'He was inspecting the Palatine spur, that's the green line, what we call the Cloaca Palatina. You can tell where it goes from above by the drain covers — they're marked by these little symbols. Well, Varrus went down one day sane and came back up like this. Keeps talking about a river of dead. Nobody will go near the place now. It's frightening enough down there on your own in the dark, but the lads reckon he encountered some monster and the sight drove him mad. Me, I think it's more likely to be the fumes. Sometimes the combination of stinks can make you dizzy. Whatever it was, you won't get me down there again.'
Rufus thanked him and told him he was welcome to visit Bersheba whenever he wished. They could still hear Varrus raving as Decimus led him off towards his quarters.
Fronto's death created a barrier between Rufus and Livia which at first appeared insurmountable. They occupied the same space in the way animals of different species inhabit the same territory, eyeing each other warily and seldom communicating. But the child growing in Livia's womb could not be ignored. Slowly, the wounds that scarred their relationship healed, at least partially. They became friends who slept together, and, when the mood took them, they made love with a passion and inventiveness that surprised them both.
He did not know when he became aware Livia was watching him. It was not something he saw or heard, nothing solid or tangible; somehow he just knew. He could feel her eyes on him. When he was with Bersheba in the bright sunshine of the exercise yard. When he talked with the noble visitors the Emperor graciously allowed to watch the great beast put through its paces. Whenever she thought he might have the opportunity to contact someone?
When he was certain it was true, he took Bersheba away from her normal exercise area to a position among the trees across the park where, although he had an angled view of the barn, they were outside the line of Livia's vision. He waited patiently and was rewarded by movement in the shadow just inside the barn doors. As he watched he saw Livia looking around distractedly, wondering where he had vanished.
The game became a regular feature of his day. Was it cruel? Perhaps. But it was how he discovered the identity of her true master.
It did not happen until two weeks later. That morning, he spotted a palace servant approaching from the opposite side of the park. Rufus did not recognize the man, but it was obvious from his manner that he too did not want to be seen. He entered the barn by the side door and disappeared from view. After a few minutes he reappeared, accompanied by Livia. Rufus could sense her fear. Moments later, another furtive character took the stage.
Chaerea.
As Rufus watched, the Praetorian commander began an animated discussion with Livia, who shook her head emphatically in reply. Chaerea's frustration visibly grew until, with the speed of a striking snake, he twisted a hand in Livia's hair and pulled her into the shadow of the barn. As Livia struggled in his grasp, the Roman commander twitched aside his tunic and pushed the struggling woman's head into his groin.
A red veil descended over Rufus's eyes. He began to move into the open, his only thought to kill the man defiling his wife. But he stumbled to a halt just before he broke from the cover of the trees. This was not one of the pampered princes who rose to command a legion because of his aristocratic connections. This was Cassius Chaerea, survivor of a dozen combats; a man who had killed with his bare hands. To act now would be to sign both their death warrants.
By the time Chaerea had completed his assault, wiped himself clean on Livia's hair and thrown her limp body to the ground, the murderous rage which had surged through Rufus had turned to a ball of cold stone. He would kill this man. If it was the last thing he did on this earth, he would kill him.
He watched Livia struggle to her feet, her bulging belly making it difficult for her to balance. He wanted to run to her, to hold her and comfort her. But there was still a chance Chaerea might be watching.
Instead, he continued to exercise Bersheba, marching her mechanically back and forth across the bone-hard ground. He was becoming the accomplished conspirator, and he despised himself for it.
When he returned much later to the cramped room behind the barn, she greeted him with a smile that would have deceived him entirely had he not seen what he had seen. Only the damp of her recently washed hair and a slight reddening in the corners of her eyes betrayed her.
He returned her smile with one of his own. And, just for a moment, he did truly love her; Livia, his wife and companion, bearer of his child, his lover and betrayer. And he knew she loved him. The facade of normality she had somehow created was not to protect her from him. It was to protect him from them.
As she turned her back he stole a glance at her, marvelling at the perfect proportions of her body even in pregnancy, and the sharp intelligence of her mind. How often must she have cursed the fates that halted her growth? How often did she lie awake in the night and wonder again and again, what if? What if? Who would she have been and what would she have done?
For the first time he truly understood her frustration at being trapped in that tiny body and he vowed he would do everything in his power to help her escape, if not from it, at least from the life to which it had condemned her. Fronto had promised him the money to buy his freedom. He did not know how much, but he knew his friend would never cheat him. He would have left it with someone he could trust or somewhere only Rufus could find it. Somehow he would track it down and would make it free them both.
But first he must prise her from the clutches of Chaerea.
Narcissus owed him.
The Greek's eyes narrowed when he heard of Chaerea's bungling attempts to gather intelligence.
'So the simple soldier has decided to dirty his hands,' Narcissus said. 'But why would he choose your wife? No doubt he too has heard of my master's visits. He wonders what was said, and to whom, and how he can profit from it. If he knew Senator Claudius had been having conversation with an elephant he would die laughing instead of on an impaler's spike as he deserves. You have done well, Rufus. This could have been fatal to us. Now we know where the danger lies we can protect ourselves against it. Perhaps we can even use the knowledge to our benefit.'
'We must find a way to stop him using Livia. Use this information to free her from his hold,' Rufus pleaded.
Narcissus looked at him with disappointment. 'That would not be very subtle, and it would probably be the death of both of you. Livia's safety lies in her usefulness to Chaerea. We must be patient. She must know nothing.'
'But what can I do? If Livia has nothing to give him he'll no longer regard her as useful and then…'
'Exactly,' Narcissus said. 'And that is why we must ensure she gives Chaerea what he wants.'
Rufus was confused. 'But how will we do that?'
'Not we, Rufus. You. Let me think on it and I will provide you with some tasty pillow talk that will make your pretty young wife Chaerea's most treasured possession.'
'There is something else.'
Narcissus raised a cultured eyebrow, and Rufus explained to him about Fronto's legacy.
'I think you may be putting too much faith in Fronto's friends.' Narcissus frowned and thought for a moment. 'It would take someone remarkably honest to hold so much money for a dead man and then hand it over to a slave. Fronto was too clever to trust the people he dealt with. If he left the money with anyone, it was with a lawyer, and if that was the case Protogenes will track him down and the money will disappear. I will have Fronto's acquaintances approached in such a way that they will not know why or by whom, but I hold out little hope, Rufus. Can you think of anywhere else it could be?'
Rufus considered for a moment. It seemed so unlikely that he had not dared think of it.
'There is one possibility.'
Later, Rufus lay side by side with Livia on their straw-filled mattress, he stroking the curve of her stomach, she with her head on his shoulder. They talked into the night.
The next morning, she left the barn early with the excuse that they needed bread, even though Rufus could see there was ample for both of them.
He was filling the water barrel when he was distracted by a buzzing sound that grew noticeably louder as the minutes passed. Eventually, his curiosity became too much to withstand and he decided to investigate.
Giving Bersheba the command to kneel, he mounted her shoulders and directed her towards the palace wall. There, her great height afforded him an unobstructed view down on to the city streets below the Palatine. He had never seen so many people. They came in their thousands, a river of life that flooded the narrow streets and packed
