cross the Emperor's bridge. He tried to remember the dimensions of the pillars and the thickness of the planking. Had the engineers of the Fourteenth done their job well? Would it hold? That was the question. Would it hold? He had a terrible vision of Bersheba plunging through the planking on to the ground below; heard the sound of bones breaking and the shrieks of her agony clearly in his head.
No, he would not allow it! But here they were. The Emperor stood by the bridge, explaining his clever plan to the engineer and the architect. Rufus knew he had no choice. If he refused, Caligula would order someone else to force her across and he would be dead.
While they waited, he took the opportunity to look over the wall. The sight that met his eyes made him gasp. The great buildings below seemed to be floating on a sea of upturned heads. Every street was packed, every possible viewing platform filled to overflowing. The enterprising and the agile had even commandeered the roof of the Basilica Julia. It appeared that every Roman, from the highest senator to the lowest beggar, was determined to witness history.
'Now, Coriolanus, you will go first, but tread carefully, for you are almost as heavy as the beast.' The Emperor ushered the little fat man forward. 'Not too far. We don't want you to be at the other end before the elephant begins. You next, Sulpicius.'
The legionary officer needed no prompting. His nailed sandals rattled on the wooden boards as he marched briskly to where Coriolanus stood quaking. It was obvious from his manner that he thought the whole thing was a waste of his time. Rufus felt a tiny surge of hope. This man knew his work. He trusted his men.
'Come on, boy, what are you waiting for? Mount the elephant.'
Rufus stared at the Emperor.
'Quickly now,' Caligula snapped. 'You are keeping the mob waiting.'
Rufus gave Bersheba the signal to kneel, so he could use her knee as a mounting point. She bowed her head forward and he grabbed her huge ear for support.
'Wait!'
What now? He wanted this ordeal over quickly, whatever the outcome.
'I will mount the beast first.'
What? A murmur ran through the Praetorian ranks. Rufus was not the only person on the Palatine to be surprised this morning.
'Caesar, is this wise? What if..?' The Praetorian commander couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence. The reality was too terrible to contemplate. 'You are too important. To Rome. To your people.'
Caligula hitched up the folds of his toga, kicked off his embroidered slippers and prepared to mount Bersheba. He stared at Rufus, the ice-blue eyes boring into him like twin chisels.
'Get ready to help me, elephant boy, but bruise my dignity and I will have your head.' He turned to the Praetorian. 'I appreciate your concern, faithful Petronius,' he said theatrically, 'but am I to ask these men to risk their lives if I am not prepared to share that risk? It is a fine day for a ride and my public awaits. Can't you hear them? They grow impatient.'
Rufus watched the performance in bewilderment — for performance was exactly what it was. Here was the ruler of a vast empire preparing to risk his life in a ludicrous act of bravado before a multitude of his subjects, and for what?
Before he could think of an answer, he felt a hand on his shoulder as the Emperor used him as a support to climb on to the elephant's leg, and then slithered up between her shoulder blades. Once he was settled he looked down at Rufus, who still stood by Bersheba's giant knee.
'Come along, boy. I cannot drive this thing myself. It isn't a chariot.'
Rufus cleared his throat. 'You must move back, sir… Caesar.. just a few inches. I must be able to sit in front of you so I can control her.'
The Emperor frowned, but didn't object. He shuffled backwards, creating just enough room for Rufus, who vaulted athletically on to Bersheba's shoulders and to his seat, with Caligula so close behind he could feel the man's breath in his ear.
'Forward! For Rome and for Empire.' The ruler of a million souls chuckled with anticipation.
Rufus used his knees to nudge Bersheba's ribs and tapped her on the left shoulder to turn her between the carved posts marking the entrance to the bridge. Coriolanus and Sulpicius walked ahead of them, the one tentative, the other confident. For the first few steps they were still out of sight of the crowd below, but then the Emperor's head must have become visible above the Palatine wall. The distinctive murmur grew in volume, and Rufus could see them, and they, in their countless thousands, could see Bersheba, and the murmur mutated into gasps of disbelief before becoming a great shattering roar.
