Blood Games (16 page)

Petronius stepped back, freeing himself from Saint-Germain's grasp. “No, you won't.” He made a curt nod of dismissal to Xenophon, and when the Greek had gone, he turned again to Saint-Germain. “It's a foolish waste, all of it."

Inwardly Saint-Germain was stung, but he recognized the intent of the comment and adapted his manner to it. “Indeed. But wise men have been saying that for centuries, and even they have been ignored."

An appreciative flash lit Petronius’ dark blue eyes. “And who am I to contradict wise men?” His voice caught, and then he went on with the same smooth manner he had always used. “I will not trouble you with farewells, since they always degenerate into unbecoming pathos. Take the statue, deliver my papers, and do not forget me for a little while."

"And my harp? What would it please you to hear?” He found the pretense difficult to maintain now, and he could not make his tone as light as Petronius'.

"I leave that up to you. By that time, I'll probably be too drunk to care.” Abruptly his mood changed. “Dis consume your harp. Take what I've given you and go. Leave tonight. Leave now. If I have to watch you, I'll untie my bandages at once. Let them think what they want of me—that I am a cynical lover of pleasure. I don't want the other known. So go. Go.” He almost thrust Saint-Germain from the room.

"If that is your wish,” Saint-Germain said from the door.

"Yes. Your things will be sent later. Go. In the name of whatever god protects you, go.” His voice had become harsh and his face pale.

Saint-Germain nodded. “I'll be gone within the hour. May it be as you wish it to be.” He turned away down the short corridor that led to the guestrooms on the south side of the house.

Only when he had heard Saint-Germain's footsteps fade did Petronius let himself say, “Farewell, my truest friend,” before he turned his attention to greeting his guests at dinner.

TEXT OF LETTER FROM THE TRIBUNE DONATUS EGNATIUS BALBO TO HIS FELLOW-OFFICER LUCINIUS URSUS STATILE, STATIONED AT ARIMINUM.

Ursus, you old bear:

Rumor has it that the Cat's Paw Legion is going to Greece in the autumn. Our general has been hearing palace talk, and he is convinced that Nero is intending to participate in the Olympic Games there. The Emperor has long said that he would like to see such a competition, but hasn't indicated that he thought he could take part. That, it seems, has changed.

You've probably heard about Petronius’ suicide last month. They say that the banquet was the best he's ever given. One of my cousins was there, and toward the end, Petronius gave him ten silver goblets. He gave gifts to everyone there, and joked with them until he was gone. I know that he's supposed to have plotted against Nero, and Tigellinus condemns him at every turn, but Tigellinus was always envious of Petronius, and I wouldn't trust his motives for a moment.

Suspicion is still on Corbulo, though it has lessened of late. That is why he thinks we may go with the Emperor, after all. And imperial attention is better for advancement than a war or a plague any day, and much less trying. I look forward to those Games. I think that the Emperor may want to acknowledge Corbulo's service at last, and Greece would be an excellent place to do it. The general is less optimistic, but that is to be expected. After the foolish things his son-in-law has done, and the trouble he caused, I can well understand the attitude of caution the general has adopted.

Another rumor making the rounds at the moment concerns the Emperor and Statilia Messalina, who was Vestinus’ wife. Of course, with Vestinus dead because of his foolish alliance to Seneca and Piso, Statilia Messalina is free to marry again. I can't recall whether this will be the fourth or fifth time. Though why she should bother to marry the Emperor confounds me. They've been in and out of each other's beds for months. She may want power, and marriage to Caesar is one way to have it, though it's often a little uncertain with Nero.

Zaducchur, the Cappadocian gladiator that Almericus Hilarius Arval owns, has bought his freedom and has become a partner in the Great School. You remember him, don't you? He was the one who killed ninety-seven men in one hour last year. He's a real loss to the Games, but I suppose it was wise. He's not so young anymore, almost twenty-five, and it was to be expected he would retire soon. Upon his purchasing his freedom, the Vestals presented him with an oak wreath. Nero was furious, but that's hardly surprising.

