I entered Cassius' tent unannounced to find him sitting at his large, ornate desk writing in his journal as I had told Maximus he'd be. He wrote quickly and efficiently as he did everything, be it running his legions, dealing with his correspondence or enjoying his bedsport. In those days in Moesia he spent hours writing at his tent and messengers departed from the camp several times a day, taking his letters and messages to those who backed him in his plot to seize the throne, be they in Rome or in other regions of the empire. Cassius appreciated speed and efficiency as much as he appreciated comfort and beauty and I always suspected that his preference for me was not only sustained by my beauty and pleasuring skills but also by the way in which I can easily take things like a household in my hands and run it efficiently. He used to say that I was unique, a rare jewel, the only woman he had ever known who could whore and deal with the annoying, petty things of daily life with the same assuredness and pleasurable results.
As Balbinus had told Maximus while impersonating the unfortunate Claudius, Cassius had gone out of the camp, having only returned shortly before dusk and went directly to his tent, where he had resumed his writing. Cassius felt safe in his tent, surrounded by his entourage and his appointed praetorians and when he caught movement out the corner of his eye, he simply glanced up at me then bent his head again to his task.
Without looking up again he asked flatly,
"What do you want?"
"I just want to see you. I miss you when you are working
so hard," I said sweetly as I walked towards him, the semi-transparent
gown I had donned following Maximus' brisk orders about wearing
"something alluring" floating around me. It
was made of sea-green silk and so flimsy that left no place for
undergarments and also very little to imagination, except for
the darker green sash wrapped around my waist. Maximus had gasped
when he had seen me come out of my bedroom dressed in what seemed
to be but a handful of sea foam and opened his mouth probably
to voice a protest but had quickly refrained. Nevertheless, when
we had left the slave quarters together he had insisted that I
put on a cloak to cover my virtual nudity while I walked among
the rows of tents. The gesture had been so fiercely yet so naively
protective that had nearly made me laugh. The cloak lay now where
I had discarded it, in Cassius' anteroom, the same place where
Maximus hid waiting for his time to act, dressed in the black
uniform of the praetorian who had the misfortune to be on shift
at Cassius' tent. The man was tied and hidden inside a cupboard.
I sauntered over to the desk and trailed
my fingers over Cassius' hand then along his arm and up to his
shoulder where I used both hands to knead the tense muscles in
his neck. After a few moments the speed of his writing decrease
considerably then stop altogether as he closed his eyes and succumbed
to my ministration.
"Ah, Julia," he sighed sounding happily relaxed. "You
are the best that I ever bred."
That was it. His favorite line when it came to me. He seemed not
to be done if he didn't say it, be it that I had dealt with his
cooks or satisfied him in bed. Not that it mattered anymore. Cassius
would not leave his tent alive and one way or the other my life
was over. But it stung as always.
Nevertheless I managed to keep the rhythm
of my fingers steady and even as Cassius went on talking. "I
have two of your little sisters, you know ... ready to follow
in your footsteps. When we get to Rome I shall put you in charge
of their training. They will make great gifts, I think, to men
whose allegiance I need".
Cassius had mentioned time and again that I was to inherit Turia's place at the villa when we returned to Rome. And also had mentioned those two little girls, a group of them growing up in a separate section of the villa, each day that passed bringing them closer to their fate. When talking about them, Cassius always called them "your little sisters" but I never knew if he was talking about the sisterhood created by slavery and whoring or about my own flesh and blood. Had my poor, unknown mother born him not only me but other beautiful girls to warm his bed and those of his friends and supporters? Had she warmed it too? Every time a new girl was sent to the section of the villa occupied by the initiated whores I was afraid to discover that she had red golden hair, creamy skin and blue eyes. I was scared to death to discover the same features I saw every day when I checked my reflection at my polished mirrors in the face of a younger girl unfortunate enough to be my sister. But also this was over and that night we were all to be avenged: my mother, Eugenia's son, even Turia and of course myself.
Feeling the same detachment I had experienced
since I had returned to the slaves' quarters from Maximus' tent,
I went on working his muscles and said, "I'll do whatever
pleases you, Sire," my voice as steady as my fingers. But
I was keenly aware of the dagger concealed just under my tunic's
sash, the dagger no one, not even Maximus knew I possessed. The
dagger a twelve-year-old abused girl had taken from the house
of an elderly senator, the dagger the woman she had become had
always known she'd come to use.
And that night there was no doubt about who'd be on the receiving
end of the blade.
Cassius relaxed more and more, his chin
dropping to his chest and I quietly moved my right hand to grasp
the silver handle, slowly pulling it from it's hiding place ...
