The Snake Catcher Page 7

  And yet, after he had been adopted and after he had boldly raised himself to power, his skills were undeniable. He was the man who had navigated his ship wisely, bravely when he must, and risking his life on numerous occasions. Most of the time, he had acted prudently, slowly eroding the powers that stood against him. When the time had finally been right, he had alienated himself from the Republicans, hunted the celebrated slayers of his adopted father, and acted ruthlessly to stake his power in Rome.

  Here was the man who refused most accolades the Senate poured over him, and still held power in his old hands. He made the rules from the shadows, and few truly challenged his authority after Marc Antony died in Egypt. He was Octavianus, Augustus, the Princeps, the first citizen, emperor in all but name; a tyrant without the title. He held imperium over the provinces where the armies were stationed, making him de facto lord over the fates of all Romans. Senators were his lapdogs, and few dared to voice their discontent. Drusus had, and he was dead.

  Augustus had come to meet his beloved stepson.

  The dead one. Not Tiberius.

  It was easy to observe. He saw Tiberius there, waiting for him, and hesitated. It was like an invisible wall between them, something one had to struggle through, almost physically.

  Augustus hated Tiberius. Whether for the trouble with Julia, or because of the stern, dour nature of Tiberius. I couldn’t be sure. Yet it was clear, even to a stranger. Augustus clearly found starting the pleasantries tedious, and he simply walked past the pool and statues, gazing at the black flowers. Tiberius, stoutly, kept the goblet up, his face made of stone. The old man was walking slowly, his back straight, a model of Roman virtues, though that, of course, was not so. Augustus preached many of them, the virtues, but lived up to only a few. He reached Tiberius, who bowed. “Pater.”

  Augustus nodded, and his eyes wetted, as he saw the death mask of Drusus on the desk. Was this the man who had so much to fear from Drusus? He cried for my lord. The tears flowed on his cheeks.

  Tiberius had said Julia had not acted alone.

  Surely it was not the old man, after all.

  Augustus shuddered with tears and sorrow, and his hands shook as he ran his fingers on the features of his son-in-law.

  Gods, he had no part in it, I thought. Then, I cursed my idiocy. Cassia would slap me. A few tears, shaking hands, and I was ready to believe anything.

  I saw an actor, a man who probably never let anyone see his real face. Perhaps he was just an old, great pretender? He would be, wouldn’t he? He might have been one of those who had hated and feared an opponent, and then cried from relief after seeing their foe dead.

  If he was involved, then nothing mattered. We would be in deep trouble. Cassia might suffer, if we went against this man.

  No, I decided. It was Julia. Julia and someone else. Julia hated Tiberius and Drusus. Didn’t Julia hate her father as much as she hated Tiberius, for the many marriages she had been forced into? Augustus could also be in danger. Perhaps he, too, was in the list.

  If we found Julia was guilty, would he act against her? Possibly.

  I decided Augustus truly mourned his stepson. It surely looked like that, as he let his finger trace the contours of my lord’s death mask for a long, long time.

  Finally, he raised his hand and received the goblet. “Thank you. It is a shocking day.”

  Tiberius said nothing, and shrugged. His eyes sought the shadows of the doorway, expecting someone.

  Augustus mulled over the wine, his wrinkled face concentrated as he smelled it, and then he pointed a finger at me. “New guards?”

  Tiberius nodded and indicated to me. “He was with Drusus, in that battle where Maroboodus killed my brother.”

  Maroboodus.

  Augustus stared at me, and shuddered with revulsion. The effect was immediate. Augustus went rigid, as if he had had a stroke. His teeth clashed together, his eye glowed with hurt, and now, finally, I could not believe the man had anything to do with sending my father north with the plan of slaying Drusus.

  Finally, the old man spoke. “I remember. You asked he and his men be placed in the fourth turma? Yes, and they, with the fourth, should guard us until things are safe, and this conspiracy is exposed. I know little of it, but I trust your judgment. We shall keep the arrangement, until you and your men find out if there is a conspiracy against the family. Let it be so, until everything is clear. It makes the Prefect of the Guard inconsolable, unhappiest man under the sun, but we shall limit the guards near my family for now. As for this man and his men, was it not so that they failed to protect our Drusus?” He gave me a queer, measuring look but I kept his eyes steadily.

