Alex Scarrow - Gates of Rome

‘This is what happens… when you decide to take matters into your own hands.’ Caligula’s hand idled on the pommel of his sword. ‘What did you honestly think was going to happen? Hmmmm?’

Lepidus’s eyes were on Caligula’s idling, fidgeting fingers. ‘I… I had no choice. I — ’

‘Well actually, I think you probably did have a choice.’ Caligula pouted disapprovingly down at him. ‘You could have come to me the moment that poisonous old man, Crassus, started sending treacherous little notes to you. You could have presented his letters to me and quite easily proved that I could trust you. But no… you chose not to.’

‘I… Crassus was trying to make me look already guilty! He was wording his letters to make it look like we’d already spoken of… of

…’

‘Trying to kill me?’

Lepidus shut up and looked down, defeated.

‘Even if Crassus’s letters implicated you… you should have come to me. I would have understood. I would have been fair, merciful. Good grief, I’m not a monster, Lepidus.’

‘I… it… I was misled. I was used.’

‘Oh, you were misled all right.’

‘I was frightened.’

Caligula crouched down before the general, lifted the man’s ample chin with a finger and looked him in the eyes. ‘Frightened? Of me? Why? What’s to be afraid of? I only want what’s best for us all, what’s best for all Romans.’

He stood up again. ‘Fear… that was your undoing. You’re nothing but a frightened old man. I should have far better men in charge of my legions.’ He began to pull his sword out of its sheath.

‘Please!’

‘Oh? Pleading, is it? So very sorry now, are we?’

Lepidus nodded vigorously. ‘I… was left with no choice! I had to do something!’

‘They goaded you… coerced you into trying to kill me, replace me.’ Caligula smiled. ‘And clearly you obviously thought you could replace me.’

‘I, no… I didn’t believe — ’

‘I don’t think you were sorry this morning as you presented your legions for battle. I think you were looking forward to the idea of sleeping in my bed tonight, in my palace. Calling yourself emperor. Wearing my robes.’ Caligula laughed. ‘Not that they’d fit you.’

He lifted the tip of his gladius up and held it in front of Lepidus’s face. Sunlight reflected off the polished blade, glinting into the general’s eyes.

‘I need better men than you in charge of my legions. Younger, braver men. Trustworthy fellows. Now listen to me, Lepidus, you can go some way towards making amends… if you were to let me know who else, other than Crassus, was involved in this ridiculous charade.’

The general licked dry lips quickly. ‘I… I think my tribune, Atellus, was in on it. Now… yes, thinking about it, yes, I’m sure of it.’

Caligula glanced at the tribune’s body lying in the grass nearby. ‘Well, he’s not exactly going to deny that now, is he, Lepidus?’

‘Others… I–I’m sure there were… Yes, Crassus used to have visits from Cicero… Paulus. Those two — ’

Caligula nodded. ‘Now that’s a bit better. Yes.’ He stroked his nose thoughtfully. ‘I could imagine those two old relics would have been involved somehow. Who else? Hmmm? Any other faces you noticed keeping Crassus company?’

Lepidus’s eyes darted left and right, trawling a racing mind for names… faces…

‘Your palace tribune! The new one!’

Caligula frowned. ‘What? You don’t mean… Cato?’

Lepidus looked up, nodded vigorously again. ‘Yes! He was involved! I… I’m sure of it!’

‘Cato.’ Caligula frowned.

‘Crassus hinted to me… not long ago… said…’

‘Said what?’

‘He said he had someone in the palace… someone close to you. Someone who could get to you!’

Caligula cast his mind back to the few conversations he’d had with the man. The tribune had always seemed professional, reliable, competent. But then…

Your Stone Men, sire… Might I suggest you send them along?… You have my cohort here… to guard you…

Caligula spun round, looking for the praefectus Quintus.

‘Quintus, take your cavalry back to Rome!’ He nodded at the five remaining Stone Men, their olive-green armour spattered with dark droplets of dried blood. ‘Take them with you as well! The tribune of the palace cohort is to be arrested!’

‘Sire?’

‘He’s one of them, Quintus! A traitor! I want him arrested. And I want him alive! Do you understand?’

‘Yes, sire.’

‘And have the rest of the Guard assembled to march.’

‘But, Caesar, they’ve just fought! They need…’

Caligula’s look silenced him. ‘Have them assembled,’ he repeated softly.

The prefect nodded, saluted and turned to deliver his orders.

Caligula once more looked down at the man in front of him, an anxious, twitching face, bathed in sweat.

‘Thank you, Lepidus,’ he said absently. And then without much thinking about it, for good measure, he quickly swung his sword down at the general’s neck. Even before the arc of blood had landed on the dry, sandy soil and arid grass of the hillside, Caligula had already turned on his heel and was heading towards his tent to change out of his uncomfortable armour. The march back to Rome would be a morning and an afternoon. They’d be back by twilight, he supposed… if they moved out soon.

Behind him he finally heard the thud of the general’s body keeling over. While all around the orders he’d given to Quintus were being barked down the ranks, followed by the noise of five thousand men scrambling in response.

AD 54, Imperial Palace, Rome

‘I can’t let you in, sir…’ The optio grimaced uncomfortably at the thought of challenging his centurion’s order. He craned his neck to look through the iron grille of the gate to get a better look past Fronto at the soot-covered people behind him. ‘I can’t let them into the palace grounds, sir.’ He swallowed nervously. ‘Standing orders.’

‘Your orders, Septimus lad, are exactly what I say they are. Now open this gate!’

The optio looked unhappily at Fronto. Torn between the dressing-down his centurion looked like he was about to give him and fear of what would happen to him if ever Caligula discovered he’d opened the north-west gate and let in some uninvited strangers.

‘Is this on the emperor’s orders, sir?’

Fronto sighed. He was about to let rip at the optio with a blast of colourful language when Cato appeared beside him. ‘It’s all right. Let them in, Septimus. They’re my property. I just wanted to bring them into the imperial grounds for safekeeping.’

The optio nodded at his tribune. ‘Right, sorry, sir… I just — ’

Cato shushed him and smiled. ‘Quite all right, you were doing your job.’

The bolt slid back and the iron gate swung inwards. Fronto threw his optio a withering glare as he led his men and the others inside the gardens and the gate was slammed shut again.

Cato looked at his old friend Macro first, then at Maddy and the others. ‘What happened?’

‘A fire happened,’ grunted Macro. ‘It’s all gone, my investment. My retirement fund, everything.’

‘There are fires all over the city,’ said Fronto.

Cato nodded. The smell of burning was on the air, and a pall of smoke hung in the sky. He spoke to Fronto. ‘Best assign your men back to their posts immediately, Centurion.’

Fronto nodded. ‘Right you are, sir.’

Cato waited until Fronto had finished barking orders and the legionaries had dispersed to their deployment positions around the imperial grounds.

‘I can take you to the Temple of Neptune in the palace,’ said Cato. ‘I believe that’s where you may find what you’re looking for. The things belonging to the Visitors.’