Hesiodos managed to exude scorn and keep his face straight at the same time. “By theprinceps. He is furious. You are to comeat once.”
Chapter 11
We were out the door and on our way across Rome in a remarkably short time. The clouds that had darkened the horizon yesterday afternoon had moved in during the night, and now rain spattered down, wetting the streets. A faint mist rose, smelling of refuse.
Hesiodos, who had made it clear that Cassia was to accompany me—no argument—led us along the Sacra Via past the temple of the deified Julius Caesar and the temple of Vesta before we turned up the road that took us to the top of the Palatine Hill.
I could see that more work was being done on the Domus Transitoria that would unite the homes of Augustus, Tiberius, and Nero into one rambling building. Barrel vaults with beautiful friezes and marble floors would take Nero and his guests from one domus to the other, each being refurbished on a lavish scale.
The lauded Augustus had lived simply, I’d been told, his home large enough for his family and retainers but modestly sized and not much decorated. His successors had found his domus small and inadequate. Tiberius had built a grand structure, which Gaius and Claudius had used and Nero now restlessly enlarged.
I longed to break from Hesiodos and wander to the work site where I could speak to the builders and learn exactly how they’d finish the colonnaded walkway. Far more peaceful than facing an unpredictableprincepsand trying to guess how he wanted me to answer his questions.
We were met by a functionary, who silently gestured us to follow him. The last time we’d entered Nero’s home, we’d been escorted to an elegant anteroom and given wine. This time, we were marched straight across courtyards and through halls pierced by arched openings, deeper and deeper into the domus.
Hesiodos had vanished as soon as the functionary took charge of us, as he had on other occasions. I wondered whether Hesiodos worked for Nero’s household, or if Nero’s majordomo or head guard simply found Hesiodos a handy person to send on errands. I’d never learn this from Hesiodos himself, I knew, who was close-mouthed and held himself high above Cassia and me.
We were ushered into a small room with a floor tiled in a geometric pattern. The design made it appear as though we stood atop a maze of walls with staircases that sloped out of sight. An illusion in mosaic.
The chamber ended in an open balcony with columns of pink marble and a view toward the west and the Circus Maximus. Nero himself stood on the balcony, dressed in a simple linen tunic with a purple toga over it.
He turned abruptly as we entered the space, glaring so hard that Cassia immediately dropped to her hands and knees on the floor. I lowered myself as well, my palms landing on an image of steps that looked real.
Sandals whispered as the functionary who’d brought us here beat a hasty retreat. I noted other shoes in the corners, sandals and boots of attendants and guards for the leader of Rome.
“What did I wake to this morning, Leonidas the Spartan?” Nero flung the name at me in derision. “Gladiators murdered, their bodies mutilated, left in a heap to make a mockery of them. Ofme. Inmycity.” Nero swept a hand toward the open balcony. “It is all over Rome, this tale. The ordinary man is horrified, and the jaded are placing bets on which gladiator will be next.”
Theprincepsapproached me. I quickly bowed my head, and a pair of large feet in supple leather sandals halted before my nose. I expected one of those feet to kick me at any moment.
“Gladiators live or die atmywhim,” Nero snapped. “Do you understand this?”
I said nothing—if he wanted my answer, he’d demand it. My truthful tongue might point out that gladiators died in the arena all the time without Nero’s permission, and then I definitely would be kicked.
“Who is doing this, Leonidas? Answer.”
I didn’t lift my head. “I do not know, lord.”
The left foot twitched. I noted that Nero had someone to trim and buff his nails, which were even and neat.
The sandals then moved to Cassia. “You. Slave. You are far more intelligent than your master. Who is bent on defying me?”
Cassia remained a huddle of cloth, but her voice came forth clearly. “I do not believe the deaths are aimed at you, sir. Someone is angry at gladiators. Perhaps someone they loved died in the games.”
“Hmm.” The icy anger ebbed from Nero’s voice. “And this is their vengeance?”
“Possibly,” Cassia said.
Nero pivoted on the ball of one foot and stamped to the window. I did not dare turn my head and gaze directly at Cassia, lest one of the guards did the kicking on Nero’s behalf.
Nero’s voice drifted to us. “They leave one body in the Subura, another on the Aventine. Are they mocking the plebs who love the games?”
“All attend the games, from plebeians to senators,” Cassia was brave enough to say.
I wished she would not speak. I wasn’t certain what I’d do if a guard struck her down for her boldness. I’d likely seize his sword and kill him, and then I’d be thrown from the balcony, down, down, toward the circus where I’d fought in bouts that had made me a champion.
My mind dredged up the memory of the day I’d been pitted against Xerxes in the Circus Maximus. I’d gone easy on him and had been wounded by the gleeful Xerxes, who’d then taken me out drinking all night afterward. Aemil had shouted at me long and hard as Marcianus had stitched up my wounds, for letting Xerxes get past my guard. Xerxes and I had never been opponents again, but I still remembered staggering home with him after drinking off the bout, holding each other up. He’d met his wife that night.
Nero walked back toward us, his steps less abrupt. “You are perhaps right. This has been done by someone who wants to disrupt the games, maybe to rid himself of those gladiators who might kill his champion.” Nero let out a breath, now sounding more like an ordinary person having a conversation than a ruler demanding answers. “Or it is a madman, conducting executions himself for his own crazed reasons. Well, it must stop.” Some steel returned to him. “Do rise, Leonidas. I cannot talk to you with your head on the floor.”
