Chapter XXIII Trajan
XXIII
TRAJAN
“Stay close to me,” I told Grandfather as we walked up the white marble steps into Caesar’s palace. “Don’t let anyone draw you away.”
I glanced back at Lupus and Jovian, who watched the crowd keenly. Their father, a gladiator champion of the arena, had taught them well in combat skills. We may need them tonight.
“Don’t worry, son. I’m aware this could get ugly.”
His regal gaze was calm and unreadable as always, but there was a glint in his eyes, telling me that his dragon wasn’t simply slumbering in the deep.
“Salve, Consul,” said one of the senators wearing deep purple.
We both made the niceties as we walked through the ornate hall, greeting friends and enemies alike. A flash of the last time I’d been here, the sound of the crack whipping in my memory, the stench of rotting corpses.
I almost thought they’d still be there in the open courtyard near Igniculus’s statue, but when we entered the grand area, there was nothing but finery and velvet sofas and silk cushions—all in shades of red and black.
A group of musicians played a lively tune with flutes and pipe instruments, two percussionists beating in tempo on a tympanum and tambourine.
Nude dancers twirled—each with a red dragon breathing fire painted across their breasts, the body and wings painted down their bellies and the tails painted between their legs, wrapping up to curl on their backs.
“That’s new,” muttered Grandfather.
True, Caesar always paraded his most beautiful slaves in near nudity at his parties. But this was more provocative than ever before.
“It seems he’s dazzling his sycophants even closer.”
From where we stood looking across the party, there were several generals and senior officers watching the dancers, their dragons glittering bright in their eyes. One of them was Quintus. My entire body went rigid at the sight of him ogling a pretty black-haired dancer who whirled past him.
“There he is.” Grandfather took two goblets from a passing servant and handed me one. “Smile and pretend to enjoy this madness.”
Caesar stood on a dais where he normally did for these events, a throne-like settee set highest among a pile of pillows and other sofas. This was where he’d gather his most loyal men for the night’s revels. Julian used to sit at his righthand side.
I took a sip of wine, relishing the fact that he was no longer there. Soon, I’d not be required to attend these heinous parties anymore either.
With one sweeping glance, I could see the tightness on many noble faces—men and women—wondering who would be the target for Caesar’s grotesque display tonight. And why was it so imperative that we were all here?
Igniculus looked lethal as ever, even though I was sure he was deep in his cups. He always wore a sort of superior gloat, his eyes glassy when he drank heavily. And it was known he typically started drinking early for parties.
His hair was cropped close to his large skull, his features stark and terrifying in their abnormality, more aligned with the dragon than the man. His eyes were fiery gold as they surveyed the room. It was the only part of him that reminded me of his nephew, my dear friend.
When those eyes landed on me, his roaming stopped, his gaze piercing.
“Trajan! Gaius!” He waved us over in a deceitfully friendly manner. Chills prickled up my spine.
Noting that Drussus stood next to him and where the guards were in the room, I stepped in front of my grandfather, wanting to take the brunt of any punishment that was about to follow.
The music and dancing continued, but many had dropped their voices to a whisper, watching as we wove a path through the courtyard and stepped up to the dais.
“Glad you could come to our celebration of Legatus Drussus’s great victory,” said Igniculus, knowing full well no one could refuse the invitation, even though we’d tried.
“Thank you for inviting us, Caesar.” I gave a deferential bow of the head, as did Grandfather beside me.
Igniculus narrowed his attention on me. “I sent my praetorians to your home twice today but your slave said you were out.” His predatory stare didn’t leave me. “I’d have thought she was lying but she took my guards through the entire home. Where have you been all day?”
That must’ve been about the same time he’d sent praetorians to kill Fausta.
“Typical day, really. I met my grandfather at the senate house then went to my favorite brothel. How can I be of service, Caesar?”
He stared from his slit-pupiled, golden eyes, brimming with dragon fire. I didn’t flinch or look away, holding his gaze coolly, delving deep into my Sapphirus magic, keeping my pulse even, my body cool like I did in the depths of the ocean.
All the while I was thanking the gods he hadn’t sent a praetorian after I’d taken Lela to my home. We’d only been at the house two hours before we left again for the palace.
“Does that brothel happen to be the one who hid the slave woman who killed Valerius?” His tone was steady, lethal.
