Blood Games

IN THE PRIVACY of Justus' study, the man in the outrageous wig paused by the window. He was in his middle thirties, with rather deep eyes, a long nose and a dissatisfied mouth. "I admit that your caution is understandable, Justus. The rumors from Germania are distressing, and it is perfectly true that Aulus Vitellius is an ambitious man. I admit that Galba is old. But then, I am not. And Caesar has assured me that I will be designated his heir."

"But it hasn't happened yet," Justus pointed out. He had been talking with Marcus Salvius Otho for the better part of an hour, and he had yet to be convinced to give public support to the new Emperor, Servius Sulpicius Galba.

"You have my word on it," Salvius said grimly.

Justus could not resist provoking his guest. "And if he does not? What if Galba names another heir?"

This time Salvius glared at Justus. "If Galba appoints another heir, he will regret it."

"Why should he?" Justus asked, for the first time beginning to be interested.

"Because if he does not live up to our agreement, I will rebel against him. More than one Caesar has fallen for forgotten promises. Most of the troops are with me, and they will fight if it comes to that." He began to pace the room.

"Do you know that? Have you asked?" Justus found Salvius' all-consuming vanity difficult to deal with; the wig, the spectacles he refused to wear in public although without them he could not see more than a dozen paces, his elaborate armor and jewelry, his silk clothing, mitigated against him in Justus' mind, though he respected Salvius' ambition.

"Yes," Salvius admitted after a moment. "There seemed a time when Nero had declared Galba an enemy and was seizing his property and lands, that Galba might not carry his claim. I made sure then that if support failed for him, it would come to me. I know that it is true now. I have guarantees of that." He tapped his lorica that was decorated with a representation of Mars ravishing Rhea Silvia while his woodpecker and vulture hovered above.

"And are you willing to gamble on it? Galba is well thought of in Rome."

"Galba is old!" Salvius shouted. "He's seventy! I'm thirty-six. I have experience. I'm willing to wait my turn. But I've got to be certain that there is support for me so that we can keep the state moving without interruption." He looked at one of the low chairs with two soft pillows lying in it. With a sigh he sat down. "Justus, listen to me. There are real advantages to be gained now. Galba will honor those who give their support to me, since I will be his heir, and that will mean that you will have my goodwill as well as Galba's."

"Provided you are the heir, and that this business in Germania doesn't become worse and that you can solve the problem with Vespasianus about Egyptian grain. Water theft is so common that a third of the Claudian Aqueduct is siphoned. There's also the matter of the pay owed the legions." Justus ticked these problems off on his fingers. "The situation here in Rome is far from stable."

"But that will change soon," Salvius insisted.

"I have only your word for that," Justus reminded him gently, deciding that it would not be wise to antagonize his visitor any further. "You weren't in Rome during the last of Nero's reign. Oh, I understand your position quite well, and I don't envy you. Your...association with Poppaea, and after you gave her up so that Nero could marry her, you couldn't very well remain here. I know that. But I think perhaps you don't know what those last few years were like. We've all learned to be very cautious. My own father-in-law, you know, was executed and his sons condemned to die in the arena because they were foolish in their choice of allies." He gave a fatalistic gesture. "It's made me very circumspect, Salvius. You can't imagine how shocked I was when I learned about my wife's family. The Clemens house is one of the oldest and most respected, and then this happened...."

Salvius hesitated. "I had forgotten about that. Yes, I do see why you want to be careful." He held out a rolled scroll to Justus. "You might take time to look this over. It's the reforms that Galba is planning. If you have anything you think should be added or deleted, make a note of it and we'll discuss it again in a few days, if I may call on you then?"

"Of course, of course. I'm flattered that you'd think of me in such circumstances. I want you to believe that I don't oppose you or Galba, but there have been so many rapid changes that I haven't quite had time to deal with it all." He rose, adjusting his toga and bowing. "It was good of you to come. I'm sorry I can't give you a prompt decision, but I want to be sure of how we all stand." He gave his best self-deprecating smile as he stood over Salvius.

Salvius got to his feet slowly. "I appreciate your position, Justus. May I tell the Emperor that you do not oppose him, in any case?"

"Of course you may do that," Justus said heartily and clapped one large hand to Salvius' back. "I can see you're doing the honorable thing, watching after the Emperor's interests so very carefully."

