Commodus Page 28

  Only once did all my web of conspirators meet in the same place, for to do so was to invite disaster, but it had become necessary to pool our thoughts and settle upon a path. It was that one time that polarised the gathering. We chose our time and location carefully. Thanks to my contacts among the Praetorians, we made sure that Cleander and his pet officers were well out of the way, dealing with some issue in Ostia. We could not meet on the Palatine, or anywhere central, clearly. I know not how the others slipped away from their roles and made their way, but for me, I claimed to be visiting my Christian brethren for a baptismal ceremony. It is amazing how one disappears from people’s notice the moment the faith crops up. Before I left, I saw Laetus speaking quietly to two of his men and the pair left the palace in my wake, providing much-needed protection. I silently thanked him for that. Just in case, I did actually visit one of our gatherings in the city, made brief prayers with them, and then slipped out among the crowd and moved off up the slopes of the Aventine, trying not to look suspicious. The two Praetorians had vanished during my prayers, though I suspected they were still out there, somewhere, watching me on Laetus’ orders.

  Few experiences in my life set me as on edge as moving through the dangerous and plague-ridden streets of Rome at night. Every alley seemed filled with disease and peril, and every figure who passed me felt like a robber or rapist just waiting for someone like me. I suspect that I would have swiftly given up my surreptitious journey and fled back to the safety of my rooms, but I had the inescapable feeling that I was still being protected as I walked. Not the all-pervading and ethereal protection of the Lord, either, but the very real presence of those Praetorian allies watching my back. Nevertheless, I was immensely relieved when I reached my destination.

  The warehouse, one of many identical buildings atop that hill, belonged to a client of Antistius Burrus, and several others were already there, suspicious, eyeing one another warily, when I entered. Some of their nerves dissipated with my arrival, but it was the appearance of Prefect Rufus who took most of the tension from the air. Somewhat unfairly, I believe, since it was I who had threaded this web together.

  I could see how things would go even as the various remaining members drifted in and took a seat. They might not have noticed, but I had talked to all these men individually, and I knew which ones favoured immediate and brutal action, and which preferred a slow, cautious approach. The two groups had coalesced to face one another without any intentional plan.

  As Senator Antistius closed and locked the door, hired men of his in a cordon around the building to make sure we were neither disturbed nor overheard, I looked at Rufus, who shrugged and gestured back at me.

  I rose.

  ‘I see no reason to tread lightly around matters. We all know why we are here, and we may as well now speak openly of it. If our enemy’s spies are at work, then we are already doomed.’

  There was an uneasy nod of acknowledgement around me. Some of these men were happy with me speaking to them, but I could see the misogynist tendencies rising. I was the source of this meeting, and the only person in the room they had all spoken to, yet I was both a pleb and a woman, and there was little chance of my controlling a room of powerful men.

  ‘Cleander has to be removed from power,’ I said, flatly, hoping the basic raw truth might cut through and bring things to order. Instead, half the room perhaps nodded, while the other half looked uncomfortable and unhappy with me. I sighed. Sometimes things were better done through an intermediary. We all knew why we were here, so I nodded at Laetus, who smiled apologetically, and rose.

  ‘Friends, we cannot afford to tarry here longer than necessary. Any of us could be missed and cause concern. The reason we are here is to discern a way to bring about that which we all desire.’

  ‘Carefully,’ came a response in a deep, powerful tone. The whole room looked across at Septimius Severus, who sat with folded arms, the young naval prefect Rufinus on one side and the gaunt figure of Papirius Dionysius on the other. The triad looked odd together, but they represented what I saw as perhaps the subtlest men in the room.

  ‘No one ever butchered an animal carefully,’ Senator Arrius snorted.

  ‘You have clearly never seen a butcher at work,’ Severus replied. ‘There are many ways to go about this, but we have to consider the results of everything we do. A knife in the dark has several disadvantages. Firstly, if it fails, it opens up all those involved to scrutiny, and I suspect none of us wants that. Secondly, it requires putting all our faith into the hand that wields the blade, and if the empress’ conspiracy against her brother taught us anything, it should be that such a choice is foolish. Thirdly, if it succeeds, then it is simply a murder, and not justice. As such, there would have to be an investigation and culprits found and dealt with.’

