Douglas Jackson: Caligula

The tiny walkway was an irritant at first, but quickly became a danger. The flickering torch gave off an uneven and barely helpful light, which, in places, seemed to be absorbed by the algae-slick walls. Pieces of stone crumbled beneath their feet, threatening to pitch them into the sewer. At one point the roof suddenly dropped to half its height and they had to crouch low with the torch held straight ahead in order to make progress. This happened at regular intervals and Cupido suggested it might have some architectural purpose.

It was also clear they were descending, almost imperceptibly, deeper into the earth.

They had been walking for perhaps ten minutes when they heard the voices.

'Douse the torch,' Cupido whispered.

'What?'

'Put the torch out or they'll see it.'

'But we'll be in the dark. We can't fight them if we can't see them.'

'Better in the dark. We can hear them, but they won't hear us.'

Reluctantly, Rufus placed the torch on the walkway and gently stamped out the flames, doing as little damage as he could. He had a feeling they would need every flickering spark of both torches before the night was out.

He felt Cupido's reassuring hand on his shoulder. 'Now we wait.'

They sat in the darkness, listening; waiting for the voices to come closer. But the only things that approached them were the rats, which had been wary of the light, but now scampered by in ones and twos. Rufus jumped as he felt something touch his hand.

'Aaah!'

'Shhh.'

'I hate rats.'

'You told me you loved animals.'

'Not rats.'

'They can't hurt you.'

'Not even when they're the size of cats?'

Silence.

There was a strange, unearthly quality to the voices. Sometimes they were clear, as if they were close by, but then they would fade as if the wind had changed direction. Only there was no wind.

And then there was the stench. At first it had been sickening; a putrid, stomach-churning miasma so thick you could almost chew on it. But soon after they started walking their sense of smell had either become accustomed to it, or been overwhelmed by it. Now the smell was back, more powerful than ever.

Rufus felt Cupido stir behind him. 'We can't stay here for ever. We have to move,' he hissed into the darkness.

'Go, then, but carefully. No light.'

Rufus thought this was foolish and said so, but began to feel his way along the wall. He had gone no more than half a dozen steps when the wall disappeared as the tunnel took a sharp left turn, and he ended with one foot in the ooze, cursing his ill fortune and his friend. It was only when he recovered that he noticed the light.

Only it wasn't a light, more a disturbance in the darkness; a place where the black was a little paler. He crawled slowly towards it.

It was at a section of wall where the tunnel made another turn, this time to the right. The pale patch was a dim reflection of some stronger light source a little further ahead.

He had almost reached the bend when the scream froze him to the tunnel wall. It was high-pitched and terrible, and it seemed to last an eternity before ending in a choking rattle, only to revive a second later in a new shrieking crescendo. Rufus felt for his lion's tooth charm and muttered another prayer. He hoped no human could scream that way, but he knew it was a vain hope. The cry had shattered his nerves and his legs shook as he rounded the corner, unwilling to confront whatever horrors awaited him there.

They had passed several of the slim drainage shafts at irregular intervals along the tunnel. This was different.

Before him was a large, bell-shaped chamber carved out of the rock. At the top of the bell, perhaps fifty feet above them, a shaft of flickering red light pierced the darkness and partly illuminated the space below. The base of the bell was a pool measuring twenty paces across, where the sable waters of the stream gathered before being channelled down a wider and deeper culvert. The reason for the pool became clear when he looked to left and right. This was the gathering place of the Cloaca Palatina, where the stinking waters met. Entering on either side were further tunnels, which helped keep the pool filled and the stream flowing.

The voices were quite distinct now, emanating along with the light from above. Cupido came up beside Rufus and whispered in his ear.

'Caligula's torture cells. I was chained there for two nights and witnessed his executioners at work. I thought the shaft was a well — now I know otherwise. Quickly, we are vulnerable here. We must move on.'

Cupido led as they worked their way silently towards the outlet channel.

Rufus turned to take a last look behind him. The surface of the pool was almost pretty, dancing in the soft glow from above. It happened so suddenly his mind didn't have time to register the details: a thundering explosion a few feet from his side that blinded him and showered him in a column of stinking, brown water. He froze, terrified that he was about to face the monster Decimus had spoken of, the one which had driven Varrus beyond the edge of sanity.

Trembling, he waited for it to rise from the waters to claim him, but, instead of some scaly dragon, a flash of white like the belly of a dead fish became visible just below the surface. As he watched, the white grew clearer and formed human shape. At first it floated face down, with its arms hanging beneath it; then, very gently, it turned over, as if to take a last look at the life it had left behind. Only it couldn't see, because it had no eyes.

Rufus swallowed hard, his throat filled with bile.

The toothless mouth was open wide in a rictus of sheer horror. As well as the eyes, the man's nose and ears had been removed. For it was a man, or had been before they had torn his sexual organs from his body with the red-hot pincers.

As he watched, the broken body continued its gentle roll and, with hardly a ripple, disappeared below the surface.

'Come.' Cupido shook him by the shoulder. 'Now I am certain we have no time to lose.'

Rufus shook his head to clear it.

'Hurry,' Cupido repeated. 'Did you not recognize him? Before the Emperor's executioners improved his looks he was Marcus Agrippa, a decurion of the Guard and one of Chaerea's closest allies. The net is closing. If Chaerea does not act soon he too will feel the hot kiss of the torturer's blade.'

Rufus relit the torch when they were clear of the chamber and to their relief they found the going easier as the tunnel and walkway widened to cope with the greater flow of water. And, Rufus noted, it was a much greater flow. Where before the waters had been slowmoving and their surface placid, they now rushed past and the surface was whipped to a filthy brown froth. A little further on, he noticed with alarm that the waters were lapping at the very edge of the culvert, and soon his feet were splashing in inches of sewage.

He stopped and turned to Cupido. 'Something is wrong here.'

The gladiator's eyes flashed in the torchlight. 'We have no choice. We have to go on. This is the only way we can reach Aemilia.'

Reluctantly, Rufus forced his way forward even though the flood rose first to his knees, then his thighs and finally to his waist.

He stopped again, and Cupido pushed him in the back. But this time Rufus did not move. He held the torch out in front of him.

'It's impossible. We have to go back. Look!'

Cupido followed his gaze and his heart quailed.

A dozen paces in front of them the torchlight was reflected by the surface of a new pool. This was one of the places where the roof shelved sharply away. At the far end of the pool only inches separated the glittering surface from the roof. The tunnel was impassable.

Rufus shook his head in despair. They had failed.

'Come, we will find another way,' he said, although he knew there was none. He put a hand on Cupido's shoulder, but the gladiator shrugged it off.