Chapter 15 Lela
XV
LELA
Pulling the sides of my hood to hide more of my face, I walked alongside Trajan through the streets toward the forum.
We both were draped in black cloaks, like patricians of the Media Nocte house.
He’d told me there was a patrician of this house who was currently in prison as a traitor to Caesar.
He worked in the treasury and had been caught skimming from the coffers.
It was Trajan’s idea that we would watch from the crowd of plebs rather than closer to the temple where the patricians would be so we wouldn’t run into anyone who would recognize his face and wonder why he wasn’t wearing his own house colors.
But we needed the guise of patricians to even get close to the dungeon where the Visigoth king was being held.
Three men stumbled from a tavern onto the street.
Trajan wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me close.
I was thankful for it, yet again surprised that I welcomed his touch.
It disturbed me that I could want a man to keep me tucked close to his body for protection.
It had been a very long time since I’d yearned for such a thing.
“The celebrating has already begun,” Trajan murmured down to me as he guided us through the crowded streets.
“Rome loves a celebration.”
“That she does,” he agreed, maneuvering past a brothel where the prostitutes and some of their customers congregated outside.
The mass of people only increased the closer we grew to the forum. Fortunately, the sight of our finely woven black cloaks parted the way for us. One mother turned her head and caught sight of us coming closer and immediately snatched her child out of our way, the look of fear in her eyes.
It saddened me to think these people, even free Romans, were as trapped as I was in a world of fear. This city was terrified of Emperor Igniculus and his ever-increasing laws to control them, to keep them oppressed and subservient.
Glancing up at Trajan, his head covered in the hood, I admired him.
I doubted his reasons for liberating Rome of the tyrant Igniculus were as much about freeing the people of Rome as they were about freeing the patricians of Caesar’s iron fist, but it took courage to go against such a formidable power.
Trajan knew that he risked death, and possibly a torturous one, to walk this path.
Yet, he was doing it anyway. Even without the help of his friend, the general Julianus Dakkia, who had fled the city with his woman.
“Over here,” he urged over the raucous crowd.
He guided me with an arm around my waist toward some stone steps on the side of a taverna. We passed a few men leaving the second floor and heading down.
“What is this place?” I asked as we continued up the side of the building that smelled of baked bread and roasted meat.
“There is a taberna below. Koska lives in the upstairs apartment. He assured me there are only a few rooms his landlord rents, the one who owns the taberna below. He said most of his neighbors will be in the center of the forum. But he said it also has a good view of the Temple of Mars.” He stopped and led me with a hand on my back to the banister of a small veranda. “And it seems Koska was right.”
“Indeed, he was,” I said, marveling at the direct view we had.
Buildings surrounded the forum, but from here, we could see through a break in the buildings and over a shorter one. We could see the route outlined by the people on both sides where the chariots would parade through the forum to the steps of the Temple of Mars.
“Won’t someone think it strange that two patricians are watching the spectacle from way over here in the burrows of commoners?” I asked.
“They won’t stop to wonder about us,” he answered with confidence. “Everyone wants a peek at the Visigoth king. Now that it’s spread he won’t be killed because of the soothsayer, they’ll want to see the man spared by the gods.”
“Until Lupercalia,” I corrected.
“Until then.” His gaze was on the square of the forum. “Drussus’s wife and daughter are already in place, it seems. It won’t be long now.”
There were golden chairs on the terrace of the Temple of Mars.
Two dark-haired women draped in black silk that shone in the sunlight sat in two of them, waving to the adoring mass of people.
There was an empty chair next to one who must have been Drussus’s wife, and a more ornate chair set more forward.
It looked more like a throne, even from here. That was for Caesar.
“They’re coming,” said Trajan.
Right then, I heard the distant roar of the people.
They lined the streets far into the city.
The chariot carrying Caesar and Drussus must be drawing closer.
The crowd inside the forum erupted as the golden chariot, drawn by six black stallions, paraded in a circle.
Drussus and Caesar waved to the people as they passed.
Both wore full battle regalia, looking like the fierce warriors of Rome they were. Red rose petals floated in the air, tossed in the wind by the people on balconies and from the street, showering Caesar and Drussus as they rode toward the temple steps on their regal chariot.
