Glaucus' Story
Chapter 71 - The Procession
Glaucus listened to the muffled footsteps of dozens of men as they padded in soft sandals through the narrow, torch-lit, stone tunnel that burrowed under the Forum and ended at the imperial room at the Coliseum. Although acutely aware of each other's presence, Glaucus, Marius, Lucius and Brennus stayed apart most of the time, not wishing to draw attention to their relationship. Glaucus worried about Brennus because of his youth, and offered encouraging words whenever they drew near. They quickly mastered the art of passing each other with seeming indifference while whispering a few words as they did. The praetorians, who were more concerned with guarding Plautianus' daughter's lavish dowry, ignored their furtive actions.
Glaucus scratched his neck where his tan skin was irritated by the stiff golden braid bordering his obscenely short, snow-white, fine wool tunic. A matching woven belt cinched his waist and leather sandals in the same golden color criss-crossed to his knee. As he glanced around the room he could see why these servants had been chosen for this task. They were all attractive and strong -- worthy of participating in an imperial procession designed to dazzle the populace.
They were ushered into a large ante room where they joined another hundred or so men who were already there. These men were dressed in short, spun gold tunics and golden leather sandals, and they positively glittered as they moved. They all had a similar look -- tall, slender, olive-skinned with dark hair and eyes. Exotic. "Who are they?" Glaucus asked a man beside him. "I don't remember seeing them at the palace."
"They're the eunuchs," he replied impassively.
"They're the what?"
"Eunuchs. You know -- those men who were hauled off the streets by the praetorians then castrated so Plautianus could give them to his daughter as a wedding present. Her own personal eunuch-attendants."
"He castrated mature men?"
"Yes. You must have heard about it. "
"They were slaves?"
"No. Citizens of Rome," the servant growled. "Plautianus just grabbed them anyway and took away their freedom -- and their manhood."
Glaucus couldn't comprehend such atrocity, not even from Plautianus. He shuddered when he remembered that he had been captured and held by the man in Germania.
Sterculinus frantically organized the procession, his arms and legs waving in a disjointed fashion like a puppet, his voice a pitch higher than it had been at the palace. Leading the procession were golden carts laden with silver and gold bars, and they moved into place. They were followed by another cart which carried a chest with the lid open to reveal mounds of coins. Then the eunuchs were assigned their burdens -- smaller items such as jewel-encrusted gold boxes filled with precious spices and perfumes. Others carried gold jewelry studded with precious stones artfully arranged on purple pillows for the crowds to ogle. Still others handled robes of the finest purple silk embroidered with shimmering threads of gold and silver. Vases, small bronze Greek sculptures, Egyptian sculptures of pharaohs, furs from the north, ivory from Africa, a small replica of a villa which Plautianus had built for the young couple -- precious items from every corner of the empire were to be flaunted before the masses . The eunuchs were lined up, two abreast, and held their places as the larger items were assigned to the servants, all of whom were dressed like Glaucus. One man was handed an ornate chair of carved mahogany inlaid with ivory and ebony. Four men were assigned to carry a huge chest which they could barely hoist, much less carry all the way to the palace at a slow walk. Glaucus, and the man beside him, were given a couch which they hoisted to their shoulders with a grunt and joined the line. He glanced back to see Marius and another man given a chest, its contents concealed. He couldn't see where the other two were or what they were carrying.
At noon the horns trumpeted and the carts laden with gold and silver burst from the shadow of the Coliseum into the brilliant sunshine as cheers ripped from thousands of throats. It was ages before Glaucus and his partner made their exit and he realized it could be hours before they reached the palace. Already his shoulder was starting to ache.
The Forum was a sea of humanity. People were packed along the route tighter than standing room at the Circus, at least twenty deep. Thousands more watched from the roofs of buildings. Many had climbed onto the tall bases of the columns and statues that lined the center of the Forum. Even more stood and sat on the steps of every basilica and temple. Rose petals rained down and soon turned the cobbled road into a carpet of red velvet.
Armed praetorians stood shoulder to shoulder facing the crowds, protecting their commander's riches. They angrily shoved back anyone who tried to get close to the procession -- even those who simply reached out in awe -- drawing a chorus of boos and jeers from the crowd. The populace was there for a party and they didn't want anybody to interfere.
Glaucus faced straight ahead, hoping that the couch he carried would mostly conceal his face. But he had never seen a procession like this before -- much less participated in one -- and couldn't resist skimming the crowd with his eyes. It was a windfall for street vendors and pickpockets, both of whom would profit considerably from Plautianus' generosity to his daughter, as would tavern owners and brothels.
People hoisted cups of wine into the air in salute and Glaucus licked his lips, growing hot and thirsty under the summer sun. The procession was agonizingly slow and the couch he carried felt like it had three people sitting on it. Sweat dripped from his forehead and he wiped it on the upholstered leg of the couch. He hoped it would leave a stain.
By the time he reached the end of the Forum the wool was sticking to his sweaty back and was unbearably itchy. His shoulder was almost numb, he was thirsty. He wondered how the others were faring somewhere behind him.
Finally they entered the refreshing shadow of the Palace of Caesar, and glimpsed the temple of Vesta ahead. Glaucus knew they would soon start the climb up the Hill to the palace and he hoped his legs would support him on the last stretch. No sooner had that thought left his mind when his partner put his foot on the beginning of the slope -- and fell to one knee, frantically trying to balance the couch as it threatened to slip from his shoulder. The crowd gasped. Glaucus grasped the couch with both hands and lowered his end considerably to take more of the weight allowing the other man to struggle to his feet. As they rose again in unison the people applauded and Glaucus couldn't resist a quick smile at the crowd -- and he froze as his eyes locked with the shocked blue eyes of his sister.
Maxima's surprise quickly changed to alarm and she elbowed her way through the crowd to keep up with the procession. Glaucus tried to ignore her but could see her bobbing black hair as she leaped up every few moments to try to stay abreast of him. He just prayed the she wouldn't call his name.
The final leg of the journey seemed interminable as his mind raced around his predicament. What would Maxima do? What could she do?
Just before he entered the palace gate he glanced at the people lining the street again. Maxima had pushed her way to the front of the crowd, which was much thinner now, and stood with her fists knotted in tension, her look imploring.
He could do nothing but smile slightly and wink before he was swallowed by the arched marble gate.
That evening, Glaucus and his friends were cloistered with the servants in a number of buildings on the palace grounds. He and Marius wound up in the same compound and found beds side by side in a far corner jammed under a stairwell.
Marius seemed ready to burst. "Did you see your sister?" he asked in an urgent voice.
