S.J.A. Turney - The Great Game

‘About what?’ demanded Rufinus irritably.

‘Everyone says she should have died for it, like the snivelling little shit you stuck with a spear, but Commodus was lenient. He’s sent Lucilla and her cousin and daughter into exile in the imperial estate on the island of Caprea, down near Pompeii. Sounds a bit too much like a holiday to me, but she was apparently spitting feathers about it all. I say she should think herself lucky her head’s still on her shoulders.’

Rufinus nodded, a chill running down his spine at the thought that such a dangerous woman, and whom he had crossed and foiled, was still alive. One should never leave an enemy alive, they said.

‘What about the others? Annianus and the mercenaries and so on? And the emperor’s other sister?’

Icarion shrugged. ‘Dead. Annianus and Annia Aurelia were executed quietly in the palace grounds and their bodies returned to their families. The others were all herded off the Tarpeian Rock, just like back in the old days. Brutal, it was. Dozens of them. Not Saoterus, though…’

Rufinus’ head shot up and he fixed the small, dark Praetorian with a hard look. ‘What?’

‘Saoterus. The advisor? The freedman?’

‘I know who he is. What’s happened to him?’

‘He was strangled in his cell.’ Icarion sounded confused.

‘What was he doing in a cell?’

‘As one of the conspirators… Paternus grabbed him with all the others in the amphitheatre.’

Rufinus staggered backwards and stumbled against the wall. ‘But Saoterus wasn’t part of this!’

It was Mercator’s turn to frown. ‘He’d been noted as one of the visitors to Lucilla’s villa. You were the one who reported it!’

Rufinus felt as though the world had been swept out from under him. Had he been responsible to the brutal execution of an innocent man? Possibly the only man in the palace keeping Commodus’ government on track? His blood ran cold.

No. He thought back over the time he’d returned to report. He had been quite specific about Saoterus’ innocence when he’d reported. The fault was down to Paternus, once more. Again, the man had abused his position to dispose of someone he disliked; possibly that he merely considered inconvenient. Dis; Saoterus… how long before the next innocent crossed the prefect?

‘Saoterus was no conspirator.’

‘Well he’s gone anyway. Dumped with the rest of the bodies. Come on. It doesn’t do to keep an emperor waiting. Perennis said he wasn’t in the best of moods this afternoon.’

Rufinus nodded. He could guess why. The three men scurried through the biting wind to the stables, where the master of the horse quickly arranged three steeds to take them across Rome. The journey was strangely subdued, as was the city they passed through.

The people’s excitement of the grand games had been muted somewhat by the attempt on their beloved emperor’s life, despite Commodus’ best efforts to proceed with the day as though nothing had happened. At the same time, though Rufinus’ spirit soared at the knowledge that he had achieved the unachievable and saved his emperor’s life, the cost had been great to the innocents caught in the middle.

And beneath his elation, and beneath his sadness, a dark wyrm of hatred seethed for the man who had engineered almost everything that had happened in his life since he left the Tenth legion: Paternus.

The great palace of the emperors of Rome stood on the Palatine hill, brooding over the city it dominated. Successive rulers had added wings, complexes, gardens and more, until it covered a greater area than the forum itself. The glinting silver-and-white forms of Praetorians moved around the area, going about their tasks with efficiency. Others stood rigidly at attention by doors and gateways of the palace.

With no ceremony, nor exchange of words, the three men were admitted to a grand structure that led off the square at the centre of the Palatine hill; the tallest and most magnificent building visible, the structure had a delicate columned portico with a colourful pediment, gold and white columns granting it an almost divine appearance.

Up the steps, past the guardsmen and between the beautiful columns, they went, Rufinus’ sour expression hovering constantly on the verge of open rage. The huge bronze doors of the building opened as they approached, as though by some strange mechanism, revealing a room forty feet square.

The floor was a complex design of multi-coloured marbles from around the empire: a dazzling display of opulence and power mirrored by the columns of the same material lining the side walls. The coffered ceiling was gold and reflected the braziers and lamps that lit the hall more than did the delicate glass windows high up near the roof. Behind the side columns, red and gold designs on the walls picked out the great creatures of myth, and centaurs, gryphons and hydra seemed to move and dance in the shimmering light. Doors to left and right and in the rear corners all had their own Praetorians.

The centrepiece of the room, though, was the throne. Installed by Domitianus in the apse at the rear, the great gilded seat had been eschewed as over-the-top by the Antonine dynasty, though the same apparently did not hold for the new emperor, whose cloak of ermine and Tyrian purple wool lay discarded upon it.

The emperor himself had his back to the door, deep in conversation with Perennis. Rufinus took a deep breath as the three men crossed the room towards the ruler of Rome and came to a halt a respectful distance away, waiting to be noticed.

The low angry exchange between the two men came to an end and Perennis looked up, spotting the new arrivals. ‘Guardsman Rufinus is here, majesty.’

Commodus spun on his heel and Rufinus was unsurprised to see the look of drawn anger on his face. More surprising were the signs that he had recently been crying. It was hard to imagine the great Aurelius greeting visitors with fresh tears in his eyes, though his son seemed more prone to public emotion.

‘Rufinus!’ the great man snapped.

‘Majesty?’

‘Tell me about the conspiracy you unearthed at the villa.’ There was no preamble, no sign of appreciation, just a direct, almost accusatory question.

‘Of course, Majesty. There were regular meetings, usually monthly, between the conspirators. They met in a private triclinium in your noble sister’s palace and…’

‘Cut to the chase. Who were they?’

Rufinus bowed his head, sure already where this was going. ‘With respect, majesty, the conspirators have been detailed and apprehended… along with master Saoterus, I believe.’

The change of tack seemed to throw Commodus and he frowned. ‘So you claim never to have labelled him with the others?’

Rufinus shook his head and then straightened. ‘Majesty, I reported master Saoterus’ visit to the villa but once to prefect Paternus. I attempted to make clear my impression that he was there on state business and not for any clandestine reason, an impression that was borne out when I returned and managed to speak to the man. He informed me of a deal he had come to propose, of which you yourself, majesty, had some part in the planning.’

Commodus nodded. ‘My generous offer. Why then does Paternus tell us that you listed my friend among the conspirators?’

Rufinus swallowed nervously. It was never a good thing to accuse a man in such high position of lies and treachery, but Paternus had crossed the line several times now, and Rufinus was beginning to wonder where the man would stop. If he would… ‘Majesty, I believe that the prefect held a personal grudge against master Saoterus. I fear that he may have deliberately misunderstood, or possibly even ignored, my testimony in order to remove your advisor from his position.’