Roman Boy, page 3
“Thank you for revealing this to us, Caesar!” said Cornelia. “It is certainly something Gaius can help you with, Lucius. He was in the Army himself.”
“Ah yes, he was, I had forgotten…” said the Emperor. He turned now to look at Gaius. “Remind me which Legion it was that you served with, old friend?”
“I was briefly a Tribune with the Seventh Claudia in Dalmatia,” said Gaius, his voice tight, his jaw twitching. “But I was very young, and it was long ago.”
Lucius was rather surprised as well. Many wealthy young men served for a short time with the Eagles as high-ranking officers known as Tribunes. It was good for your later career, and most of them never stopped boasting about their Army days. Gaius liked to boast about his successes, but he had never mentioned the Army, at least not in front of Lucius. It was pretty clear that he didn’t want to talk about it now.
“Ah, the omen makes even more sense…” murmured Hadrian. Then he smiled, and Lucius felt that a spell had been broken. They spoke of other things for a while, and soon their time with the Emperor was over. “Please forgive me, but I have an empire to run,” he said. “May Jupiter guide you on the path it is your fate to follow, my young friend,” he said to Lucius. “Who knows? Perhaps one day we will meet again.”
The guards ushered them away, back towards the rest of the villa. Gaius strode quickly ahead, Lucius and his mother struggling to keep up with him.
“Get a move on!” Gaius snapped. “The sooner we’re out of here the better.”
Behind them Lucius heard the bleating of a lamb, and he guessed that Calchas had chosen the sacrifice promised to Apollo for the prophecy. Lucius thought about the omen, and whether it really did mean that he would be following the Eagles.
Then the bleating stopped, and all he could think of was blood in a bowl.
To begin with, Gaius said nothing in the carriage on the return journey. Cornelia chattered about the Emperor and the wonders they had seen, but Gaius glared at her and she fell silent. She shrank into the corner of the carriage as if she had been struck, and sat there looking worried. Lucius stayed silent too, and kept his head down.
“Well, I suppose you’re feeling very pleased with yourself now, aren’t you?” said Gaius eventually, his voice harsh. “Look at me when I’m talking to you, boy!”
“I’m sorry, sir,” said Lucius, raising his head. “I don’t understand…”
“You heard the Augur,” said Gaius, tipping his head to one side, his eyes cold, more hawk-like than ever. “The omen might be good for you, but it can only be a disaster for me. Am I to be outdone in life by the pathetic son of a useless father?”
Lucius tried not to look guilty – it was true, he had been feeling very pleased with the omen. If Hadrian and Calchas were right, then his future might be even better than he had hoped. The idea of following the Eagles was intriguing. He had never thought of a future as a soldier, but he knew it could lead to great success. Most of Rome’s heroes and several of the greatest Emperors had been soldiers… Then he realized Gaius had called him “pathetic”, and he felt his cheeks burning.
“Please, Gaius, don’t be angry,” said Lucius’s mother, her eyes wet with tears. “Perhaps the omen means something else, something good for you.”
Suddenly Lucius’s heart hardened against her. She should be happy for me, he found himself thinking bitterly. Why can she not take my side for once?
“You’re right,” said Gaius. “Omens can signify many things, and priests often twist them to mean what their masters want. Hadrian might have had those eagles hidden nearby, waiting so they could deliver an omen that would destroy my reputation. He knows I have many supporters, and he may already see me as a threat… So you can be sure he’ll tell everybody about the omen, and what Calchas said it meant.”
Gaius talked a lot more as the carriage rumbled down the bumpy road towards Rome, the sun setting, the fields darkening around them. According to Gaius, Hadrian was a jumped-up provincial, a man unworthy to be Emperor. Gaius might not have been a great soldier in his brief time with a Legion, he said, but Hadrian wasn’t either. Unlike Trajan, he had fought few battles and conquered no new countries…
Lucius stopped listening. It was all too confusing. He had heard people say such things about omens before, and in some of the old stories even the Gods argued about them. He knew one thing, though. What had happened at Hadrian’s villa was bound to lead to changes – and he didn’t think they would be for the better.
