Commodus Page 27

  As the months rolled past following Perennis’ death, I watched with horror as strand after strand in the web of power fell into Cleander’s hands, and all with the emperor’s blessing. By the winter of that year, senatorial appointments were only likely with Cleander’s favour. He controlled the careers of half of Rome, and the important, the rich and the influential all came to owe the chamberlain. He also became rich, unsurprisingly.

  Eclectus and I, as the only two people in the palace who saw what Cleander was doing and claimed a resolve to stop it, began to conspire. Our first move was to try and halt the serpent’s influence with the emperor. We both secured audiences with Commodus. I have no idea what transpired between the emperor and his secretary, but when he returned to his rooms, Eclectus wore a face like thunder. He had been removed from his position and left the palace forthwith to retire to a small estate outside Rome. I had no chance to speak to him beyond one brief exchange as he left.

  ‘Watch your back, Marcia,’ my friend had said. ‘Cleander pulls the strings now to make the emperor dance.’

  ‘Impossible,’ I replied, remembering the golden prince I had always known, ever a man of his own mind.

  ‘Yet the government and the military both now answer to the chamberlain and his honeyed words sooth the emperor. Be careful.’

  And then he was gone. Cleander had removed another obstacle, and I could only be grateful that Eclectus had simply retired, rather than meeting the edge of a blade.

  My audience with Commodus was no better. Worse, in fact, in so many ways. I managed to secure the most private audience possible in these troubled times, which meant that only half a dozen other pairs of ears were present. I chose a time when I knew Cleander would be absent from the palace. Instead, I met Commodus under the gaze of Atilius Aebutianus, Cleander’s pet Praetorian prefect, Iphiclus, the new secretary, also appointed by Cleander, and four Praetorian soldiers.

  I had to be careful. Cleander knew I both hated and opposed him, and undoubtedly his attention would soon turn to me after he had removed anyone more immediately troublesome, but at that time he was busying himself with others. To directly accuse him would be to draw his gaze and climb the ladder of his targets.

  ‘Marcia,’ Commodus greeted me in a warm, friendly manner.

  ‘Majesty.’ Those old emotions came flooding back in. I missed this glorious golden man, this new Hercules. I missed his company and his easy laugh. I missed his humour and his excitement. He looked well. In fact, he looked as untroubled as I had ever seen him, and with that realisation a number of things fell into place.

  Commodus had allowed Cleander the latitude he had because Cleander removed from his master all the cares of empire, just as Perennis had done before him. Commodus was a good man, and clever for sure, but he cared more for the excitement of command than its administration and detail. By gathering power, Cleander was making life carefree for the emperor.

  ‘It has been too long,’ Commodus said, a smile creasing that handsome face between his moustache and a beard that was now bushy and golden, well-tended and luxuriant.

  I nodded. It had. We were not close as once we were. Partially he was kept from me by the chamberlain, and partially Bruttia Crispina, who remained a barrier between us. Yet I still longed to spend time in his company.

  ‘The business of empire keeps you busy, Majesty,’ I said. A prompt. A probe.

  ‘The empire is in safe hands with Cleander at the steering oars. I have my own focus. The succession. Marcia, the empress is with child.’

  The bottom fell out of my world. Everything I had come to say drifted away like smoke in a breeze. A child? I suppose I ought to have been relieved that the lead curse I had cast those years ago clearly had not worked, but in my shrivelling heart, at that moment I truly wished it had. I had never liked Bruttia Crispina, and she had shown that she too could be barbed in her disdain for me, but now she rose to become an enemy of import, on a par perhaps with Cleander himself. He merely wanted power. Bruttia wanted my prince.

  ‘Congratulations,’ was all I could manage in a strangled voice.

  ‘You are not . . . pleased?’

  How to tell him? Surely, he knew?

  ‘That you have an heir? The whole empire will rejoice, Majesty.’

  But his eyes cut through such dissembling. He knew I loved him. And beneath all this imperial pomp and façade, he loved me still. His gaze told me everything I needed to know. He had been obsessively focused on the succession to the exclusion of all else. He was the first emperor born to the purple in a century and was determined that he would not be the last.

  ‘You wanted to see me about something important?’ he asked, changing the subject, much to my relief.

  I was horribly aware of the ears and eyes all around me. ‘I happened to meet Pompeianus,’ I said. It was untrue. I’d not seen Pompeianus for years, but I knew that he had retired to an estate in the country, out of sight of his enemies, and that therefore no one would be able to deny it conclusively. And I needed a respected name that carried weight. Pompeianus may have been Lucilla’s husband, but it had been clear that he was not involved in the conspiracy, and in fact had detested his wife as much as she detested him, and no stigma had attached to him. He had simply seen the direction the capital was taking and had removed himself from danger.

  ‘A good man,’ the emperor nodded.

  Yes. And one of the few Cleander had not yet removed.

