The Snake Catcher Page 5

  “They?” I asked him.

  “What do you mean?” he murmured. “They. Of course they.”

  “Drusus knew who was to be blamed for his death,” I said. “And Antius and Cornix mentioned a woman. And I thought you and your mother said it was Julia? You were just suggesting I work my way near her, and— “

  “You think it is just Julia?” he asked. “Ah, you are young.”

  “You say you think there are others?” I asked him. “Is not Julia capable of this on her own?”

  “No,” he said simply. “She is not free to do whatever she pleases. She is too high, too well guarded. Her position holds her prisoner. She can speak with men and women in Rome, but she cannot orchestrate such an elaborate murder as my brother’s. She simply has too many eyes on her, and many of those eyes are Livia’s. She has merely promised her bed and influence to someone. She is guilty, even if she doesn’t draw the plans. But, someone else is trying to climb to the bed, makes such plans, and there will be more men who execute the orders of this man Julia so loves. She is where the mystery can start to be unraveled. ” He snorted. “To imagine she once loved me. But, I never did care for her.”

  “Drusus hated her for the pain your marriage …” I began, and said nothing more. It was a touchy subject. Tiberius had loved his first wife dearly.

  He gave me a pained, forced smile. “Vipsania Agrippina. That’s her name.” He clapped a hand on my shoulder and took it away, as if the gesture felt uncomfortable. “Imagine. I married the daughter of Marcus Agrippa from his first marriage. Agrippa married Julia. Agrippa died, and I was tied like a sacrificial pig and handed to Julia. Augustus is the only man I could imagine doing something like that. The only one. Colder than I am.” He walked on with a grim, disgusted face. “Julia loved me when we were younger. Perhaps she had suggested it to his father, the marriage. Anyway, the gods punished them both.”

  “Lord?” I breathed, confused.

  “Our child,” he spoke softly. “Julia’s and mine. Died young. I only have my son with Vipsania, who is named Drusus. He is a good boy. Sullen, like his father, but a strong one. Julia and I were like poison mixed in wine. The child was what Augustus wanted. It would have made me his permanent ally, tight with his family and blood. But, he died. It broke Julia; it broke Augustus.”

  And it seemed to have also broken him, because his face was gray with sorrow. “I understand,” I answered. “I nearly lost my daughter as well.”

  He nodded, deep in his own thoughts. “We fell apart, Julia and I. What Augustus wanted isn’t working. I cannot pretend to love her. Her father wanted to make sure his legacy would be secure, that I would be a guardian of that legacy, rather than slit the throats of his kin. But, no, I cannot pretend to love Julia.” He walked on, and I sensed he was slipping into a very dark place. His fists were clenched and jaw taut as he hissed on. “And now, it would be impossible. Julia. She wants to make sure her sons, Gaius and Lucius, are going to inherit the land. She is of the blood of Augustus. She fully expects the two to take the reins of power. But, she’s not alone. Others share the blood. Antonia does as well.”

  “Antonia is Augustus’s blood relative?” I asked, astonished.

  He nodded. “You are starting to see how things work. Augustus is the spider sitting in the middle of the web. Antonia is his blood relative. So her children are of the blood or Augustus. And with so many children, five, Julia probably sees them as a danger. Especially since I love them well, and hate her and perhaps even hers. Yes, I prefer Antonia’s children to her brood. Drusus is gone,” he went on. “There is now only one true soldier in the family who fights its wars, stands in the border, and whom the soldiers love. Me. I’ll be in her list, Hraban. You know this. Julia thinks I wish to take over after Augustus dies. I do not, but she believes differently. She killed Drusus for his love of the Republic, and her ally will slay me, Antonia, and the children to make sure things move their way. She hopes to be the next spider in her family after her father dies.” The anger faded away as he walked on. “Once, we were all friends. When we were young.”

  I nodded. “Yes, Lord.”

  He shook his head, brooding. “But, no, Hraban. I doubt she is alone in her crimes. Think, Hraban. Think. Think how Drusus died. Someone wanted him to die in war. Someone wanted him to die so no Roman could be ever blamed. Someone wanted him to fall heroically against a barbarian lord, so the people would not think Augustus had anything to do with it.”