"Yes, and she saw me."
"She saw me too. She looked extremely upset. What do you think she's going to do?"
"She'll tell her mother and Apollinarius. Other than that, I don't know."
"Do you think she'll be at the wedding?"
"I doubt it. I don't think that Julia would get an invitation. She's a freed slave -- a fact that you try conveniently to forget."
Marius ignored him. "You know, I had forgotten how beautiful she is. Even though I think of her constantly -- dream about her -- I had forgotten." Marius was silent for a moment then added quietly. "I love her, Glaucus."
"You only met her once."
"That was enough."
Glaucus didn't know what else to say so he lay back with his hands tucked under his head and stared at the slanted ceiling not far above his nose. A marriage simply wasn't possible under current circumstances. He changed the topic. "I hope Brennus is alright. I'm worried about him."
"Don't. I was near him in the procession yesterday and he regards this whole thing as a grand adventure."
"He doesn't understand the danger he's in." Glaucus turned to his side facing Marius and propped his head on his hand. "You're all in danger if you are suspected of helping me. Maybe--"
"Don't even say it," interrupted Marius. "I made a commitment to this venture and I'll see it through to the end."
"I have nothing to protect us if we're caught. The ring and the copies of the contract are at Eugenia's. The original is at the temple."
"We'll just have to make sure we don't get caught."
"Are your parents going to be at the wedding tomorrow?"
"Yes... and I'm sure they are wondering what has happened to me."
"They mustn't see you there."
"I know. What do you suppose we'll be assigned to do?"
"Could be anything but we'll be kept behind the scenes, I'm sure. That will allow us to slip away when the time is right." Glaucus yawned and rubbed his aching shoulder. "What did Lucius and Brennus wind up carrying today, do you know?"
"A table and it looked damned heavy. I've never seen such excess. Glaucus... did you hear about those men who were dressed all in gold?"
"Yes."
"It's illegal to do that to Roman citizens."
"Plautianus is writing his own laws, it seems, and Severus is letting him do it. I can't imagine what this wedding will be like." Glaucus yawned again. "We'd better get some sleep. We'll need our wits about us tomorrow."
Chapter 72 - Wedding Day
They were roused before dawn the next morning, fed, then given their clothing for the day -- eastern style long, flowing white tunics with a broad embroidered golden stripe down the middle. Linen shoes were provided for their feet. Once washed and dressed, all of the servants were rallied outside their quarters under the orange rays of the rising sun. Lucius and Brennus were there. So was the man with the tick.
Sterculinus stood on top of a wooden box to give him added height and clapped his hands until he had everyone's attention. Both eyes were twitching today. "This is it!" he exclaimed. "This is the great day that we've all been waiting for! Everything must be flawless today. Flawless! Everyone has a job to do and must do it flawlessly."
Glaucus stifled a yawn and cast a sidelong smile in Brennus' direction. The boy grinned back.
The man clapped again, sensing that he didn't have everyone's full attention. "Now, the servants attending the guests at the banquet have already been assigned. You will do two things. First, some of you will line the reception room this morning as the guests admire the bride's dowry -- and help the guards ensure that nothing is... er, borrowed. Others will do last minute cleaning. Second, you will move the food from the kitchen to the tables in banquet hall where the servers will handle it from there. That's it. It's simple."
Lucius met Glaucus' eye. They would be in the banquet room. Severus, Plautianus and Marius' parents would also be in the banquet room. This was not good.
Hands clapped again and the servants moved forwards towards the palace. As they walked, the four conspirators shuffled positions until they walked together, hoping that they might be assigned to the same location. They were. A short time later they stood side by side, hands behind their backs, along the wall of the grand reception room, behind the dowry gifts which were laid out in neat rows, filling the entire room. It was not long before guests started to arrive for the wedding ceremony that would take place at noon, leaving plenty of time for celebration afterwards.
Dressed in their finest silks, and dripping in jewels, the wives of the empire's magistrates, military leaders and business leaders, accompanied their husbands who were outfitted in uniforms and togas that befitted their rank. Many couples stood in groups greeting each other like old friends as wives plastered artful smiles on rouged lips while casting derisive glares at the dresses of other women, and their husbands laughed too loudly at their peers' jokes. Some chose to admire the dowry gifts as they had been unable to see them clearly from the windows of their homes, and unwilling to join the rabble in the streets. They roamed throughout the riches, admiring and evaluating, comparing and criticizing, whispering opinions in eager ears about the quality of this and authenticity of that.
Glaucus found himself fascinated with the improbable hair colors of the women and their almost impossible hair styles: bent, twisted, curled and coiled into high piles with twinkling jewels throughout. He thought of Maxima's soft black waves and Clara's simple brown tail. It wasn't the first time he had thought of Clara in the past weeks. He wondered how she was and what she would think of a display like this. The value of that couch he was carrying yesterday would be enough to feed her well for a year -- maybe two.
By mid-morning the Glaucus and his fellow servants were shifting from foot to foot, trying to maintain their balance and their interest. What had at first been entertaining was now simply tedious. And it was hot, crowded and noisy. Cloying perfumes polluted the steamy air. Some ladies snapped open fans to try to keep their makeup from running and Glaucus noticed dark stains under many arms. Rich and powerful these people may be, but they sweated just like everybody else.
Suddenly, he heard Marius gasp and saw him tuck his chin down. "My parents," he whispered with an edge of panic in his voice. "They just arrived."
Glaucus just had time to glimpse a couple in their forties head quickly towards the throne room and he caught an impression of refined manners and restrained wealth. "They're not coming in here but keep your head down anyway." Glaucus followed his own advice even though Marius' parents wouldn't recognize him.
Thus positioned, they missed the Vestals who arrived just before the ceremony commenced, attired in their customary pure white. They also didn't see a businessman and his wife and their four daughters. Three of the girls giggled excitedly as they headed for the throne room. The forth -- a black-haired beauty -- lagged behind, looking about in consternation.
As if on cue, the reception room emptied and couples hurried to find places in the packed throne room. The servants were ushered out and positioned against the sides of the broad main corridor that led to the throne room and each was handed a fistful of red rose petals. Marius was beside Glaucus in the peristyle, standing between two rose-wrapped columns. "This will be something to tell our grandchildren," Marius whispered and Glaucus choked on a laugh.
