Blood Games (Saint-Germain #3)

Blood Games (Saint-Germain #3) Page 44

IT WAS a very select gathering that evening. The Emperor had invited only the most respected Senators and patricians. There were sixteen of them, and for once women had been excluded.

"I don't want them adding more intrigues to our business," Vespasianus had explained when questioned about his decision. "Women do very well, but they wield too much power already. There are some things a man must keep among men."

"Very wise," Cornelius Justus Silius had applauded him that afternoon, and now, in the torchlit dining room, he repeated his praise more lavishly. "Women are as necessary to men as air, and who of us would willingly bar them from every aspect of our lives. Yet what Caesar says is true. Women thrive on intrigue and it is a wise man who does not share his secrets with them."

"You're bitter, Justus." Domitianus laughed nastily.

Justus lowered his head and cursed the Emperor's younger son in his mind. That rough-tongued young cur would ruin everything! When he knew he could present a proper face, he looked up again. "I probably am," he said heavily. "I have tried not to be. Olivia was perverse and her demands such that no man, not the most stalwart man alive, could meet all her desires. She came from a family whose honor was stained, and I should not have let myself believe that the taint had not touched her." He raised his golden cup. "To your wisdom, Caesar." In the next instant he had recklessly drunk all the wine.

Vespasianus nodded, his bright, shrewd eyes studying his effusive guest. "To justice," he responded, chuckling at his own pun.

"To justice," he answered promptly, and drank, to show that he did not believe he deserved the praise the Emperor had implied.

"You've met Lesbia?" Vespasianus asked as he motioned to the slaves to serve the next course.

"Twice now. A lovely, delightful girl, intelligent, charming, a winsome way about her. She is a most pleasant change from..." He stopped suddenly, as if embarrassed. "I didn't mean to compare them, Caesar."

"Certainly not," Vespasianus agreed, his mouth strangely stern.

"It was an unwitting offense," Justus added, determined to be conciliating. "If the memory were not so fresh, I would not have said..."

"The memory..." Vespasianus said in an odd voice as he broke off a piece of bread to scoop up chunks of pork cooked with dates and raisins in gravy from the platter that had just been set before him. He chewed a moment, then added, "Lesbia wanted me to ask you a few questions, since you desire to marry her. That is what you desire, isn't it?"

Domitianus started to speak but was quelled by a look from his father. He turned to Justus and gestured helplessly. Two of the Senators reclining on the silk-covered couches snickered.

"Certainly I desire to marry her, if she and her family are willing." Justus could feel color mounting in his cheeks and he breathed a little faster.

"Would you feel that way if she weren't my niece?" Vespasianus asked without looking at Justus. He dropped a section of bread into the gravy to sop it up. "Well?"

At that moment Justus wanted to attack the Emperor for this abuse. He wanted to see that common face turn purple and black, the tongue protruding as the life was squeezed out of him. It was an effort to keep his tone respectful. "Certainly I would want her. A girl like that is always desirable. But marriage is another matter. I might prefer to have an understanding with her if an important marriage were offered me." He knew that this candor was risky, but at the moment he had no choice. A lie now, a single question from the Emperor, and there would be endless difficulties later. "I'm an ambitious man, I admit. I've never sought to hide that. My three marriages were made largely for political reasons. As were the marriages of all the men here, I wager." He glanced over the couches and chose a Senator younger than himself. "Arminius Aloisius Vulpius Solis there"-he gave the man an understanding nod-"is known to have made a marriage for the advantage of all his family. Who among us has not? Is Vulpius questioned because of this? Certainly not. He is considered a responsible and practical man. He and his wife do not enjoy each other's society, which is unfortunate but not unusual. He makes few demands upon her and she is free to live her life as she sees fit. The law supports the wisdom of this, and all around us there is evidence that such decisions are wise. I can appreciate your concern, Caesar, knowing what you have learned about Atta Olivia Clemens."

"I would not like Lesbia to meet with a similar fate," Vespasianus said quietly as he held out his wine cup to be refilled.

Justus achieved what he hoped was a heroic smile, the smile of a man who has had to endure much. "If she does not have a taste for gladiators and other low-life-"

The Emperor interrupted him. "She tells me that you are attentive and respectful, Justus. She said she would not mind having you for a husband, in a year or so, when the scandal about your wife has died down."

A year? Justus wanted to shout a challenge to this. A year could be too long. He could lose his influence with Vespasianus and his sons in a year. There were other men, as ambitious as he, who would be eager to wed any of the Emperor's nieces. "I..." He stopped while he gained control of his voice. "I am not a young man, Caesar. It is hard to wait so long."

