XXXVIII

Rome

They came for Annius Vinicianus in the ghost hour before dawn, when the spirit is at its lowest and the mind dulled. He had been proud of the way he’d held out against their repeated questioning and threats. There had been no violence so far, and though he was a Roman citizen who would soon take his seat in the Senate, that had surprised him. He was no fool; he knew of the horrors Nero had visited on his enemies. That he had been treated so gently he put down to the fact that he had commanded a legion before he was thirty, and, more so, to being the son-in-law of the illustrious Corbulo.

How he wished he had listened to his father-in-law. Who could have predicted a little drunken tittle-tattle among old friends would lead to a damp cell and an uncertain future?

Without warning the door smashed back and he huddled against the wall as six jailers burst in wielding clubs and screaming at him to get to his feet. Helpless and bewildered, he was dragged bodily through a series of tunnels, but his legs told him that he was descending with every step. The deeper they went, the darker his thoughts; he had imagined this moment, had steeled himself for it. In his imagination he had conducted himself with dignity. Now, he felt only a hopeless terror that manifested itself in a weakness in his bladder and a head bursting with panic. His nostrils filled with the thick stink of decay and putrefaction until it blocked his throat like something solid. Far above him the palaces were filled with light and perfume; down here the slime and filth of ages coated the walls, glinting green in the eerie glow of the torchlight. Somewhere ahead a man screamed, a shriek of mortal agony that froze his blood and anchored his feet to the ground. It was as if a signal had been given. His guards turned on him and he went down screaming under a hail of punches and kicks. A blow from a nailed sandal dazed him and he felt himself picked up and carried until they reached some kind of wooden door that creaked when they opened it. Inside, stairs descended ever more steeply into the hill, like the passage to the Underworld. His stunned mind registered the rattle of chains and he felt his tunic being ripped away. When he opened his eyes he was fettered to a wall by the arms in a wide room lit only by the low red glow of a brazier. In front of the brazier a table was arrayed with a butcher’s selection of blades, hooks and irons that turned his bowels to liquid.

The guards left him without a word and his mind fought the horror of what was to come.

It was a few moments before he noticed the eyes. They glowed an unearthly red, like the eyes of a rat reflected in the light of a street torch, and they belonged to someone, some… thing hiding in the darkness on the far side of the brazier. As he watched, the eyes came closer and he saw that they belonged to a hairless, flesh-covered skeleton that rattled something across the bars that held it captive. The creature stared at him with the intensity of an executioner and for the first time Annius Vinicianus knew the true meaning of fear. Without taking its eyes from him, the filth-covered beast began to rub the human thigh bone it held on the stone floor of its cage, sharpening the end to a fine point. Annius felt each unhurried scrape of the bone like a nail across the inside of his skull.

‘You have met our Egyptian, I see.’

He flinched at the unexpected voice from the doorway. Offonius Tigellinus, a short sword naked in his hand, walked unhurriedly into the centre of the room and took his place by the hot coals. Annius sensed someone else in the stair, but the Praetorian prefect waved a languid hand and they were left alone with the baleful creature in the cage. Tigellinus allowed the silence to stretch until the thin membrane inside the younger man’s head that is the dividing line between insanity and madness was near breaking point.

‘They caught him in Alexandria,’ the Praetorian said presently. ‘Some sort of merchant. Children and young girls had been disappearing and they eventually traced them to his door. It must have been quite distressing. All that meat hanging on hooks, dried and salted as if it was in some butcher’s storehouse. He had a special liking for fresh liver, I believe. Astonishing that they didn’t kill him there and then. The Emperor was visiting Egypt at the time and decided to keep him as a pet. And an entertainment.’

Annius’s eyes were locked on the red craters that held him as a snake holds a mouse. He choked back the bile that filled his throat at the thought of the horrors that had occurred inside these walls, the screams of the victims unheard beneath thousands of tons of rock and marble.

‘I am innocent of any crime.’ He despised himself for the fear that was so apparent in his voice.