Clap, clap! "Don't crush the petals," instructed Sterculinus as he pranced up and down the corridor, "or they won't flutter properly." The little man's whole face was nervously twitching now. "Do not toss them until the bride is beside you then toss them high in the air, like this." He rose on his toes and gracefully flung his hand in the air, wrist bent elegantly. "Unfurl your fingers at the very last moment for maximum height." He nodded with satisfaction as some earnest servants demonstrated their technique without actually releasing the petals. Brennus was one of them. Glaucus chewed on his lower lip to suppress the smile that threatened to engulf his face then expand to raucous laughter. They were standing near the ornate, octagonal fountain that was now draped in rose garlands, and Glaucus was glad that the sound of the bubbling water disguised their whispers. Brennus and Lucius were on the opposite side of the fountain, also between decorated columns.
Trumpets sounded and the procession began. The first to emerge from the shadows at the end of the corridor was Septimius Severus, resplendent in his finest purple silks and carved gold cuirass. Attendants held a huge golden eagle with spread wings over his head. Intent upon his task, he stared straight ahead so Glaucus studied him without fear as he approached. Under his crown of golden laurel leaves, his face was set and hard as he concentrated on walking smoothly, without a hint of the limp which might undermine his strength and authority. His hair and beard had been dyed, curled and fluffed to try to make him appear younger and more grand but, if anything, it emphasized his lined and careworn face. But there was a grim determination about him and he was still dangerous indeed. Glaucus hadn't been this close to him since Germania and he involuntarily shuddered.
The empress, Julia Domna, walked beside him, her hand resting lightly on her husband's arm, her eyes also straight ahead, her attractive face fatigued rather than radiant. A glittering tiara nestled in her piled curls and her dress shimmered in shades of purple and blue as she passed slowly from light to shade, column to column.
Glaucus soon saw the reason for the empress' weariness. Behind them marched their son -- the young groom and future ruler of the empire -- his face twisted into an unpleasant snarl, making him look much older than his fourteen years. He was almost as tall as his father and already quite thick through the middle. Clearly, as evidenced by the sour expression on his pug face and his obstinate posture, Caracalla was not pleased with the wedding and was not hesitant to express it. No doubt it had been a trying morning for his parents.
Glaucus felt sorry for Julia Domna, Severus' second wife, who had been born in Syria and was descended from the old ruling dynasty of Emesa. She had been selected as a spouse by the ambitious Severus because her horoscope revealed that she would marry a king and that prophecy proved more than true. She quickly bore her husband two sons, Caracalla and Geta, thereby fulfilling her role to provide a male heir. An intelligent woman, she was a patroness of writers and philosophers and spent a great deal of her husband's wealth restoring Roman temples, such as the Temple of Vesta. For this, she was accepted by Roman patricians despite her eastern heritage.
More horns followed the boy, then came the stream of golden eunuchs, two by two, flowers around their necks and in their hair. These emasculated men with olive skin, dark eyes and oiled hair obediently flung rose petals high in the air from dainty baskets, creating a carpet of petals for the bride who followed them on her father's arm.
Now Glaucus understood the reason for the eagle over Severus' head. Plautianus was dressed even more lavishly than the emperor, his cuirass surpassing that of the Severus with carved images of glory studded with precious gems that shot fire when caught by the sun's probing rays. His clothing was a very dark purple, but purple none-the-less, the color reserved for royalty. He wore a frozen smile on his weasel face. Glaucus was surprised to see how he'd changed since Germania. He was much heavier and flabbier, his cuirass many times wider than it had been before. Jowls jiggled under his chin and his cheeks sagged. But the eyes still belonged to Plautianus -- cold, hard and menacing despite the smile on his thin lips.
His daughter's fingers were crushed blue in the crook of his arm and he almost dragged the girl down the corridor. She was holding back -- a most reluctant bride -- and refusHis daughter's fingers were crushed blue in the crook of his arm and he almost dragged the girl down the corridor. She was holding back -- a most reluctant bride -- and refused to walk beside her father. A shower of rose petals descended upon her saffron veil and yellow silk-covered shoulders. Glaucus tossed his petals into the air too, but she didn't see any of it -- her eyes glassy and blank. She stumbled as she passed him and could barely recover her footing -- rendered almost immobile under the weight of jewels which were layered around her neck, sparkled on her ears under the veil, and draped around her wrists, ankles and waist. If she had been dressed in white she would have resembled a fallen Vestal led to her execution, rather than a bride.
She was trailed by more flower-bedecked female attendants, but Glaucus followed the tragic girl with his eyes until the cry rose from the throne room: "The bride! The bride!" She was doomed -- a sacrifice for her father's ambition. It was simply the most bleak wedding procession that he had ever seen.
But the commencement of the wedding could mean that the imperial apartments were now empty. Lucius obviously thought the same thing and jerked his head in that direction. In the ensuing confusion, their departure wasn't even noticed.
Chapter 73 - The Unexpected Guest
"We're obviously not going to get in this way," said Lucius glumly after he had peeked around the corner at the bolted and guarded bronze doors.
"Why would it still be guarded? Surely the entire family is at the ceremony," whispered Glaucus.n a touch of sarcasm. "Come! We must prepare the banquet while the ceremony is on. Follow me. We all have work to do."
Like four errant schoolboys, they followed Sterculinus into the banquet room and everyone except Lucius stopped dead and stared. It was simply unimaginably breathtaking. Completely open on two sides to the gardens, fountains and breezes, it twinkled under the light of a thousand white candles, their twinkling reflection in the white marble, doubling their number. White roses entwined every golden column, and filled huge vases on marble pedestals. The room was perfumed with roses. The massive hall, and it's gardens, was arranged to seat over a thousand people who would sit on couches grouped tightly around low serving tables. Stools were placed beside couches for unmarried females and children. The groupings were more spacious close to the dais where the imperial family would partake of the meal, and considerably more crowded as the distance from the dais -- and the distance from political importance -- increased.
Clap! Clap!
Glaucus was almost ready to punch the irritating man.
As if sensing his animosity, Sterculinus turned directly to Glaucus. "Your job is to see that every couch is equal distance from the table. Make a fist, like this." Sterculinus demonstrated. "The seat of the couch must be exactly four fist widths from the edge of the table."
Glaucus looked at the man's fist then at his own. There was a considerable difference in their size, but he just didn't feel like pointing that out.
Instead, he smiled agreeably and nodded, hoping that the man would go and bother the other servants.
"Io, hymen, hymenaeus..."The traditional wedding hymn drifted from the throne room.
The other three made themselves busy adjusting the couches and tables into the desired position. "Now what's the plan, Lucius?" asked Marius.
"Our chance will come when the banquet is on. We'll wait until there has been much toasting and drinking. Then the songs will start and the entertainment. We should be able to make our move then, unnoticed."
