Rome's Executioner (48 page)

‘How dare you break into my home,’ a low, female voice said threateningly.

Vespasian and Paetus spun round to see a beautiful, slender woman in her mid-forties glaring at them from one of the many doorways off the atrium. She was unmistakably Antonia’s daughter, fine boned and haughty; but whereas Antonia’s eyes were clear and wide hers were dark and mean; the lines that ran from their corners curved down from frowning, not up from smiling. Her mouth was small and her lips full, like her mother’s, but they were set in a sneer that seemed to be permanently fixed upon her ivory-skinned face.

‘We are here to escort you to your mother’s house,’ Paetus replied, stepping towards her.

‘On whose authority and for what reason?’ Her voice had become wary and even lower.

‘On the Emperor’s and the Senate’s authority; you are to come with us immediately.’

‘I will do no such thing until you tell me for what reason.’

‘You have been found guilty of your late husband Drusus’ murder and are to be handed over to the Lady Antonia so that she can decide your fate,’ Paetus answered, stopping just in front of her.

She fixed him with a vicious glare. ‘I am dead then.’

‘Not at the hand of your own mother. Tiberius has shown mercy by giving you to her.’ Paetus layed a hand on her shoulder. ‘Come with me, lady.’ Livilla’s right fist came up from her side and thumped into Paetus’ chest; she turned and ran, leaving Paetus standing motionless, his hand still stretched out. Vespasian instantly sprang forward and, constricted as she was by her silken stola, caught her by the hair within a few paces. Shrieking like a harpy and writhing like a Babylonian whore, Livilla tried to break from his grasp; long nails slashed at his face and sharp teeth drew blood from his arm. Behind him men of the Urban Cohort came flooding in through the door to hold back members of Livilla’s household rushing to their mistress’s aid. As he wrestled with her she forced him around until he could see Paetus over her shoulder. He had sunk to his knees. Blood soaked his tunic and toga and he gazed down incredulously at the golden hilt of a dagger that protruded from his chest.

With an animal roar Vespasian tightened his grip on Livilla’s hair and pulled back his right fist, causing Livilla to go limp in submission; a look of terror filled her eyes. Vespasian pulled her upright by the hair, looked at her in blind fury and spat in her face; with a rolling snarl of hatred he slammed his fist into her full lips. Blood exploded from her, covering her face and splattering his as his blow split her lips in several places and shattered her front teeth. He let her drop and she crumpled, howling, to the floor; savagely kicking her belly in the hope that she might be pregnant, he stepped over her as Paetus collapsed slowly onto his back.

Kneeling down, he lifted his friend’s head in his hand; his skin was waxen and pallid.

Paetus looked up at him with fading eyes. ‘Bit of mess, eh, old chap,’ he whispered. ‘Keep an eye on young Lucius for me, won’t you?’

‘I will, my friend,’ Vespasian replied with tears welling up in his eyes. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘Silly me, I thought that she was just a woman.’ The breath left him in a slow rattle and his eyes glazed over. Vespasian laid Paetus’ head down and passed the palm of his hand over his face to close his eyelids.

‘Have some of your men guard his body until his wife comes to claim it, centurion,’ he ordered, ‘then follow me and bring that bitch with you.’

Vespasian stepped out into the warm sun and descended the steps with Livilla, bloodied, face swollen, moaning, walking unaided behind him, escorted by the centurion and four of his men. His eyes were hard and set in a fixed stare as he tried to control himself; all he wanted to do was to rip Livilla’s throat out with his teeth. How could Tiberius have been so merciful towards her?

‘Livilla!’ shrieked a shrill female voice from across the street.

Apicata stood behind the screening century of the Urban Cohort brandishing a long, thin-bladed knife. Her clothes were in tatters and her cheeks and arms were covered in fresh, deep scratch marks; blood lined her fingernails.

‘Livilla, look at me, you Gorgon’s miscarriage!’

Livilla looked up and focused through puffy eyes.

‘I did this to you, Livilla,’ Apicata screamed triumphantly. ‘It was me. I wrote to Tiberius. I told him how you got the poison from your physician Eudemus, and how Drusus’ body slave Lygdus administered it. They were both tortured and confirmed it.’ She cackled hysterically and waved the dagger at Livilla. ‘You took my husband and caused the death of my son and now they’ve taken my other two children from me, but I don’t care, Livilla, I don’t care because I’ve got you – you’re finished, Livilla, finished! And this is what I think of you.’