The next morning, Gaius went to the Forum without him, and he did the same on the following day. By the third morning, Lucius realized his time of learning at Gaius’s side was over. He tried several times to speak with his stepfather, but Gaius just ignored him.
Lucius sank into deep gloom as the late summer days went past, and spent his time wandering the busy streets of the city. He brooded, wondering if he really was nothing more than the pathetic son of a useless father. Every so often he prayed to Jupiter, seeking guidance, begging the God to tell him what the omen meant. Yet at the same time, he had no desire to know, in case it turned out to be bad.
One morning a slave boy came to find him. Gaius wanted to speak with Lucius, and was waiting in his study. The sky above the atrium was filled with dark clouds as Lucius passed through it. Summer was over, the air cool, and yellowed leaves were floating on the surface of the pond. Lucius paused at the door of the study, touching his bulla and praying to Jupiter. Then he took a deep breath and went in.
He was surprised to find three people facing him. Gaius was sitting by a table covered with scrolls and writing tablets, and was wearing his toga, as he always did in the mornings. Lucius’s mother was sitting beside her husband, in her green gown. The third person was a short, stocky older man wearing a black tunic. He had curly grey hair, a trimmed white beard, and a hard face tanned brown by the sun.
“Well, Lucius, I have tried to find out what that omen really meant,” said Gaius, nodding at the scrolls on the table. “I went to the best priests, soothsayers and oracles in Rome, and it cost me a lot of money. Of course, they all contradicted each other, but it wasn’t entirely a waste. They did actually agree on one thing, which is that I should send you as far away from Rome – and from me – as possible.”
“But… I don’t want to leave Rome,” said Lucius, his heart sinking. This was something he hadn’t expected at all. “It’s the only place I’ve ever known.”
“Now don’t be difficult, Lucius,” said his mother, frowning at him. “Gaius has thought about this very carefully, and he has an excellent plan for you.”
“Everyone will forget about the omen if you’re no longer around,” said Gaius. “But I’m not sending you alone. You’ll be going with Callistus…”
The grey-haired man bowed his head to Gaius. Callistus was one of Gaius’s ex-slaves. He had bought himself out of slavery, yet he still worked for his former master as a trader, and had come to Rome to bring Gaius news of his latest dealings. Now Callistus was due to return to the distant province where he lived, and he was in need of a new secretary, someone to keep his records and write letters for him. Callistus was Greek, so it would help if the secretary could speak good Greek too.
“So where am I being sent?” Lucius asked quietly, touching his bulla. He offered a silent prayer to Jupiter, hoping the answer would be a good one. There were many provinces in the Empire – some worth going to, others that were best avoided.
“You will go to Britannia,” said Gaius. “Callistus has been telling me how well we are doing there. It is a valuable opportunity. You leave tomorrow morning, at dawn.”
Lucius felt his stomach churn with anxiety, bile rising into his throat.
But he said nothing.
FIVE
DAGGER IN THE DARK
IT WAS LATE in the year, almost beyond the time when it was safe to go on a journey. So Lucius wasn’t surprised at the speed of their departure, although it was still hard to deal with. Suddenly his life had taken a completely unexpected turn. He was being banished to Britannia, of all places, the land that had bred the savage warrior he had seen in the Amphitheatre. All his hopes had been dashed. He was desolate.
His mother avoided him for the rest of the day, only seeking him out late in the evening. He was in his cubiculum, packing his few clothes into a small trunk.
“You’ll be leaving long before I rise in the morning, Lucius,” she said. She stayed in the doorway, looking nervous. Almost as if she feels she shouldn’t be seen with me at all, he thought. “So I’ve come to bid you farewell now. I hope you will make the most of the marvellous opportunity your stepfather is providing for you.”
What Lucius really wanted to say was – I know you have chosen him rather than me, and you are glad that I am being sent away. But he couldn’t do it.