"Si tamen e noblis aliquid nisi nomen et umbra
restat, in Elysia valle Tibullus erit.
obvius huic venias hedera iuvenalia cinctus
tempora cum Calvo, docte Catulle, tuo..."
"It sounds like they might be heading this way soon," said Marius. "Let's get these couches done then get out of here. My parents mustn't see me."
As if on cue the little man returned. "Well done, well done," he said even though they had touched only a few of the couches. A line of female servants trailed behind him and he directed them to kneel on cushions by the low tables, preparing to serve. Then the rest of the male servants entered and took places around the perimeter of the room. Glaucus, Marius, Lucius and Brennus were directed to join them.
Clap! Clap! "Male servants, your job is to help the ladies into their seats.
Afterwards, on my cue, you will go immediately to the kitchens to start the flow of food to the servers who shall remain here." Horns sounded. The little man twitched and rung his hands. "Alright, alright. Get ready!"
Marius, standing on Glaucus' left side, looked at Glaucus in dismay. There was simply nowhere to hide.
"They probably won't even notice you," Glaucus tried to assure him. "This place will be packed with people. They won't be looking at the servants."
Just as his sentence ended the eunuchs entered the room, two abreast, and headed directly to the dais where they prepared to stand like golden statues behind the newly married couple all evening. The bride and groom were next and it was clear that she had been crying. She walked stiffly beside her new husband who refused to touch her or even look at her. They were ushered towards a flower-bedecked, elaborately-carved golden couch and the bride took her seat, reclining stiffly. Caracalla, though, refused to sit beside her and stalked to another couch and determinedly sat down, crossing his arms in defiance. They were followed by the emperor and empress who stoically looked neither left nor right but headed directly to their places.
Severus' fingers encircled his son's upper arm as he spoke quietly to him but the boy would not budge. The empress wrung her hands and pleaded with him, with the same result. Plautianus and his wife ignored both children and took their places, frozen smiles on their faces.
The guests soon followed, somewhat reserved in light of the difficult marriage, and took their seats with quiet, polite chatter about the weather, or the flowers -- anything but the ceremony they had just witnessed. The room was soon buzzing with activity as couples were directed to their places. To Marius' relief, his parents were seated on the opposite side of the room from him, and well back from the dais.
Glaucus felt his right arm bumped. He ignored it. It was jarred again, harder this time. "Why did you come back to Rome and not even contact me?" a female voice hissed into his ear.
Glaucus turned, stunned. Maxima wasn't supposed to be here. How did she get here?
As if reading his mind she explained, "I came with a business acquaintance of mama's -- a man who has a number of daughters. One just happened to be ill and he agreed that I could take her place. It took a lot of last minute arranging, brother."
"I didn't want to involve you," Glaucus whispered frantically, hoping that no one would notice the odd exchange.
"Well, consider me involved!"
"Take your seat, Maxima, before we attract attention."
"We need to talk."
"Not right now."
"Right now," she insisted.
Wondering who Glaucus was talking to, Marius leaned forward and peered around his friend. "Maxima!" he spluttered, forgetting their circumstances for the moment.
"Marius!" Maxima's tone was accusing. "You said you'd contact me as soon as you got back to Rome."
This had gone to far. Other servants were certainly staring even if the guests were not -- at least not yet. "Meet me in the garden in a few minutes. I'll be dismissed soon," said Glaucus urgently.
She threw a withering glare at both men and moved around them, through the open window and into the sunlight. Marius couldn't take his eyes off her.
Her slender figure was wrapped in shimmering silk the blushed color of white rosebuds. A delicate gold necklace studded with small emeralds encircled her elegant neck, and similar stones dangled from her ears. Her black hair was pulled high to the top of her head, anchored by a golden band, and cascaded in soft, twisting waves down the back. Tendrils kissed her forehead and curled gently in front of her ears. He sighed, then glanced around the room at the other females. She was the most beautiful woman there, by far.
Just as the final guests were taking their seats and the commotion was dying down, the signal came for the male servants to leave the room. Their heads low, Glaucus and Marius followed the others into the corridor then Glaucus stepped aside and started to walk in the opposite direction, Marius right at his heel. He stopped. "Marius, you can't come with me. I have to speak with her alone. Go to the kitchen with the others and tell Lucius and Brennus what has happened. I'll join you shortly."
Reluctantly, Marius complied. "Be careful," he said as he hustled to rejoin the line of male servants.
Glaucus found his sister standing beside a clipped yew hedge and he grabbed her arm and pulled her behind it while distracted guests still mingled and a few still searched for their seats. "Don't talk, just listen," he whispered.
"Our father's urn is inside this palace and I intend to get it. We're using the wedding as a cover."
"His urn?" Her eyes widened. "He's buried here?"
"Not exactly but I don't have time to explain. When the party gets underway we're going to get into the imperial apartments because that's where it is."
"We. You and Marius, you mean."
"And Brennus and Lucius Verus."
"Lucius Verus is with you?" Maxima exclaimed.
Glaucus nodded as he glanced around. Guests were chatting just on the other side of the dense hedge.
"How are you going to do it?" she whispered, quite intrigued now.
"I don't know yet."
"Let me help you."
"Not a chance. It's too dangerous. I don't want to be seen even talking to you. If I'm caught I don't want anyone to connect you with me."
Maxima considered the wisdom of those words. "Glaucus," she said. "I brought
this. You might need it." She pulled Marcus Aurelius' signet ring off her thumb.
"How did you get that?" asked Glaucus, astonished.
"I went home right after the procession yesterday and it didn't take long for mama to figure out where you were staying. We got your possessions and found the ring. Take it. You may need it."
"I can't. I have no pockets. I can't wear it because it will attract too much attention. You'll have to keep it."
"How is that going to help you?"
"Please, Maxima... just do it."
She shoved the ring back on her thumb with far more force than was necessary.
Glaucus continued in hushed tones, "You may see me throughout the day. You have to just ignore me. Promise me that you will. If you draw attention to me, Severus and Plautianus will recognize me at once and then I'm a dead man. Promise."
She nodded and kissed his cheek. "You know where I am if you need me. I love you, brother."
"I love you too, sister."
He kissed her forehead then she slipped out from behind the hedge, graced the surprised guests with a dazzling smile and entered the hall as if she had just enjoyed a few moments of fresh air.
Glaucus waited and listened to the guests on the opposite side of the hedge speculate about her name. The horns sounded again. As everyone's attention was drawn to the dais, Glaucus slid around the hedge and stalked through the halls towards the kitchens. The male servants were gathered in a large group in the corridor, out of the way of the frantic cooks. Despite the mass of men, the twitchy man spotted him. Hands on his hips he asked, "And where have you been?"