She lifted the knife above her head, placed both hands on the hilt and, with another high-pitched scream, forced the blade down and under her lower rib; she convulsed and doubled up. Then she lifted her face to Livilla, blood seeping from the corners of her mouth and her nostrils.

‘This is what awaits you!’ she howled and, with a look of wideeyed, manic concentration, she forced the blade up into her heart and died without another sound.

Gaius was waiting for Vespasian in Antonia’s atrium looking agitated.

‘Where’s Paetus?’ he asked as Vespasian stepped through the door.

Vespasian made no reply. One look at his expression and a quick glance at Livilla’s ruined face was enough to tell the story.

‘Oh, I see,’ Gaius mumbled. ‘I’m very sorry, dear boy.’

Vespasian nodded in acknowledgement as Livilla was led past him, now visibly shaking. Vespasian stared at her with hatred. ‘She deserves to die, uncle, but she’ll only get banished to live out her days on some island. No mother would order the death of her child.’

‘This is an unnatural day,’ Gaius said, almost apologetically. ‘I have to go back to the Senate. I’m afraid you’re going to have to join me once you’ve delivered Livilla to Antonia.’

‘As you wish, Uncle,’ Vespasian replied numbly. ‘What’s happening now?’

‘It’s rather unpleasant but I can’t see how it can be avoided,’ Gaius said, shaking his head and walking out.

‘Bring her this way,’ Pallas said, appearing through the columns at the far end of the atrium. ‘The Lady Antonia is waiting.’

‘Thank you, centurion.’ Vespasian walked forward and took hold of Livilla’s arm. ‘I can manage her now. Wait for me outside.’

Vespasian, leading Livilla, followed Pallas through the house until they came to the door that led down to Antonia’s private prison where Rhoteces and Secundus had been incarcerated. Pallas pushed it open and descended the damp stone steps.

Livilla started to struggle as she caught the scent of fear and desperation that wafted up from the forbidding, dank corridor below. ‘Where are you taking me?’ she shrieked, squirming in Vespasian’s strong grip.

‘To see your mother, bitch,’ he growled, pushing her through the door.

Antonia was waiting for them in the low corridor outside what had been Rhoteces’ cell.

‘That it has come to this’, she said, shaking her head and regarding her daughter with cold, menacing eyes, ‘grieves me more than you will ever know, Livilla.’

‘Mother, Mother, please,’ Livilla cried, breaking away from Vespasian and running to kneel at Antonia’s feet and clasping her knees. ‘Please, Mother, forgive me.’

With a sharp crack Antonia slapped her daughter across her broken face. ‘Forgive you? You, who killed your own husband; you, who would have tortured Caenis, the daughter I should have had, had I not intervened; you, who were prepared to see your own son die to achieve your aims. You ask me for forgiveness?’

‘I beg you, Mummy.’

‘Don’t you dare be familiar with me, whore!’ Antonia screamed, pulling away from Livilla’s grasp. ‘There is no love between us any more, nor will there ever be again.’ She swung open the door of the cell. ‘Get in there.’

Meekly, Livilla obeyed and crawled whimpering into the fetid cell. Antonia pulled the door shut behind her and locked it. She threw the key to Pallas.

‘Keep it, Pallas. Don’t give it back to me even if I beg you to; Vespasian is your witness to my order,’ she commanded, pulling a stool in front of the door and sitting down.

‘What are you going to do, domina?’ Vespasian asked.

Antonia folded her hands on her lap. ‘What I must. The Emperor lost his only son because of my daughter. Livilla was prepared to sit by while her son died through poison; so, to end it, I will do the same. Bring me food and water once a day, Pallas; I will sit here and wait for my daughter to die.’

At these words a long screech erupted from the cell and fists pounded at the door.

Vespasian stepped forward. ‘But domina, to kill one’s own child goes against all tha…’ Pallas’ hand clamped over his mouth, silencing him and pulling him back. Vespasian turned to face him and saw for the first time an expression written over the Greek’s normally neutral face: anger.

‘It shall be as you command, mistress,’ Pallas articulated deliberately whilst staring into Vespasian’s eyes. He turned and pulled Vespasian back up the steps. As they neared the top Vespasian glanced back. Antonia sat, hands clasped in her lap, impervious to the cries of her daughter behind her, staring fixedly at the smoke-blackened wall.

