Arena (23 page)

My shouts prodded him to action. In half the time I’d specified I stood on the mole while sleepy handlers loaded the cage aboard a wagon. I climbed up alongside, paid off the help, and watched the funeral dealer’s cart rumble away toward Rome in the darkness before dawn.

The stars had barely begun to pale. Ostia lay asleep, lightless. No triumphal processions awaited me on the Via Ostiensis as the wagon climbed the plain through false dawn.

I talked to the animals now and again, meaningless coos to soothe them. The air was sharp, cooler than that to which they were accustomed. Frequently the cart driver made the sign against the evil eye.

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The joke of tricking the Emperor had lost all savor now that Ptolemy’s shroud shone white on the wagon ahead. Vegetable raisers with their small carts were on their way out of the city. My driver hailed some of them. They stopped their teams to gaze in wonder. I was indifferent. What a homecoming!

Death to welcome me. Probably more treachery awaiting me in my audience with the Emperor.

The sight of the familiar seven hills and the roofs of Rome glittering at the first crack of daylight showed above the eastern mountains failed to move me. The only promise the day held out was nightfall. Then, my mission done, I would call on Serenus and his wife. It would be painful, but Acte’s dear face would not have changed, as so much else had.

“Beg’ee,” sir, the driver wined. “Beg’ee to tell me where we go with these creatures.”

I laughed and huddled deeper in my cloak. “To the Palatine. To Nero himself.”

He gasped and nearly fell from his seat. Then he shook his head and clucked to his team, convinced I was daft.

By the time we arrived at the gates, the city was waking. As the daylight increased, crowds gathered and trailed behind the cart. Here and there someone recognized me and shouted,

“Ave,Cassius!”

I stared back in sullen silence. The cart climbed the great hill of the Palatine. It was the smallest of the seven, yet the mightiest, crowned by the great collection of halls, colonnades, palaces, apartments and gardens. Presently I had a company of Praetorians around me. The poor cart driver was nearly out of his wits with astonishment.

We toiled up the Clivus Victoriae, one of the numerous inclined planes built to reach the Imperial buildings at the summit. Ascent of victory indeed! I thought bitterly. Ascent to nothing.

Ascent to emptiness. The charm of the eques toga had palled.

But I had sworn a vow. With Ptolemy’s murder to spur me, I would claim it. Boldness swept over me suddenly. I was home. I would be rich. I would live a circumspect life and erect a fitting memorial to Ptolemy, who had died for me.

Trumpets hailed our arrival at the entrance to the sprawling Domus Tiberiana. Within the building, a functionary reported, the Emperor was taking his morning bath. He intended to hurry forth to meet his faithful servant Cassius, the man said.

The cart driver helped me uncage the beasts. I tethered them at the entrance to a formal garden.

On the garden’s far side, under a marble porch, I spied a glitter of gems and ornaments, a party of men rushing along.

White marble walls decorated with gold leaf rose all around. Perfumed fountains splashed.

Larks sported in the rising sun. From the summit of the Clivus Victoriae, where the Praetorians had barred the mob with spears, I heard my name being chanted. Across, so it seemed, all the city.

The Emperor appeared on the porch. He hurried over to examine the unicorns, who were blissfully cropping the Imperial turf. I saluted him formally.

Nero appeared older, less regal than before, if he had ever looked regal at all. He wore a morning cloak studded with sapphires. The garment clung damply to the soft folds of his unmanly body. His skin had a gray cast in the sunlight, and his eyes were webbed with the small red lines of indulgence.

As he returned my salute I noticed with a jolt that Tigellinus was among the courtiers who had been in attendance at the Emperor’s bath. The Sicilian glared, resplendent in Prefect’s armor. I found I could ignore him without a qualm.

“I greet the Emperor,” I said loudly. “I bring him the beasts he charged me to find.”

Nero threw me a quizzical look. “Frankly Cassius, I’m startled to see you.”

“No doubt, sire. The path has been hard, studded with perils.”

“And where is your companion?” he asked carefully. “The lady Locusta?”

“Perished, Emperor. In a rebellion of Numidians. There should be a report from your decurion on the matter.”

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He waved. “I never read reports like that. They leave me no time for pantomimes and such.”