"I'm not entirely disinterested in the matter myself." Salvius made an attempt at humor. "You could say that your cooperation is less a present issue than a future present."

Dutifully Justus chuckled, taking smug satisfaction in knowing that he had won over Marcus Salvius Otho. He walked beside him to the door. "My doorman will show you out, Salvius. I'm very much looking forward to reading this." He held up the scroll with a grave, friendly look. "It bodes well that this Emperor, unlike the last, considers the wishes of the Senate as well as his own whims."

Salvius wore a self-satisfied expression. "You may be sure that the next Emperor will do so, as well." He turned away then and strode across the atrium toward the door.

He would have been less confident of Justus if he had been able to see his face then. His eyes narrowed with cunning and all the pleasure had gone out of his smile. He tapped the scroll against his leg, then went back into his library, calling to his new secretary. "Monostades, I will see the centurion from Germania now."

Monostades inclined his head as he paused in the doorway. "Do you want to see him in your study, or elsewhere?"

"Here will be fine. Make sure that we are left alone." He gestured his dismissal and sat back. So Marcus Salvius Otho wanted to wear the purple, did he? And was counting on the death of the aged Galba to give it to him. That path was an uncertain one. But if Salvius was aware of that, he might still have the advantage. Justus considered the matter dispassionately. Whatever the immediate advantages might be to siding with Salvius, there was the whole question of Galba's strength and public support. After the lavish young, flamboyant Nero, the old, stern Galba would be a disappointment to a populace grown used to spectacle and excitement. Salvius was another matter, having much of Nero's vanity and his luxurious tastes, but out of touch with Rome. Perhaps in time this would change. But Justus was not sure that time was available.

His thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of Monostades with his other guest. "Master, this is Caius Tuller, centurion under Aulus Caecina Alienus in Germania."

Tuller walked heavily into the room. He had the look of a career soldier. He was of a powerful build, and though he wore the toga virilis, he was obviously more used to lorica, caracalla and weapons. As was the fashion among the troops in the north, he had a short beard and his hair was somewhat longer than the prevailing mode in Rome.

"Tell me," Justus said as he rose to greet his visitor, smiling as if they were old companions having a reunion, "does your general still take his wife with him on campaigns and does she still wear that long purple cloak?"

The centurion's face relaxed. "Yes. And Caecina hasn't given up his taste in bright colors, either."

Justus gave an indulgent chuckle. "I haven't seen Caecina in years, but I can recall hearing him speak. He's a fine orator, your general."

"That he is," Tuller agreed. He was uncomfortable in these fine and unfamiliar surroundings. He looked to his host for help and Justus indicated the chair that Salvius had left but a few minutes before.

"I understand you have a message for me from Caecina. I'd like very much to hear it." Justus settled himself comfortably once more.

"Caecina is concerned about the new Emperor. He likes Galba well enough, but doubts that he is truly capable of assuming the duties of Emperor." Tuller ran a square, scarred hand over his beard. "I can't say that I blame him."

"Ah," Justus said smoothly, "but I understand that he intends to appoint Marcus Salvius Otho his heir, and he might be capable of handling those duties." He watched to see what effect this might have on the centurion.

"Otho..." He stared at Justus. "Otho will be Galba's heir? There's been no announcement."

"It is my understanding that he will be proclaimed heir quite shortly. Does that complicate your mission?" With one hand he touched the rolled parchment that lay on his desk.

"It might." The centurion nodded slowly. "But I said I would speak to you, and I will." He drew a deep breath and began what was obviously a carefully rehearsed speech. "You're aware how great abuses have been made with imperial power in the last few years. It is apparent that this cannot be allowed to continue if the Roman Empire is to remain the strongest power in the world. We need to find a leader who combines the appeal that Nero had for the common citizens and freedmen as well as someone who is respected by the Senate and the patricians. Caecina feels that, in spite of the many honors that have been given Galba, and with merit, he is not a man for the people and for that reason will not be a good ruler. He believes that Aulus Vitellius, who is now serving as governor-prefect of Germania, is the better choice and that it would be for the benefit of Rome to declare him Emperor."

"And that way, Caecina can keep a hand in government without any imperial risks, is that it?" Justus knew from the alarm he read in the centurion's eyes that his guess was very close. "I see. I begin to understand. How many Senators are you supposed to see before you return to Germania?"

