Gates of Rome

CHAPTER 54

AD 54, Rome

Crassus heard the banging on the large wooden gates to his courtyard. He topped up his cup with the last of his wine as he watched his slave, Tosca, hurry across the courtyard clutching a flickering oil lamp to answer the insistent knocking.

Here they come. He tipped the wine insistently down his throat. A little crimson courage.

Crassus knew his strengths and his weaknesses. He wasn’t a brave man. If he had an ounce of courage in him, he would have stood shoulder to shoulder with all the other senators who’d tried defying the emperor years ago.

Tonight he was going to try and make up for that.

The gates swung in and he saw the purple cloaks of a dozen Praetorian Guards sweeping in past his slave.

‘Master! Master!’ cried Tosca in a panic.

‘Marcus Cornelius Crassus!’ barked a centurion. ‘I have orders for your arrest!’

Crassus recognized the voice. Fronto.

Cato had given the arrest order to an officer he trusted to handle Crassus humanely, gently.

Thank you, Cato.

‘I am here,’ he said shakily, stepping out of the shadows beneath his portico. ‘Whatever is the matter?’

Fronto approached, flanked by his men. He adopted his best officious voice. ‘Marcus Cornelius Crassus, I have orders to escort you to the emperor’s palace. He wishes to speak to you!’

Crassus smiled calmly at Fronto. ‘At this time of night, Centurion? Is he lonely?’

Fronto worked to keep the flicker of a smile off his face. ‘Best come along immediately, sir.’

The old man nodded. ‘Yes, of course… can’t keep a god waiting, can I?’

Tosca hurried forward with a cloak for him. ‘Master! What is happening?’

Crassus patted his slave on the arm affectionately. ‘Nothing to worry about, Tosca, old friend. I shall be back for breakfast no doubt.’

‘Sir?’ said Fronto insistently.

‘Lock the door, Tosca,’ he said quietly. He turned to Fronto, fastening the cloak round his narrow shoulders with a clasp. ‘Centurion? I’m all yours.’

Caligula looked up from the small battle being fought between wooden figurines on the low table in front of him. He’d heard the clatter and jangle of armour, the slap of sandals on stone, all the way from the entrance hall.

‘Ahh… good evening, Crassus.’ He smiled coolly.

Crassus nodded politely as his escort of Praetorians came to a halt a couple of yards before the emperor. ‘Your divinity.’

‘Well… a curious thing happened earlier this evening. Would you like to know what it was?’

Crassus said nothing.

‘Oh? Not in the slightest bit curious?’

‘I suspect you plan to tell me anyway.’

Caligula grinned then frowned curiously. ‘Hmmm, that’s not like you, Crassus. You’re normally so… so meek.’ He leaned forward over his battlelines of miniature wooden legionaries and sniffed the air in front of the old man. ‘Been drinking, have we? A little anxious perhaps?’

‘I am working my way through the wine I have left. Before Rome falls into complete anarchy and is looted by the mob.’

‘ Tsk-tsk.’ Caligula shook his head. ‘I won’t let Rome fall into anarchy. Soon every citizen will be showered with wealth… with their very own casks of wine.’

‘Ahhh… you’re still holding out hope for your special day, are you?’

‘The day Heaven opens for me? Yes, of course. And it is very soon in fact.’

‘If you say so.’

‘I do say so.’ Caligula’s face tightened. ‘You know this troubles me, Crassus; perhaps you can answer this for me. If those dirty savages in Judaea could believe a young, uneducated man, a simple craftsman of some kind I believe… if they could believe this mere troublemaker was to be the king of kings, the son of God… why is it so difficult to believe a Roman emperor could be — ’

‘You are quite mad,’ replied Crassus. ‘And a danger to Rome.’

Caligula was dumbstruck at the man’s candour.

‘There are no gods… or god. These are morality tales, nothing more. Any man with half his wits can see that.’

‘Crassus…’ Caligula’s eyes widened playfully. ‘You do seem to have found your tongue tonight.’

‘You had a reason for bringing me here?’

Caligula stood up. ‘Yes… yes, I do.’ He looked over the old man’s shoulder. ‘Ahhh, Tribune! Come forward.’

Cato joined them and offered Caligula a crisp salute.

‘Tribune… why don’t you tell Crassus here all about your interesting find, hmmm?’

Cato turned to the old man. He kept his voice dry and officious. ‘Correspondence between yourself and Quintus Antonius Lepidus, containing invocations to acts of sedition and treachery.’