Pallas escorted Vespasian back through the house as Livilla’s screams echoed around the corridors.

‘Vespasian,’ Caenis called, running up to him as they reentered the atrium, ‘what’s happening?’

He wrapped his arms around her and nestled his head in her hair. ‘A demonstration of your mistress’s strength of will: she has passed a death sentence on her own daughter and is acting as the executioner herself.’ He let go of Caenis and jabbed his finger repeatedly towards of the source of the now hysterical screaming. ‘No matter how much she hates her,’ he shouted at Pallas, ‘how can she do that?’

‘She has to, master,’ Pallas said, his face now a study in neutrality. ‘If she doesn’t then she knows that for honour’s sake Tiberius will have his revenge for his son in far more terrible way. Claudius, Caligula and Gemellus will all die and with their deaths he will take away her power.’

‘If that’s what it takes to hold on to power in Rome then I want to go back to my estates.’

Caenis looked up at him, shaking her head slowly as the screams continued. ‘No, my love, you stay here and learn from her strength. Pallas is right: she cannot afford to force Tiberius into a position whereby he is honour-bound to kill the rest of his family.’

‘Why not? Caligula is my friend and I wish him no harm, but I’ve seen what he’s like and I know that he will be the worst kind of emperor. It would be for the greater good if Tiberius were free to choose a suitable man to succeed him.’

‘Do you really think that he’ll do that? Or will he just choose someone infinitely worse so that he’s remembered, by comparison, in a better light? A
real
tyrant,’

Recollecting the unstable old man on Capreae, Vespasian did not need to think long about the answer. ‘He’d choose a tyrant and it would amuse him, because …’ He stopped and a look of comprehension slid over his face. He began to relax. ‘So we’re better off having someone like Caligula, however profligate and base he may be, because at least he will have the restraining influence of Antonia over him?’

‘I would think so, master, which is why I would not have you try to change her mind.’ Pallas held up the key to Livilla’s cell. ‘I won’t give this back to my mistress until she has done her duty to Rome. It’s better for us all this way.’

Vespasian stared at the key; with a shock he realised that giving it to Pallas was an admission by Antonia that she could not trust her maternal instincts not to overrule her sense of duty. ‘She doesn’t want to do this, does she?’

‘Of course not, would you?’

‘And there is no other way?’

‘Not unless she took the knife to her daughter’s throat. But she couldn’t do that – who could? So she must bear her daughter’s screams as she slowly dies. She will see it as her punishment for infanticide, but she is willing to take that punishment in order to fulfil her obligation to Rome.’

Vespasian looked back towards the screaming. ‘Yes, I think I can see that… and I must applaud her for it. She’s paying a high price indeed, but a necessary one, I suppose, to fulfil her duty.’

Pallas shrugged. ‘She has the strength and, in the end, it’s no more than she can afford.’

‘For that I suppose she must be grateful.’ Vespasian looked back at Caenis and sighed. ‘Now I should find the strength to go and do my duty.’

Caenis reached up and stroked his cheek. ‘You’ll find the strength to do it, my love; one way or another.’ She smiled.

He stood back and gazed at her. He wanted nothing more than to bury himself deep within her and cleanse himself of the cares and horrors of the day, but he knew that it was not yet over. ‘Pallas,’ he said quietly, ‘would you be so good as to have Caenis escorted to my uncle’s house – I don’t think your mistress will have any use for her services over the next few days.’

‘I shall see to it personally, master.’

‘I’ll see you later, my love,’ Vespasian said, raising her chin and kissing her gently on the mouth.

‘Where are you going?’

‘To the Senate House to do what my uncle thinks may be a very unpleasant duty. I don’t know what it is but it will seem as nothing compared to what Antonia is doing.’

He kissed her once more with passion and then, with Livilla’s screams still resounding in his ears and the image of his benefactress sitting, waiting placidly for her daughter’s death in his mind, he walked away, steeled by Antonia’s unselfish resolve.

The Senate was in uproar as Vespasian looked through the open doors. Standing in front of the two Consuls at the far end, and flanked by rows of baying senators sitting on their folding stools on the stepped levels that ran down either side of the house, were two children: a boy of about fourteen and a small girl of no more than seven.

‘And I ask you, Conscript Fathers,’ Consul Trio was bellowing at the top of his voice, ‘how can we be seen to pass such a sentence on two children, so obviously innocent of any crime.’