Glaucus shrugged as if embarrassed. "Toilet," he answered.
Chapter 74 - The Banquet
For the next three hours the corridor between the kitchens and the banquet hall was alive with two snaking lines of male servants -- taking food to the guests then turning around and removing dirty platters, cups and plates. Glaucus found himself too busy to think about much other than his task and at times he even passed one of his three companions without even noticing them. Between the frantic activity in the steamy kitchen and the clatter and chatter in the banquet hall, the corridor was a relatively welcome reprieve.
Glaucus had been assigned to a group of couches near the back of the hall tucked between two columns that included a praetor and his wife, a retired general in full uniform with his wife and son, and a wealthy businessman who imported precious spices and perfumes from the east accompanied by his wife and two daughters. The grouping was beside the one where Maxima sat demurely on a stool beside the other unmarried daughters of her businessman 'father'. She was well aware of her brother's proximity, and of Marius who had been assigned to a table in the garden protected from the sun by huge striped awnings. But Maxima kept her eyes mostly downcast and didn't speak until she was addressed, as was proper for a young woman of her stature. The only outward sign of her anxiety was the constant twisting of the ring on her thumb.
After what seemed like his hundredth trip, Glaucus leaned against the corridor wall and wiped his brow with his linen sleeve. Although his job was hot and tiring at least he didn't have to sit on the floor beside the table and dish up the food for the guests then cut it into bite-sized pieces for their convenience, as did the young female servant who was assigned to his table. She also patiently wiped sticky fingers with moist napkins between courses. Nor could it compare to the agony endured by the poor cooks and their assistants who worked over open spits, and with burning ovens and heated grates. Some of them had already been carried out to the cool grass to recover from their faint.
Guests didn't fare much better. Some ladies were recovering -- in a room set aside for such purpose -- from the soupy air created by a combination of noxious perfumes, heady spices, sweet flowers, steamy food warmers, the body odor of a thousand people (scarcely disguised by wafts of burning incense strategically placed around the room) ... as well as from imbibing too much undiluted Caecuban wine.
Maxima fanned her face with her napkin as she sipped apple juice and nibbled on bits and pieces of the food that was placed before her. She didn't want to appear ungracious but her stomach roiled at the thought of calf tongue in fennel cream, artichokes in hot pickle relish, sea urchins in spiced sauce, smoked liver sausage, turbot in aspic... and those were just a few of the appetizers. She had to literally turn away from such main dishes as roasted swan in honey sauce, lizard fish with eggs and rue leaves, stuffed sow's udder, smoked porpoise and rabbit in fruit sauce. She even found the more traditional fare of roasted fowl and meats, baked crabs, fried fish, stuffed wild fowl and sweet and sour pork not to her liking today. She was simply too nervous to touch anything other than finely sliced vegetables in vinaigrette sauce, the occasional stuffed olive, and sweet freshly-baked rolls.
Maxima was sure that the bride was feeling the same way as the girl refused everything that was set before her and clutched her wine goblet like a drowning woman clasps a lifeline. She had left the banquet more than once, accompanied by a flurry of worried attendants, most likely to vomit up the copious amounts of wine she had gulped. She returned each time looking quite green. Maxima couldn't blame her at all for getting drunk. Her new husband sat on a couch at the far end of the dais from hers but even at a distance Maxima could see the hateful looks he threw at his bride. She must be terrified of the night to come. Her father didn't help any. Plautianus grabbed her arm in a painful vice and whispered seething words into her ear. She cringed and tried to shuffle away from him but he mercilessly pulled her back each time. The bride's mother simply sat frozen to her seat, her eyes focused on the back wall as if pretending that she was somewhere else entirely.
Maxima looked for her brother and spied him refilling a small table amphorae from a large one that was placed against the wall and concealed by potted palms. He carefully kept his back to the dais but still moved with a fluid grace uncommon in a man of his physique. For what seemed like the hundredth time that day she thanked the gods for giving her a brother like him... and for his charming friend, Marius. She saw Marius only when he raced from the garden to the corridor, somewhat more flustered than her brother. Brennus -- poor boy -- was struggling. Having no idea what to do, he constantly watched the other servers and imitated their actions, then was scolded by a twitchy little man for moving too slowly. She saw her young friend rise with a tray piled high with dirty dishes and struggle to hoist it to his shoulder, then he took one step forward and went flying face-down through the air, the tray and it's contents spilling and spattering across the startled guests and clattering along the marble floor.
All activity halted as the din drowned out even the loudest chatter. Even the flute and lyre players, concealed behind a curtain, took the chaos as an opportunity for an unscheduled break. Maxima rose to her feet, her hand to her mouth in shock. The she unthinkingly rushed forward to help him. Glaucus beat her to him and he unceremoniously blocked her way with his body. "Return to your seat," he hissed. "I'll deal with him." She moved back a few steps but could go no further because of the curious onlookers who had gathered behind her. She watched in awe -- and considerable pride -- as Glaucus took charge of the situation, organizing other servants to help clean up the mess, while calming the frazzled nerves and rising tempers of the food splattered guests. He picked up the lady's slipper that had sneaked out from under the couch and caused the accident, then almost had the besotted female apologizing to him for her carelessness, so melted was she by his deep, soothing tones. The excitement soon over, the guests dispersed allowing Glaucus to escort a shaking Brennus into the corridor for reprieve.
Sterculinus descended upon them with the combined force of all three Furies. Glaucus left Brennus slumped against the wall and met the little man face to face... or, rather, face to chest. The Spaniard glared down at him. "Back off Sterculinus, it was a simple accident."
"An accident. An accident. Accidents to not happen at royal weddings. You are a disgrace, young man!" Sterculinus shouted at Brennus around Glaucus who thwarted his every effort to get to the boy. "To the kitchen with you! You are not fit to serve dogs!" As Brennus slunk away Sterculinus turned his rage on Glaucus. "And you! You seem pretty sure of yourself. You can take care of both his table and your own, you think you're so good. And I don't want to hear any complaints from guests at either table!"
Glaucus shrugged. It was just dessert left. He could handle it. After that would come the speeches and toasts to wish the young couple happiness and fertility. The tipsy crowd would raise their goblets to wish the emperor great health and long life. He had no intention of being there for any of that.