Work on the Golden House continues, and it is quite amazing to see. The main building is simply gigantic, and the gardens grow more fantastic from year to year. There are woodlands and fields, as if you were deep in the country instead of within the walls of Rome. The largest of the lakes, near the Via Sacra, has stopped traffic and new roads have had to be built to get around the latest extension. Three blocks of insulae have been torn down to make way for another branch of the palace. You would be astounded to see all the things that have been gathered into that building, incomplete though it is. The Emperor has commissioned the muralist Fabullus to do the walls and ceilings. I admire his work, but find that man's behavior insufferable. He refuses to work more than two hours a day—and demands a full day's payment for those two hours—and he always wears a toga when he works. Such affectation!

Expect to see me at the end of May. I have promised my father that I would visit his estate outside of Mutina before returning to duty, but that should not take too long. It will be good to see you again. I've missed your lies about the women you've had.

Until the end of May, then, good fortune to you.

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IN THE CALDARIUM of the Claudian Baths, the steam rose in clouds through the softly lit room. There was a gentle murmur of conversation from the largest of the pools, where a number of men relaxed in the hot water.

There was another, smaller, shallower pool off to the side, and it was here that Caius Ofonius Tigellinus sat, resting his painful limbs. Standing beside him were two procurators attached to the Praetorian Guard. If the heat made them uncomfortable in their paludamenti, metal loricae and high-laced caligulae, they made no complaint and only their reddened faces revealed their discomfort.

Beside Tigellinus sat Cornelius Justus Silius, the hot water making him sweat as he listened to the Guard's commander speak.

"It is unfortunate about Petronius, for it circumvented justice, but it can't be helped now. There are other problems I must talk to you about, and this is an excellent time, wouldn't you agree?"

Actually, Justus thought that it was unbearable, but he said, “There is a certain privacy here, it's true."

"All Rome takes the baths, and who is to say what is done here? Also, as my physician insists that I bathe in hot water twice a day, I feel I must use my time to advantage.” He sighed and moved slightly in the hot water. His skin was noticeably pink even in the muted light of the caldarium.

"Have you noticed any relief?” Justus asked, immediately at his most solicitous.

"At times. At others, nothing seems to help me. Well, the outcome is with Apollo and Jupiter, and there is no sense for me to be worried.” His next words were brisker. “You said you had some information to impart to me. What is it?"

Justus looked uneasily at the two Praetorians, and lowered his voice. “I have cause to worry, Commander."

"So have we all.” Tigellinus sighed.

"No, truly, Ofonius, this is not of that nature.” He leaned forward and the water sloshed around his chest. It was impossible to represent properly the suspicions he had in this setting. He determined to overcome this disadvantage, and tried to overlook the steam, the heat and his undignified position. “I have heard certain things that disquiet me. You know that the equestrian classes are unhappy with the Emperor, and it is inevitable that another conspiracy be directed against him. It will happen. It must. And when it occurs, there will be greater unrest and confusion than already plagues us."

"I'm aware of this,” Ofonius Tigellinus said, sounding bored.

"I have twice been approached, in the most circuitous way, by discontented Senators who look only to find the right leader before they rise again in open revolt."

This was rather more interesting. “Go on."

"I have found nothing certain yet, but before I proceed, I want to be sure I am safe from official wrath if I take the time to learn more from these men. I am willing to do everything I can to protect the Emperor, but I must, myself, be protected. Should the men be discovered and my name be among those they mention, then I would find myself in desperate straits. But if you are aware of my intention, and if you can make yourself available to me covertly, I believe that I can do you a great deal of good. I have served that way once already."

"I know that.” Tigellinus had the largest network of spies that had ever existed in Rome, and there was almost nothing that escaped the vigilance of his men. Yet one of Justus Silius’ rank and station might be very useful. He sighed as he moved. The hot water was not doing much to alleviate his pain today. “Let me consider your offer. No matter what is finally decided, I know I may depend on your loyalty. However, if it appears that you can gain access to the traitors, I will be more than willing to give you full authorization to proceed with your infiltration without the possibility of later recrimination."