  Prefect Rufus shook his head. ‘It is considerably more black and white than you suggest, Severus. You’d be surprised what the Guard has witnessed. How then would you go about this?’

  ‘Carefully,’ repeated Severus. ‘Take note of Perennis’ fall. He died by the emperor’s own will, despite the fact that the emperor believed him innocent and counted him a friend. His power and respect were gradually whittled away beneath him by a cunning opponent, leaving him perilously balanced and awaiting a simple push to fall. This is how Cleander needs to be dealt with.’

  ‘Severus,’ one of the senators put in, ‘every day Cleander gains more power and targets more enemies. If we do not act soon, it will be us under the sword and all will come to naught.’

  ‘Act too precipitously and you invite defeat,’ Severus replied. ‘I suspect I am the only one here who has fought a war. Believe me when I say everything needs to be carefully co-ordinated. Rushing off to find a knifeman is idiotic.’

  But it was clear from the senator’s manner that he disagreed. Prefect Rufus was the one to voice the last.

  ‘I have no stomach for conspiracy and clandestine meetings. I favour a simple fight. Looking down my blade at my enemy.’ The two senators at his side nodded.

  My gaze raked the gathering. I could see it polarising as I watched, like cream separating. As if to draw a vote, Severus rose, arms still folded. ‘I have a number of ideas. The fleet play a part in it. Dionysius here has a role, I think. It will take a good time to put things in place, but I can expound upon my plan as it forms, and include all of you who wish to play your part. Those who do not want to be involved need to stay well clear, for the more voices in a conspiracy, the more chance of someone being overheard. Do I presume that you gentlemen wish to have no part?’

  His gaze fell upon Rufus and the two senators, who rose and stood together in a group. Rufus, as Praetorian prefect, looked pointedly at his centurion Laetus, but the latter simply shook his head sadly, and came to stand by my side. Rufus rumbled his disapproval. ‘You may feel free to play what games you wish, Severus, but there shall be no acknowledgement of your value when we plant a blade in Cleander’s neck.’

  ‘Good,’ the bearded African responded. ‘Be certain, when you fail, to keep any name from your lips, no matter how many fingernails they pull out.’

  I saw the naval commander, Rufinus, wince next to him, yet he stood staunchly by Severus’ side. Nicomedes, the master of the couriers, dithered uncertainly for a time, and then paced over to Severus. Two groups. And, by the looks of it, two plots. I sighed, but before I or Laetus could try and reconcile matters, Prefect Rufus threw out a finger at the men on the far side of the room. ‘The same goes for you. While you plot and plan like low criminals, remember to keep our names out of your workings.’

  And with that the three men left, and I was alone with the others. Beside me, Laetus cleared his throat. ‘Do you think it can be done?’

  Severus nodded. ‘But I think the fewer people involved, the better. You are daily among the Guard, which contains not only Cleander’s men but also Rufus’. Bend all your own time to staying safe and out of
matters. And the lady here? She is far too central to power to be personally involved. Cleander already hates her. Domina, you must, like Laetus, look to your own safety.’

  And that was that. The conspirators I had brought together had gone two separate ways, and neither of them included me. I returned to the palace filled with a nervy mix of fear and hope.

  As the year wore on, Commodus, having much recuperated from the sadness of losing a potential heir, recovered his spirit and, irritatingly, began to spend more time with his freshly returned and newly purposeful wife again. I would normally have truly hated that, but such were my machinations now against Cleander that I was grateful for the time to devote to my own care.

  The seasons turned again and in the spring there was much rejoicing as Bruttia Crispina announced in close circles that she was pregnant again. God forgive me, I actually almost repeated my dreadful deed, but I was already deep enough in a moral mire, and I trusted to God now to see me through. After all, if it had been God’s great plan that her first pregnancy fail, then surely the same would hold true now.

