Douglas Jackson: Caligula

They both heard the running footsteps, but a night and a day of fear and tension had sapped any will he had to react.

'There! The assassin.'

There were four of them, burly Praetorians with the battle madness in their blood. They had spent the last hours chasing shadows and not knowing who was friend and who enemy. Three wanted to cut him down where he stood, but their leader ordered them to put up their swords. They disarmed him and two of them bound him, while the others took Aemilia by the arms.

'Caesar will have his justice and it will not be as merciful as a blade.'

Rufus's bonds were so tight he wondered his hands did not come off. The soldiers pushed him roughly towards the palace, taking turns to prick him with their swords if he lagged. He tried to meet Aemilia's eyes. At least he could say farewell. But she had her head bowed and her expression was hidden behind the curtain of her corn-gold hair.

They had gone barely a hundred paces when they stopped abruptly.

'Kneel, slave.' The commander kicked him in the back of the knees and forced him down with Aemilia at his side. 'Kneel before your Emperor.'

Rufus heard the footsteps approaching, but didn't raise his head. What did it matter if Chaerea killed them? He had lost so many friends: Fronto, his father and mentor; Livia, whom he had not loved enough; and Cupido, best and bravest of them all. Would it be such a hardship to join them? Then he remembered Gaius, the son he had barely known, and felt a stab of pain as he realized the boy would grow up alone and a slave. For a fleeting moment he considered giving up Aemilia's secret, but what was the point? It wouldn't save him, and it would undoubtedly condemn her. Chaerea wouldn't leave a single one of Caligula's line alive. At least this way there was a chance she would survive.

'He is one of the assassins, Caesar,' the Praetorian leader said. 'We found him standing over the Emp- the former Emperor, with blood on his clothes and a sword in his hands. Should we execute him now, or do you want him with the rest?'

Rufus's tired mind tried to send him a message. Something wasn't quite right, but he was too exhausted to work it out. Assassin? Yes, he was an assassin, but how did they know?

'Execute him?' Rufus recognized that voice, but it was different, changed somehow. The muscles in his neck bunched as he waited for the sword to fall. 'Should we execute him?'

Seconds passed and he found he was still alive, so he looked up. Not Chaerea. Claudius. A taller, straighter Claudius who stood between Callistus, wearing a charitable smile his face was never intended for, and Narcissus, who contrived to look bored and conceited at one and the same time. They were surrounded by Praetorians, whom Rufus now recognized as Cupido's Wolves.

'Execute him?' the new Emperor of Rome repeated. 'No, I don't think so. Who would look after my elephant?'