  Tiberius pointed a finger at me. “He carved his way through enemy and traitors to the side of Drusus. He carries scars for it. I blame him not. It was a battle, not an assassination in the night when the guards slept in duty.”

  Augustus was nodding softly. He walked towards me. “Name?”

  “Hraban,” I answered.

  “Raven,” he murmured, and I was impressed. The man was a scholar as well as a politician. “You will join my Guard?”

  “I was given the honor,” I answered.

  He sneered and spoke acidly. “It is my Guard, but I did already agree, didn’t I? A man should keep his word. Very well,” he muttered. He was nodding again. “What tribe?”

  Tiberius spoke. “He is a Batavi.”

  I opened my mouth to correct him, and shut it quickly, knowing Tiberius didn’t wish to tell him any more of me than was necessary. How he would keep my identity a secret, especially with Armin and the filthy Antius on their way to Rome, was a mystery. Tiberius was looking at me steadily, his eyes deep as pools of dark water. He had resources and allies. Armin would be silent, Antius hanging in a torture chamber.

  “Batavi,” Augustus said sarcastically. “Drafted by Drusus. Like most of them, eh? We have lots of Ubii in the second turma, but most are Batavi. You are welcome, then. I applaud your Latin. You will have to improve it, and one day, you’ll come to me in my house, and share your story. Taste this.” He handed me the goblet. I saw the jaws of Tiberius tighten, and I took the wine, and sipped at it. It was acrid, raw, and very simple after the taste of Tiberius, and it warmed me from toes to nose. I handed it back towards the great man, who lost interest in me, and turned around, leaving me there with the goblet. “Let us use the study, Tiberius. Let us speak and exchange news. Is his wife and children with you?”

  “They are,” Tiberius said. “I picked them up from Lugdunum. They have fared well as we crossed the mountain passes.” Augustus stopped by the table, and picked up the death mask.

  “I’ll miss gambling with him,” he said, and they moved past us to the corridor that led deeper to the house. Their voices echoed from the garden eerily.

  We stood there like horses in the stable.

  Wandal turned to me. “He wanted to make sure the wine wasn’t poisoned, didn’t he?”

  “The bastard did,” I whispered. “It is an odd family.”

  Wandal snorted. “And yours is not? What’s left of it. Your mother was the only sane one in the whole—”

  A regal lady stepped out of the vestibule. She had been standing there in the shadows, silent, gazing at us. It was Livia, wife of Augustus, and mother of Drusus. She was tall, surprisingly young of face, though her hair was disheveled, perhaps as a sign of mourning. Her jewelry was plain, and few. Her palla and stola were dusty. She stopped before me, and took the goblet. She sipped at it, walked back and forth before the pool of water, nodding. She turned. “What is your name?”

  She was speaking to Wandal.

  He stammered and bowed, his golden halo of hair flying forward, and Livia gave a small smile. She turned to me. “Ask him to wait outside.”

  I nodded my head towards the door.

  Wandal turned with an embarrassed mutter, happy to leave, his face flushed, and I had a hunch Tudrus would make ruthless fun of him, if he were spying on us from the door.

&n
bsp; The lady stared at me with deep intensity. She walked around, and I didn’t turn with her, but stood still, staring at the table, breathing hard. I felt there was a wolf measuring me, looking for a weakness, wondering how best to put me down and eat me. There was something about the wife of Augustus, the mother of Tiberius and Drusus, which made one straighten one’s back, both with respect and caution. She stopped before me. She looked past my shoulder to the stairway to the second level, where the women slept, and I wondered if she knew I had a wife there. Perhaps she even knew she was with a child. Her eyes were lively, intelligent, and her face gave away nothing.

  She gazed to the direction Augustus had taken Tiberius, and frowned heavily, and went and sat down by the table.

  “You are the one Tiberius wrote to me about. And Drusus. Especially Drusus. Are you not? You are called the Raven? Do you speak Latin?”

  “I do speak Latin,” I said clumsily, and bit my lip to stop myself from looking apologetic before her. I was what I was, and Drusus had loved me.

