With luck, they will escape the worst of what is about to happen. A man should never see his sons die.’

  I tried to say something, but choked. I had no words.

  ‘When my head rolls down those steps and the crowd tears me apart, be watchful, Marcia. Cleander is on the cusp of true power. He will find a way to slip into my position, mark my words. He can never hope to rise higher than my post, but I guarantee that his sights will fall there.’

  I felt a chill at that thought. Cleander in command of the Praetorians? Could such a thing be imaginable? A man who had once been a slave, sweeping the floors of the Palatine, aiming for such a lofty position?

  ‘And if he manages it, then only the emperor will have the authority to oppose him. Eclectus will be his next victim. Eclectus or you.’

  Again, I shivered. Cleander had threatened to see me fall since we were children, but then it was a threat I had also flung at him. Was that to be the way of it, then? The two of us locked in a secret duel until only one remained?

  Perennis died the next day, just as he’d predicted, his head separated from his body and the remains cast down the Gemonian Stairs into the hungry crowd. Commodus wept when he sealed the order, but seal it he did, and with it the fate of the empire.

  XV

  GOD’S PLAN

  Rome, ad 185

  War.


  This time not against Parthians or Germanic savages. This time against a wily serpent in whose lair we all slept. And this time not with a gathering of legions under an emperor, but me, and me alone. A secret war, but one that I had known was both impending and unavoidable. Cleander had systematically removed his opposition in his rise to power. In the twenty years I had now known him, he had climbed from a lowly palace slave, cleaning latrines and up to his elbows in shit, to the lofty heights of the emperor’s chamberlain and senior palace functionary. Now, men, women and children who served on the Palatine and across Rome lived or died at his whim. Such power for someone of such humble origins. The great Marcus Aurelius, I suspect, would have been appalled to see it.

  Commodus was not. Like Verus before him, he saw the value in freedmen who had no power base to strengthen, and shunned the senate, who tended to disagree and argue with his decisions. Commodus, of course, could not see the stair that Cleander had ascended and planned yet to climb – an impressive gradient built upon the backs of those of whom he casually disposed.

  I knew he was behind the death of his first great opponent, Saoterus, even though I had no proof of it. I knew that he had been instrumental in the fall of Perennis. I wonder to this day how many of those who perished in the aftermath of Lucilla’s plot were simply innocents that Cleander saw as obstacles in his path. And now that I was paying attention, I noted that perhaps a dozen, even a score, of the palace staff that Eclectus and I had considered trustworthy had gone. Undoubtedly the work of Cleander, clearing out those who might stand against him. Now, all eyes and ears on the Palatine belonged to the chamberlain. It was a dangerous place to be.

  But chamberlain clearly was not the apex for which Cleander strove. He saw himself more powerful still than that. The death of the Praetorian prefect Perennis, along with that of his colleague Paternus a few years earlier, left the most powerful non-senatorial positions in the empire open. As emperor, it was Commodus’ right to appoint the Praetorian prefects. As a man reliant upon his freedmen, though, Commodus simply accepted the names Cleander provided and placed them in power. Thus did a former slave appoint his own creatures to command the emperor’s guard.