Nero walked round and round the two gray beasts. He spent some moments examining the wide plate of forehead horn from which the long spikes sprang. His protuberant eyes slid up to mine, insinuating.

“Truly, Cassius, these are not rhinos. But are they unicorns?”

“Emperor, when I saw them first,” I lied carefully, “I judged them to look exactly like unicorns. I brought them back because if unicorns really do exist, these must be the ones.”

“And what of the efficacy of the horn cup against poison?” he inquired. “Have you made any tests?”

I hoped I didn’t show surprise. What could he possibly know? Nothing, I reasoned. The remark had been casual. I decided not to stir old, cold ashes.

“No, sire, I haven’t tested it. I thought you would wish to experiment yourself.”

“I shall, I shall indeed.” He brushed away perfumed droplets of bath water still clinging to his pale, fatty brow. He frowned. “If I recall aright, Cassius, early reports from the coast said you were returning with three unicorns, not two.”

“One took sick and died, Emperor,” I replied.

Had he been the motive force behind Anicetus’ attempt to foil me? If so, he showed no sign.

And my obvious contentment with matters as they stood must have pleased him. He broke into a low chuckle.

“Cassius, I’m delighted to see you’re not taking the loss more to heart. Obviously you’ve had a trying journey. You’re very thin.”

From behind him, Tigellinus thrust forward. “I demand to know more about Locusta.”

Nero giggled. “Always the lover, eh, Prefect? And at such a time! Shame!”

“The matter is contained in the decurion’s report,” I said, with defiance Tigellinus did not overlook.

The Sicilian’s dislike of me was so open and obvious it caused several of the foppish courtiers lounging about to cough and nudge one another in embarrassment. I was afraid Tigellinus might pull some new trick to rob me of my reward, so I hurried on.

“I will be glad to comment upon my wanderings in detail, but at the moment, I would ask the Emperor’s leave to claim the boon he promised.”

“Oh, yes. That.”

The offhand reply made the honor seem as nothing. He laid his pudgy fingers across my left shoulder, meanwhile following a garden songbird with his eyes. He droned away.

“Be it known that I, Nero Caesar Augustus, Princeps and Imperator, do invest and endow this man Cassius — what’s your other name? — Cassius Flamma, who is a freed citizen, with the rank of eques, thus entitling him to adorn himself with the ring of gold and the stripe of narrow purple. I enjoin him to recognize that his new rank carries with it not only rights and privileges not afforded lesser men, but also obligations. Henceforth this man shall be addressed by all and sundry as Splendidi Cassius, and shall devote his days to the service and enhancement of his Emperor.”

So saying, he took his hand away.

I fell to my knees, because that was the custom. The courtiers cheered and hailed me in bored voices. Only Tigellinus refrained.

Rising, I was surprised when the Emperor said cynically, “See how simple it is, Cassius? The fools in the street think it’s some sort of magical rite. Ah, I forgot. You were once one of those — ah, persons — in the street, weren’t you?” He beamed. “Now you’re one of us. I trust you’ll live up to the demands of the rank. Abjure your past in favor of success in the present.

Will you?”

While birds sang and fountains tinkled, he thus threatened me with death. If I dared rake up, say, Agrippina’s murder, I would be finished. Well, he needn’t fear. I was weary of struggles and intrigues.

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At the same time I felt oddly deflated. Having risen so far, I felt cheated that there was not more significance to the proceedings. Would there have been for the old Cassius? Or was I the old Cassius still? I sensed not, yet I didn’t know exactly how I had changed. Nero addressed me again.

“Well, Splendidi Cassius. I asked you a question.”

I bowed my head. “Of course, Emperor. In all things I will obey you.”

“Excellent, excellent. In that case your life should be long, honorable and prosperous. One day soon I’ll send for you. I want to hear about your adventures, and discuss employing your school at my games. At the moment, though, I have an appointment with the Empress to go over my plans for re-building certain sections of this ugly town upon more pleasing Grecian lines.”

He was dismissing me. I saluted and he hurried from the garden, surrounded by his courtiers.

Tigellinus threw me a last look to promise that one day we would settle scores.

