With a wave of dismissal, the golden haired emperor turned and strode off into the tunnels.
Mercator and Icarion shared a grin. ‘A bath, then a cup of wine, then an afternoon at the games? Don’t know about you, but that sounds fine to me.’
Changing his grip, Mercator slung the limp form of Rufinus over his shoulder, raising an unconscious groan from the young soldier.
‘I’ll take that as agreement.’
XXVIII – Aftermath
Rufinus sagged. ‘It’s going to take me months to get fit after all this.’
The chief medicus of the Castra Praetoria smiled benignly. ‘That’s some of my best work. You’ll be on light duties within a week and full training in three according to my schedule. The wounds may hurt like Hades’ fork, but they’re all small and fast-healing. The man who initially patched you up did a damn good job. Pity you had to then open it all up again, but you’ll just have a few scars and burn marks to show for it in a month or so.’
Rufinus nodded. Given what he’d been through, it was a better result than he could have hoped. It had been a day and a half since the event that had shaken Rome: the first attempt on an emperor’s life since the days of Domitianus a century ago. Mercator and Icarion had apparently escorted him back to the camp as intended but, while their wounds were dealt with in moments and an hour later they were bathed and ready to return to the games, Rufinus had not surfaced from his drug-induced slumber until dark had fallen.
His apologies had been made to the emperor while Mercator and Icarion had been presented and praised appropriately, if briefly, the emperor extremely weary following the day’s drastic events.
The medicus had worked on Rufinus’ wounds that evening and had checked and rebound them the next morning, nodding with appreciation of his own work. Now, as the sun slid cold and watery toward the western horizon, the man had given him another once-over, cleaning and replacing every wrap.
‘You’ll have to come back every two days for the next week for a change of dressings, then once a week after that for a check and change, until I decide bandages are no longer required. Other than that, I presume your time is your own. I have certainly confirmed with the prefects that you are to be excused all duties this week, but I see no reason to keep you cooped up in the ward during that time.’
‘Thank you.’
With just a sharp breath to tell how the wounds were still pinching and pulling, Rufinus slid off the bench and onto his feet, retrieving the cloak from the desk and fastening it about his shoulders.
‘Don’t forget’ the medicus said, wagging a finger at him ‘the day after tomorrow.’
‘I won’t.’
With a nod of thanks he turned and strode from the room, along the access corridor and out of the hospital block into the chilly air. The weather had remained dry but the temperature had dropped again, and the numerous armoured Praetorians bustling around the fortress did so wrapped in wool cloaks, socks protruding from their boots. Mercator and Icarion lounged outside, blowing on their hands, and looked up as their friend emerged.
‘I thought you two were still on duty?’
Mercator nodded with a smile. ‘Interesting duty, though. You’re overdue a meeting with the emperor, and he still wants to see you. Perennis sent us to get you half an hour ago.’
Rufinus shivered in the cold and pulled the cloak about him. ‘I’m sure it’s a great honour, but I’d really rather just collapse into my bunk with a mug of unwatered wine and a soft cushion. Besides, Acheron is waiting for his evening feed.’
Icarion punched him playfully on the upper arm and immediately regretted the act as Rufinus winced and drew a sharp breath.
‘Sorry.’
‘It’s alright. Actually the thing I want to do most of all is talk to Pompeianus. Any idea where he is? He hasn’t gone back to the villa at Tibur, has he?’
The two veterans frowned at one another. ‘The emperor’s brother-in-law? What would you want with him?’
‘He’s… he’s a friend’ Rufinus said, lamely.
‘Well you’re in luck. He’s staying at the palace as a guest of the emperor. I suppose it’s until he decides what to do next. It’s not like he’ll be following Lucilla, after all.’
Rufinus stopped and furrowed his brow. ‘Following her where?’
Mercator laughed. ‘Of course, you’ve been a bit out of things today. The emperor announced his decisions this afternoon. The whole of Rome is talking about it.’
‘About what?’ demanded Rufinus irritably.
‘Everyone says she should have died for it, like the snivelling little shit you stuck with a spear, but Commodus was lenient. He’s sent Lucilla and her cousin and daughter into exile in the imperial estate on the island of Caprea, down near Pompeii. Sounds a bit too much like a holiday to me, but she was apparently spitting feathers about it all. I say she should think herself lucky her head’s still on her shoulders.’
Rufinus nodded, a chill running down his spine at the thought that such a dangerous woman, and whom he had crossed and foiled, was still alive. One should never leave an enemy alive, they said.
‘What about the others? Annianus and the mercenaries and so on? And the emperor’s other sister?’
Icarion shrugged. ‘Dead. Annianus and Annia Aurelia were executed quietly in the palace grounds and their bodies returned to their families. The others were all herded off the Tarpeian Rock, just like back in the old days. Brutal, it was. Dozens of them. Not Saoterus, though…’
Rufinus’ head shot up and he fixed the small, dark Praetorian with a hard look. ‘What?’
‘Saoterus. The advisor? The freedman?’
‘I know who he is. What’s happened to him?’
‘He was strangled in his cell.’ Icarion sounded confused.
‘What was he doing in a cell?’
‘As one of the conspirators… Paternus grabbed him with all the others in the amphitheatre.’
Rufinus staggered backwards and stumbled against the wall. ‘But Saoterus wasn’t part of this!’
It was Mercator’s turn to frown. ‘He’d been noted as one of the visitors to Lucilla’s villa. You were the one who reported it!’
Rufinus felt as though the world had been swept out from under him. Had he been responsible to the brutal execution of an innocent man? Possibly the only man in the palace keeping Commodus’ government on track? His blood ran cold.
No. He thought back over the time he’d returned to report. He had been quite specific about Saoterus’ innocence when he’d reported. The fault was down to Paternus, once more. Again, the man had abused his position to dispose of someone he disliked; possibly that he merely considered inconvenient. Dis; Saoterus… how long before the next innocent crossed the prefect?
‘Saoterus was no conspirator.’
‘Well he’s gone anyway. Dumped with the rest of the bodies. Come on. It doesn’t do to keep an emperor waiting. Perennis said he wasn’t in the best of moods this afternoon.’
Rufinus nodded. He could guess why. The three men scurried through the biting wind to the stables, where the master of the horse quickly arranged three steeds to take them across Rome. The journey was strangely subdued, as was the city they passed through.
The people’s excitement of the grand games had been muted somewhat by the attempt on their beloved emperor’s life, despite Commodus’ best efforts to proceed with the day as though nothing had happened. At the same time, though Rufinus’ spirit soared at the knowledge that he had achieved the unachievable and saved his emperor’s life, the cost had been great to the innocents caught in the middle.