Authors: Kate Thompson
Most Wanted (3 page)
I
didn't sleep much that night. I doubt whether anyone in our compound did, but I know I slept least of all.
We had tried to leave the consul Incitatus alone, once we had covered the floor of our guest bedroom with fresh straw and given him as much hay and oats as our bullocks would eat in a week. But he wasn't used to being on his own, and he wouldn't settle. Needless to say, I was the one who was sent in to keep him company.
I was very comfortable, actually. The bed in that room had been built in there and wouldn't fit out of the door, so we had pushed it against the wall to make room for the horse. I unrolled my own mattress on it, and I was as comfortable as I would have been anywhere.
So it wasn't discomfort that kept me awake. It was fear. Fear that Incitatus would be discovered and that Little Boots wouldn't accept our excuses. My head filled with florid imaginings, and I dredged up all the memories I had of the ways Little Boots had invented for putting people to death. They went from bad to worse to unthinkable. I wondered whether anyone had ever been given a choice and which method I would pick if I had to.
But I did finally get to sleep, and it was Incitatus himself who helped me. He came close to the bedside and lay down there on the floor, and the regular swell of his breathing began to lull me. I had to admit that he was nice company, the consul, and I couldn't imagine any other member of the Roman senate being so quiet and gentle.
“Perhaps you'll be the next Caesar,” I whispered into his ear.
And, imagining that, I finally slipped into sleep.
F
or the first time in as long as I can remember, my mother didn't get me up in the middle of the night to help with the bread making. I woke to the sounds of the handcarts in the yard and the creak of the compound gates as they opened.
Incitatus was already up and nosing around in the marble basin where we'd put his oats the day before. There were fresh droppings in the straw, but you had to look very hard to see any gold in them now, because most of it had already passed through his system.
I got up and fetched him more oats, then drew water and filled up his trough. He made a big show of splashing at the water with his nose before he drank it, and I wondered whether he was used to having it warmed for him or whether we were insulting him and ought to be giving him wine instead. But he blew sweet breath into my face and stood quite contentedly as I groomed his mane with my mother's comb and polished his coat with her best silk shawl. I liked it very much, this job. It was better than delivering bread any day.
My mother brought me breakfast and some fruit for Incitatus, and afterward, because there was nothing left to do, I climbed back into bed and went to sleep again. I dreamed that I was riding into battle alongside Little Boots's father, the mighty Germanicus, but I got left behind because my horse was lame. When I looked down, I saw its hind legs were missing, and Little Boots was crouching beside me, roasting them over an open fire.
That afternoon when everyone had returned from the deliveries, we had another family gathering in the yard. The streets were full of rumors and speculation, and it was impossible to know what was true.
Lucius had heard that Little Boots had been murdered by members of the praetorian guard and that they killed his wife and baby daughter as well, but since the praetorian guard existed to look after the emperor's personal safety, it seemed impossible to us.
Other people were saying that the whole thing was a trick, as we had feared, and that there were public executions taking place beside the palace and that the streets were running with blood. This couldn't be confirmed because no one had the courage to go anywhere near there, and the streets surrounding the palace were unusually quiet and empty.
My father had heard that Little Boots's body had been taken to a private garden and they had tried to cremate it, but there hadn't been enough wood for a proper pyre and they'd had to bury what was left of him.
And someone else told my cousin that rioters had overrun the forum and that there was no longer any kind of government in the city.
But the maddest rumor of all, the one that cheered us all up and gave us a good laugh, was that there were plans afoot to crown Claudius as the next Caesar. He was Little Boots's uncle and the only member of his family who had escaped death or banishment. It was said, and it was probably true, that Little Boots spared his life only because he enjoyed making fun of him in public. People liked him on the whole, poor, daft, stammering old Claudius, but the idea of his becoming emperor was ridiculous.
So we decided, at our gathering, to believe the worst and ignore the best and, for the meantime at least, to carry on as we were and to stick to the agreed story. The consul Incitatus was our honored guest, and we were caring for him until Rome settled down.