  It was in the late summer of the year of the consuls Aurelius and Glabrio that the empress miscarried again. I had not realised how soul-sick I had been over what I had done the first time until I discovered that, in fact, it had been God’s plan. He had simply used me as a tool of His divine will. This time there had been complications, and Bruttia Crispina almost joined her unborn child in crossing the final river. The physician gingerly admitted to the emperor that if Bruttia were ever to fall pregnant again, he would be astonished, for he believed this latest disaster had left her barren. I spent the winter consoling Commodus and attempting to keep him from the darkness into which he repeatedly threatened to slip. I was failing. I noticed cracks appearing in his soul. His melancholia took a new and worrying turn, slipping occasionally into a dark rage, sometimes directed at himself, sometimes directed at whatever or whoever was in front of him.

  And when I failed, Cleander was there, like the serpent he was. Where I tried to bring my golden emperor back to the light with gentle encouragement and nurturing, the despicable chamberlain discovered another way to haul Commodus from the dark: playing to his excesses, urging him to feats of almost manic folly. I tried to argue, but my voice was lost sometimes in the glee.

  Saturnalia passed and proved not to be the bright festival it usually was. Winter turned into spring once more, and then, without warning and entirely unexpectedly, the plotting senators and the prefect made their move. Unfortunately for them, they had made the mistake of letting their plans be known among the more disaffected of the senate.

  I was in the aula regia along with numerous other hopefuls, waiting for a chance to speak to the emperor, when the plot erupted into disaster. Commodus had just entered and taken his seat, murmuring to the ad admissionibus, who would have the list of those wishing to be heard, when the doors thumped open unexpectedly and most improperly.

  Commodus looked up in surprise and the entire waiting crowd turned even as the hand of every Praetorian in the room went to his sword hilt. In the doorway stood the toga-clad and ashen-faced figure of Publius Seius Fuscianus, the urban prefect, whose soldiers policed the city of Rome. The Praetorians tensed, for there has ever been a rivalry between these two branches of the military, but Fuscianus was a commander, appointed by the throne, and so he entered unmolested, two of his men in his wake.

  ‘Dismiss these people,’ he barked at the nearest Praetorian, whose face reflected what he thought of being ordered around by the urban cohorts. Ignoring both Praetorians and civilians further, Fuscianus closed on the throne. Soldiers moved protectively close to Commodus, but he motioned for them to disperse a little as the urban prefect approached and dropped respectfully to a knee.

  ‘I bear critical tidings, Majesty.’

  Commodus frowned, but motioned for the prefect to stand. ‘Go on?’

  ‘I regret to inform you of a plot against the throne.’

  My heart lurched at the words. Had we been discovered? Our meeting in that warehouse? Was my web of plotters unravelled? I almost ran. In fact, I actually began to slip through the shocked attendees, making subtly for the door, sure that my life would be forfeit any moment.

  ‘Two senators, Majesty.’

  I paused. Two senators? And had I been under suspicion, surely soldiers would have me by the arms even now? I forced myself to stay calm, relax, watch, act as shocked and horrified as everyone else.

  Commodus chewed his lip. ‘Two senators?’

  ‘Yes, Majesty. Two of those who I suspect might be tied to the web her Majesty Lucilla wove years ago. Arrius Antoninus and Antistius Burrus. Their conspiracy was reported through trustworthy sources, Majesty. I have spoken to the Praetorian prefect and his men are already on the way to arrest them.’

  Commodus shook his head. ‘But I barely even know them. What could they have against me?’

  ‘Praetorian knives will clarify that in good time, Majesty,’ the prefect said with vicious certainty. Once more my heart thundered. Torture. Under torture those two men might reveal any number of co-conspirators, even down to a well-dressed Christian who had slipped into a warehouse on the Aventine. Even as the prefect explained what had happened to the emperor, in my head I was racing through my alibis, working out how to deny any involvement.

