Caligula

drain cover settled into place with a sharp crunch.

'What's happening?' Cupido demanded. 'What was that?'

Rufus put one shoulder to the cover, but it felt as if it was cemented into place. They were trapped.

He made his way down the vertical shaft a foot at a time. In his imagination it was bottomless and it came as a surprise when there were no more notches, but solid ground beneath his feet. He calculated he must have descended twenty-five to thirty feet.

He turned slowly, arms in front of him like a blind man. He knew instinctively he was in a wider space than the claustrophobic drainage shaft, not because he could see anything, but because the darkness was a deeper shade of black. A sort of darker darkness that was almost solid.

Down here it was a different kind of cold; rawer and hungrier, and he was glad Cupido had thought to bring the heavy cloaks. He heard the trickle of water down the shaft, and, close by, a heavier rushing sound.

'Are you going to get the torches out or are we going to stand here all day?'

The words came from six inches in front of his face and he almost fell over in surprise. He fumbled in the cloth bag for the first torch.

'Take this,' he said, holding the torch out in the general direction of the invisible Cupido.

'How can I take it if I can't see it?'

Ah! With his free hand, he located the flint. Ideally, he needed a third hand to strike metal against stone while holding the torch close enough to light, but somehow he managed it. The flame flickered for a second then blossomed until it illuminated a dozen paces around him.

They were standing on a paved walkway beside a dark brown stream composed of things he didn't like to think about, which flowed along a stone culvert perhaps three paces wide. The culvert ran down a tunnel which stretched away into the darkness under a barrel-vaulted roof of dressed stone blocks about a foot wide and three times as long. The roof curved six or seven inches above their heads, slick with hundreds of years of accumulated slime which hung in obscene feetlong tendrils, like wisps of a witch's hair. For a few seconds Rufus's astonishment overcame his fright. How could this marvel, another world, exist beneath his feet and he not realize it?

A shuffling noise from beyond the circle of light reminded him of his earlier fears and his hand flew to his sword.

'Rats,' Cupido said. 'Rats and sewers go together.'

Rufus laughed nervously. He looked around him. 'Which direction do we take?'

'Follow the flow. It's only going one way, to the Cloaca Maxima, and that's where we want to be. Let's go — we have wasted enough time. I want to reach the villa before dawn. Keep the second torch dry, and don't lose the flint. I wouldn't want to be stuck down here in the dark.'

Rufus mouthed a short prayer. He wished Cupido hadn't said that.

They started off down the tunnel, Rufus leading with the torch. At first, he set a good pace, but it quickly became apparent that the section into which they had descended gave a false impression of the Cloaca. The passage was not uniform. It had evidently been built and reconstructed, repaired and repaired again, over different periods, with different standards of workmanship and by men working to different ends.

The air in the tunnel was damp and fetid, rank with the stink of corruption and other people's shit. It became fixed in his throat like a solid thing, and he had to keep swallowing in order not to gag. Soon, the shaft narrowed, becoming ever more claustrophobic, until the walkway was little more than a shelf and they had to inch forward one foot in front of the other to save from falling into the loathsome stream on their right. Rufus noticed it seemed a little swifter now and the height had risen marginally. At least the rain would wash away the filth more quickly.

The tiny walkway was an irritant at first, but quickly became a danger. The flickering torch gave off an uneven and barely helpful light, which, in places, seemed to be absorbed by the algae-slick walls. Pieces of stone crumbled beneath their feet, threatening to pitch them into the sewer. At one point the roof suddenly dropped to half its height and they had to crouch low with the torch held straight ahead in order to make progress. This happened at regular intervals and Cupido suggested it might have some architectural purpose.

It was also clear they were descending, almost imperceptibly, deeper into the earth.

They had been walking for perhaps ten minutes when they heard the voices.

'Douse the torch,' Cupido whispered.

'What?'

'Put the torch out or they'll see it.'

'But we'll be in the dark. We can't fight them if we can't see them.'

'Better in the dark. We can hear them, but they won't hear us.'

Reluctantly, Rufus placed the torch on the walkway and gently stamped out the flames, doing as little damage as he could. He had a feeling they would need every flickering spark of both torches before the night was out.

He felt Cupido's reassuring hand on his shoulder. 'Now we wait.'

They sat in the darkness, listening; waiting for the voices to come closer. But the only things that approached them were the rats, which had been wary of the light, but now scampered by in ones and twos. Rufus jumped as he felt something touch his hand.

'Aaah!'

'Shhh.'

'I hate rats.'

'You told me you loved animals.'

'Not rats.'

'They can't hurt you.'

'Not even when they're the size of cats?'

Silence.

There was a strange, unearthly quality to the voices. Sometimes they were clear, as if they were close by, but then they would fade as if the wind had changed direction. Only there was no wind.

And then there was the stench. At first it had been sickening; a putrid, stomach-churning miasma so thick you could almost chew on it. But soon after they started walking their sense of smell had either become accustomed to it, or been overwhelmed by it. Now the smell was back, more powerful than ever.

Rufus felt Cupido stir behind him. 'We can't stay here for ever. We have to move,' he hissed into the darkness.

'Go, then, but carefully. No light.'

Rufus thought this was foolish and said so, but began to feel his way along the wall. He had gone no more than half a dozen steps when the wall disappeared as the tunnel took a sharp left turn, and he ended with one foot in the ooze, cursing his ill fortune and his friend. It was only when he recovered that he noticed the light.

Only it wasn't a light, more a disturbance in the darkness; a place where the black was a little paler. He crawled slowly towards it.

It was at a section of wall where the tunnel made another turn, this time to the right. The pale patch was a dim reflection of some stronger light source a little further ahead.

He had almost reached the bend when the scream froze him to the tunnel wall. It was high-pitched and terrible, and it seemed to last an eternity before ending in a choking rattle, only to revive a second later in a new shrieking crescendo. Rufus felt for his lion's tooth charm and muttered another prayer. He hoped no human could scream that way, but he knew it was a vain hope. The cry had shattered his nerves and his legs shook as he rounded the corner, unwilling to confront whatever horrors awaited him there.

They had passed several of the slim drainage shafts at irregular intervals along the tunnel. This was different.

Before him was a large, bell-shaped chamber carved out of the rock. At the top of the bell, perhaps fifty feet above them, a shaft of flickering red light pierced the darkness and partly illuminated the space below. The base of the bell was a pool measuring twenty paces across, where the sable waters of the stream gathered before being channelled down a wider and deeper culvert. The reason for the pool became clear when he looked to left and right. This was the gathering place of the Cloaca Palatina, where the stinking waters met. Entering on either side were further tunnels, which helped keep the pool filled and the stream flowing.

The voices were quite distinct now, emanating along with the light from above. Cupido came up beside Rufus