But that night, well after dark, a neighbor called at our gates, and she had new information. She had heard that soldiers were going from door to door throughout the city and were searching all the outbuildings. Several horses had been confiscated and their owners dragged off along with them. No one could say why. Our neighbor was aware, she said, that we had no horses now, but there was no harm in passing on the news all the same.
She did know, of course. As my grandmother had said, it would have been impossible for me to come galloping into our little back lane without someone in the neighborhood noticing. But she had been a loyal friend by tipping us off, and in dangerous times like ours there aren't so many of them left. We were lucky. Very lucky indeed.
I
t was my little sister, Tiberia, who ran into the guest room to tell me what the neighbor had said about the soldiers and the searches. Before I could get my head around it, Lucius stormed in with the rest of the family at his heels.
“We have to get him out of here,” he said. “And quickly, before the soldiers arrive and drag us all off to our deaths.”
He pushed me aside and began to yank at the buckle at the front of the purple blanket. The consul took exception to this and laid his ears back and began to back up across the room, but it was my grandmother who stopped my brother from going any further.
“No,” she said, and her voice carried all the authority of her seventy years. “I will not allow anything to be done in a state of panic. You may be right, Lucius, but we have to think this through and reach a proper decision.”
Lucius was red in the face with rage, but my grandmother's word was law and he didn't dare act against her. I thought I was in the clear, but now the full force of her authority was turned upon me.
“You, boy!” she said. “You will clean up this mess and put fresh straw down. Then you will polish that . . . that consul until every hair of his coat shines like gold. If they find Incitatus in here, they must have no complaints about the way he has been looked after.”
I ran to get a basket to collect the dung. When I came back, the rest of the family was moving off toward the front of the house to continue their discussions. For the moment at least, the bread making was forgotten.
I gathered the droppings and the wet straw and went to get some fresh stuff. The compound was unusually quiet, with everyone at the meeting inside my parents' house, and as I was carrying the straw across it, I suddenly knew that it was up to me to sort out this problem, and that I would have to do it alone. And I knew exactly how I would have to do it.
You might think it was brave of me, but it wasn't really. Not when you stop to think about it. The way we saw it, Little Boots had sent out his soldiers to find his favorite horseâhis best friend and trusted consul. Already people were being arrested because he was missing, and
they
didn't even have Incitatus. We did.
Of course, it was possible that the emperor and his soldiers would be delighted that we had invited the consul into our home and taken such care of him. Little Boots might give us back our horses and shower honors upon the whole family.
But despite what my grandmother said, I just couldn't see it happening. As I crossed the yard, I had a vision of it running with blood and littered with teeth and fingers and ears. “Put him to death so he knows he is dying”âthat was one of Little Boots's milder declarations. He insisted on his victims suffering for as long as possible. Some of them took days to die. There were stories I had heard that were too dreadful to think about.
So, the question I was left with was a simple one: all of us or just one? And the answer to that was obvious: just one.
But which one?
Simple again. The one who'd caused the problem in the first place.
T
hey were all talking so quietly that I couldn't hear a thing when I went into the house. The consul was pleased to see me back, and his ears pricked with excitement when I gathered up the golden chain and attached it to his head collar. As I opened the guest room door, a sudden image flashed into my mind of the statue of Jupiter in the Capitol, his head replaced by that of Little Boots, his thunderbolt raised, ready to strike. The vision stopped me in my tracks and made my innards churn, but it didn't shake my resolve.
I took a deep breath and led Incitatus through the yard, and out of the compound gates.
There was practically no one about, and those there were kept a low profile: hooded ghosts vanishing into black corners. What I did see, though, was horses. In practically every street there was a cob or a cart horse or a child's riding pony, each of them turned out from its warm stable to save its owner from arrest. And the saddest thing of all was that not one of those beasts could possibly have been mistaken for Incitatus. It was yet another example of the terror that Little Boots created with every order he gave.
I had no clear idea of what I was doing, beyond getting Incitatus as far from my family compound as possible before I abandoned him. When I think of it now, I see that I ought to have stripped him of his finery before I left home and put the blanket and the bejeweled head collar under one of the bread ovens to burn. I ought to have let go of him sooner, and chased him away down one of those dark streets and run off before he could find me and follow me. But a strange thing began to happen, and I became fascinated by it, and it took my attention from where it ought to have been.