Marcellus rushed into the tent. The legate looked frantic and
he startled me so violently that I almost dropped the dagger.
Somehow I managed to keep my grip and also to hide it from Marcellus,
using Cassius' body as a shield.
"Cassius!" he cried. "There is something wrong.
Two of the men who were guarding Maximus ran away from the camp
tonight ..." He stopped abruptly when he saw me standing
behind his general. "Well, well... maybe here's someone who
can tell uswhat's going on. Maximus, it seems, hasn't been seen
yet today and I've heard that you were with him last night at
his tent."
Cassius made a motion to turn towards me but I moved faster and buried the dagger up to the hilt into his jugular, causing a nauseating, ringing vibration that ran up the length of my arm and into my shoulder and neck. Blood spurted in a wide arch and soaked the documents beneath Cassius' hands and also smeared my hands and arms, the crimson drops stingy warm over my cold skin. Then, his head dropped to the desk with a loud thud.
Marcellus was too stunned to move, looking
at me with his eyes wide open, his mouth slack. Then he mustered
a word which could have been a praise, a curse or a cry for help
but was lost as his head was whipped around and his neck snapped
by the black-clad praetorian who materialized behind him. His
bones broke with the same sound as a dry branch breaks. Maximus
let the legate's body slide slowly to the floor, his blue eyes
on mine as I remained behind Cassius' desk and calmly returned
his stare.
We looked at each other for a moment. Then, with simple finality,
I spoke.
"He's dead".
"I can see that," said Maximus as he stepped over Marcellus
and slowly, warily moved towards me, ready to jump at me if I
went mad. "That did not go exactly as planned," he added,
never taking his eyes from mine.
I knew my action had probably jeopardized his carefully devised
plans but I had my own reasons and was ready to pay for my actions.
Cassius was dead. Maximus was safe. And I was avenged. Nothing
else mattered.
"I had to do it."
Maximus nodded. "I understand that. But now we have a problem.
We have to make it look like Marcellus did it."
Understand?
What in Hades could he understand?
Slavery? He had been born the son of a humble Spaniard farmer
yet he had known nothing but freedom. He had freely gone into
the army instead of working the land as his father and grandfather
and raised from its lower ranks to his high office, enjoyed citizenship,
adoption in a senatorial family and the favor of his emperor.
Whoring?
He was a man and men rule the world. Without them, the ones like
me would not exist. Men go to war on their own behalf or that
of their rulers and enslave those who they don't slaughter. They
are the ones who rape the wives, daughters and sisters of their
defeated enemies or take them as concubines and sire their children
on them, only to leave them behind on behalf of their orders and
a new military post or because they fall in battle. They are the
ones who force their attentions on the women they buy at the slave
markets or entice half-starved girls into their beds with the
promise of their gold. Or, like Cassius, have their
private brothels for their personal use and that of their friends.
Loneliness?
He had a wife who loved him and a son to perpetuate his name and
he was young enough to sire many others. He had the love of his
emperor and the fierce loyalty of his men. He knew happiness --
simple, human happiness and had others to share it with him.
Killing?
Of course he had killed and he had done it many times, probably
many more than I could imagine. But he killed faceless enemies,
the enemies of his emperor, the enemies of Rome and all Rome stood
for.
I, instead, had been born a slave, been forced to whoring, been
all my life as alone as it is possible to be and had killed the
man who had condemned me to slavery and whoring and loneliness
... and who, for all I knew, could have been my own father.
What could General Maximus Decimus Meridius possibly understand?
I sighed.
"You can leave, Maximus. I will say that I saw Marcellus
kill Cassius so I killed Marcellus".
Maximus looked at the legate's body lying slumped at his feet.
"I don't think anybody will believe that you could break
a man's neck, Julia," he said quietly, his voice soothing,
as if he were afraid that something would snap inside me and I'd
go crazy. I tried to voice an assurance, to tell him that I was
fine but instead I swayed slightly. Maximus' face showed more
than a little concern.
"Julia, don't fail me now," he whispered hurriedly.
"We have to finish this. Be strong."
Strong?
Had I ever been nothing but strong since I could remember?
I swallowed hard and nodded.
"Now, step over here being very careful to avoid the blood
on the floor. Don't get any on your feet or tunic," said
Maximus stretching his hand towards me.
I did as he asked, letting him take command and concentrating
only on following his orders, not daring to look at the body sprawled
over the desk, it's blood glazing the wood and soaking the patterned
rug beneath. For a fleeting moment I thought
how insulted Cassius' sense of order would have been if he'd seen
his rug ruined beyond help. But it was too late for complaints,
as Cassius himself was beyond help. I felt like giggling but forced
myself to remain calm, not wanting to alarm Maximus who was talking
to me again.