‘Pouring your poison into Lepidus’s ears. Very, very naughty of you. Lepidus was a faithful man. A good man.’ Caligula shook his head sadly. ‘I’m sure he believed in me until you started working on him. Now…’ He picked up a wooden soldier from the table. ‘Now I really can’t trust him any more, can I?’

Crassus laughed drily. ‘You can trust no one. No one loves you… many fear you. Me? I just pity you. Your days are numbered.’

Caligula kicked the table between them, sending his wooden soldiers cascading on to the floor. ‘Why? Why can’t you all just wait! Just wait and see!!’

‘Wait? Wait for you to become a god?!’

‘YES!!!!’ Caligula turned away from them all and screamed with frustration into the gloom of the atrium. ‘Just wait!! Wait and see!!!’

Crassus glanced at Cato quickly to see the tribune shaking his head almost imperceptibly. The message was quite clear: don’t provoke him any more. Not necessary.

The old man smiled at his friend. A smile that told Cato that he knew where this exchange was going to take them. That he was ready for it. But most importantly, that Cato should let this happen. To try and stop it… to try to save him, to try and lunge at Caligula would be futile; the emperor’s Stone Men stood close by. Too close.

‘You will never be a god, Caligula… “little boot”. You are nothing more than a failed emperor and a deluded fool!’

Caligula whirled round. ‘Tribune! Your sword!’

Cato looked at the emperor uncertainly.

‘Give me your sword! NOW!’

Cato unsheathed it slowly and presented the handle to Caligula. ‘Caesar, I suggest Crassus be kept alive! He will be a useful source of informa-’

Caligula ignored him and grabbed his sword. He pressed the tip of the blade into the hollow at the base of Crassus’s throat. It drew blood, a small trickle that rolled along the old man’s prominent collarbone, over the edge and soaked into the linen of his toga.

Caligula giggled at the sight of it. ‘Crassus… you do seem to be full of surprises tonight. Do you have a death wish?’

‘I am quite ready to die.’ He glanced quickly at Cato. ‘Ready to make way for a new generation of senators.’ He turned back to Caligula and smiled defiantly. ‘Senators who will very soon be replacing you.’

Caligula’s face bloomed a dark crimson. He thrust the sword forward, hard, until it grated on bone somewhere inside the old man. He laughed excitedly as Crassus gurgled blood, his mouth jerking open and closed several times before he dropped to his knees and flopped forward on to the floor.

Caligula squatted down to examine the old man.

‘Caesar.’

He looked up at Cato. ‘Yes?’

‘What are your orders?’

‘Orders?’

‘General Lepidus? You had a messenger despatched earlier? A message for him to report to you immediately? He will be warned now. He may even now be provoked to make a move on you.’

Caligula nodded, his mind clearing aside the dwindling rage. ‘Yes

… yes, you’re quite right. We must do something about that.’

‘May I suggest you mobilize the Praetorian cohorts garrisoned outside the city? Lepidus has two legions at his command… and they are less than a day’s march from here.’

Caligula stood up slowly, Crassus’s body already forgotten about. ‘Yes, we must move quickly, mustn’t we?’

Cato nodded. ‘Immediately, sire. If Lepidus already knows he’s under suspicion, he could be readying his men to march on Rome right now. The Guard should be readied to march out and meet them.’

‘You’re right!’ Caligula spat a curse. ‘Where is your damned praefectus? I sent for him hours ago!’

Cato turned to Fronto. ‘Find out where he is. We need his authority to — ’

‘No, we don’t! I’m the emperor! I want word sent to all of the Praetorian cohorts to assemble outside the east gates on the Via Praenestina at first light. Is that understood!’

Fronto nodded. ‘Yes, Caesar.’

‘Well, go on, then! Now!’

Cato watched his centurion hurry out of the atrium. His gaze rested on Stern, standing to attention dutifully just behind Caligula. ‘Your Stone Men, sire…? Might I suggest you send them along? They have something of a reputation.’

Caligula stroked his chin thoughtfully.

‘And Lepidus has two legions to our one.’

‘Hmmm. Maybe you’re right.’ He pressed his lips together thoughtfully. ‘Although, if there are other whisperers like Crassus around, I would rather they remained by my side.’

Cato wondered how far he could push his advice. For the moment Caligula seemed to be listening to it, even welcoming it. ‘You have my cohort here, sire, to guard you; to guard the palace and the government district.’

‘Yes, perhaps I should send some of them…’ Caligula was thinking aloud more than talking to Cato.

‘Enough to be sure of a decisive victory, sire?’

‘Hmmm… yes. It certainly needs to be decisive. Can’t have every other disgruntled general out there following Lepidus’s example, can we?’

‘No, sire.’