"No doubt. Well, perhaps if the talk is stopped, she might change her mind. You are free to persuade her, if you can." He picked up the gravy-soaked bread and popped it into his mouth.

Justus refused to be trapped by this. "What would you suggest, Caesar? I don't want to act in any way contrary to your wishes."

There was a moment of silence while Vespasianus swirled the wine in his cup. "I leave the matter to you, Justus."

"Would you object, then," Justus said through clenched teeth, "if I tried to change her mind. I confess that I am eager to wed her, for reasons as much personal as they are political. What man here," he asked with a nod to the others, "in my position would feel otherwise?" He was relieved when Livianus Septimus Oralen came to his rescue.

"Pay no attention to the scandal, Caesar," said the sixty-eight-year-old Senator in a wheezing voice. "Rome thrives on it. If it is not Justus they speak of, it would be one of us, or you. Gossip is the breath of Rome and scandal her bread. If you listen to half of what you hear, every one of us should be condemned as degenerate criminals."

Vespasianus nodded. "That's true, Septimus. It's lamentably true."

"And if Lesbia likes him..." Domitianus began, then said in another voice, "Well, she does like him as much as she likes any of them. Why shouldn't she?"

If only he could get Vespasianus to encourage him, Justus thought. Here, in front of these select and powerful men, to have the Emperor acknowledge him as part of his imperial line, a contributor to the dynasty...He kept the impatience out of his voice. "I'm glad to hear that. I can understand why she might have reservations about me, especially with the tales my wife told at her trial."

"Ah, yes," Vespasianus said, lingering over the words. "The tales she told."

"Quite incredible," Justus murmured.

"Quite incredible," Vespasianus echoed. "I'm surprised that she did not divorce you."

Justus looked up, startled. "Divorce me?" What was Vespasianus getting at now? he wondered.

"If she thought so ill of you and had the passions you describe," Vespasianus said blandly.

Prefacing his words with a discreet cough, Justus said, "As to that, Caesar, her family was nearly destitute, her one surviving sister lives in Gallia, and there was no one she could turn to."

"Not even to Franciscus? According to what was said, he was her lover." Vespasianus was playing with his wine cup again. The room had fallen silent and for the first time Justus noticed that the slaves had been dismissed. The Emperor reached for the amphora and began slowly to pour.

"He and half of the men at the Circus Maximus," Justus scoffed. He had not seen the slaves leave, and now he could sense the eyes of his powerful, cynical colleagues upon him.

"Still," Vespasianus said conversationally as if he were wholly unaware of the tension in the room, "I would have thought that in a like situation, with so little advantage to be gained from the alliance, you might have arrived at a settlement with your late wife some time ago."

Justus straightened himself. "There is honor, Caesar. Not many care for it now, but it is real nonetheless. Vicious and ruthless men use the word to mask their evil, but the virtue remains and proves its worth by its very abuse."

One of the Senators laughed.

"She didn't divorce you, and that puzzled me," Vespasianus remarked, as if they were discussing crops in Lusitania. "I will allow that most marriages are made for political convenience or for inheritance, but in your case, with disgraced in-laws and a sluttish wife whom you admit you could not satisfy...It seemed odd."

This time Justus had to clear his throat before he spoke. "I had given her father my word that Olivia would be cared for. You must excuse me, Caesar, but it's painful for me to discuss this. May we speak of other things?"

"I think not," Vespasianus said quietly.

"But..." Justus objected before he could stop himself.

"But what, Senator Silius? Surely you want to convince me that the rumors I have heard are nothing more than rumors. People will talk, and I can't stop that. But I can stop my family from suffering further humiliation." He put his wine cup aside and leaned back, propping himself on his elbow.

"I don't know why I should be subjected to this," Justus protested with as much good humor as he could summon up. "If you are truly anxious to avoid gossip, perhaps a more private occasion..."

"If you wish to marry into my family," Vespasianus said bluntly, over the shocked objection of his younger son, "you will answer these and any other questions I may put to you now, or in the future. Why didn't Atta Olivia Clemens divorce you?"

Justus swallowed. "I imagine it was advantageous to be married to me."

"Why did she claim that she had asked you to divorce her and you refused, threatening to ruin her reputation if she took you into court?" The questions rattled out like wheels over cobblestones.

"I don't know. I suppose she wanted it to seem that I would not be coerced into supporting her and her lusts." He folded his thick arms and glared at the Emperor.

