between them the engineer and the little architect had constructed the bridge so that it would take the weight of a dozen elephants. There was a sense of aloneness here, on this platform forty feet above the real world, even though the eyes of tens of thousands of living, breathing human beings never left them. He was even enjoying being in the Emperor's company. Oh, he was still wary, still prepared to be terrified by some leap of mood that would turn the quiet-spoken young man whose bare legs touched his into the cold-eyed monster he had seen enjoying watching men being eaten alive. But, for the moment, that persona was mercifully absent. The man behind him was the Emperor Caligula Romans had prayed for.
They could see the pillars of the Senate House now, and Rufus recognized the ranks of white-clad senators waiting on the steps. Caligula sighed heavily in his ear.
'This must be truly what it is to be a god. To stand above all. To look down upon all and know that a word of command will sweep all away. If only it could be so. It is a pity our journey must end so soon. I have enjoyed being with you and your elephant. But soon I will be once more in the company of vultures, whose sharp beaks you see yonder. If only it could be otherwise. How I long for the simple times on campaign with my father, when honest men treated me as an honest man, even though I was but a boy. I wore the scarlet tunic, and when I stood in line with them it was not in the silken slippers of a Roman knight, but in the very boots they wore themselves, so they gave me the name I bear to this day. And now Caligula must be an Emperor again,' he said, his voice taking on a new firmness as Bersheba descended the gently sloping wooden ramp at the end of the golden bridge.
'We could go back.' The words were out before Rufus knew he had said them.
Caligula laughed, a gentle, genuine laugh.
'If only it could be so. We could stand on our bridge and our people could worship us till the sun went down. But it is not for me. Take your elephant to be a god in my stead. She has done her Emperor a great service. She deserves her day in the sun.'
They reached the steps of the Senate House and Rufus ordered Bersheba to kneel. The Emperor slipped from behind him and down her flanks into the waiting protection of a Praetorian guard of honour. Among the stern faces, trying desperately not to look in his direction, Rufus recognized the handsome features of Cupido.
Later, he sought the gladiator out in his rooms.
'You have seen a side of him that few others see,' Cupido admitted. 'He could be a great Emperor and a fine man, but do not be fooled or seduced by what you witnessed. He can change in an instant from man to monster. I have seen it. Everyone in the palace, even those he calls his favourites, even the Praetorian Guard, go before him in fear, never knowing which Caligula will be waiting for them. You have seen them, those he keeps close. Appeles is not the only actor among them. Each of them plays a part, even Protogenes, who is the only one he truly trusts.'
'Even Chaerea, your commander?'
'Especially he. Caligula knows the Praetorians are his only true guarantee of power, but that does not mean he is certain of their loyalty. That is why there are two Praetorian Guards.'
'Two?' Rufus said, bewildered.
Cupido nodded. 'The Wolves and the Scorpions. There are the Italians under Chaerea; you would know them by the scorpion symbol on their breastplate, as you would know me as a German by the wolf that decorates mine. Caligula plays the one faction against the other, so neither knows who has his favour on any given day. However, you should remember this: whenever you see the sign of the wolf you will know you are among friends.'
XXIV
A week after his outing on the bridge Rufus experienced another of those heart-stopping moments that accompanied a summons to the palace. Unusually, the Praetorians who brought it carried with them a new white tunic of fine cloth and ordered him to clean up and put it on.
The two guards escorted him to a sumptuous room deep in the palace where Caligula relaxed on a couch overlooking a throng of richly dressed noblemen and women. When he saw Rufus, the Emperor rose, and greeted him with the savage, hard-mouthed grin of a cat that had just discovered a nest of sightless fledglings.
'Our guest is here at last. In recognition of your service to this household I have decided the time is right for you to wed and beget me a line of little elephant trainers. As you can see, I have gathered the finest families in Rome to witness the event and so do you the honour you deserve. Let me introduce you to your bride.' He clapped his hands.
Rufus turned to stare at the creature being led through the pillared entranceway. He was so astonished that he was able to ignore the brays of laughter which greeted her entrance.
She was beautiful.
The simple white dress contrasted with the delicate honey-brown of her skin and was designed to show off to best advantage the elegant curves of her perfectly proportioned body. Through it swelled surprisingly heavy breasts, elegant curves tapering to a trim waist, and the promise of a dancer's finely muscled legs. Her blond hair was swept back from a high forehead, with two tendrils trailing right and left to frame the face of a nymph, from which gazed the wide eyes of a frightened fawn. Directed by the Emperor, who fought to keep a solemn face amid the laughter echoing from the walls, she took her place by Rufus's side and placed her delicate hand in his.
She was three feet tall.
The wedding ceremony was unorthodox. Caligula, as high priest, clumsily contrived to combine tender love poems with crude references to the participants' differing heights and there were none of the formalities that would normally accompany such an occasion: no flame-red veil, nor knot of Hercules.
At first Rufus felt he was watching the proceedings from somewhere above, as if what was happening was actually being experienced by someone else. But there came a moment when the reality of it hit him like a hammer blow. He was being cheated. Aemilia should have been here by his side, not some… some… For a moment he thought he might faint, but he forced himself to concentrate. He studied the Emperor as the latter performed for his audience, and wondered at the change seven days had wrought. Where was the composed and softspoken young man who rode Bersheba with him? Where was the concerned ruler now, who talked so passionately of his people? This Caligula's eyes were filled with an unnatural brightness and his face was the colour and complexion of well- kneaded dough. When he laughed it was the cruel laugh of a despot.
Slowly but relentlessly the resentment Rufus felt was replaced by anger. Yes, he was a slave and subject to his master's whims, but even a slave should not be asked to suffer this humiliation: paraded for the vicious entertainment of the crowd and as helpless as a chained bear baited by hounds. He raised his head and found himself staring into the Emperor's face. The mocking eyes locked on his and the lips twisted into a sneer, and suddenly, for the first time, Rufus knew true hatred. I could kill this man, he thought. I could put my hands round his neck and squeeze until the last breath was driven from his body. He saw the mocking eyes narrow, the glacial blue becoming shadowed, and he realized with a shock that Caligula was reading his mind — was challenging him. In that instant, the rage he was experiencing changed to a mindless, reckless exhilaration. The guards lining the walls seemed irrelevant and the crowd faded into a background haze. There were only two people in the room and one must die.
His mood was interrupted by a gasp from his side. He looked down to see the girl grimace in pain and realized he was gripping her hand so tightly he must be close to breaking her fingers. She stared back, her eyes filled with a desperate appeal. She had sensed the violence between the two men, and she knew it would be the death of her. He hesitated, but only for a second. How could he place this fragile creature in danger? He allowed himself a sad smile and saw the tension leave her. Caligula saw it too and roared with laughter. The moment was gone. He was a slave again.
It was a relief when they were led from the palace before the night's feasting began.
When their escort left they sat in silence in the shabby little room behind the elephant house. The girl was hunched on the cot as far from Rufus as was possible in that tiny space, and she looked more like a frightened child than ever. Rufus knew he should talk to her, reassure her in some way. Another man would surely vow to protect her and keep her safe. But somehow he could find no words that would not sound hollow, no promise that he could keep. It was as if he had been followed home by a stray street urchin who refused to be sent away. She was undoubtedly pretty, but it was impossible to forget she was a
