He suddenly felt very tired, but Cupido was still locked in combat a few feet away and he forced himself to his feet, using the carriage wheel as a prop. He could see it was almost over. The Praetorians who had tamely allowed the assassins through their line had finally stirred themselves from their lethargy and six or seven of the killers were struggling to escape their grasp.
Cupido chopped at one of his surviving opponents and the man spun away with blood pouring from his neck. That left only the tall man; the leader who had shouted the order. He fought well, with the skill of an experienced swordsman, but he was no match for a former gladiator. With a twist of his blade, Cupido ripped the man's sword from his hand and sent it spinning into the air. He put his point to the assassin's throat and forced the man to his knees, before flicking back the hood.
Rufus gasped.
Lucius.
'Kill me.'
It was not a plea — he was too proud for that. The words were addressed to Cupido, but Lucius's eyes were fixed on Rufus's. He knew his fate if he fell into the hands of the Emperor's torturers.
'Kill me,' he repeated, and Rufus knew one of the names screamed out when the hot irons were applied again and again would be his own.
Cupido heard the words also, but he knew his duty, and it was not to grant a merciful death to a man who had just tried to kill the Emperor. He took the sword away from Lucius's throat.
'Your fate was written the moment you crossed the line of guards. How did you do that? It will be the first question they ask and I will be interested to hear your answer. Because you will answer, friend. Brave man or coward, they always answer.'
Lucius dropped his eyes, but not before Rufus recognized the despair in them.
'Look out, he has a dagger.' The words were out before he realized he had said them. Cupido stepped back and his sword came up, but it was Rufus who moved first, plunging his blade deep into Lucius's chest. The young tribune opened his mouth as if he had something important to say, but a flood of crimson filled it and he fell forward, dragging Rufus's sword from his hand.
Rufus turned away, to find himself looking into Cupido's accusing eyes.
'There was no dagger.'
Rufus drew out the ornate knife Lucius had given him beneath the tree in Drusilla's garden. Using Cupido to shield his movements from the occupant of the carriage, he bent down and placed the weapon in Lucius's lifeless fingers.
'There is now.'
Cupido stared hard, but did nothing to stop him. 'We will discuss this later.'
A shattering roar reminded Rufus that he had abandoned Bersheba. As he walked painfully back towards the elephant, he was forced to pass beneath the shocked gaze of the consuls and senators who had watched the combat in impotent horror. His eyes caught those of the Emperor's uncle. Claudius was blinking nervously, like an elderly owl caught in bright sunlight.
'Send for Nestor and tell him to bring his most fearsome instruments.' The shouted order was accompanied by a clatter as Caligula kicked back the door of his carriage, his face almost scarlet with fury and suppressed fear. 'We will set up the triangle and the forge here, in open show, and Rome will see how an Emperor rewards those who would do him ill!'
Rufus shuddered, but kept walking. Nestor was Caligula's most experienced and refined torturer. Was it his imagination, or did Claudius's face go a little paler at the mention of the name?
XXIX
He had killed a man. No, he had killed two men.
This air he breathed seemed more of a privilege now he had robbed Lucius of its gift. Yet the very fact of the deaths seemed to diminish him. Was this how Cupido felt each time he left the arena? Did he experience this emptiness, as if some part of another man's going had taken with it an essential element of his killer?
Rufus sat at the rough wooden table. He had spent an hour at a public fountain trying to wash the blood from his skin and his clothing, but it seemed to leave an indelible stain. From time to time he would rub his fingers absently over patches on his arm only he could see. Livia watched her husband anxiously. She had heard of the assassination attempt, but not the details. She could see he was affected by what had happened and she wanted to comfort him, but Rufus had created a barrier around himself that she could not penetrate.
She had another reason for wanting to speak to him. She had news of her own. But there would be another time.
Eventually, he broke the silence. 'Why did they do it?'
'Who?'
'Lucius must have known he would fail. It was as if he expected the guards to stand aside. Some of them did, but not Cupido. Not me.'
'Who is Lucius?'
'I killed him. I think he might have been my friend, but I pierced his heart with my sword and he died thanking me for it.' He shook his head and looked at her with empty eyes. 'I killed them both. To save the Emperor.'
Livia's eyes lit up. 'You saved the Emperor?'
Rufus stared at her in confusion. He found it difficult to remember the details. Everything had happened so quickly. The dazzling patterns as Cupido's long sword carved the air, the terrible certainty as he drove the point home into another victim. The accusing eyes. Had that been Cupido or Lucius?
'It was Cupido. Cupido saved the Emperor.'
'And you?'
'Yes. And me.'
'Then there will be a reward.'
Rufus suddenly felt sick. 'I want no reward.'
He walked out of the room to sit with Bersheba… and wait for Cupido.
The Cupido who came to the barn at dusk the following day was almost unrecognizable as the young man he had watched dazzle his opponents in the arena, or even the hard-eyed killer he had fought beside in the shadow of the Rostrum Julium.
The gladiator stumbled against the barn door and would have fallen beneath Bersheba's feet if Rufus hadn't stepped forward to catch him. His eyes were glazed and his breath was heavy with the fumes of the rough red wine they served in the worst type of tavern. Rufus attempted to support him, and lead him through the barn to the living space, but the gladiator shrugged him off, mumbling wearily to himself.
'We were betrayed.'
Rufus opened his mouth to reply, then thought better of it.
Cupido blinked at him, and brought his face close, as if his eyes were having difficulty focusing.
'The Praetorians were tricked,' he slurred bitterly. 'Tricked! A legionary officer of the palace went to the barracks and warned the centurion in charge of the guard that the Emperor had ordered a test to entertain the mob. He must tell his men to stand and let certain men pass — certain men who could be identified by their hoods.'
Rufus winced as the gladiator continued.
'The centurion was surprised, but such things have happened in the past. He was a good officer, and he checked the order diligently. He recognized the hand, which was that of Callistus, the Emperor's secretary, countersigned by Cassius Chaerea, of the Guard. So he gave the order.' Cupido shook his head to clear it. 'Naturally, the order was a forgery. How he must now wish he had been more suspicious, if he is not already dead.'