imagine that I could be something more than human? Hmmm? I have wisdom. An infinite capacity for love. I know things no other man does. The Visitors came for me, you know, not anyone else! They came… and they told me everything!’
He leaned closer, lowering his voice to little more than a hoarse whisper. ‘More than that, I have ambition. When I am taken up… when I step into the heavens and receive my powers, we won’t need legions any more to pacify those barbarians in Germany, in Britain… we’ll do it with my love, my compassion! I’ll bless their crops, their water. I’ll make the sun shine warmth and light on those cold, dark places and they will love me for it.’
Caligula’s finger remained on Cato’s lips. ‘And, if that doesn’t work, then I can just as easily send plagues on them. Turn the skies black with storms. Make them fear me.’ He smiled. ‘Love and fear… they are, after all, halves of the same circle. At some point on the arc, one becomes the other.’
Caligula was standing so close to him, Cato could feel the emperor’s hot breath on his face. Cato’s hands flexed by his side; his left wrist brushed against the iron pommel of his gladius.
I could kill him now. Reach for my sword and kill him right now.
Only he wouldn’t get a chance. Stern was no more than a yard away and could move frighteningly fast. Cool, dispassionate grey eyes were regarding him closely right now, warily analysing the ticks of muscle in his face, noting the subtle flexing of his fingers near his sword. He could try and reach for it, but Cato doubted he’d even manage to get the blade out of its scabbard before the Stone Man had run him through.
‘I… I am just a soldier, sire,’ said Cato, his lips moving against the light touch of Caligula’s finger. ‘My only concern is your safety. That is all.’
The anger in Caligula’s face, the faraway look in his eyes, vanished in an instant. An ugly mask of rage whipped away and replaced with something that looked genuine: a warm, welcoming smile. He stroked Cato’s cheek affectionately. ‘I love the simplicity in that answer. No judgement… no doublespeak, no lies. The simplicity of a good soldier’s mind. A task, a duty… and how best to perform it.’
Caligula stepped back from him. ‘I will, of course, have both of their heads on spikes for this. Have Crassus arrested immediately.’
Cato nodded. ‘And what about General Lepidus, Caesar?’
Caligula pursed his lips thoughtfully. ‘It might be prudent if I were to summon him with no reasons given, rather than openly have him arrested. He may be a fat, spineless slug… but if he suspects he’s shortly due to lose his head, he may try and do something rash.’
‘Yes, sire.’
‘Tell him…’ Caligula rested a finger thoughtfully on his chin. ‘Just tell him I wish to speak to him. Nothing alarming, do you understand? I merely wish to speak to him.’
Cato nodded. ‘I will see to it immediately.’
‘Good,’ replied Caligula distractedly. ‘Good… and let me know when you have got Crassus. I would like to have a little talk with him as well.’
‘Yes, sire.’
Caligula turned away from Cato and strolled towards the window and balcony that looked out on the darkening city skyline.
‘Ahh, now look. How annoying. I’ve just missed my sunset,’ he uttered wistfully.
CHAPTER 53
AD 54, 18 miles north of Rome
‘ What? ’ General Lepidus sputtered wine across his desk.
‘It’s what I’ve heard, sir. This very afternoon.’
Lepidus stood up and the chair legs barked across the wooden floor. ‘Arrests?’
The young tribune shuffled uncomfortably, his helmet respectfully under one arm. He was still puffing from his exhausting five-hour ride from the city.
‘Come on, Atellus! What are you prattling on about?’ Lepidus’s voice sounded shrill and sharp, almost effeminate; he hated it when nerves, anxiety, made him sound that way.
‘Arrests… Crassus was one of them.’
Lepidus’s wide face instantly paled. ‘Crassus!’
Atellus nodded. Lepidus slumped back down in his chair; it creaked under his heavy frame. He looked shaken. ‘Crassus! Gods help me, he’ll talk at the first sign of pain!’ He looked at his subordinate. ‘And names will be mentioned, Atellus. You and I…’
The tribune nodded.
Lepidus wiped his mouth, his skin already damp and tacky with anxiety. ‘I curse that withered old prune for roping me into his bloody politics!’
A couple of visits, that’s all. Him and Atellus. That had been enough for him to realize the old man was going to get them all killed if he wasn’t a great deal more careful. Lepidus had backed away quickly from the fool’s small gathering of conspirators. Deliberately ignored his repeated invitations to rejoin them. He should never have gone in the first place… but ambition, vanity, had piqued his curiosity. Crassus had suggested Rome might need a Protector in the aftermath, should something happen to Caligula. Someone with power, popular with his soldiers, near to hand… and no great fan of the emperor.
Someone. Someone like himself.
Lepidus had brought along an officer he trusted, Atellus, expecting a lunch at the old politician’s expense and a carefully worded conversation, a gentle probing of his thoughts on what direction Rome should take… should something, regrettably, happen to their emperor.
What he hadn’t expected was an assembly of strangers… and such open, reckless, dangerous talk. And such a pitiful assembly of conspirators! Three senators, a tribune of the Guard and one or two others.
What he should have done, was leave the meeting immediately and report them all to the emperor just as soon as he could. But he hadn’t. He and Atellus had returned and said nothing about the matter to anyone.
Enough right there to be deemed as guilty as Crassus and his conspirators in Caligula’s eyes. And to make matters worse, Crassus had been badgering him to come back. Sending presents even.
‘Dammit!’ He reached for the cup on the desk in front of him, nearly knocking it over and spilling wine across the nest of scrolls in front of him, the routine and endless paperwork of a legion encamped. He emptied the cup quickly and wiped his mouth. ‘That treacherous old snake has been playing games with me!’
‘Sir?’
Lepidus winced, cursed under his breath. ‘He sent me several gifts over the last year. Those Parthian horses? That attractive slave?’
Atellus nodded. He knew full well about them. Most of the camp did. The slave had been particularly well received by the general. ‘Sir, surely those gifts have nothing to do with this — ’
‘Don’t you see, you idiot? Crassus has been trying to make it look like I’m part of his mischief! He’s trying to…’ Lepidus stopped. His eyes widened. ‘Gods help me!’
‘What is it?’
‘I wrote a letter to him… I… thanked him!’ Before he’d attended that meeting he’d been almost seduced by Crassus’s persuasive flattery. His eyes darted left and right as he tried to remember the precise wording of his correspondence. Crassus had sent his gifts with letters punctuated with carefully phrased criticisms of Caligula; subtly worded inducements for Lepidus to expand on that criticism a little more.
Sounding me out. That’s what he was doing.
Lepidus remembered carefully avoiding any references to Crassus’s less than flattering thoughts about the emperor and his appalling neglect of the affairs of the city in his reply. The general quite clearly remembered writing a polite and very neutral ‘thank you’ to the old man for his lovely gifts. But most importantly… ignoring those dangerously obvious phrases; phrases clumsily probing him for where his allegiance lay.
‘Oh, help me!’ he whispered.
‘Sir?’
What he hadn’t done… was immediately forward that correspondence to his emperor. What he hadn’t done