Tuller looked terribly unhappy as he answered. "There are fifteen on my list. I've seen six."

"Good. Good. Let me know what success you have with them." He rose, concluding the brief interview.

"Don't you want to discuss this with me?" Tuller asked in a deeply offended voice.

"No, not yet. Because if you've seen so many of the Senators already, you may be certain that one of the Praetorian spies is watching you now, and will certainly make a report of everywhere you go. If you don't tell me anything more, then there will be little I can say to them when they come here asking for information."

"Praetorian spies," Tuller repeated heavily. "I had not thought that they would watch a fellow soldier."

"Praetorians aren't your fellow soldiers, Caius Tuller. They are a very special force, and no one knows that more than they do. Be careful of them. They've made Emperors more often than the legions have ever dreamt of doing." Justus stood by his study door, one hand on the latch. "I will send for you in a few days, and we will meet safely then."

The centurion had no choice but to leave. He accepted the dismissal with understanding. "Thanks for the warning. I'll have to be more careful, I see. I wish one of the others had told me about the spies."

"We don't like to mention such things in Rome," Justus said smoothly. "Where will a message find you?"

Tuller answered, "I am at the Inn of the Dancing Bear, near the old forum. I can read, so you may leave a sealed message for me there."

"Excellent. Expect to hear from me in three days." He stood aside to let the centurion out. When he had heard the soldier walk away through the atrium, Justus once again sat at his desk, and pulled a sheet of parchment from the chest beside him. He prepared his pen, then began a letter to Titus Falvius Vespasianus, governor-prefect of Egypt.

He was almost finished with the letter when the door behind him opened. "I am not to be disturbed, Monostades," he said, without turning.

"I am not Monostades," Olivia said in a small, tight voice.

"Olivia," Justus exclaimed, his eyes still on the parchment as he wrote. "You have not been to my study in months. What will you ask me to do for you this time, I wonder?" The mockery was plain and his light brown eyes brightened with pleasure.

"You may tell me what's become of my mother." It was not easy to keep from screaming at him, but that she knew was what he wanted her to do. Saint-Germain had taught her that, and now she refused to give Justus any of the satisfaction he wanted from her.

"Your mother?" He stopped to sign his name, then rolled the parchment into a scroll and reached for his signet.

"Surely you remember her," Olivia said sarcastically. "The wife of the man you betrayed? The mother of the sons you saw condemned? Her name is Romola. That may remind you." She stayed by the door. Being in her husband's presence was disgusting to her, and she was in his company as little as possible now. "What have you done to her? Where is she?"

Justus' expression as he turned to face his wife was one of the most ingenuous innocence. "She had so long expressed a wish to live away from Rome that I took her at her word. She has been moved to my estate near Brixillum on the Padus. You might not recall the property at first. I confess it is not my best holding."

"It is very likely your worst. You see, I do remember it. You once offered to sell it for two teams of racehorses." Her anger was hot within her, and she nurtured it, for it fought down her revulsion and gave her strength.

"How fortunate that I did not." His hot gaze rested on her. "Why do you want your mother, Olivia?"

"Why? She's all I have left in this world. I want to visit her, I want to be with her..." Here her voice cracked and she hesitated while she mastered herself. "I don't care if you sent her to the wildest outpost in the empire. I want to join her."

"It is unfortunate that she did not want to remain in Rome," Justus went on as if he had not heard what Olivia had said. "I offered to repair her house-in fact, I sent builders to do the work, and she refused to admit them or take anything from me." He toyed with the pen in his hand.

"I won't stop asking, Justus. I want to join her. I want to leave Rome. I want to leave you." It was a temptation, to be in the same room with him. She wanted so much to throw herself upon him with every weapon she had ever heard of in her hands so that she could return some little portion of the pain he had given her.

"But if you go to that estate, you won't be here to meet the new soldier I've found for you. He's reputed to be quite remarkable. Think of what you would miss, Olivia, if you left here." He put the pen aside. "You're planning to set your will against mine. Let me warn you now that just because your mother is out of Rome, it doesn't mean that she is out of my reach. It might take a few days longer, but my orders still protect her and your sister and her family." Slowly he stood up and advanced on Olivia.

