Caligula

but then there was a splash and the golden hair broke into view for a few precious seconds.

After what seemed an incredibly long interval, Cupido surfaced again, only to disappear as quickly as he had appeared. When the water suddenly swirled in the centre of the pool he knew Cupido had defeated the odds. It was only when he realized what was happening below the surface that the elation turned to fascinated horror. He screamed out his friend's name and a moment later a despairing arm broke the surface as if reaching for an invisible handhold. Then the entire pool vanished through the tunnel in a single almighty rush.

Rufus saw what happened, but his mind wouldn't accept it. What had been six or eight feet of water was now a small stream bubbling between the two walls of the culvert. And he was alone.

He dropped the torch and slumped against the wall, staring at the empty space where the pool had been. The road ahead was open, but he couldn't move. He could think, but not act. He told himself to get up, but his legs would not accept the order from his brain.

The reality of what had happened was too awful to take in. Cupido gone? It did not seem possible. Cupido couldn't die — he was bigger than death. But his own eyes had seen a man he loved — yes, he understood now that what he felt for Cupido had gone beyond friendship and respect to something that could only be called love — swept away in that unstoppable wall of water.

The torch spluttered and went out, leaving him in darkness, but he made no attempt to locate the second.

So this was despair, a physical force that crushed him into the earth and robbed him of will. The courage that had sustained him in the long walk through this underground nightmare had drained away. He could barely find the strength to breathe. He resigned himself to death.

But deep within him the unquenchable thing that was his spirit wouldn't allow it. It chewed at his brain with a message. Time. There was something he had to do and time was important. His head was filled with coloured images, but none of them meant anything to him. Then the colours merged and from their centre a face appeared. Aemilia. He had to find Aemilia.

But what was the point? Without Cupido he was nothing.

With that thought he felt failure wrap itself around him once more like a shroud. He giggled hysterically. If he didn't move the rats would feast on his flesh. The thought galvanized him, but still he could not find the strength to move.

Then the voice whispered in his ear. It whispered of honour and of duty, of loyalty and of courage. And when he still did not move it flayed him with scorn and mocked him for his weakness. He willed it to go away, but it was relentless. He was disappointed it was not Aemilia's, but he knew in his heart she could never have shamed him into movement. Only Livia could do that.

Gradually, his mind repaired itself and he raised himself on shaking legs. He located the second torch and lit it, and as it flared in his hand it reminded him of the time he had wasted. He set off downstream towards the Maxima.

The tunnel seemed to go on for ever now he was alone. Cupido's presence had sustained him; now each leaden step felt pointless. It didn't matter how Cupido had intended to attack the villa, Rufus knew he could never do it. He did not have the skill or the courage to fight six trained soldiers, and, if he tried, Aemilia would be dead before he reached her. Cupido would have used his strength. He would have to use stealth. There would be a way. There had to be a way.

When he finally reached the outlet where the Cloaca Palatina met the Cloaca Maxima, he was faced with a featureless wall. He knew he had to turn upstream, to the left. The walkway was now on the far side of the channel. He threw the cloth bag and the two cloaks across first, then followed them.

He felt his confidence returning. At least the going was better in the main sewer, the walkway wider and kept in good repair. He would find a way out, and when he did he would meet each challenge as it came. Even if it meant his death.

He had gone less than a dozen paces when he heard the noise behind him. Another rat? No. It sounded like…

He turned, pushing the flaming torch in the direction of the sound, drawing his sword with his right hand. It had been a human voice. A whisper. They had followed him down here. They must still be in the Palatina spur. Idiot! Put the light out, remember what Cupido said about fighting in the dark. He extinguished the torch against the wall and laid it carefully on the ground.

Silently and in complete darkness, he made his way back to the junction of the two sewers. That was it! He would ambush them as they came out of the Palatina into the Maxima. Even better, downstream of the junction he had noticed a buttress where he could stay hidden while they passed. He would follow them in the darkness and take them by surprise, one by one. Who knew how many he would be able to kill before they discovered him?

He felt his way along the wall past the gushing inlet of the Palatina until he came to the buttress. He edged round it carefully — he'd look a fool if he fell in the sewer in the dark — and froze.

He was standing on something alive!

Slowly, he raised the sword and took a deep breath as he prepared to chop down on the thing below him.

'Is this how you treat a friend?' a voice croaked weakly. 'As if he was a doorstep?'

Rufus almost fainted away. 'Cupido!'

'Please fetch a torch. When I saw the light I thought you were coming for me, then when the torch went out… I have had enough darkness to last a lifetime.'

When Rufus returned, he saw that the gladiator was lying naked against the buttress, his face lined with pain and his left hand cradling his right shoulder. He shook uncontrollably as his body fought the raw cold eating at it. Rufus picked up the cloaks and tried to wrap them around him.

'Careful,' Cupido cried. 'My shoulder.'

'Is it broken?'

Cupido shook his head. 'I think it became dislocated when I was thrown against the wall by the force of the flood, but it saved my life. If I had followed my new friends I would be food for the Tiber catfish by now.'

'I can reset it. I have done it with antelope.'

Cupido gave him a weary smile. 'We can test your medical skills later. Heat first. I am as cold as a week-old corpse. Unless you can warm me I will be going nowhere this night, perhaps ever.'

At the gladiator's instruction, Rufus wrapped one cloak gently around him. The other he used to rub Cupido's flesh, which was puckered and wrinkled and in places almost purple. His back was scratched to the bone by contact with the rough sewer walls and Rufus at once marvelled at his survival and feared for the long-term effects of his immersion in Rome's filth.

He quickly realized the rubbing was doing little good. If anything Cupido's face grew paler. Taking the big cloak, he wrapped it around them both and gently took his friend in his arms to allow the heat from his own body to warm him.

Cupido opened his eyes and Rufus saw a glint of humour in their grey depths.

'Am I so weak it has come to this? I pray my father is not looking down on me now to see how low I have fallen.'

He closed his eyes again, but now Rufus noticed that at least there was a hint of colour in his cheeks.

After about ten minutes Cupido stirred again. 'This romance has gone on long enough. Bring me my tunic,' he croaked. He shrugged the cloak from his injured shoulder. 'Now you can do your worst. Don't stop if I cry out.'

Rufus felt his friend flinch as his fingers searched the taut muscles for the pressure point he needed.

'I… I don't know if I can do it. It's different. The bones..'

'You must. Here, I will show you. One hand here,' he indicated a point on his arm, 'and the other here.' He placed Rufus's hand on the bone sticking out of his shoulder. 'Now push, hard, with the one and pull with the other.'

Rufus heaved with all his strength and his friend grunted in agony, but the bone returned to its proper position with an obscene popping sound.

'If that is the extent of your medical knowledge I pity your animals. The arm will be useless tonight, but if I live it will be as good as it ever was.' He put a hand on Rufus's shoulder and raised himself to his feet. 'Truly this is the river of the dead Varrus spoke of. Working each day with the sights I have seen, in the stink and the darkness, would drive any man out of his wits.'