"Is that what you suppose?" Vespasianus chuckled unpleasantly. "Are you sure it was not because you had threatened to treat her family, and then, when her father and brothers were dead, her mother, with harshness?"

Justus gasped. How had the Emperor come to learn that, or was it only a parroting of Olivia's testimony? "That's ridiculous," he said, and there was a tremor in his voice.

"Was it you who betrayed her father and brothers? Did she make that up as well?" Vespasianus' eyes were glittering now, and the easygoing bonhomie was gone. "Answer me, Cornelius Justus Silius."

"These accusations," Justus said, and made an unsuccessful attempt to laugh them away. "They're distressing, of course. I thought this had been settled." He looked to the other guests for support and found none. "How can you suppose that I would behave as Olivia charged? It's...it's absurd; a man of my standing, with so much to lose..."

"And so much to gain," said a voice behind him.

It took almost all his will for Justus to control his rage. But his fury was what his enemies wanted, so that he would be discredited and all that he had worked for would be gone. His light brown eyes grew shiny as glass. "It's no secret that I began my action against my late wife after I had spoken to you, Caesar, about the possibility of marrying into your house. Until that time I was reluctant to shame Olivia, as I knew I must if I brought her conduct to public attention. I don't know what I might have done otherwise. I might have kept on in the marriage out of, well, habit as much as anything. I might have sent her away if there had been more gossip than there was. It's difficult to know, since my circumstances were altered. It's true that I welcomed the opportunity that you presented to me. I don't deny it." He tried to read the expression in the Emperor's eyes and failed. "It gave me the necessary impetus to leave a marriage that was not...successful."

"Truly?" Vespasianus said sarcastically.

Domitianus hurried to his friend's defense. "We discussed this very point, Father. We agreed that if the rumors about Domita Silius were true, it would not be wrong for Justus to divorce her and marry Lesbia. You said that the Senate was certain to approve the divorce."

"And they did," Vespasianus agreed. "They'd heard the rumors, too, and read the bill of indictment against her. You're a subtle man, Justus."

"Caesar?" The Emperor's tone had changed again and Justus felt a new apprehension.

"I have a slave," Vespasianus commented to the gathering, "a most unfortunate one. He has lost a hand and his tongue and his manhood, yet there is spirit enough in him that he can still tell a most interesting story." There was a small gong set beside his couch and the Emperor struck it negligently.

Justus was suddenly cold. "What has that slave to do with me?"

"A great deal, it seems." The Emperor lay back on his couch, looking up at the ceiling.

The fear that had gripped Justus still held him, but he told himself that it was foolish. There was no way that Vespasianus could learn of what he had done. Only he knew it, and Sibinus, and Monostades. Sibinus was dead and Monostades was...His face froze into the travesty of a smile. Monostades had been emasculated, and his tongue cut out and hand struck off.

Beyond the carved and inlaid door to the banquet hall there were the sounds of feet. The sixteen guests turned toward the door as it was flung open and six Praetorians escorted a ragged, emaciated figure into the room.

There was none of the hauteur that Monostades had displayed before. His body now was bent, his arms and legs like jointed twigs. His hair a year ago had been abundant, glossy, a shining mass of curls. Now it was almost white, with no more shine than chalk. It seemed impossible that a man so maimed, so tortured, could still be alive, for the body was a fleshly catalog of abuses. Only his eyes were vital, sunk deeply and blackly into his face, hot as banked embers.

"Do you recognize this slave?" Vespasianus asked Justus as he got to his feet.

Under the force of the slave's stare, Justus faltered an instant. "N...no."

"Perhaps I should not have said 'recognize,' since he is much changed. Do you know who this man is?" Vespasianus sauntered down from the dais and approached the Praetorians. "He can't speak. You would think he could not write. It is amazing the fortitude hate gives us." He turned toward Monostades. "Hold up your left hand if this man was your master." He pointed to Justus.

Monostades' arm shot up with such power that he staggered.

"He's intelligent and determined," Vespasianus informed the gathering. "Deprived of his right hand, he learned to use his left and he found another slave who could read and write who was willing to copy the letters he scratched in the dust. That slave was courageous enough to smuggle that record to freedmen, who saw that it was handed over to the proper authorities. If all the men around me were as honorable as that Jewish slave and this Greek, I would not have to fear for the safety of myself and my heirs."

Justus shook his head slowly. It was not possible that this could happen, not to him, not now, not when he had done so much and come so close. "No!" he screamed, and rushed forward, whether toward the Emperor or the slave standing hunched beside him, even Justus did not know.