The woman whose slipper had tripped Brennus gave him a huge, lopsided smile, pleased to see that he had been assigned to her table. They were all quite drunk now and Glaucus felt her fingers trail across his thinly-clad buttocks more than once as he brushed by her. The water jugs and amphorae brimming, Glaucus returned to his original table and replenished their refreshments. Then he caught Marius' eye and nodded. They headed for the kitchen followed closely by Lucius who had surreptitiously watched them all afternoon while fulfilling his own duties at a table far too close to the dais for comfort. It was only the overt public display of unhappiness of the two newlyweds that had kept their parents too preoccupied to take notice of what was going on with their guests or the servants.
In the kitchen they found Brennus sullenly arranging honey-nut cakes on platters already ringed with an assortment of fresh and glazed fruits, elaborate pastries and fruit custard tarts. Glaucus popped a glazed apricot into his mouth then gently took Brennus by the arm, leading him after Marius who was already following Lucius past the still glowing roasting pits and griddles, past blackened cauldrons and domed ovens to the back of the kitchen.
To cries from the banquet hall of "Feliciter!" they slipped behind a plain wooden door into refreshingly cooler air. Without a word, Lucius led them through the long, narrow passageway that was illuminated only by a few small windows at regular intervals. They ascended a flight of dark stairs and huddled there while Lucius opened it a crack and scouted the hallway. He then motioned them forward and they emerged into a broad, bright corridor.
"Where are we?" asked Glaucus in a hushed tone.
Lucius grinned. "On the other side of those bronze doors." He motioned toward them with his head then turned in the opposite direction. "Follow me. We're almost there." They tiptoed even though their soft shoes made no noise on the polished marble floor. Lucius stopped at the end of the corridor before a heavy wooden door carved with intricate geometric patterns. He turned the bronze knob and gently pushed on the door. It swung open soundlessly. He took a deep breath then stepped inside -- then stopped suddenly.
Glaucus' heart leaped into his throat. "What's wrong? Lucius, what's wrong?"
"It's different. It's totally different." He stepped inside the sitting room and the three others followed.
"What's different?" demanded Glaucus as he moved to Lucius' side.
"The walls, the furniture...."
"You mean the walls have been moved?" asked Marius, confused.
"No... no I don't think so. Just painted. The murals are totally different, and the colors. The furniture is different too, and it's all in different places."
"Well, I suppose we could expect some changes in over twenty years," said Marius, practically.
"Do you find it upsetting?" asked Glaucus as he watched Lucius' face for signs of distress.
"No, not upsetting. Just confusing." Then he shrugged. "This isn't the room we need anyway. The bedroom is through that door."
But that room had changed too and Lucius didn't seem to know which way to turn.
"Which wall, Lucius?" asked Glaucus as he looked around. Then his eyes fell on the bed, perched on a high platform in the middle of the room, and strewn with petals. Garlands of roses and violets were wrapped around the bedposts. Nuts, wheat grains and dried grapes were scattered on the floor around the bed. "Uh oh," he said.
"What? What's wrong," demanded Marius, then he saw the bed too. "Uh oh," he repeated.
"The marriage bed," said Lucius. He drew a deep breath. "That may not give us much time." He turned in a slow circle. "I think it was that wall," he said, pointing. "I used to identify it by the sculpture and the mural but the sculpture is gone and the mural is a garden scene, not architectural."
"Can you remember where on the wall?" asked Marius as he ran his fingertips lightly over the plaster.
"Towards that corner, I think." He threw up his hands in dismay. "I'm sorry, Glaucus. It's been so long."
"Don't worry," Glaucus reassured him. "We'll find it. Marius, you start at that end and Lucius, you start at the other. Brennus and I can start in the middle and work our way out. Go really slowly. Look for any vertical imperfection... any sign of a crack in the wall." Carefully and slowly they worked their way along the wall until they met each other, their faces reflecting their disappointment. "We have to do it again, much slower this time. Maybe we should switch places," Glaucus proposed. They tried again with no success. "The crack must have filled in when the wall was repainted. It may even have been re-plastered first."
A door banged somewhere in the distance and they all held their breath. After a few minutes of listening, Glaucus said, "How did the door to the compartment open, Lucius?"
"Um... we pushed and then slid sideways, I believe."
"Then let's push and slide sections of the wall," suggested Glaucus and Marius nodded in agreement. "It might be best if two of us work together for combined pressure. Marius, help me. Lucius, you and Brennus stand back."
Glaucus and Brennus worked their way slowly down the wall, pushing gently.
Nothing.
"Try again with more force," said Glaucus as he wiped sweat from his brow. A moment later he shouted, "Something moved! Something moved! Come and help."
Lucius and Brennus threw their shoulders against the wall and suddenly the plaster cracked and crumbled, revealing sections of an almost imperceptible vertical opening. Almost frantic now, they clawed at the remaining plaster until the entire narrow crevice was revealed. Choking slightly on dust, Glaucus said, "Now push and slide. All together. Push and slide."
A moment later Marius exclaimed. "I think I felt it move slightly."
Glaucus inspected the crack. It was a tiny bit wider. "Again," he said. This time they were showered in painted marble plaster as the wall slid, grinding and groaning.
"That's enough! I can squeeze through," said Glaucus, puffing from the exertion and excitement. "I can get through." He drew a few deep breaths then exhaled to deflate his chest as much as he could -- and squeezed through the opening. The space was small and dark, illuminated only by the light from the room. But there, on a marble pedestal in front of him, an elaborate gold urn gleamed softly as the first light in over twenty years struck the metal. Glaucus could make out the eagle embossed in the gold, with gleaming amber eyes. He dropped to his knees and looked up into the darkness. "Father... I know you can hear me. I'm going to take you home to Spain -- where you belong." He opened his eyes and, through almost blinding tears, saw Maximus' leather cuirass by his knees, leaning against the pedestal. Beside it was a small carved mahogany cupboard edged in gilt.
"Glaucus?"
"Yes, yes... it's here. It's all here, replied Glaucus, his voice cracking with emotion.
"I want to go in," said Lucius. "Pull the opening wider so there's more light." After a few more shoves, he, Marius and Brennus stood crammed inside the compartment.
Glaucus rose to his feet, the cuirass in his hands. "Is this it? Is this what he wore when he died?"
"Yes," said Lucius. "I recognize the horses." He looked up. "And there's the urn."
"Exactly where you said it was. Thank you, Lucius,&q"Yes," said Lucius. "I recognize the horses." He looked up. "And there's the urn."
"Exactly where you said it was. Thank you, Lucius," whispered Glaucus. "Here, Brennus, take the armor." Glaucus turned towards the urn.
"pulvinar vero divae geniale locatur
sedibus in mediis, Indo quod dente politum
tincta tegit roseo conchylis purpura fuco!"
Lucius froze.