“Don’t worry, Mother,” he said instead. “I will not bring shame upon you.”
“I’m pleased to hear it. Well, travel safely. May the Gods watch over you.”
She turned from him, and was gone before he could say any more. He stared for a short while at where she had been… Then he turned back to his packing.
He slept badly that night, and was already up and dressed when a slave boy came at sunrise to collect his trunk. Callistus was waiting in the street outside, sitting in the driving seat of a donkey cart, holding the reins. Lucius climbed up beside him, and the slave boy loaded his trunk in the back. They set off down the shadowy street, the iron-bound wheels rumbling over the cobbles, the sky filled with clouds.
Lucius looked straight ahead, his heart full of hurt, his mind dark and bitter.
The journey to Britannia started in Portus, Rome’s harbour at the mouth of the Tiber. Lucius was stunned by the busy docks, the warehouses, the huge crowds of people from all over the Empire yelling in their own languages, the strange sounds and smells. It was as if he had stepped out of his normal life and into another, far more exotic one, and for a moment he felt as if he couldn’t cope with it all.
But he kept an iron grip on himself, and before long he began to grow interested in what he saw. The ships were especially fascinating – particularly the great triremes built for war. They had three banks of oars manned by slaves and a tall mast with a huge sail. There were enormous ships from Egypt too, bringing the grain that Rome depended on, and the sleek, swift boats of the Imperial Messenger Service.
Callistus had paid for passage to Gaul on a corbita, a fast cargo ship that carried passengers as well. It took three days to get to Narbo in southern Gaul, and from there they travelled overland by carriage, arriving three weeks later at Burdigala on the west coast. There they boarded another ship, a trireme of the Imperial Fleet. Lucius wondered if it had been a favour granted to Gaius by the Emperor.
In all that time Callistus barely spoke to Lucius, even though they shared cabins, carriages and small rooms in wayside taverns. To begin with, Lucius had tried to talk to him, if only to find out more about his duties. But Callistus had just grunted, or ignored him completely, so Lucius had given up and retreated into himself. He had brooded on what had happened, worried he had somehow offended the Gods.
Still, there were days on their travels when he saw wonderful things – snow-peaked mountains in the distance; the temples, towns and cities of Gaul; a column of red-cloaked legionaries marching down a long straight road. He sometimes spoke to other travellers, hoping to find out more about Britannia. Half said it was dull and boring, and the other half that it was full of wild savages, so he was none the wiser.
The voyage north from Burdigala took two weeks. It was very late in the travelling season now, not long before the northern harbours closed for the winter. The wind blew from the west, driving the trireme through rough, choppy seas as they followed the coastline. Callistus was struck by sea-sickness and lay groaning on his bunk. But Lucius was fine and spent most days on deck, watching the land go by.
At last, one cold morning, he came up from below and discovered that the ship was surrounded by a grey mist. He shivered and pulled his thin cloak more tightly around his shoulders, wishing it were thicker. The ship’s great sail was furled, and the only sounds were the oars creaking as they rose from the dark water then gently splashed back into it, all moving rhythmically and in complete unison.
“Nearly there,” said the ship’s captain, a tall, broad-shouldered Gaul. He was in the stern, holding the tiller. Several sailors were at the prow, waiting to drop anchor.
Suddenly a breeze began to blow the mist away, and Lucius realized the trireme was moving along a wide river. He saw a quayside with boats of various sizes tied up, and warehouses like those in Portus. Beyond them he glimpsed houses and halls, the shining roof of a temple, people bustling in the streets. Just ahead was a long wooden bridge that started on the quayside, then crossed the river and a small gravel island. Its other end came to rest at a point on the south bank where two roads met.
“So … is this Britannia?” said Lucius. It wasn’t what he’d been expecting.