There was a flurry of movement as two of the Praetorians sprang forward to catch Justus and hold him while he shrieked.

On the dais both Domitianus and Titus were standing, the latter with his lips drawn in a wide tight smile, the former wide-eyed and pale. The Senators and patricians were goggling, whispers passing between them like a sudden rushing wind.

Vespasianus had stepped back. His face had reddened a bit and his breath was quickened. He turned to the centurion. "The Mamertinus Prison. You have your instructions."

The centurion nodded and gave a terse order. It required four of the men to carry Cornelius Justus Silius from the dining hall. His screams and imprecations could be heard until the soldiers dragged him from the palace.

Vespasianus turned to Monostades. "Do you still want to help them obtain his confession?"

The Greek slave made a terrible gargling sound and his left arm shot into the air.

"Very well," Vespasianus said. "You will have your vengeance." He had to turn away from the lambent ferocity that lit those hot, dead eyes.

TEXT OF AN ORDER OF EXECUTION GIVEN BY THE EMPEROR TITUS FLAVIUS VESPASIANUS.

To the commander and prefect of the Praetorian Guard and the tribune senior of the Mamertinus Prison, greetings:

Regarding the matter of the Senator Cornelius Justus Silius:

The testimony of the slave Monostades has been examined for error and found to be without falsehood, guile or fabrication. The testimony of the gladiators Frontux and Celedes has been examined and been determined to be truthful. The testimony of the slaves of said Senator Cornelius Justus Silius has been examined in all points and has been found to be, in the main, honest and exact.

It is the opinion of the Praetorian procurator that Silius is also responsible for the death of the Armenian Led Arashnur, but there is no way to prove this one way or the other, for the incident was without witnesses and the Senator has adamantly refused to confess to this, as he has refused to confess to his other heinous and criminal acts. The slave Monostades, when questioned, wrote that he believed it was to Silius' advantage that Arashnur died, but has no knowledge himself that the Senator participated in the Armenian's death.

On the suggestion of Monostades, a search was made of the records of said Silius and it appears that the evidence that convicted his father-in-law and brothers-in-law was, at least in part, manufactured by Silius himself for his own benefit, and that their deaths, instead of banishment, were advised by Silius to the Senate and Emperor at that time. Though his motives for this action are still uncertain, it is plain to the throne and the Praetorian Guard that this man used his in-laws in a shameful and degrading way, causing them public disgrace that they, in fact, did not deserve.

The testimony regarding his conduct with his wife is sufficiently barbaric and disgusting that it will not be detailed here. Let it suffice to say that what Atta Olivia Clemens told the Senate was a kindly interpretation of what she had to suffer at the hands of her husband. Her continued and systematic humiliation at the hands of her husband and the men he insisted lie with her is a shame to all of us.

We have yet to determine why Senator Silius broke into the tomb of his wife and removed her body, though it is the opinion of the procurator of the Praetorians that Silius had it in mind to commit further indignities on the body, and that he may have done so before he was detained by the Watch.

From what we can learn of this man, he has taken every opportunity to be of harm to those who trusted him, to betray those he had sworn to protect and to abuse those to whom he owed the greatest respect. Judging from the things we have learned, Silius intended to ingratiate himself with the members of this House, and then use them in the same reprehensible way that he has used so many others before now.

Therefore, regarding the matter of his execution: it would ordinarily be recommended that he be beheaded in privacy, or be allowed to fall on his sword, whichever he felt was more acceptable. But since he was not willing to let others make that choice in his life, we will not grant him that right, either. He will die publicly, with most of Rome looking on, and with the entire enormity of his crimes made public.

The Master of the Bestiarii, a man called Necredes, has informed me that he has recently made the addition to the Circus menagerie of an eagle that has been trained to duplicate the torment of Prometheus, in that he will attack a man in chains until the man's liver be torn out of his body. I have decided that this will be the fate that Cornelius Justus Silius will meet. He will be taken to the Circus Maximus and there he will hang in chains from the spina, where the eagle may tear at his flesh until he is dead. Then his body will be cut into sections, and each buried in a different place, with no marking and no ceremony. His estates will be given to the sister of his wife, who at present resides in Gallia Belgica. This will be to repay in part the great wrong Silius did to his wife's family.

When the remains of Atta Olivia Clemens are found, if they are found, they are to be cremated and put in the mausoleum of her own family, and until the time her urn stands there, a plaque, telling the whole of her suffering, will be placed there.

This from my own hand and with all the weight of my will, on the fourth day of October in the 824th Year of the City.

Caesar Vespasianus