"What's that singing?" asked Brennus.
Suddenly a woman's shriek cut the air. They were no longer alone.
Chapter 75 - Trapped
The bride shrieked again and her father's stunned face soon filled the opening to the compartment. "What's this? Thieves? Have we caught thieves?" He shouted over his shoulder. "Get the guards!" Then he stepped back and growled at the intruders, "Get out of there. Now!"
Glaucus motioned to his companions not to move then straightened his back and stepped into the light, his hands empty and held away from his sides to indicate he was not armed.
"YOU!" shrieked Plautianus sounding very much like his hysterical daughter.
Glaucus looked past his purple face into the eyes of the equally shocked emperor. His wife, Julia Domna looked like she was about to faint. The bride already had. Caracalla chortled with glee at the unexpected and welcome interruption to his wedding night and used the confusion to make his escape. Behind them stood an assortment of guests, their faces frozen in shock and more pushed forward into the spacious bedroom trying to see what the commotion was all about before armed guards rudely shoved them aside and entered the room at a run.
"I have pursued you across the entire empire and I find you here? Seize him!" ordered Plautianus and Glaucus was unceremoniously grabbed and spun around, his hands forced painfully behind his back. Plautianus snatched a sword from a third guard and brandished it before his captor's face as he addressed the emperor. "I told you, Septimius, that we should have simply disposed of him. Now... allow me the honor."
"No. Put the sword down," ordered Severus, his voice steady, his emotions under control, despite the fury in his eyes. "He's subdued." He looked towards the compartment. "Who is in there with him?"
"Come out here, all of you!" ordered Plautianus as he turned his blade in the direction of the dark opening. Marius and Lucius stepped into the bedroom and they were immediately grabbed by the guards and tossed, stumbling, towards the center of the room.
"Lucius Verus?" gasped Severus in astonishment. "Lucius Verus? What is going on here?"
"There's still somebody in there," said Plautianus as he hauled Brennus out and threw him across the room. The boy staggered and fell headlong on the bride's bed in a shower of rose petals.
Severus swirled around in a flurry of purple silk. "Get these people out of here," he ordered as more and more wedding guests pushed into the room, anxious to see what could prove to be the best entertainment of the day. They simply scattered as the guards approached, and even more shoved in through the opening.
"Why?" demanded Glaucus. "What don't you want them to see?"
"You impudent little swine," snarled Plautianus and he backhanded the prisoner making his head snap back painfully, the praetorian's rings opening gashes along Glaucus' jaw .
"That's enough!" Severus ordered his seething praetorian commander as he eyed the guests who refused to budge. "We need information." He strode forward to the dark opening. "Well... I didn't even know this was here." He looked back at Glaucus and cocked one eyebrow. "But you obviously did. You've risked a great deal to get in here." He chuckled softly . "It wouldn't be a particular document that you are looking for, would it?" Severus stuck his head into the blackness.
"No... I already have that," Glaucus answered calmly.
The emperor's head whipped around and his blazed. "I knew it. Where is it?"
"Somewhere very safe -- even from you." Glaucus ignored the blood that trickled down his neck in a warm, sticky trail.
"You lie. What else could be in here that you'd risk your life to get it?" Severus disappeared inside the compartment. "A torch!" He called out. "Get me a torch!" Within moments one was placed in his extended hand. Suddenly his laughter filled the small area and spilled into the bedroom. The crowd looked at each other in confusion and excitement, quietly trading their guesses about the contents of the mysterious little room and who Glaucus was.
Severus stepped out into the light, still laughing. "So... he's been here all along. Right in my own house. And who put his urn there, I wonder? Hmmm?" He advanced towards Lucius. "Whose bedroom was this, Lucius? Your mother's?"
Lucius nodded.
"Couldn't bear to be parted from her lover even after his death, hmmm?" the emperor sneered. Lucius remained impassive. A murmur swept through the crowd like a summer breeze through wheat.
"Search it," Severus ordered and two guards rushed to comply.
"The contract isn't there," insisted Glaucus then he gasped as the tip of Plautianus' sword pricked his throat.
"Well, I'd just like to see that for myself", replied Severus.
Contract? Contract? The word rippled through the crowd of wedding guests.
Moments later the guards emerged. "There's an urn," said one, "a cuirass and a little cabinet, Sire. There's also a leather packet."
Severus grinned in triumph and drew so close to Glaucus that the younger man flinched from the mingled odors of wine, onion and garlic. "Bring out the packet," Severus crowed in triumph. The he shouted at the guards again, "Get these people out of here! This is a private matter!"
The consuls, senators, praetors and governors lowered their eyes and started to comply but the retired general in front of the door folded his arms and stubbornly stood his ground. Around him, other generals did the same, creating a wall of military might. The guards faltered and looked to their emperor for guidance.
Severus snarled but didn't dare risk further alienating the military. He accepted the packet and quickly untied the leather thongs and unrolled the sheets of parchment. He frantically skimmed through them searching for the contract that he desired... that he needed so desperately. He fully intended to instantly set it alight, forever destroying the last wishes of Marcus Aurelius -- but it wasn't there. In disgust, he threw the papers to the floor and stomped on them then kicked them in a display of childish pique.
As they scattered, Lucius caught sight of his mother's writing. What were they? Letters?
"That's enough," snarled Plautianus. "Take them to the Tullian," he ordered the guards. "We'll deal with them there." Guards pinioned each prisoner, preparing to march them out.
"I believe that we should settle this right here," said a feminine voice and Severus turned to see the High Priestess of the Vestals standing in front of the retired general, dwarfed by the man behind her. The five other Vestals grouped at her sides -- joined by Maxima.
"Caelia Concordia," said Severus as he recovered his composure. He bowed to the elderly woman. "This is a matter of state. It does not involve the Vestals."
"Oh, but it does. You see, I know this young man that is being held so forcefully by your guards." She strolled towards Severus, her steps slow and regal, her head high. She opened her hand to reveal Marcus Aurelius' signet ring.
Glaucus looked at his sister -- her face ghostly pale. "Thank you," he mouthed. She couldn't possibly have heard him but she looked directly into his eyes and smiled through her tears.
"What do you have there, Domina?" asked Severus as he bowed to this tiny woman who was no taller than his shoulder. Her size was no indication of her power, though.
"It¹s a ring that this young man -- Maximus Decimus Glaucus, son of the great general, Maximus Decimus Meridius --"
The crowd gasped.
She continued, "--showed to me to gain an audience a few months ago."
Severus gulped. Plautianus sneered and opened a new cut on Glaucus' throat.