In spite of all her good resolutions, she cowered as he came near her, one hand raised to fend him off. "Send me to her," she said.

Justus laid his hands on Olivia's shoulders and was delighted to feel a shaking that she could not control. "I've told you that you may not. And though it is true that you can petition the Senate for a divorce or separate maintenance, that would mean your mother would starve, and you with her. Your sister in Gallia might be posted to Armenia. It would also mean that you would have to endure having your reputation dragged through the courts, and that would make it impossible for you to marry again. Do you think that any man of honor would want to possess a woman who preferred to sleep with the lowest class of gladiators, men who were so brutal that the whores of the lupanar would not have them? Do you? And that is what would happen, little wife, I promise you. There are plenty to testify, including some of those very men." He relished the hatred in her eyes. "Do as you think best, Olivia. If you prefer dishonoring yourself and your family and a pauper's death to our marriage, you have only to tell me."

"One day, Justus, I will. When you cannot threaten me with my mother. On that day, I will denounce you, and all that you've done to me, and it won't matter what you say of me, because then at least I will be free of you, without any necessity to see you again." Her voice was steady and calm as she fixed him with a strange stare. In her mind, she thought of Saint-Germain, and the last time they had met. It had been shortly after Nero's death a few months ago, and they had taken advantage of the confusion to spend a few short hours in each other's arms. She could remember even now the tenderness of his touch and the gentle power of his lips.

"I prefer you this way, Olivia," Justus told her with a snide laugh. "I don't enjoy it when you cringe or become passive. You must tell me again sometime what it is you're going to do to me. I'll be interested to hear it." His hands tightened and he saw her go white around the mouth. "You'd like it better if I beat you now? Of course not. But you provoke me with this defiance. I am amused by it now, but at another time I might not be."

Through the hurt, Olivia watched her husband. "You're loathsome," she whispered, and the words were more terrible for the quiet, "you aren't worth my hatred. Contempt is all you deserve." With a single fast movement she broke out of his grip, ignoring the hurt that came as she did. She unlatched the door and stepped out of the study, saying as she did, "You are a sickness, my husband." Then she slammed the door, and apparently oblivious of the stares of the slaves around her, walked toward her wing of the house.

When Justus called Monostades to him a little later to hand him the scroll and give him instructions for its delivery, he was brusque with his secretary. "Go. Do as I've told you. I don't want anyone to disturb me again today," he snapped as Monostades hurried toward the door. "Not anyone, is that clear? Not anyone!"

TEXT OF A PROCLAMATION OF THE EMPEROR GALBA.

To all loyal citizens of Rome, the empire, and to the nobility and freedmen, my greetings:

It nears the time of the festival of the Saturnalia, a time of gifts and the pleasures of rejoicing. I will rejoice with you as well, for my heir will be with me, sharing with me responsibility and power so that he will not come to the purple unprepared and unknown to you.

Lucius Calpurnius Piso Licianus has officially been made my heir, and I know that you all will be proud that so noble a young man has consented to be part of my administration and to follow after me.

It is always a difficult decision to make, this selection of an heir. There are those who believe that they deserve such recognition more than others, and a few are misled into thinking that they have earned the honor through service. But though such actions are laudable, they are not sufficient. Piso Licianus will bring to the empire his faultless lineage and a character of the most dedicated and honorable.

As we approach the new year, let me remind all of you that there are a great many tasks before all of us, and that we must renew our dedication to the empire so that the great rifts of the past year may be mended. To that end, I caution you all against the various rumors that always make themselves heard in Rome. It is true that there are those who have been disappointed by recent events, but such matters are soon resolved among honorable men. The rumors that have come from Germania are not sufficiently important to be given attention. As an old soldier, I know how such rumors are subject to exaggeration. Do not be deceived by those who tell you that there will be a revolt in this province or that one. Our upheavals and battles are over. The great injustices that you all endured under Nero will be corrected, and we will return once again to those stern virtues that have made the empire as mighty as it is.

I hope you will share my satisfaction in my choice of heir and will join with me in lifting us from the mire of self-indulgence and vanity that almost engulfed us.

The next year will be the 821st Year of the City. Let us strive to make it the finest Rome has ever known.

Servius Sulpicius Galba Caesar

on the nineteenth day of November

in the 820th Year of the City