The chariot came to a stop then they ascended the steps to a cacophony of cheers, the crowd chanting, “Caesar, Caesar, Caesar.”
“He still has the people,” I noted.
“The people like a victory for Rome. It makes them feel safe.”
“That doesn’t worry you?” I asked, looking at his profile, his gaze on the forum.
“Not at all. When the people understand a power greater than Caesar, one that can set them free of his oppression, is at hand, they’ll turn against him in a heartbeat.” He looked down at me, arresting my pulse with the intensity of his expression. “I know it.”
Holding his gaze, I finally said, “I believe you.”
Then we both watched the forum. When Caesar and Drussus reached the top, a servant in red—Caesar’s colors—stepped forward carrying a pillow with something on it. It was round, with leaves, but sparkled with gold as well.
“Is that what I think it is?”
“A bone garland. Yes.”
I’d never seen a triumph before, that spectacle not something Valerius ever allowed me out of the house to witness.
Likely only because he thought I’d use the crowds to run away.
But Andreas had told me about the tradition of fashioning a garland from the bones of the slaughtered enemy, typically their king or someone else high-ranking if the king was to be killed in a public display.
“That is likely made with Adolfo’s bones,” said Trajan.
“Who?”
“The man the emperor was in the process of whipping to death. Apparently, he was important to the Visigoth king.” Trajan paused but seemed to have more to say as he watched the coronation of Drussus by Caesar to the adoring crowd’s cheers. “He was the man I killed.”
I turned to see his expression—tight and angry. “His name was Adolfo?”
He gave a stiff nod. “Caesar told me to take a turn at lashing him. He thought my beast needed blood.”
My pulse raced at the image in my head, of Trajan being told to beat another helpless human being. No matter that he was their enemy.
“I took Caesar’s blade and buried it in his heart instead.”
He seemed to need to confess more of his sin to me. He’d already told me, but the burden still weighed on his heart.
“You had to do it,” I said, convincing myself that it must be true, “it was a mercy.”
“Maybe. But I also had to stay alive. There was no surviving for Adolfo.”
I swallowed at the hardness in his voice, at the ruthless nature of this world I was trapped in.
“Don’t be afraid of me, Lela.” He studied my expression, certainly seeing fear there.
“Why shouldn’t I be afraid?”
“I may be a monster, a killer. But I’m your monster now.”
I stared in shock and wonder as he turned back to the spectacle. When he said nothing more, we both watched in silence as another chariot, less fine than the emperor’s, rode into the forum.
Standing upright and bound to a pole with his hands behind his back was the Visigoth king.
From here, I could tell he was a large man.
He wore only torn trousers, his body covered in the filth thrown at him by the people as he passed.
His hair hung long, well past his shoulders.
The chariot made the circle through the forum so all could see him before the chariot stopped at the foot of the temple steps.
Emperor Igniculus stood from the throne where he’d taken his seat and raised his arms to quiet the crowd. He had a deep, bellowing voice when he spoke, his words carrying easily to where we watched.
“My good Romans, Legatus Drussus has done what my traitor nephew Julianus Dakkia could not. He has conquered the barbarians who killed and burned our Roman provinces in Moesia and Thracia. The Visigoths are defeated!”
A roar boomed across the forum. After a moment, Caesar silenced them again with one hand in the air.
“We honor Legatus Drussus for bringing this victory to Rome, for demonstrating the might of the dragon empire. We will also honor the gods for this victory and wait until the festival of Lupercalia to execute this Visigoth king.” He gestured toward the bound man and then raised a fist in the air. “Dracones Imperii Romani!”
The mass of people erupted yet again, chanting, “Dracones Imperii Romani!”
Then the chariot holding the bound king rode away, making another circuit of the square while people threw rotten vegetables at him and chanted about the might of Rome.
“I cannot believe so many humans cheer and applaud the ‘Dragons of the Roman Empire.’ It makes no sense.”
“They will cheer it on because it means they are stronger by its dominance.”
“And these are the people you believe will cheer you on when you kill their emperor?” I didn’t fully believe that Trajan and his liberators would be successful.
“Romans are fickle,” he said. “They will worship a new emperor even more than they do that creature over there.”
“Romans only know one way,” I told him.