"Thank you, Commander,” Justus said enthusiastically. “You are helping me tremendously. To have the privilege of aiding the Emperor, no matter how menial that service is, must be the greatest honor to any true Roman."

This effusive remark disgusted Tigellinus. The more he had to deal with Cornelius Justus Silius, the less he liked or trusted him, but he could not afford to lose so useful a tool, so he kept his face set in severe lines and said, “The virtues, as ever, are in short supply."

Justus was not fooled by Tigellinus, and it angered him. It was demeaning to have to court this Sicilian who had been a fisherman in Greece and a farmer in Italy, and had risen to power because of his luck in breeding racehorses. “If I learn anything, you will know of it. But,” he could not resist the temptation to add with ill-concealed malice, “those who stand revealed may be more than you bargained for. Roman nobility has enjoyed its intrigues for as long as there have been buildings on the Palatine Hill."

"It does no one credit to be part of illicit dealings.” He no longer wanted to deal with Justus, and would have ordered him to leave. On the chance that Justus might know something else of worth, Tigellinus decided to ask a few more questions. “Your wife is a Clemens, is she not?"

"Atta Olivia, yes. It is sad to see so great a house fallen on such difficult times. Maximus Tarquinus Clemens, my honored father-in-law, has allowed me to give him certain...assistances on behalf of his family.” Justus could never speak of that without gloating.

Tigellinus nodded. So the speculation about the nature of Justus’ marriage was not inaccurate. The girl had been sold for the sake of restoring the family fortunes. As he looked through the steam at Justus, Tigellinus thought that there were few men he would like less to be indebted to. “I am certain he is grateful,” he said, knowing that Justus was the sort who would use his power over his wife's family mercilessly.

There was one other barb that Justus wanted to plant before he left the wretchedly hot room for the frigidarium, where he could relax in the cool water and ogle the young women who waited in the tepidarium for men to spend a few hours alone with them. “There is something worrying me, Commander,” he said slowly.

"What?” The question was short.

"That foreigner, the one who brought Petronius’ will to Rome. I fear that he may be more dangerous than has been realized.” He forced himself to speak thoughtfully as he relished the revenge he would have on Olivia. “He is quite rich, and lives very much apart from Roman society."

"Not quite apart. Petronius liked him well enough, and the Emperor himself has shown Franciscus favor.” Tigellinus had no intention of embroiling himself in Justus’ private feuds. “He owns no gladiators, only bestiarii and charioteers, which is hardly the way of a politically ambitious man. His stables house less than four hundred horses, so you can't say that he takes that enterprise too seriously. In his will, Petronius said that Saint-Germain was amusing himself in Rome, liking our society for its venality, and that it was his interest in music that made him a worthwhile companion, nothing more.” That ought to be sufficient, Tigellinus thought, wondering what it was that the foreigner had done to earn Justus’ enmity.

"A very useful deception,” Justus said, feeling annoyed by Tigellinus’ indifference. “Petronius himself had such a pose, and you know what it masked.” Too late, Justus remembered that it was Tigellinus who had manufactured the evidence that had condemned Titus Petronius Niger.

"Yes,” Tigellinus said, sounding very bored, “I know precisely what it masked."

Justus was determined to salvage his argument. “Perhaps that was not as it appeared, but I tell you, the man Franciscus is more sinister than you think. He goes everywhere, has access to the highest ranks in the empire, and is welcomed by almost everyone.” For an instant the memory of his wife in Saint-Germain's arms, languid with desire, rose in his mind. “He is insufferably arrogant! He mocks us all! When you finally recognize the danger he represents, it will be too late. I warn you."

"It would do no harm to keep watch on his movements,” Tigellinus said reflectively. “His villa is beyond the Praetorian camp, as I recall. It should not be too difficult to have the Watch at the Viminalis and Collina Gates keep note of his coming and going."

"And why there only? Why not the Capena and Salutaris as well?” Inadvertently he struck the water with his clenched hand. The sound was pleasant, and reduced the force of Justus’ demands to childish petulance.