"We didn't talk long," she said. "He gave me a contract--"
Severus paled.
"-- to hold for him in safety and secrecy. I am sorry if I betray that trust, Maximus Decimus Glaucus, but I feel the time is right to reveal what it is you gave to me."
Glaucus nodded in gratitude, his hands still painfully pinned, blood pouring down his neck.
"You search for a contract, Sire?" Caelia asked.
Severus closed his eyes.
"I believe I have what you want and I am well aware of its contents, and recognize the signature of Marcus Aurelius as well as his official seal. It was dated and witnessed on the 17th day of March in the year 180. The day he died." She waited for the commotion of the crowd to subside before she continued, a small smile playing about her lined lips. "Is that the contract you seek, Sire?"
Severus simply sank into a chair which a guard slipped under him just in time to avoid an embarrassing spill.
"Now, I have two choices. I can release that document to the senate," Caelia said slowly, "or, I can simply retain it as... an interesting historical file -- its contents secure."
Plautianus roared forward in a panic. "Remove these people from the room!" he yelled at the praetorians, and they surged forward again, brandishing swords at the empire's elite. Every one of them stood their ground -- consuls, senators, magistrates, governors, generals, and influential businessmen. All stood their ground now.
"What do you want?" asked Severus quietly to the woman in white who looked down at him without a trace of pity.
"A chair, if you please, for a start," said Caelia. "My legs are not what they used to be."
Severus nodded to a guard and a chair appeared.
"Now release those young men. I would like young Maximus Decimus Glaucus to join us." The praetorians dropped Glaucus' arms.
"No!" screamed Plautianus at the guards. "I am commander of the praetorians. You obey no one but me!" The guards looked at each other in confusion and one started to move towards Glaucus again. They had no idea who to obey now... their commander, their emperor or the most powerful woman in the empire.
Caelia rose on steady feet. "I ordered those men released."
The praetorian commander roared like an injured lion and clumsily lunged for Glaucus, sweeping his sword wide. Ladies screamed and the crowd scattered. The Vestals anxiously pulled Caelia to safety and Severus dove behind two guards. But Plautianus' wine-impaired timing was off and Glaucus side-stepped the arching sword. Unbalanced, the praetorian stumbled and fell heavily against the wall, then regained his footing to face his young enemy again who now clutched his father's scarred leather cuirass in front of him like a shield.
"You fool!" shrieked Plautianus. "Do you think a piece of leather will save you?"
"It served my father well," replied Glaucus as he used the cuirass to deflect two vicious blows.
"That traitor! Your father the traitor, do you mean? The man who murdered his emperor, Marcus Aurelius? That treasonous bastard?" Purple veins popped in the praetorian commander's temples.
Glaucus moved daringly close to Plautianus, "I believe the lady has a contract that says otherwise," he smiled calmly, his words meant only for the ears of his opponent. "A contract that can bring both you and your emperor to ruin."
"You filthy little son of a whore," spit Plautianus as he circled on unsteady feet. "How dare you threaten me?"
"You're drunk, Plautianus," Glaucus sneered. "If you attack me I'll find a way to kill you -- just like I did those soldiers in Petra that you sent to murder me."
"lautianus!" yelled Severus. "Put your sword down!"
"No! We've got him right where we want him. He dies!"
Severus turned to the guards. "Disarm your commander!" he ordered.
They hesitated.
"WHO IS EMPEROR HERE!" Severus screamed.
The guards moved towards him, but Plautianus lunged again, his bloodshot eyes bulging.
Glaucus deflected the slashes with the cuirass but was driven backwards toward the doorway by the force of the enraged man's blows. He crashed against the bronze cuirass of the general whom he had served at his table. With a sly smile, the man drove his knee up under the tunic of a nearby praetorian then grabbed the guard's sword as he crumpled in a writhing heap. "I knew your father," he said to Glaucus with a grin as he handed the young man the sword. Then the general bumped a charging Plautianus off balance, giving Glaucus time to pull the cuirass over his head and securely grasp the sword.
Glaucus appraised his opponent as he confidently strode to the centre of the room. Plautianus was sweating profusely and panting, his face twisted into a hateful snarl as he circled Glaucus on unsteady feet.
"Give it up, Plautianus. You can't beat me and you know it." Glaucus swiped casually at the man's face and snickered as Plautianus backed off in haste.
"You... you disgusting son of a traitor!"
"No traitor, Plautianus. Just a man wronged. All I want to do is set it right. No more."
"You liar! You want it all!" He stabbed at Glaucus' chest and the younger man let the blow slide ineffectually off the hard leather then trapped Plautianus' arm with is own, rendering him defenseless, before he shoved him backwards. The praetorian commander stumbled right into the waiting arms of Marius and Lucius who picked him up and gleefully pushed him back into the fray.
Disoriented now, as well as drunk, Plautianus, stood with sword poised but not sure where the enemy was. Glaucus swooped in and used the tip of his sharp sword to dislodge and pop a huge emerald off the praetorian's gold cuirass. It bounced on the marble floor and rolled right to Brennus who happily scooped it up.
As Plautianus gaped at his chest in dismay, Glaucus wedged the tip of his sword through the handgrip of his enemy's weapon and wrenched it out of his grasp. It sailed into the air and Glaucus stepped forward and caught it with ease... to the thunderous applause and cheers of the crowd of guests. He lowered his gaze menacingly and cut the air with two swords.
Plautianus stood in the middle of the room, confused and humiliated. He still attempted to roar insults at Glaucus but Severus motioned for the guards to haul him out. This time they obeyed and an opening appeared like magic for them to depart, the praetorian commander's impotent insults and threats gradually fading before being muffled altogether by the thud of a bronze door.
Severus sighed deeply, every line in his face sagging like his frizzled beard. "I knew I would have a bad day. It was in the stars. But I anticipated trouble with the young bride and groom, who despise each other -- nothing else. I got that and more." He managed a wan smile as he pulled three chairs into position and graciously escorted Caelia to her seat again where she was quickly encircled by the other Vestals. He wearily extended a polite hand to Glaucus, indicating an empty chair.
Glaucus handed the swords to Lucius and accepted the offer. The emperor sat in the last chair -- a small, gilt-edged bedroom chair with a embroidered seat -- a far cry from his golden throne. "I was also a soldier," he said to Glaucus, "and a good soldier knows when to lay down his arms and negotiate a truce."
"We need a scribe," said Caelia and a man soon appeared with tablets.
"Papyrus, if you please," she stated and he scurried away, returning again with the appropriate materials.
"Now, let us begin," Caelia stated with a smile, quite accustomed to tricky negotiations.