  She didn’t show any disdain over my rough words. Instead, she just stared at me. “And my son trusts you.”

  I squared my shoulders, which she took careful note of. “Which son?” I asked after time.

  She smiled. “The live one. Of course.”

  I shrugged. “Your dead son trusted me. That I know.”

  She was nodding profoundly, and waved her delicate hand towards her son’s whereabouts. “But, perhaps, not Tiberius. You love the dear boy I lost, but not the live one I adore.”

  “I did love Drusus. I do not know Tiberius yet,” I said as I nodded towards the study. “But, he seems a worthy man. Nonetheless, I am serving him now. He seems to share things with me, so he, too, might trust me to a degree.”

  She chuckled and rubbed her face tiredly. “Drusus handed you to him, eh? Like he would his favorite horse.” She frowned. “In fact, he handed his horses to him.”

  I scowled at her. “Like he would a client to a patron, hoping I’d serve him well.”

  “But, will you serve well?” she wondered. “If you loved Drusus enough to risk your life for him, would you do the same for Tiberius? Would you fight like a fiend for him, give your life for him, when he asks for it?”

  I hesitated, but didn’t show it. I fought hard not to and instead spoke quickly. “I’ve risked my life time and again since my family died, my lady, for Rome, for other causes. I fought for your younger son, and tried my utmost to keep him alive. I failed in that. So did thousand others. We all loved Drusus. I was a vagabond with no home, and Drusus lifted me from despair into the light. I had nothing. I had lost everything. Now I have a wife, soon, a child, and a quest. He made that possible. I will fight for Tiberius as well, if for no other reason than the love your sons clearly had for each other.”

  She tilted her head, regarding me with sympathy. “Tiberius always had hard time finding friends. His ability and intelligence does not make up for charisma. Drusus had that golden effect on people.” She smiled disarmingly. “A wife? And a quest? Which comes first?”

  I bit my lip, cursing my big mouth. I had not meant to tell her of Cassia. “I—”

  She laughed softly. “I bet there are few men in this world who would not truly put their family before all else. We never need to find out, Hraban, in your case. Cherish the family, and the quest both. I hear you keep your word and love your wife with equal passion.”

  “I hope I do,” I answered.

  She smiled. “As you love your daughter. You had one? Tell me, did you ever find her?”

  I stiffened and felt cold sweat travel my back. She knew much. I had better not underestimate her, I thought. “I did. She is safe. What, exactly, did Drusus write to you about me?”

  She sighed and got up. “His life. His hopes and dreams. Of Antonia and the children. He was a dutiful son. A hardheaded, but lovely boy.” She played with the hem of her palla. “As for you, he spoke of you highly. Said he’d trust his life in your hands. He said he’d do so in the battle.” She fixed me with an eye. “And outside of it. I think, though he didn’t say it, that he hoped you would help him when few others could. In the shadows.”

  And that’s the work she’d have for me, I thought, and we stood, facing each other, for a moment’s time. “Do I pass?” I inquired.

  She was not young, but there was something youthful about her smile. She was not like the miserable few grandmothers I had spied in the streets, tired and whipped by the toils of the Roman world. Her life with Augustus was filled with past sorrows, present worries, but she was alert, smart, and pushy. She had a life to live still, and she wanted things out of it. I’d probably find out what in time. “My husband will come back soon. My boy told me he thought you precious, and I think he was right. You pass.”

  I bowed. “Thank you.” I decided to get to the point. “I was told by Tiberius you think I might be useful with Julia. I’m a man of the woods, my lady, and I doubt—”

  Her voice broke as she spoke. “Drusus was right about you, indeed. Direct as a sword you are. Alas, he isn’t with us. It is a precious thing to have the service of a man like you. Even more precious if such a man isn’t smothered by the filth of Rome. You might be a barbarian, who stumbles around in confusion of Roman world, one who will never understand politics, most of the Roman customs, but I sense you will adjust well, given time. I think you shall serve us well. Even with the issue you mentioned.”