  I hesitated. “You blame him now?”

  He shook his head. “No, no. I blame him not. I dare not. I doubt he is behind it. Ironically, Julia hates him as much as she hates me. Mother knows she is behind all of this. She is sure there is someone behind her. A dark, evil figure, she says. Drusus was too popular to die by the hand of a Roman assassin. He was too well liked to be poisoned like a dog. This someone, and I don’t think Julia is capable of such elaborate plans, especially since she squats under the gaze of my mother, is a very clever and patient creature.”

  I walked on. It made sense. “Maroboodus and Segestes rule large areas in Germania now. They will bow their heads when time is right, and give over the land. The plan was perfect.”

  “To Julia’s son Gaius goes the honor of conquering your people, when he is old enough,” Tiberius agreed. “Drusus started it, I shall perfect it, and Gaius will appear and reap the hay. Easy, brilliant victory it shall be. They went to great lengths to slay my brother like that. Mother says she heard something years ago, and I think she is right. She’ll speak to you about it.”

  I frowned.

  “Why not have her killed?” I asked, blunt as a hammer striking a rock.

  He said nothing for a while. I saw the astonishment on his face, his lips moving as he kept repeating the words. “You would do it?”

  I shook my head. “I’d not—”

  “It is an idea, Hraban, but a dangerous one,” he said softly. “Only if things turn truly desperate, are you to repeat that to me again.”

  I bowed, ashamed. I had not thought I’d be asked to do it.

  He waved away the awkward moment. “Now, this is what Mother will want. You will stay in Rome,” he said stiffly as he stretched his back. “After the funeral, I’ll go back to Germania. I’ll burn the border villages, destroy crops all across the Rhenus and Luppia Rivers, and I’ll do it until your people sue for peace. This year, next year. However long it takes. I think three to four years.”

  Stay in Rome? “Will they sue for peace?”

  He smiled wickedly. “I have my ways. I’m not rash like Drusus, but I know how to dig the Sigambri out of their woods and holes. You just wait and see.”

  “How will we guard you—”

  He shook his head. “As I said, that is how I wanted to use you. I wanted you and yours close to me, men I can send to finish my grudges when needed. But, Mother is right. I have guards. And you will guard my life later, when Julia is out of the picture. You will stay in Rome. You will listen. You will watch. You will obey.”

  “Whom shall I obey?” I asked. “Exactly.”

  He smiled. “The one who fears for her last son and beloved grandchildren? Wife of Augustus. Livia.” He looked hard at me. “Obviously. You will take orders from her directly, and perhaps from one other.”

  Livia. He always called her by her name, never Mater. “I …” I began, and went quiet. I looked ahead, and felt his eyes on me and asked anyway. “Does she know about me?” I asked. “That I’m the son of Maroboodus.”

  He shrugged. “She might, if Drusus wrote to her, but he was careful. But, as I said, she thinks for some reason you will be very useful with Livia.”

  She knew. I was sure of it. She planned on using my relationship with Maroboodus to roast Julia.

  And yet, I did not want to stay in Rome without Tiberius, under the thumb of a woman.

  Why did it bother me?

  She was another one who might know my secrets. A woman of power, who would ask me for favors and order me around?
Another one who would demand things from me? I looked back to Cassia.

  I should have left her in the north.

  There, she’d be safe. The longer I travelled south, the more nervous I became. Anxiety filled me, and I decided if I went back north with Tiberius, I could take her with me. Leave her with the Batavi, perhaps. And Tiberius was not safe. If he died, we’d all be fucked. Livia would have to wait.

  I tried to croak my complaints, but failed. He noticed and goaded me on.

  “You are not happy with this?” he asked me. “Not happy to stay in Rome?”

  “I’m uneasy with staying behind, Lord,” I muttered, hiding my concern over Cassia, and tried to conceal my disdain over taking orders from his mother. “I swore to Drusus to obey you. If you die in Germania? Julia will have won. I’d guard you until you return to Rome, Lord, and then do your bidding. And your mother’s—”

  He hummed. “I told Mother you would be there. You, since she thought it was important. I told her I’d have a band of men sworn to help us. Men she need not doubt. Men so fresh, they cannot be rotten. She expects you already.”

