The Emperor raised his own goblet in a silent toast directed at Rufus, the cold eyes daring him to drink. Rufus reached out a shaking hand to lift the cup, which was filled with blood-red wine that had a strong fruity odour. The others supped deeply, but he ensured that not a drop passed his lips.
Caligula was now chatting animatedly with a sickly looking man of similar age who had the couch to his right, and Rufus was able to snatch a covert glance around the room, although he was careful not to meet the eye of any of his dining companions.
There appeared to be two distinct groups round the table. One was made up of men who hung on the Emperor's every word, laughed uproariously at his jokes and matched him drink for drink. The other group was quieter, drank less, and picked at their food. These were all couples of the equestrian class, seated in pairs. They were not all young, but the women had a well-cultivated beauty regardless of age. Rufus noted that their faces wore the same hopeless expression he had last observed on the condemned prisoners he had seen beneath the arena.
Then his eyes locked on those of Claudius.
The Emperor's uncle lay on a couch at the far end of the table. He looked back at Rufus from beneath hooded lids as a dribble of wine escaped the corner of his mouth and ran lazily down the contours of his chin to stain an already unredeemable toga. He appeared quite drunk, but a gleam in an eye that should have been dull indicated he was probably less so than he seemed. Rufus was surprised when the old man raised his goblet in a mock salute.
The food that was served would have fed a family of the poorer sort for a month. First came the small fare: exotic concoctions of the inner parts of birds and beasts, including their livers, tongues and brains; sea urchins, mussels of three distinct varieties, two kinds of sea snails, oysters and other sorts of shellfish; and a plate of roasted thrushes on asparagus. Then the greater: birds of all sizes, including chickens and pigeons, cooked golden brown (he also recognized a swan and a peacock because they had been decorated with their natural livery); meats of various shades and textures, which certainly included a sow's udder and the entire head of a wild boar; and an array of small bowls which held delicately sliced and chopped vegetables.
With every course, the wine flowed faster and the noise grew louder at the end of the table where Caligula held court. Rufus caught snatches of conversation from the Emperor, who was still engaged in an intense discussion with the man on the couch at his right side.
'Scribonius Proculus and his brother are becoming more than irritants, Protogenes, they are dangerous. I want them dealt with. Put them on the little list in your book.'
Protogenes, thin to the point of emaciation, with a sallow, pockmarked complexion, nodded agreement. He had hooded eyes that reminded Rufus of a snake and he felt a thrill of fear as they turned to focus on him. He knew instantly that Protogenes was aware the Emperor's words had been overheard and was equally certain that the man was deciding whether he was worth killing. The unblinking stare held his for a second before moving on. It seemed not.
By now, Rufus had recognized that he was as much part of the entertainment as the Illyrian dancing girls and the fire-eating jugglers who performed after the main courses. A pungently scented diversion to keep Caligula's guests the way he wanted them — off balance and nervous.
As much a part of the entertainment as Uncle Claudius.
During the early part of the banquet the Emperor had ignored the old senator, happy to trade conversation and banter with the sycophants who lounged close by him. But as the evening continued, Caligula began to taunt his uncle about his stutter and his appearance. When he tired of this verbal barrage, the Emperor began to throw pieces of food at the reclining figure, who could only blink as he was hit by slices of meat and half-eaten legs of chicken and, at one point, only just missed by a plate of fricasseed flamingo tongues. Still not satisfied, the Emperor encouraged his guests to follow his example, and, even though the attack was somewhat half-hearted, Claudius could eventually take no more. With a vacant smile he slowly closed his eyes and slipped back on the couch feigning stupor.
Caligula and his friends were by now finding that the fluency and ingenuity of their earlier conversation had deserted them. The Emperor, his face wreathed in a lazy grin, let his gaze range over his guests until it fell on a striking, raven-haired young woman who reclined, never raising her glance above table height, next to a crophaired knight who was a little older than she, who Rufus assumed must be her husband. From that moment, Caligula's eyes never left her.
As the last of the food was cleared away, the Emperor rose from his couch. Rufus felt the guests around him tense and the guards along the wall seemed to stand a little straighter. Caligula swayed slightly, then walked carefully round the table until he was directly behind the dark girl, who, feeling his presence, began to whimper quietly behind the curtain of her long hair. At her side, her husband was deathly still.
'You will please me tonight, Cornelia,' Caligula said softly, his hand reaching out to caress the white skin of the woman's shoulder.
The young aristocrat beside her jerked violently and made as if to rise.
'You may join us if you wish, Calpurnius,' the Emperor offered. 'No? Perhaps I should insist. Never mind, I shall decide later. Come, Cornelia.'
The last words were an unmistakable command. Still weeping, the dark-haired woman stood up on shaking legs and, with Caligula's hand on her shoulder, walked with him from the room.
The mood of the remaining guests changed in an instant from unbearable tension to ecstatic release. A grey-faced young senator vomited on the marble floor, while nearby another aristocrat appeared to be having a seizure. The women at the table reacted in different ways. One or two seemed to be frozen where they lay, eyes fixed on something only they could see. The blonde matron who occupied the couch next to Rufus ran wailing from the room, pursued by her husband. From the corner of his eye, Rufus noticed Claudius, forgotten by all, raise his head warily.
A tap on the shoulder made Rufus jump and he looked up into a familiar grave face beneath a Praetorian helmet. Cupido.
XVII
He opened his mouth to speak, but the gladiator cut him off with a shake of the head.
'Fun's over, boy. Time to go home.'
A second Praetorian moved to join him as they turned from the room into a wide corridor, but Cupido waved him away.
'I think I can handle this one alone, Decimus, if I can stand the stink.'
The other man, a broad-faced giant, laughed and said something unintelligible.
'Cupido!' Rufus burst out when they reached the park. 'I — '
'Not here,' the young German hissed. 'Don't say anything until we reach the barn, and then only when I have checked.'
Rufus began to lead the way to the room at the rear of the elephant stall, but Cupido stopped him.
'More secure beside the beast, I think. Speak quietly; the Emperor has listeners everywhere and they are not always who you think they are. In future, visit me at my quarters. When I am off duty I have a room in the palace of Tiberius. I will leave word that you are welcome there.'
Rufus was a little confused by Cupido's excessive caution, but he grinned with the pleasure of seeing the young gladiator again.
'Same old Cupido, always taking the best from life. Forgive me, my friend, but just to be in your presence again fills my heart, even in this dismal place. When they arrested you, I thought you were dead.'
The gladiator raised a sardonic eyebrow and for a moment he truly was the same old Cupido. Yet Rufus could see the months in the palace had changed his friend. The grey eyes contained an embittered weariness that had not been there previously. It was as if the sombre black tunic, which was the symbol of the Emperor's authority, had somehow worked its darkness into his spirit. Combined with the gleaming armour of his sculpted breastplate and greaves, it gave him a dangerous quality Rufus had not seen even on the hardest days in the arena.