  “I do feel clumsy as a three-legged dog,” I agreed. “But, I shall try my best. Still, I am not sure what you are asking me for. Tiberius and I spoke, and—”

  She nodded and interrupted me as Augustus was speaking nearby. Then, the voice receded as he apparently moved back to the study, or the garden beyond. “Drusus wanted you to guard him. I’m sure he wanted you to be his sword, and to fight the battles he could not.” She looked at me seriously. “I told him to gather many such men. Told him to look out for himself. And now, my live boy needs a man to fight his battles, since he cannot. Did you say you spoke with Tiberius?”

  I nodded. “Drusus told me to serve Tiberius. Tiberius told me to serve you, while he goes and deals with things in the north.” I forced myself to deny her hopes. “But, I think I should stay with him.” Gods, I want Cassia safe, I thought.

  She nodded, her eyes suddenly worried. “You cannot be in all the places at the same time, can you, Hraban? I cannot force you to stay in Rome, no, but that is where the snake makes her nest. In order to keep my last son breathing, the snake must be caught.”

  “But, surely the snake will sleep when the hare is under guard and far away? If I’m not there, in the north, he will be exposed,” I uttered.

  She smiled. “Surely a capable troop of bodyguards can be found anywhere, Hraban. You give yourself too much credit. Your true value is in Rome, with me. Guarding a man is a simple task for a simple, dogged mind. I know Drusus asked Tiberius to let you serve him. Tiberius feels duty bound to grant this wish, even if he knows you would serve best with me.” She spoke very softly, “We have to make sure she is caught. Dealt with.”

  I nodded, and frowned, not sure if I was actually putting a noose around my neck. “This talk about the daughter of the Princeps is dangerous.”

  She nodded. “All the political games in the Palatine are dangerous. But, less so, if played under my protection. Julia and I are enemies. Our powers are different, but the power of a mother protecting her child is without question. I need you.”

  I bowed. “I will do it. I’ll serve Drusus’s memory by finding proof against the one Tiberius thinks guilty. Gods know how I am helpful with her, but I will help you. But, I shall do so after we return to Rome.”

  “I need you now,” she said sternly.

  I took a breath, trying not to speak with any hint of displeasure. “We have all the proof we need,” I said.

  “We do? Really?” she asked thinly. “Do tell me. Because I had no such tools in the past, and trust me, dealing with Julia for years and years has be
en a tedious chore.”

  “Antius, this murdering spawn of Hel,” I said. “We captured the man who worked for Maroboodus and Segestes. This man spoke to me of a noble woman who had caused all of this. So did his servant, Cornix, who died. While Tiberius, your son, has no doubts about Julia’s guilt, this man will be able to testify.” I looked to the direction of study, but there was nobody in the corridor.

  “Yes,” she said sadly. “We know about this Antius now. He was sent to serve as a negotiatore, but his name is false. All the trails lead to nothing. We have searched the records, and they came up clean.”

  “But, you have the man,” I insisted.

  She smiled dryly. “The ship arrived days past in Classe, the military harbor of Ravenna,” she said thinly. “This man who spoke to you of a woman? He disappeared from the ship.”

  I stiffened, and ground my teeth together. Gone? Thwarted again. I struggled to swallow my anger and disappointment, but it was very hard to do.

  Cassia was now in even greater danger.

  “As you see,” she said gently, “there are very dangerous men. They are plotting right there under our noses. And I do have an idea how to make you, particularly you, useful.”

  I spoke with difficulty. “As I said, I’ll try. But, first, I’ll keep Tiberius alive in the north, if I can. Then I’ll be back. The war in Germania might not last for a long time. Drusus had practically won it.”

  There was a brief look of displeasure and astonishment on her face. “I see.”

  We heard Augustus speaking with an excited voice, and seemingly slamming his fist on a desk. Livia smiled thinly, and shook her head. “I take what I can, then. Indeed, I shall. First, Raven, you shall have to come to grips with the delicateness of the situation,” she told me and stepped really close. Her eyes flickered to the stairway and then back, looking deep into my eyes. “It is delicate, because Julia is powerful. So am I, but not like she is. My husband loves us both, but he truly loves his grandsons, Gaius and Lucius. Not so much the new one, Postumus, for some reason.”