  “Then let us win the war in the north,” I answered, “and solve the issue when we all go back to Rome.” I bit my tongue and spoke my mind. “I’d rather have one master than a mistress I don’t know and an absent master.” Gods, let him agree. Cassia would be safe.

  He walked in silence, and sighed after thinking about it. “At least speak with her. I promised Drusus I’d be your patron, and if you feel unhappy with serving her, then I’ll leave it up to you. I can arrange everything, even if I’m leaving. There are men I trust who can help you in Palatine. If you stay—”

  “Lord,” I began, and he raised his hand to silence me.

  “If you stay in Rome, you will serve in the fourth turma,” he told me, as if he was supremely confident in his mother’s ability to change my mind. “You will serve with them, and they and the third will take over the duty of guarding Augustus, Livia, and Antonia.” He smiled. “And Julia. They alone will guard them. The rest of the turmae will have some other duties. These two turma are full of men Drusus hired. Augustus has been told there is a hint of conspiracy, a threat to his family, and he has agreed. And you, my friend, will keep an eye on Julia.”

  “If I stay,” I said sullenly.

  He smiled. “Yes, if. I could just order you, Hraban, but I won’t. The service I expect from you must be willing service. Speak with Livia. She can be trusted, Hraban. Though,” he said with a wistful smile, “I understand you. No soldier should obey a woman. They are much more merciless than any man. You are right to worry. I know her very well, of course. Speak with her before you decide.”

  “I’ll speak with her, then,” I said. “But, I think I should be with you in Germania. How will the Guard’s duties affect me in Rome? They go to war?”

  “Yes, you’ll speak with her soon,” he said simply. “As for your duties in the Guard, I will leave orders to make sure you will not need to attend majority of the normal service, not more than what is required to learn the trade and the rules. You will be a spoiled child, Hraban, and some will hate you. You are a heroic man of Drusus, a man who did him great service, and was rewarded by citizenship and a place in the guard. It is an odd combination, my friend, since most guards hope to become citizens after the service, but it works to our advantage. You will hate me.”

  “Hate you, Lord?”

  He chuckled. “You see, you must dislike me to make Julia like you. We shall tell everyone you might be a citizen, but I demanded you still serve full term in the Guard, or the right will be revoked.”

  “Will Julia not demand I be removed, if I’m a former hero of Drusus?” I asked him.

  He shook his head. “Mother has a hunch she will accept you. I trust her. And Drusus is dead. Now, she looks at me. If you hate me, she will be tempted to like you. We make sure you are to suffer,” he said with relish. “You are a sullen citizen, stuck with the Guard. You will serve nighttime. You will hardly love the service you thought you could pass. You will hate your Decurion, and you will hate me. You will get shitty duty, and Julia will see it and love it. I’ll treat you like shit in the sole of my boot. Livia said this would be the way of it.”

  “Sounds promising, Lord,” I said mirthlessly. “I am looking forward to my shitty service in Rome.”

  He nodded grimly. “If you stay there, you and your men will infiltrate Julia’s house, and you shall find the truth of the filthy matter.” He pushed me gently. “But, you will do so carefully, so that you shall not be revealed. She might get spooked, and try something desperate. Sometimes, desperate people still do terrible damage, eh? Keep her calm and unsuspecting. Do not alert her to your plans. I’ll want to live for a while yet, and I want to see Antonia’s children grow old. I want not one piece of the power of Augustus, believe me. Do well, now or when we get back from Germania. You will be rewarded. And speak with Livia.” He frowned and kicked a stone. “I’ve had many an argument with her, but in this one thing we are allied. Yet, I leave the choice to you. Stay, or come with me.”

  I bowed to him in thanks. “I shall decide when I speak with her. I shall serve you like I did your brother.” I breathed deep. “Or I shall serve her.”

  He nodded, still convinced I’d choose his mother. “Proof. Get it,” he growled. “If that Antius will not give us a name, though he shall, then we still need proof. I need clear proof. If we find no proof, then we will be rid of her in some other way. We’ll dishonor her to Hades.” He looked at me. “Or try your method.”

  I bowed, shocked. To dishonor her? And my method? Kill her? I wished I had kept silent.

