Caligula

'No. I came because I enjoy seeing you suffer, but also because your baby face cannot hide the fact that you are wise beyond your years and I am in desperate need of some wisdom.'

Cupido looked at him curiously. 'Very well, but let us walk. I cannot allow my muscles to stiffen.'

Saying farewell to Sabatis, they walked out into the city. Rufus loved the thronging narrow streets and it was clear that Cupido shared his pleasure. Beneath one awning was fine, shiny cloth in all the colours of the rainbow, which Cupido assured him came from a country in the east where the sun was so bright that people lived with their eyes permanently shut. The fruit stalls sold soft, ripe peaches of scarlet and gold, velvet-skinned apricots and squat, ugly pomegranates.

They found themselves on the street close to Cerialis's largest bakery and Rufus saw a face he knew in the booth outside the shop.

'Corvo! Are you still giving blind old Atticus the runaround?'

'Not me, Rufus. Now I am Corvo the dedicated. Work, work, work and then, maybe, just a little play.' The curly-haired vendor's face beamed with pleasure as he recognized his former workmate.

'But, more important, do you still bake the best bread in Rome?'

'Certainly,' Corvo agreed. 'Atticus may have the eyesight of a mole, but he grinds the best flour and I bake the best loaves.' He looked around and whispered: 'And we still keep a little under the counter for old friends.'

He reached below the cloth covering the table that held his stock of bread and brought out five separate sections of broken loaf, the largest of which was a half-circle with a distinctive line across its crust.

'Try them. See what you think.'

Rufus insisted that Cupido take first honour. He watched as the gladiator bit into a coarse loaf, the centre of which was a deep brown colour. 'It's good,' he said, mouth full. 'But I think you should get rid of these.' He spat a grit-hard grain of barley into his hand.

Corvo laughed. ' Panis rusticus — peasant bread. So are those, sordidus, castrensis and plebeius, but a bit more refined. Now try that one.' He pointed at the largest portion, which was a deep golden brown. ' Panis siligineus. Finest bread we make.'

Cupido bit through the crust of the loaf to the soft dough within. Slightly chewy in texture, it was pale cream in colour and had a clean, fresh flavour that only improved the longer he had it in his mouth. At last, he swallowed, reluctant to let the moment go.

'Not bad,' he said, trying without success to sound unimpressed, and Rufus joined in Corvo's disbelieving laughter as they left the baker and continued onwards in the direction of the Palatine. Many of the houses they passed had sheer frontages six storeys high, studded with dozens of windows, and Rufus told Cupido about the first time he had seen them.

'I thought the people in them must be very rich to live so near the clouds. Then I discovered it was just the opposite. This is where the poorest live; at least, the poorest who can afford a roof over their heads at all. The people who build them are thieves and the people who own them are gangsters. If you don't die when they fall down on your head, you burn to death when they catch fire.'

As they walked, he told Cupido enthusiastically about the big cats and how their training was progressing, but he was eventually forced to admit that he didn't know what his next step should be.

'I have discussed it with Fronto, but every idea we consider is worse than the last. We have only a single throw of the dice — if it fails, the lions will die and so, probably, will we.'

Cupido thought for a moment, his pewter eyes staring into the middle distance. 'The moods of the crowd are anything but certain,' he said eventually. 'But perhaps you have already seen the way to win them. Do you remember our first meeting?'

'How could I forget it?'

'Yes, but poor foolish Serpentius?'

'The gladiator who ran from the lion? Yes, I remember. He looked so pathetic running around the arena. What happened to him?'

'His next fight — his first proper fight — was his last. He was not really equipped for the arena.'

'I'm sorry.'

'Why? You didn't know him. He was just another slave. Just another piece of meat thrown to the mob. But look back. Remember their reaction when he ran. What did they do?'

'It was sad. They ridiculed the poor man.'

'No, it wasn't sad and they did not ridicule him. They thought it was funny and they laughed at him. Now do you see?'

Rufus looked puzzled for a moment, then the light of understanding sparked in his eyes, and a thrill of trepidation sent a shiver down his spine.

It was his time to enter the ring.

VII

If the past few weeks had been intensive, those which followed were doubly so. From dawn to dusk he worked with the lions in a paddock which was similar in size and shape to the arena.

Each evening when he lay back on his cot his muscles ached and the scratches on his skin stung beneath the salve Fronto had provided against the poison from a lion's claws, which could make any wound swell up and turn first red, then black, and lead to an agonizing death. But each day he learned more and taught more, and each day he became more confident that he could actually succeed.

It took a visit from Cupido to bring his soaring ego back down to earth.

'Yes, yes, the lions are very good,' he said. 'But it is not enough. If you are to convince the mob you must be able to show them something special, something they have never seen before. Think. What else is there? What can you do that will entertain a senator who has become bored watching two men trying to chop each other to pieces?'

Rufus shook his head, close to despair. 'I don't know. We've tried everything. Maybe I should just give up.'

'If you give up, you are as good as dead,' Cupido told him. 'And so are your animals. Come with me.' He marched across the packed dirt past the antelope enclosures, with Rufus at his heels. 'There, Rufus, there is your answer.'

Rufus stared. His heart seemed to have stopped. 'No,' he said, his voice faltering. 'No. I cannot.'

'You must,' Cupido said quietly. 'There is no other way. But tell no one, not even Fronto.'

Fronto monitored Rufus's progress with the lions and was secretly impressed by what he saw, but Rufus took Cupido's advice and there were certain aspects of the training that the trader didn't see. He still found it difficult to believe that the young man would succeed, but as he watched him work he felt himself drawn into the plan.

'I thought you were supposed to be making people laugh,' he complained helpfully. 'I've been watching you for an hour and all I feel like doing is crying.'

'If you think it's so easy why don't you try it?' Rufus replied wearily.

Fronto grinned. 'Fortunately, I'm too old and too fat. You are the young pup with the lust for fame and fortune.'

'Yes, but if I succeed it will only be fame. You'll be the one with the fortune.'

'Perhaps, but that is only fair. I am the one who's supplying all the livestock. Even you. Now get back to work.'

'Can you get me some wooden barrels?'

'If you need something to drink, drink water. Wine will only slow you down.'

'Empty barrels, about so big.' Rufus held his hand at waist height.

Fronto scratched his beard. 'It won't be easy. You're talking about a beer barrel and only barbarians drink beer. But I know someone who might have some to spare.'

Two days later, Fronto was back at the side of the paddock, looking pleased with himself.

Rufus was practising the most difficult part of his routine when the animal trader arrived. Things had been going well and he couldn't resist the temptation to show off. But in his efforts to impress, he lost concentration and missed his timing. What should have been an elegant landing ended with him rolling in the dust with the two lions, who looked at him with undisguised disapproval.