  ‘I wondered why a man of his talent and loyalty is not in the senate, backing your decisions, Majesty. When I mentioned such a thing to him, he trotted out a list of names he felt would be much more advantageous in the senate than he. Yet, to my confusion, none of those names are among that august body.’ All lies. All my imaginings, but enough to make him think. ‘Nonius Macrinus, Saturninus, Julianus, Pertinax?’ I went on. Men who had been loyal and whom Commodus respected. Men who had been bright enough to retire or seek appointment somewhere outside Cleander’s current reach. Men Cleander would hate to see in the senate.

  Commodus nodded, his brow folded. ‘Interesting. Yes, such men should be helping guide the ship of state. I shall speak to Cleander.’

  Damn it. So carefully constructed a plan demolished so simply. But I had no argument against it that would not work its way straight back to the chamberlain via one of those listening, so I simply had to accept that as I had accepted the news of Bruttia Crispina, with iron discipline and a mask of content.

  The rest of my meeting was cut short by a rap at the door. Commodus, frowning, gave the guard a nod and the portal was opened. Cleander strode into the room with a sharp bow. He was supposed to be in Ostia. Surely the man couldn’t have heard I was to see the emperor and rushed back? But that was not the case, for as the snake’s gaze took in my presence it registered passing surprise before he painted me out of his mental picture.

  ‘Majesty, there are grave tidings from Gaul.’

  I stepped aside. This sounded important, and there were still things that might have to take precedence over the war between Cleander and myself.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘The reports we’ve had of the rise in banditry across Gaul turn out to be well founded. It would appear that these so-called “bandits” are, in fact, a strong group of military deserters, led by a former officer. More, in fact, of a criminal army than mere bandits. They are not simply preying on merchants on the road, but interfering with the administration of the province, endangering our control. I seek imperial permission to send the general Pescennius Niger with a force of men to clear up the mess?’

  Commodus nodded, and I swiftly ran through names in my head. Among those we had discussed, Eclectus and I, Niger was one we had attached to Cleander. A man either in the chamberlain’s pay or in his debt. I could see danger in this, though I was not sure how.

  The emperor nodded. His gaze flashed to me. Names I had mentioned as
absent from the senate were clearly circling in his mind. Great military men like Pompeianus. ‘Granted,’ he replied to Cleander. ‘And have Pertinax assigned also. He has been in Britannia for some months now and his experience will be invaluable in putting down these deserters.’

  I could see the disappointment in Cleander’s eyes that the emperor had interfered in his affairs when all he’d expected was to be given blank permission to do as he pleased. Whatever his plans for Niger, they would probably be scuppered by the introduction of Pertinax into the scene. Cleander’s gaze fell upon me, and it was clear that he suspected my influence somehow. I smiled sweetly at him, which made his face sour further.

  I left them to it. There was little I could do now with the chamberlain present.

  Bitterly, I departed the room and exited into the corridor outside. My mood, already black, became positively Stygian as I turned to see the pretty, diminutive figure of Bruttia Crispina pass by. She flashed me a look of unbearable smugness, laced with cold dislike.

  In that particular moment I would have dropped a thousand lead curses into the darkness and prayed to Hekate in defiance of my faith. The hate bloomed as it had when I had first been told about her and had smashed that bust of Quadratus’ cousin.

  Unbidden, brief flashes of memory popped into my head, images of my time with Quadratus. The pit of hell opened in my heart at the realisation that she was growing poor Commodus’ child inside that tiny belly, while all my withered womb had carried was the offspring of my abuser . . . until it had been forced from me. A frisson ran through my womb and for one tiny moment I think I felt God’s plan being enacted about me. How else might I explain a memory so disconnected and yet so influential filling my mind at that very moment.

  I had been planning to return to my rooms for prandium, the noon meal, which was undoubtedly where Bruttia was also bound. Moments later I was instead hurrying through the palace into its bowels. The kitchens of the Palatine were a complex rarely visited by anyone other than slaves. The residents of the palace proper would have little idea where the kitchens were, let alone what went on in them. Not I. As the daughter of a freedwoman, I had had the run of such places in my youth, and from my time among Quadratus’ household, I knew their ways well. I knew the kitchens and the storerooms – had hidden in them so many times during games of hide and find.

  I reached them already out of breath. I had a plan, born of that awful knowledge that she carried the child that should have been mine, while I had been forced to abort the one that should not. It was a wicked plan, but had not the very notion come to me in an epiphany? With every step I had run, my heart switched back and forth between horrified disbelief at what I planned and a strangely calm acceptance that somehow God had planted the idea in me as part of his grand plan. Commodus may be a pagan, but perhaps God’s ineffable strategy did not involve the offspring of the imperial couple. Certainly mine did not.

  Timing mattered. I found the specific kitchen where the meals for the emperor and empress were being prepared without difficulty. Their lunches were, naturally, prepared separately from any others, and the emperor’s food taster was employed there to check each ingredient before they were added. I arrived at the most fortuitous moment. Lunch was largely prepared, and the taster had already done his work on each individual foodstuff, confirming that the meals were safe. Commodus might well have the taster in attendance once more at his side during the meal, but it mattered not. It was not his food that I sought to alter, and it would do him no harm anyway. Now the two platters sat waiting on a table while the slaves and the taster moved to another room to check the wine that was to be served. Beside the platters were four small bowls of herbs and spices waiting to be applied. They had probably already been tested, but it mattered not, in truth. I was not going to try anything that would show up on the palate of a food taster.

