S.J.A. Turney - The Great Game

‘Maybe you can walk back with us?’ the other girl asked, and something in her voice caused Rufinus to turn his gaze on her, tearing it with regret from the grey eyes of Senova. The second slave smiled sweetly, her eyes creasing in a pleasant manner.

‘Of course’ he replied evenly. ‘I have to patrol the Pecile, so I’ll drop you both off at the quarters on the way.’

‘Thank you, though I am only travelling to the entrance complex. You can drop me there before you walk on to the chambers with Senova.’

There was a hint of a knowing smile on her face and Rufinus snapped back to glance at the pale-skinned taller slave, only to see her flash a quick admonishing glance at her companion. His heart soared at that one tiny accidental admission.

‘Come on’ he said, his voice cracking slightly as they walked.

It was certainly the longest way round to the Pecile garden, but he needed the time to recover from the interview and as they strode past the barracks, Rufinus looked up at the building, wondering whether, as a newly-promoted junior officer, he would no longer be quartered there? Would Phaestor move him into the Praetorium? It was quite possible, particularly given Dis’ departure and the coming influx of new men. Or possibly he might even be moved into the palace proper, given his new role?

The security of the empress. It would have been a thing of great pride, were it not for the fact that he embodied the very thing he had been promoted to prevent; that his priority was the security of the emperor.

His wandering gaze fell upon the other slave girl as they walked, and he noted that her eyes darted out across the villa’s grounds nervously when she believed no one was looking. Curious.

Past Pompeianus’ palace they strode and Rufinus felt a smile tug at the corner of his mouth at the sound of a deep, ferocious growl somewhere in the huge garden. The noise of one of the former-general’s servants admonishing it in a panicked voice completed the job and his smile widened. Circumstances had not allowed for him to keep Acheron by his side and so he’d left the giant Sarmatian hunting hound within Pompeianus’ household, at least until the wound was fully healed. He had heard rumours of several other injuries appearing among the staff as they tried to feed, contain, or simply tend to the beast.

Perhaps if he moved quarters, he would finally be in a position to make room for the dog. Curiously, he found that even in such a short time, he had grown to enjoy the company of the great black beast in the scant moments he’d managed to spend with it. Somehow, providing Acheron with a stable life and a new, caring master seemed like the honourable thing to do, given his culpability in the events that had robbed Dis and Cerberus of their lives.

His mood threatened to darken at the recollection and he was once again vowing revenge against those murdering Praetorians when the slave girl paused at the top of the steps leading into the servants’ tunnel and he almost walked into her, making her lose her footing and have to grasp the side of the entrance, flashing an angry glance.

Shrugging apologetically, he followed them into the dim tunnel.

A few moments later they emerged into the garden and the girls paused at a junction in the path, exchanging pleasantries before the bronzed slave hurried into the huge entrance vestibule to attend to her duties. Rufinus swung open the door that led to the staircase, ushered Senova through and then closed it behind her, falling into step as they descended the stairs and strode along the lengthy, dimly lit corridor toward the slave chambers and the Pecile garden above.

He rolled a series of questions over his tongue before drawing breath to ask one of them.

‘Your friend…’

‘Galla?’

Rufinus nodded. ‘She’s been at the villa a while?’

‘A little longer than you, I suppose. Vettius bought her from Diogenes the slaver on one of his trips through Tibur. Why do you ask?’

Rufinus frowned and pursed his lips. ‘Is she alright? She’s not in any trouble, is she?’

Senova stopped and Rufinus had to backtrack a few steps to fall in next to her once again. ‘Again, why do you ask?’

‘She seems nervous, but she hides it well.’

Rufinus watched the girl carefully and saw almost exactly what he was expecting as she shrugged and replied ‘I hadn’t noticed.’ Her voice protested innocence, but her eyes spoke volumes. There was a moment in every boxing match, sometimes several, when the bout could be won or lost on anticipating an opponent’s move. Most fighters had a ‘tell’ when they were about to execute a feint, and if you didn’t know what to look for, the next thing you knew you’d be on your back with your mind swimming in black soup.

That ‘tell’ was almost always in the movement of the eyes. Senova’s had narrowed slightly and then flicked to the right for just a moment. Not a certain thing, but worth basing the possibility of a lost bout on.

‘Then you might want to keep an eye on her. I think she might be in danger somehow.’

Again, the flash of hidden understanding, covered over with a veil of innocence. ‘I will.’

They reached the bottom of the staircase that led up from the slave quarters to the Pecile garden and Rufinus opened the door open. ‘I enjoyed speaking to you again, Senova. Wish we could…’

She smiled. ‘I know. Enjoy your newfound authority.’

Rufinus watched as she turned toward the slave quarters and whatever business she had there, opening his mouth to reply but not knowing what words to use.

He watched her shapely sway until she disappeared from view into the wooden staircase assembly, and then turned back to his own duty.

Finally, clambering over the bodies of two innocent dead men, he had a foot on the ladder and could reach high enough to see over the wall of secrecy Lucilla had constructed. Extra care was now required. Nothing must slip if their sacrifice was to have had any worth.

TIME at the villa rolled on, the uncharacteristically mild late-winter giving way to a spring bursting with life. A positive attitude flourished throughout the complex, even down as far as the slaves. More attention was paid to the restoring and maintaining of the numerous gardens and even the dilapidated Canopus, whose only regular visitor in more than four decades was Pompeianus, had been returned to its former glory, the detritus of the years cleared out from the nymphaeum’s fountains and channels, the long pool cleaned and replenished, wooden arbours repaired and replanted with vines.

The guard had been bolstered with strong and loyal gladiators and Rufinus had quickly discovered, much to his relief, that the bulk of the new arrivals were good men who were happy to take on whatever duties their commanders assigned them.

Rufinus had initially revelled in the chance to run the security of the main palace area, though it had quickly become a humdrum task of assigning patrols and guards, dealing with supply of equipment, and complaints. It had also become apparent to him that, though Lucilla continued to hold her private gatherings, even close security were kept distant from all such private matters.

He had, however, taken as close an interest as possible and watched the arrivals roughly once a month, learning the names and positions of the regular visitors.

Marcus Ummidius Quadratus Annianus, generally referred to simply as Annianus. Some sort of cousin of Lucilla and Commodus, a middle-aged senator and former consul and a man who had clearly once been powerful and athletic, his body now gone to seed and his hair and beard were flecked heavily with pale grey, matching his sad eyes.

Ummia Cornificia Faustina, oft referred to with the moniker ‘Stina’ by her family. Sister of the aforementioned Annianus, she was also a cousin of Lucilla’s, a slightly-built woman in her early forties with a face battered and worn by years of troubles.