Tigellinus shook his head sadly, not because it was not true, but because the young man chained before him could be so naive. ‘Everyone who comes here is innocent at first.’ As he spoke, he stepped closer and his voice seemed to caress Annius’s flesh. ‘One name can spare you this.’

Annius stared at him. One name? What name? He drew himself up as well as he could in his chains. ‘I am a Roman citizen,’ he cried. ‘I am innocent of any crime. I demand to be tried by a court of my peers.’

‘Very well.’ Tigellinus sighed wearily. Two men appeared from the doorway. Annius Vinicianus had never seen eyes so empty. ‘Begin.’

After three hours Annius had delivered up to Tigellinus every name his pain-swamped brain could think of. As well as those with whom he’d discussed the possibility of removing Nero, he had implicated most of his family and friends, his father’s acquaintances in the Senate, many of the officers in his legion, and all the slaves on the family estate. It seemed even the honoured dead were among his co-conspirators. He lapsed in and out of consciousness, but whatever horrors were inflicted upon him he never spoke the name Tigellinus prayed to hear. Tigellinus was an experienced inquisitor, but more so a seasoned survivor. The clerks were here to record the list of the newly guilty. He knew he could not utter the name himself, because Nero would hear of it and that would weaken his position.

But if he could only get this young fool to say the name once of his own volition the last stone would be in place. The danger to the Empire would be nullified. The Emperor would be saved from his own weakness.

It was time.

‘Take him down.’ The torturers lifted Annius Vinicianus from the hook that held his chains and laid him on the filth-covered floor. ‘Is he alive?’ Tigellinus already knew the answer to his question, but he stooped, gripping the point on the young man’s arm where the shattered ends of two bones protruded from the flesh, and forced them together. Annius let out a shriek of mortal agony and his eyes flickered open. Tigellinus waited until they had focused on him before kneeling and putting his mouth to what remained of an ear. ‘One name, Annius, and it will all be over. One name.’ He frowned with annoyance at the incomprehension he read in the haggard face. ‘One name, Annius,’ he repeated. ‘ The name that is dearest to you.’

Every minute of Annius’s torment had been accompanied by the rattle of the naked thigh bone across the bars of the Egyptian’s cage. The inhuman red eyes had taken in every cut and every touch of the iron, the ears every scream and howl. Saliva drooled from his thin lips and the flat nose twitched at the scent of cooking meat. As the victim had been lowered from the wall the cannibal’s excitement had grown beyond containment and he began to howl like a dog.

For the Egyptian knew what was coming.

‘Very well, have done with him,’ Tigellinus said.

Annius felt himself being lifted. As his head lolled towards the cage the bright red eyes entered his vision and he remembered.

‘No!’ From somewhere he found his voice.

The cannibal had not been fed for a week and the howl was replaced by an animal shriek as he saw the living flesh being brought to him.

‘No.’ Somewhere in his incomprehensible terror part of Annius Vinicianus’s brain fought for survival. A name. His torturer wanted a name. What had Tigellinus said? The name that is dearest to you.

The name that is dearest to you.

He couldn’t think for fear. He had already soiled himself and now he did so again as he heard the rattle of the barred door being opened and saw the thigh bone pushed out to touch his flesh.

The name that is dearest to you?

The name that is dearest to you?

The name that is dearest to you…!

‘Corbulo!’ His scream was so piercing that even the cannibal recoiled from it. ‘Corbulo! Corbulo! Corbulo!’ The litany only ended when Tigellinus put a finger to his smashed lips. The Praetorian commander beckoned the clerks closer.

His voice was almost gentle. ‘What was the name?’

‘Corbulo,’ Annius sobbed, the awfulness of his betrayal only just dawning. ‘Gnaeus Domitius Corbulo, general of the east.’

Tigellinus kept his face solemn. ‘Very well. Keep him safe for the Emperor, and remember, Annius Vinicianus: the Egyptian will always be waiting for you here.’

Left alone with only the whimpering cannibal for a companion, Tigellinus allowed himself a smile of pure triumph.

The game was won.

Загрузка...