  I had initially thought of oysters. But over and above the fact that such a thing would be rather difficult to administer unnoticed, I still felt uncomfortable causing more pain than necessary in the process – perhaps an echo of my Christian upbringing. And, in truth, despite her attitude and the chasm that lay between Bruttia and I, I did not want to kill her, but she must not be allowed to carry my children.

  You may remember that following my own horrific and painful abortion, I had done my research. Raw oysters were a good bet, but they only removed the babe by poisoning the mother. I needed to be much subtler than that.

  Silphium, though . . .

  Silphium was used in medicinal compounds by midwives who needed to abort a pregnancy, partially because it was one of the most effective methods, partially because it did the least damage to the mother, and partially because it could be ingested without trouble, since it was a common seasoning in the kitchen, often used interchangeably with coriander.

  All I had to do was stop the offspring, not poison the mother.

  The shelves of seasonings, spices and herbs were mere feet away, since they were the final thing applied to a dish. It was the work of mere moments to swap the small bowl of coriander on the table by the plates with a similar one of silphium, handily labelled such on the shelf. I was gone before the slaves and the taster returned. It had all taken less than twenty heartbeats.

  I waited for the Guard to come and arrest me, though realistically, even if anyone discovered what had happened, how they could have learned who was responsible, I know not. But guilt and fear when hand in hand make a powerful couple, and so I cowered in my room.

  Nothing came of it. In fact, when I tentatively struck up a conversation with one of the cooks the following day, it transpired that the empress had complimented the kitchens on one of the best meals she had tasted in some time.

  I struggled then with the morality of what I had done. It took a while this time for me to squarely lay the blame with the divine plan, but lay it there I did. And consequently, over the next eight days, I made the most of my relationship with the servants and my understanding of the workings of the kitchens. Despite the danger and difficulties of doing so, I managed to add silphium to two more meals.

  Bruttia Crispina miscarried in her sixth month. I felt wretched. I spent hours on my knees in the privacy of my own room seeking God’s forgiveness. But while I felt terrible at what I had done, and in form I repented, in my heart I knew that I would not have undone it if I could.

  ‘God has a plan for the world,’ I told myself, wondering how long I would continue to believe it.

  ‘Does God plan for his people to poison one another? Is the mindful murder of the unborn part of his plan?’ the shade of my mother asked.

  ‘What must be, must be,’ I replied. ‘Perhaps it is not God’s will that the empress bear Commodus a child.’

  No. For that was my job and mine alone . . .

  A miscarriage was unfortunate but would have no comeback for anyone else.

  Commodus grieved, and Cleander had no idea how to handle this particular development. Consequently, there I was once again when my golden prince plummeted into misery and needed me. Bruttia Crispina was mercifully absent in the month or two that followed, undertaking a protracted visit to the sanctuary of Venus on Cyprus, island of the fertility goddess’ birth, in an effort to seek her blessing on a restored womb.

  During her absence I visited Commodus often and, though Cleander tried to find ways to prevent it, he failed, for the emperor sought my company now. My tarnished soul glowed with satisfaction. I was close to Commodus, had temporarily ousted Cleander, had ended the empress’ pregnancy and perhaps even put doubt in her husband’s mind.

  I am not proud of what I became that year on the Palatine, but I have heard it said that creatures adapt to their habitat as required for survival, and that is precisely what I did. To supplant Bruttia Crispina I devalued her worth, and to play the game against Cleander I became as devious as he, and as unrepentantly unprincipled.

  I began to buil
d a clientele of my own, as though I were some senatorial patriarch. Where a nobleman would hold a grand morning salutatio and hear the petitions of his clients, I did so whenever was convenient and in secret. Just as Cleander openly sold positions to those who sought them, so I sought favour with the emperor for those who needed it. I started to find allies. Despite Cleander’s efforts to remove all opposition, there were men in Rome, even rich and important ones, who despised the chamberlain. And when I gained their confidence, they could often point me in the direction of other such men.

  I found Laetus, a centurion in the Praetorian Guard who hated Cleander and feared him taking the reins of the Guard. And Laetus introduced me to one of the Praetorian prefects, Rufus, who had been installed in that position by Cleander but had since grown to dislike and fear his benefactor. Arrius Antoninus and Antistius Burrus, two men of senatorial rank who saw Cleander as the nadir of everything they believed in, to such an extent that they were willing to submit to the will of a pleb like me if it meant the possible fall of the chamberlain. More, still. I was introduced to Papirius Dionysius, who was one of the more important wheels in the machine of state, as well as Rufinus, the prefect of the Misenum Fleet, and Nicomedes, the Praefectus Vehiculorum, who controlled the courier service across the empire. I discovered the fierce general Septimius Severus. Men of strength and importance, each of whom loathed Cleander.

  Some were desperate to act, others more patient. I knew Cleander well enough to not try anything too precipitous, and plans began to be made by men I trusted. In a way, it was I who had brought them together, who became the linchpin.