"Sit in this chair while I set up
a murder scene," he said as he used his cloak to gently wipe
the blood from my fingers and arms as he guided me to the seat
on the other side of the room. Once I sat there, he plunged into
action.
He hauled Marcellus' lifeless body to its feet then hoisted it
over his shoulder, stepping carefully behind the desk. Then, he
clasped the legate's limp hand and used it to pull the dagger
from Cassius' neck, making sure that in the meantime Marcellus'
fingers and arms got covered in blood. The dagger released with
a gurgling sound as air rushed through the gaping wound. Somehow,
this sound was worst than plunging the dagger on Cassius' living
body had been. I gasped, bile rising into my mouthso violently
that I thought I was going to be sick. Maximus glanced at me.
I knew I must be pale as death, my body bathed in cold sweat,
blood roaring in my ears. "Bend over and put your head between
your knees and breath through your mouth," he instructed
me. "Breath slowly and deeply. Don't faint on me now."
I obeyed spreading my knees and bowing my head till it came down between them, my waist long hair covering my face and pooling on the floor but I still managed to follow Maximus' movements, concentrating on him making it easier for me to breath deeply and slowly as he had told me to do.
Maximus dropped my dagger to the floor
and used Marcellus' hand to pick up the letter opener from the
desk and insert it into the opening vacated by my weapon. He then
dropped Marcellus to the floor into the sticky pool of blood and
shoved the body around a bit with his foot to make sure it's chest
was smeared with it.
Maximus glanced quickly in my direction to see if I had fainted
but although the nausea was not over yet I was feeling a little
stronger, sitting upright again. My eyes were still on him but
my mind had drifted away. I was thinking how easy, how ridiculously
easy it had been to take Cassius' life. It had only taken a dagger
and a simple movement of my hand ... and a lifetime of hate.
Maximus quickly stripped off the praetorian
uniform to reveal his damp, rumpled red wine tunic underneath.
He dragged the still-unconscious guard from the cupboard and he
awkwardly pulled the uniform back on the man while he cursed under
his breath. Then he used the guard's sword to slash a deep gash
in Marcellus' neck. He paused for a moment before groaning in
revulsion and whispering "At least you'll die a hero".
With a swift, well practiced movement, he plunged the man's sword
into his own belly then dropped the guard on top of Marcellus,
the sword crushed between them. His hands were smeared in blood
and red stains streaked his rumpled tunic. Maximus used it to
carefully clean hishands, then stepped back and surveyed the scene,
retrieved my dagger, wiped it and inserted it into his belt before
grabbing a heavy cloak Cassius had left on a chair and wrapping
it around his own body.
He then crouched before me and took my
cold hands into his own. "Julia, listen to me," he said
quietly. "I have to go and wash this blood off and change
into a clean tunic. Wait until I return before sounding the alarm,
but if somebody comes in the
meantime you must pretend that you just stumbled upon the murder
scene and fainted before reviving enough to pull yourself into
the chair. Don't explain anything to anyone, do you understand
me?"
I felt that some color had returned to my cheeks and his strong,
callused hands had warmed mine a little. Not trusting my voice,
I nodded and I kept my eyes on Maximus as he stood and headed
for the entrance of the tent, then disappeared into the night
leaving me alone with three dead men.
I remained sitting for a long time, simply
watching, my eyes fixed on Cassius, my hands primly folded. The
silence inside the tent
was eerie, the flickering oil lamps creating a crazed dance of
shadows on the canvas walls. Then, I smiled. But my smile was
not the fake, sweet one I had learned to plaster on my face since
childhood. It was not the genuine, playful, loving smile I had
given Maximus at Cassius' last, fateful party. It was hard and
cold and cruel and I didn't need a mirror to know it was also
terrifying. Briefly I thought that goddess Diana must smile this
way when, after turning them into deer, she takes down with her
silver arrows those men bold enough to dare want her despite her
divine virginity.
And then, I talked. My voice was so firm and calm and my mind
so lucid that I knew I was mad.
"You know, Cassius?" I said conversationally. "You
were right: I am the best you ever bred. Pity you never understood
what you were talking about".
I stood up and slowly turned around to survey the scene and make
myself sure that everything was in order. Maximus had expected
me to be hysterical and been surprised when I was not. He had
also instructed me to raise the alarm about the
murders, thus giving him his clue to snap into action. It was
time for both.
I breathed deeply, opened my mouth and screamed.