  For now, I was going to guard Tiberius. I’d get Cassia back home, keep Tiberius alive. Then, eventually, when we came home, I was to find proof that would condemn Julia.

  Dishonor her? Perhaps kill her?

  Could I?

  Yes, perhaps.

  Succeed, and I’d make Drusus smile in Hades. Take Julia out, and it would make Maroboodus weep. Had he not been promised great rewards if he served Julia well? Perhaps he had been promised he could see his boy, maybe even raise him? Julia’s fall would change all that. He’d lose his Roman son, like he lost Gernot and me.

  It was just.

  “Can you do this, Hraban?” Tiberius asked me.

  I nodded. “I will do it, Patron.”

  He slapped a hand on my shoulder. “Hraban, I have to find out which name you were given. A Roman name.”

  “I’d like to know as well,” I said thinly. They had named me like a dog is named, and never bothered to tell me.

  He nodded. “You’re a Roman now. So is your wife. Drusus had all of that taken care of before he died. We’ll find out.”

  “What will happen when we reach Rome?” I asked, as he moved to walk behind his brother.

  He smiled. “First, we meet my mother and Augustus in Augusta Taurinorum, just beyond these next hills, when we enter hills and plains.” He crinkled his nose. “There, you’ll have a bath. You all shall have a bath. I, as well, but get used to bathing and looking presentable every day, Raven. Then we walk all the way to Rome. We’ll burn our beloved one. And you,” he said, “sooner, or later, shall serve in the shadows. There are men who work in the streets of many a city in the east and south. Their job is to catch snakes, and they are clever, dangerous men, as dangerous as their prey. You’ll catch the serpent of us. You shall be her bane. You’ll flush her out.”

  I nodded. “Snake catcher. Yes, Lord.”

  “Don’t fail,” he muttered. “And decide soon, if you can work with my mother. She is sure to seek you out in Augusta Taurinorum.” He looked at me. “Your wife is safe with her, should you decide to stay. I’m no fool, Hraban. She’s your weakness, but you can trust Livia. I have always done so.”

  I nodded, not sure I agreed.

  CHAPTER 3

  We trekked down to the plains of northern Italy. Ominously, the first thing we saw was a caravan filled with slaves, an
d a brutally scowling mango, a slave trader. He was impatiently waiting as some of his dead human cattle were being tossed into a shallow grave. One, I was sure, was still alive, though only barely. Cassia noticed it as well, and I placed a swift hand on her arm as she nearly turned to accost the men.

  We rode on, and she was still fuming, and hissing complaints at nobody in particular. Tiberius and the nobles stopped by a mutatio, a mail station, which was a sturdy house of red tiles, and left letters there to be sent north. The mail service was an invention of Augustus, and strong horses grazed in the corralled field behind it, waiting to leave on swift trips across the lands, or wherever the mail was headed. Tiberius dined there, while a veterinarian checked a horse that had fallen lame. We all ate ricotta cheese and lamb, and even Wandal left the house happy.

  Unlike Tudrus.

  “Wine, only arid wine,” Tudrus criticized. “Water and wine, or just wine, or only water, and no mead at all. Not even ale.” He had developed a serious dislike for wine.

  We progressed forward, passed mansions, and other places where travelers might stay the night. A spelucatore, a courier, thundered down the road to give Tiberius a message, which no doubt had something to do with Augustus. We passed a village, and saw a curious sight. A wedding was being celebrated, where the bride wore an orange veil, flammeum, the groom happy, as if he was marrying the lady Sunna in the sky, and a bull was being sacrificed. The priest, an haruspex gave them happy news as he read the signs from the animal’s kidney and even the Batavi cheered the happy couple, as they passed. I saw Tiberius smile briefly, and I wondered if he remembered his first wife, the one he had been forced to divorce because of Augustus’s determination to wed him to Julia.

  We passed rich farmland, in precise blocks of two hundred iguera. It was an incredible sight, as if the fields had been forced into military service and told to stand in precise rows for all of eternity. Green and yellow harvests were still evident in some. We passed the decumani roads, running east and west, and many a carruci, covered wagons, waiting on the cardines roads, the ones running north and south. The peasants and merchants were bowing to the fallen lord.