The abandoned horses began to follow us. First one, then another, and then a couple more that had already joined up together. Then, with the help of a street pump, I managed to clamber up onto his back. If Incitatus minded, he didn't show it. He walked with long graceful strides, his head high, gazing around at the dim streets of Rome as though he knew that he was second-in-command only to the emperor and that the place as good as belonged to him.
And still I stayed onboard, taken in by the consul's confidence, seduced by the little procession of horses into a dream of power. When I look back on it now, I see that I wasn't in my right mind that night. I was puffed up with pride at my own heroism and filled with sweet anguish by my noble gesture of self-sacrifice. I became Germanicus, Rome's greatest hero, returning triumphant from my latest campaign. More horses joined us, my army following along behind. The rejoicing crowds parted before us. I never fathered that monster Little Boots, but I became emperor myself instead, and I was the kindest, most generous Caesar the empire had ever known.
And then, too suddenly, real soldiers were there: about eight of them and all asleep at the side of the street. I hauled on the chain, but there was no stopping Incitatus now. He shook his head and jerked on the rein and just kept going. The sounds of all those horses woke the soldiers, and they jumped up in confusion, shouting orders to each other.
I still could have escaped if I'd had my wits about me. It took them ages to get a torch alight, and even when they finally succeeded and saw Incitatus in his fine attire, they didn't seem to know how to react. If I had slipped off and scarpered I would have been miles away before they got themselves organized, and they could never have found me in the dark. But by the time I thought about it, I was surrounded and it was far too late.
The soldiers stood around and looked at the consul, and one or two of them gave little bows, and the others looked at them and they looked back at the others, but during that whole awkward comedy I don't remember any of them looking up at me. Finally the leader of the little troop cleared his throat.
“Consul Incitatus,” he said. “We are very glad to have found you at last. Your presence is requested at the Capitol.”
T
hose soldiers hadn't a clue what to do with me, so they ignored me entirely, as though I were the consul's little dog that he had been taking for a walk. They didn't know what to do about the other horses, either, so they just let them come along too, even though some of them started getting excited and trotted on ahead. The whole procession became a bewildering muddle of soldiers and horses, with Incitatus and me strolling along in the middle.
I was very frightened now that I had come out of my daydream, but I had missed my chance to run. I could only hope that I remained as invisible as I appeared to be and that I might find another moment to escape later on. For a long time we walked through the dark streets, and if anyone was awake at that hour in Rome, they were very careful not to let the soldiers know it. There wasn't a lamp or a candle to be seen anywhere, and our only light was cast by the single guttering torch somewhere near the head of the procession.
But when we turned into the forum, there was suddenly light everywhere. And people, gathered around the temples and the streets between them. They weren't in a big crowd but in small groups here and there, some standing, some sitting, some wrapped in blankets and sleeping.
We marched through them, and I saw eyes, one pair after another, turned toward us in weary bewilderment. And then someone spotted Incitatus, and the whole sleepy gathering suddenly came alive.
“The consul!” a woman shouted, and the news was taken up and bounced along the street.
“The consul is here!”
“Incitatus is found!”
“Consul Incitatus is on his way!”
I swear the horse understood. He arched his beautiful neck and lifted his feet high, dancing on his toes with all the raw energy of the racehorse in him and with all the haughty dignity of a Roman consul.
We were surrounded by light now as people closed in around us with their lamps and torches to get a better look. As we left the forum and began to climb the steep path up the Capitoline Hill, loose horses thundered through the patches of darkness beyond, kicking up their heels in excitement and tearing back to rejoin the throng.
Someone blew a long note on a horn. The soldiers, wide awake now and extremely proud of themselves, waved cheerfully at the onlookers. There were more people waiting at the top of the hill, and when we reached it, a cheer went up. With a sudden rush of exhilaration, I realized that something had changed. I wasn't sure why, but I knew that this city no longer felt like Little Boots's Rome.