  Something was clearly wrong with the discovery anyway, for I above all knew that the two senators held nothing but loyalty to the emperor, and that it was Cleander they sought to destroy. But how could I explain this without causing my own downfall.

  No. Deniability. That was all that mattered now.

  I waited until the emperor confirmed that the morning session was cancelled. So busy was he that I do not think he ever even noticed I was present among the rest. The Praetorians ushered us out, and as the crowd was escorted from the palace, I found myself drawn aside.

  Laetus, the centurion of the Guard who had also been present at our clandestine meeting, pulled me close. ‘All is in hand. Do not worry, and do not show weakness or guilt.’

  And with that he was gone.

  Not exhibiting guilt was difficult. Over the proceeding days, the backlash from the uncovered plot caused vast commotion, and I did all I could to appear totally loyal and almost as totally invisible.

  Laetus had been correct, though. He had known in advance. Those named by the senators in that first night of torture were other patrician conspirators of whom I was unaware, and each and every one had managed to open his veins and bleed out before the Praetorians came for them. Worse still, or perhaps better for me, the men in charge of extracting information proved to be overzealous, and the two senators died quickly in the Palatine cellars before any truly dangerous names could escape their lips.

  The Praetorian prefect Rufus was reprimanded harshly for his utter failures in carrying out his investigations. He bowed out in disgrace, resigning his commission and disappearing into private life. He had failed in his job, but only I and the other conspirators would ever know just how much he had done to save us all and himself.

  It was disheartening, but hardly unexpected, what happened next. Despite carefully worded warnings from the more sensible in the court, Commodus sanctioned Cleander moving into the role of Praetorian prefect. The second most powerful man in Rome after the emperor doubled his influence and strength. The other prefect, Aebutianus, was removed as unsuitable, despite having done nothing wrong, and Cleander appointed two mindless lackeys as co-prefects beneath him.

  We approached the winter of the year with Cleander seemingly all-powerful. He now controlled the palace, the imperial bodyguard, had impressive influence over the army, and had put his own creatures in most positions of power in the administration. He was untouchable.

  I still had my friends, and they remained confident as their plans moved towards fruition, but I could no longer see how a few minor officials, an admiral and a
former general could possibly stand a chance against Cleander and his ever-growing web.

  I could do little to help them and had to trust in their plans. Instead, I moved on to my next plot. Any hope of a natural imperial succession having ended, now I had to remove Bruttia Crispina from the picture entirely.

  XVI

  ADOPTING DISGUISES

  Rome, ad 187

  I came close to ruining the emperor that year, or at least the unhealthy combination of Cleander and I did. Beset by political issues such as the army of deserters in Gaul that continued to cause trouble, plagued by the loss of now two potential heirs and the prospect of a barren wife, Commodus sank repeatedly into bleak misery, buoyed up with my careful ministrations on the occasions I could get to him, but more often carried to heights of pleasure by the chamberlain – Cleander’s antidote. At his bidding, Commodus would hold great drunken parties in the baths and invite only those people he considered ‘fun’. He would lock himself away in the circus with the green team and race chariots, drunk as a Gaulish poet. He was becoming visibly out of control, while clearly in the control of his own chamberlain. Once, all those years ago on the high wall with little Annius, it had been only the guiding hand of Cleander that kept him from falling. As I had been the woman to keep the prince from the depths of gloom, so Cleander had been the man to keep his potential excess in check. It seemed that was no longer possible. Now, Cleander simply urged him on. My Commodus was the golden prince who held so much promise. The one Cleander was slowly promoting was the sweat-soaked gladiator emperor I had met at the Quintilii villa, and I was not sure that I liked this new Commodus.

  While I worried about him, I felt a little like a gladiator myself, beset from all sides and parrying blow after blow. For Commodus was not Cleander’s sole concern. My return to the imperial presence had seen me rise up the chamberlain’s list of targets to the top. I was not so easy to ruin as others, though, and so our silent war was waged across the Palatine.