The Emperor’s warning had been clear, if not explicit. My own behavior in the future would spell the difference between a peaceful, secure life and ignominious death. Once again I resolved to ride the flood-swell of Nero’s growing status, not struggle against it in any way.

A lackey conducted me to an office where I was detained an hour signing certain documents pertaining to my new rank. Then I descended from the Palatine. Unnoticed, thanks be. The crowds had dispersed.

I might have gone straightaway to purchase a new striped toga. Or I might have gone to the Cassian School to settle accounts with the treacherous Syrax, as I planned to do. Instead, I hired a chair to carry me to the home of Serenus on the Pincian Hill. I found I could not wait till nightfall to make my visit.

The thought of seeing Acte stirred my pulses, even though I knew she was a married woman. To gaze on her would be fulfillment enough.

Where Serenus’ house had once stood, desolate black ruins greeted me.

Across the avenue I saw an old gardener. I begged him to tell me about the disaster. He scratched his skull and shrugged.

“A few months back, it was. The house was broken into one night. Looted. Then burned.

Rascally thieves! Why, with all the wooden buildings in Rome, it’s a wonder the fire didn’t spread and cause more damage.”

“What happened to Serenus?” I asked, lashed my fear.

“A fine gentleman,” sighed the gardener. “Dead. His body was found in the ruins.”

“And — his wife? The lady called Acte?”

The gardener hesitated. “Are you a friend of his, sir?”

The words were ashes in my mouth. “I am the eques Cassius Flamma. Answer me.”

Hastily he apologized. “Yes, I remember the lady. Lovely. A gentle creature. Your honor, it’s assumed she’s dead too, since her body was never found. The fire burned a whole day and night.

Serenus’ remains were barely recognizable. Of course,” he added, his eyes watering sympathetically, “the filthy robbers who infest this town are known for carrying off the bodies of poor dead women for unspeakable purposes —”

“Be silent!”I screamed, striking him in the face.

He staggered. “Splendidi, I meant no offense —”

“Splendidi?” I laughed. The wild sound frightened him even more. “Oh, yes. Splendidi indeed.

The most splendid of all the damned in Rome.”

I left him trembling in his garden. I rushed into the teeming lower streets below the Pincian Hill.

Eques Cassius! Splendid Cassius! With death dogging him forever, and a human life the price of every rung of the climb upward.

I would buy my white toga with the narrow purple stripe. I would wear it. But I would know, every remaining moment of my days, that it was an empty honor.

Gaining it, I had lost the one thing in my life that mattered most of all.

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63–64 A.D.

Rome in Flames

ON THE THIRDday after my return, my temper was sufficiently composed for me to set out for the Cassian School, to have the very necessary reunion with Syrax.

In the meantime I had reopened my house and seen to the disposition of Ptolemy’s body. I hired tailors to quickly provide me with togas befitting my new rank. At the slave mart I purchased two stout lads on credit to run my household until I saw fit to move to larger, more elegant quarters.

One of these slaves I dispatched to Sulla’s brother. Deep in drunkenness and grief on the first night of my homecoming, I had come up with the idea that possibly Acte might have escaped death in Serenus’ house and sought refuge in her former haunt. The slave came back to say Sulla had not seen Acte since some time before her marriage, when she left the brothel. Sulla was certain she was dead.

This heightened my anxiousness for a reckoning with Syrax. I rode through the streets in a regal litter, runners out ahead crying, “Make way! Make way for Splendidi Cassius!”

Before we turned in at the Cassian gate, it was evident the school had prospered. Several adjoining properties had been purchased and turned into additional dormitories. A much larger and finer amphitheater had been built to replace the modest original one. As my bearers put me down, a crowd of green bestiarii came trotting from their cells to morning practice. A dusky Egyptian lanista urged them on. The big trainer was capable-looking. He saluted me as an eques.

Otherwise I was a stranger to him.

In mounting anger I went to the office. I found Syrax laboring over a letter, scrawling characters in the waxy soot on two hinged wooden tablets. His dark locks shone with some sweetish dressing. Rings decorated his fingers, which now were pudgy. Without seeing his face, it was apparent that he was a great deal heavier, and affluent.

“Is there no one to welcome the owner home?” I said loudly from the door.