Caligula

unnoticed, that a senator or a soldier could not. A lowly slave was expendable, where a senator was not.

But there was another reason.

'Perhaps I was too subtle. It is one of my faults. Did we not once talk of a weapon, an unstoppable weapon that can crush a man with a single blow? There is only one person here who has the knowledge and the power to wield that weapon. Only one who can say when the time is right to use it. Do we understand each other?'

Rufus's throat was suddenly desert-dry. A voice in his head screamed at him to walk away. Even to speak of this was death.

'What if…?'

Narcissus waved away his question. 'We will ensure an opportunity arises. It will be your decision whether to take it. He will visit you, as he did with my master that first day. No guards, just you, the elephant and him. Think on it, Rufus. The man who killed Fronto. Not many are granted the opportunity to change history. To save Rome. You should be proud.'

Rufus stared at him, this arrogant courtier who so blithely dispensed life and death. Did Narcissus really think he was such a fool? The fate of Caligula's assassin was as certain as the next day's sunrise. The man who laid a hand on the Emperor was already as good as dead. And he knew something the Greek did not. Bersheba was as incapable of delivering the fatal blow as he was of manoeuvring it.

He stood deep in thought for several minutes after Narcissus left, but he could find no way of escape. The Greek had caged him as securely as any big cat held in the bowels of the arena. When the cage door opened it could lead only one way. To death.

XXXVII

Cupido laughed incredulously when Rufus told him about Narcissus's fantastic scheme.

'Is there no one in this place who is not involved in a plot? He wants Bersheba to kill Caligula? I have never heard anything so insane. If the Emperor knew how many hands were raised against him the streets of Rome would run with blood.

'I have thought of what you said. About Chaerea. You are right. He is a foul creature with flint for a heart and the morals of a jackal. He would set himself up as the new Caligula and deem it a challenge to outdo his cruelty. But Claudius? He is an old man with an old man's weaknesses. Chaerea would swat him like a fly and his spy Narcissus would be screaming on a cross before the purple touched his shoulders.'

Rufus remembered the Claudius who talked with Bersheba, and shook his head. 'I think you may be wrong about him. It seems to me he is like an actor who changes character between scenes. He has one guise for his friends and another for his enemies. The crippled drooling fool is a cloak that covers the true Claudius, and I believe that that Claudius may well be capable of ruling.'

He told Cupido of the old senator's nocturnal visits to the barn. The gladiator looked thoughtful.

'That is useful to know. If you are correct, he covers his true self well. Yet there are contradictions in what you report. He appears to oppose Chaerea, but he was well informed of his intentions. Well enough informed to know that Lucius was the intended assassin. Does that mean he is part of Chaerea's plot, but does not trust him? Or is there someone in Chaerea's inner circle who informs him of his rival's intentions? And where does Narcissus stand, if Claudius doubts him, but Chaerea speaks of him as an ally? Is this one plot with many strands, or many plots intertwined?'

'What do we do?'

'Do? What can we do, but what Aemilia suggested? We wait, we sacrifice to the old gods and we pray that time is on our side.'

He picked up his long sword and began to sharpen it, the whetstone singing its way up and down the blade.

'Chaerea believes he owns me, Narcissus believes he owns you. It appears to be a trap from which there is no escape, but it contains certain elements that might yet be in our favour. They each see half a picture, while between us we have the whole image. There may come a time when we can turn the one against the other.'

'Maybe we should just run?'

Cupido gave his sad smile. 'And where would you run to, Rufus? For myself, I have nowhere to go. Grass grows tall above the ashes of my home and I have no wish to see the bones of my father in the field where they lie scattered. If I am to die, I would rather die here with a sword in my hand and a friend at my side than cornered in some stinking alley. No. We stay and, if need be, we fight.'

Rufus envied him his certainty. How was it that one man could contain so many contradictions and endure what he had endured, yet emerge not only sane but even noble? He turned to leave, then remembered the documents.

'Did Aemilia bring you the parchments?'

'She did, and I told her you were fools for taking them. What did you think you were doing? They are imperial property and the penalty for having them without permission is death. We must get them back where they belong.'

'But did you look at them? She thought you might be able to decipher their meaning.'

Cupido nodded, and went to a small cabinet, where he retrieved the two scrolls. 'Remember I told you Varrus had something to do with the water supply? The smaller of the documents is based on an old map of the Palatine. See. Here is the palace of Augustus. And here? These are the old houses where Caligula built his palace that outdoes all the others. The thin straight lines are all pipes or conduits that feed every house on the hill with water. Varrus is the overseer of the work gang which maintains them.'

Rufus studied the map carefully. He could see it now. The faint outlines of the buildings. The pipes that were all connected to the great aqueduct system which had served Rome for centuries. Even the little fountain where he met Narcissus. But one thing still puzzled him.

'What is the green line? It is much larger than the rest. It appears important. Look, it joins this red line on the main map.'

'I don't know. But you can ask Decimus when you give them to him.'

'Who?'

'Decimus is one of the men who work with Varrus. Arminus, who fought with us at the Rostrum Julium, is friendly with him. He is coming to collect the old man from you later. Tell him Varrus was carrying the parchments when Livia found him.'

Decimus turned out to be a slightly built youth with a face that might have been handsome had it not been pitted with the evidence of some kind of childhood pox. At first he was more interested in Bersheba than in recovering his overseer, but once he had stood beside her in awed silence and been given leave to touch the wrinkled skin of her trunk, Rufus reminded him of the purpose of his visit.

Varrus appeared to have recovered physically, but his mind was still in a place only he could go. Decimus shook his head sadly.

'He's been like this for weeks,' he said. 'Ever since the last inspection.'

'He was carrying these when we found him.' Rufus handed over the two parchments, and received a sharp look from Livia. 'We wondered what they are.'

'This one's the map we use to check the pipes around the hill. If the water pressure goes down in one of the houses or fountains, we can trace it back until we find the leak. Then we replace it with a new section of lead pipe. You'd be surprised how often it happens. Some of the plumbing up here hasn't been replaced since Romulus.'

'And the red and green lines? They must be the main water supply?'

Decimus shook his head. 'Nah, not water. Shit. That red line there is the big one, the Cloaca Maxima,' he said proudly. 'Every sewer between the Capitoline and the Palatine, and the Argiletum and the Forum Boarium, empties into her.' He noticed Rufus's look of bewilderment. 'The Cloaca is the main sewer. A man could walk from one end of Rome to the other and never come above ground — if he could stand the smell. You've seen the shrine to Venus Cloacina up on the forum? Well, Cloacina is our protector when we're down there. Only she didn't protect old Varrus.'

'What happened to him?'