“Caesar, I don’t dabble in those kinds of brothels that keep slave girls. They’re all free women.”
“She likely was passing as a free woman. We suspected her hiding somewhere in the Aventine. Is that where this brothel is you frequent? One of my praetorians, Hektor, saw you with her last night.”
“She certainly didn’t behave like a slave,” I said curiously.
“Women are clever, tricky creatures, Trajan,” he added with thick condescension. “I’d think you’d have figured that out by now.”
“I suppose if I kept one for more than one night, I would, Caesar.”
Caesar stared an eerie moment longer then huffed a laugh, revealing his long, extended canines. His claws were out as well, one clinking against his tankard as he tapped a finger.
“You deny knowing the woman was the same slave I’ve been looking for?”
“Caesar, the prostitute I hired last night was not a runaway slave, to my knowledge. She knew her trade well. I’m happy to take your guard to the brothel and acquire her for you to see if it is her.”
“No need,” he said. “Hektor never saw her leave Fausta’s last night. He’ll have her in the prison by now. But you will give that brothel’s name to him before you leave tonight. He should be along soon.”
Not likely. He was mangled and bloodless on Fausta’s bedchamber floor.
“Of course, Caesar,” I said with all the subservience I could muster.
I realized how fortunate it was he’d gone to Fausta’s home on a celebration day, when Caesar had likely begun drinking at dawn.
His inebriation kept his mind dull, which must be why he hadn’t sent out more praetorians in search of Hektor and the others.
He’d been killed midday. Caesar’s arrogance helped us as well.
For he’d never think that his powerful praetorians would be in danger from helpless women.
He didn’t know my woman. She was anything but helpless.
Something else caught his attention. “Ah, here we are.”
From the entrance, one of his praetorians was escorting Kato through the archway, holding one of his arms while Kato used his cane on the other side.
Immediately, I glanced at Grandfather, who wore a concerning expression, likely the same that I did.
Kato didn’t come to these parties. He was never expected to.
As an elder, and the oldest dragon in Rome, he had no use for festivities.
He could barely make his appearances to the senate house much less wine and dine with nobility.
It was known that he only ever left the house to attend meetings as consul.
Now, the courtyard was all but completely silent, while the musicians played on. Everyone watched as Kato was guided to the foot of the steps to Caesar’s dais.
“I’m so glad you could come, Kato.”
The stooped elder scowled up at the emperor, his voice gruff as he said, “I will obey Caesar in every way I can.”
“That is excellent to hear,” he said, handing his tankard of wine to Drussus next to him then marching down the steps. “I only ask one thing of you tonight, Kato.”
“Anything you require, Caesar.”
Igniculus placed a clawed hand on the elder’s shoulder. “That is good to hear.”
I never saw him pull out the blade. I only witnessed as he plunged it into the old man’s heart.
“I require you to die,” said Caesar as Kato bent forward with the blow, gasping as he toppled to the stone floor.
Two noblewomen screamed. The music stopped. One senator turned to run for the door, but suddenly every entrance was blocked by Caesar’s men. That’s why Drussus had his officers patrolling the streets. Caesar needed all of his own for crowd control in here.
I gripped Grandfather’s wrist but remained still. Everyone else froze. I caught the gazes of some of our many allies in the room—Agrippa, Appius, and Horatius.
No one moved a muscle. The emperor had just committed murder of a sanctioned consul. There had certainly been assassinations under past emperors, but none had ever done so in front of all the highest nobility of Rome. He wanted us to witness it. He wanted the fear to burrow deep.
By the looks of his audience, it had. Wives cowered against husbands. The men stared—some with horror, some with awe.
Caesar climbed the steps, wiping the bloody blade on his toga. It was his gladius, the one I’d used to kill the Visigoth, Adolfo. I wondered how much blood had soaked into that steel over the years.
The emperor set his blade on the table next to his throne. I noted that he didn’t put it away, but kept it close and handy in case he needed to use it again. Then he raised both hands to assuage the crowd as if he hadn’t just murdered an innocent, respected elder in front of everyone.
“Now, now. I realize my actions might come as a shock to some of you.” He chuckled like he was telling a joke. “But it was necessary for the good of Rome.”
Titus, one of the few honorable generals in Caesar’s legions, spoke up. “What good might that be, Caesar?”
He didn’t sound accusing, but there was a definite tone in his voice that demanded an explanation.