Bersheba shifted uneasily under him. He talked soothingly to her, knowing she was unlikely to hear him above the clamour of the crowd, but that the vibration of his voice would calm her. The first few steps took the elephant up a gentle slope, after which the bridge proper stretched out before them, a golden avenue ten paces wide with terribly fragile barriers on either side. At first, it was simple, for they were only a few feet above the surface of the Palatine, but soon the hill dropped away and what had seemed a solid, safe platform turned into a precarious, vertigo-inducing tightrope. Rufus glanced over the edge where the planks ended and his head began to spin. Forty feet below, ten thousand incredulous faces returned his stare. The bridge seemed to sway in front of him. They had to turn back. Instinctively, he reached out to Bersheba, knowing it was impossible for her to turn, but unable to help himself. Then he felt a pair of arms encircle his waist and an unlikely sound ringing in his ear.
Caligula was laughing, laughing with pure pleasure.
'Look at them — they love me. The consuls, senators and aristocrats all hate me and stand in the way of my great works, but it does not matter because these people are the real power in Rome. A single word from me and they would tear the Senate House down stone by stone and bury its occupants in the rubble.' He squeezed Rufus's ribs. 'Did you hear me, boy? They love me.'
He laughed again, waving a gracious hand to the sea of upturned faces below, and Rufus realized with astonishment that the Emperor was speaking to him. Not at him, as Drusilla had, using him as a sounding board for her ideas and her fears, but to him.
A loose board protested loudly under Bersheba's massive foot and Rufus tensed, waiting for the entire edifice to come apart and pitch them to their deaths. He could see the fountain where Castor and Pollux had watered their horses far below and the temple dedicated to the two heroes close by. To his left was the foundation of the new temple Caligula was building to honour the God-Emperor Augustus. On the right, the suburbs of Rome stretched north above the frontage of the house of the Vestals.
Caligula loosened a hand from his waist and clapped him reassuringly on the shoulder.
'Do not worry, boy, you are safe with me. I cannot die this day; I have too much work to do. I will make Rome such a city that the world will wonder at its beauty and its magnificence for a thousand years. You see those buildings?' He pointed across Rufus's breast to the forum, which was just becoming visible before them. 'They are as nothing to the palaces and the temples I will build. And there will be more. Every citizen will have a home worth calling a home. Not slums and hovels that burn with the first spark. Real homes. Homes of stone, with running water from the new aqueducts I have commissioned. There will be a new arena, ten storeys high, and the games I hold there will make even the greybeards who remember Augustus's time gasp at the spectacle.
'But first I must clear the obstacles that stand in my way. Human obstacles. You don't know how fortunate you are, Rufus, the elephant boy, to have been born so low. You only have this splendid creature to look after. I am responsible for an entire Empire. I must feed a million people, pay my armies, build the temples and palaces that will ensure my immortality. Yet everywhere I turn I face obstruction and delay. They think I don't know who they are, but my eye is all-seeing. Drusilla' — the name made Rufus tense — 'wants me to kill everyone. Poor girl, she is ill, you know, but still she uses what strength she has to warn me against them. Sometimes I think she is quite mad. She gives me so many names I am confused. Can they all hate me? Why? Because of Gemellus? Tiberius, above all men, should have known that Rome can only be ruled by a single hand, and a strong hand at that. If I had not killed my cousin, my cousin would have killed me. Because I spend their money? What is an Emperor if he cannot make his mark? I will make my mark in stone and in deed, but even that is not enough, for I must make a mark substantial enough for two. My father, Germanicus, should have been Emperor before me. He was a great man, and good. I cannot match his goodness, but I will outdo his greatness.'
Bersheba's measured tread took them out towards the Via Sacra, over the edge of the forum, where the bridge took a diagonal turn to the left. Despite himself, Rufus began to enjoy the experience. It was clear now that