“It most certainly is,” said the captain. “This is the city of Londinium, capital of the whole province. It’s not a bad place – in fact it’s actually quite civilized…”
They finally dropped the anchor in the middle of the river – the captain said it was called the Tamesis – and a small boat came out to ferry Lucius and Callistus to the quayside. Two slaves were waiting for them there, and loaded their trunks onto a cart. Eventually Callistus set off through the busy streets, Lucius and the slaves following with their cart. Soon they came to a large house at the end of a narrow street.
“Show the boy to his room,” said Callistus, opening the door and going in without even looking at Lucius. One of the slaves stepped forward to do his bidding.
Lucius opened his mouth to say something, but then he shut it again.
There didn’t seem to be any point.
His room was similar to his old cubiculum in Gaius’s house. But the House of Callistus, as the slaves called it, was much smaller, and not as richly furnished or decorated. One wall of the atrium was covered in a large, rather crude picture of Mercury, the God of money-making, with a wand and a purse stuffed with coins. Lucius soon realized the God had been painted to resemble Callistus.
The man himself, however, was very hard to track down. There were plenty of people in the house – slaves and ex-slaves who worked for Callistus, and several women who seemed to be related to him in some way. The morning after his arrival, Lucius asked them all where he might find Callistus, and received a variety of answers – “he’s out on business”, “he’s gone to see a man about something”.
After a while Lucius felt like screaming in frustration. He had decided that if he had to be a secretary, then he would do his best to be a good one. Perhaps then he might find his way back into Gaius’s favour – he imagined Callistus sending a report to Gaius saying how efficient and helpful he had been… But none of that could happen unless Callistus showed him what he was supposed to be doing.
Eventually a slave told him Callistus was at his warehouse by the river. Lucius asked her for directions, then he put on his cloak and set off, into the streets.
Moments later he knew he was lost. It was a cold, wintry day, the sky darkening even though it was only the middle of the afternoon. That same grey mist was coming off the river and swirling through the streets. People hurried by, heads bowed beneath the hoods of their cloaks, and Lucius guessed he was going round in circles. Then he caught a whiff of the river and turned in that direction, following his nose.
At last he came to the warehouses and saw Callistus in a doorway. He was talking to a man wearing a green cloak with the hood up, although Lucius could see his hard face in the light from a torch on a nearby wall – he had a broken nose and a patchy beard. There was something disturbing about the way the two men were huddled together, and Lucius felt he wanted to know what they were talking about.
He crept closer, keeping to the shadows, and finally crouched down behind a stack of amphorae, the large terracotta jars used to transport wine or olive oil.
“It’s a simple job,” Callistus was saying. “Gaius wants the boy dead, and it’s easier to do it here than in Rome. Nobody knows who he is, so he won’t be missed.”
Lucius felt his stomach churn with fear. He touched his bulla through his tunic, silently praying to Jupiter for protection. Then he started to back away, but he nudged the amphorae with his elbow, and one fell to the ground, smashing into jagged terracotta pieces.
“Who’s there?” hissed the man Callistus was talking to, whipping a dagger from a scabbard on his belt. The blade glinted blood-red in the light from the torch.
Lucius turned and ran for his life.
SIX
A LUCKY BLOW
THE SHADOWS IN the streets were deeper now and the sky was fully dark, with only a few stars and a pale sliver of moon providing any light. Soon Lucius realized he was lost again, but then it also occurred to him there was nowhere he could run to for safety anyway. He certainly couldn’t return to the house of the ex-slave who had brought him to Londinium to have him killed, and he knew nobody else in the city.
So he kept running, even though he had no idea where he was going, desperate to get as far as possible from Callistus and the other man. Lucius could feel his heart thumping. He was panting, and people quickly stepped aside to let him pass. Then he heard the sound of boots pounding on the cobbles behind him. He glanced over his shoulder, and saw that he was being chased by the man with the dagger.
Lucius gasped for breath and ran even faster. He slipped down a narrow passage, emerged onto a wide square surrounded by colonnades, ran into what he thought looked like the beginning of a street – and found himself in a short alleyway that ended in a blank wall. Lucius stopped and turned round. His pursuer had entered the alleyway, and was walking slowly towards him, a cruel smile on his face.
