TIBERIUS

775DY

Werdas, 35th of Anovo, Spring

He thrust for a final time, gripping the woman’s waist tight and spilling his seed into her. His breathing was haggard, and his arms and hips ached from the urgency. She scowled and slapped him on his sagging but muscular chest, thick with black and grey hair.

“I told you outside, you bloody fool!” She said, pulling him out of her and sitting upright. “Right, well, you can give me two more silver for a visit to the apothecary.” She said, wiping sweat from underneath her breasts with the side of her hand and reaching for a cup of water on the bedside table. He stared at her breasts wordlessly as she drank, eyes following the lines of her body before he looked away in disinterest. More of him dropped onto the sheets as he climbed off the linen and placed his bare feet on the hard wood.

Portia was older than the other prostitutes, late thirties, and Tiberius liked her. She was the only one who didn’t pretend to love him and caw like a crow with every thrust. She reminded him of his wife, Caprenia, especially when she chided him, which he enjoyed. He sighed when he thought of his wife. He remembered how they had argued about their sex life in the past. She had never been particularly interested in sex, and she was barren besides. When they realized that perhaps ten years ago, they stopped having sex almost altogether. She was younger than him, 48, when he was 53. He had thought her very beautiful once, but her face had seemed to harden over time, and she rarely smiled, especially now that she was so ill so often. He cared for much of the time, and she eventually broke the spell. While he was pleasuring himself next to her one night, as he often did, Caprenia sat up and placed a hand on his arm.

“Listen, you can visit a brothel if you like. Once a month, no more, but that should keep you satisfied.” She had said wearily. He was surprised at the offer but took the opportunity. He didn’t like the idea of cheating on her, but he supposed it was fine if she had suggested it in the first place. Strangely, she seemed to enjoy hearing about it sometimes, even though she had little interest in most sexual matters. But still, it did not fill the hole in his heart. He had longed for children, and caring for his sister as a teenager had prepared him for it. He went into another room and wept by himself when a priestess of Vitana had first told them of Caprenia’s inability to bear children. Caprenia had entered, and it was the only time she had seen him cry. He had not even cried when his sister’s family had been murdered, he only raged, destroying part of the kitchen, and terrifying their slaves. Her children had filled the hole in his heart, and now it was empty and aching again.

He was snapped out of his thoughts by Portia, speaking again.

“You know those little potions and spells don’t always work. I might end up with a child, and if I do I expect a monthly bag of silver from yourself.” She said, letting a little laughter into her voice despite her obvious annoyance. Tiberius might have chuckled, but his mind was immediately gripped in a flashback. The pregnant girl he had slaughtered, how she had screamed over Septimus. The gods may not forgive him for that, but he had never much cared for the god’s opinions. His face contorted in anger as he thought of the elf and how he had laughed at him. Tiberius never suffered a man’s laughter at his expense. He spoke back to Portia.

“You’ll get your silver, from my visits or for our son.” He said, trying to smile. She laughed as she used a wet cloth to dab between her legs.

“Oh it’s our son, is it? Next, you’ll have a ring on my finger. Shall we marry in the spring or the summer?” She said grinning, and his face did not move in response, his brows furrowing as he turned away. “You all right love?” She said as she finished cleaning herself. That was rare affection from her. He thought perhaps what they said about women’s affection growing after your seed fills them was true, but his mind quickly turned back to the elf.

“You probably heard it from the news criers. That family murdered… It was my sister, her husband, and her children.” He said, gripping the bed frame for support. She stood, still naked, with a look full of sympathy on her face.

“Oh that’s horrible. Come here, you poor thing.” She said, holding out her arms. Tiberius was surprised, but accepted and hugged her back loosely, his softening member pressing against her stomach. She pulled away and looked up at him.

“You’re not paying today, pregnancy or not. You deserve a break. Your next times on me as well. I truly am sorry for your loss Tiberius.” She said, kissing him lightly on the cheek. She had never been so tender, but they had never discussed such dark matters. It made Tiberius feel strange, but it was not entirely unwelcome. She touched his cheek, but he pulled away and began to get dressed again. She did the same in silence. She sat on the end of the bed next to him as he pulled on his boots.

“Is your wife well?” Portia asked sincerely. He shrugged.

“Better than she was last week. But I fear the rains are bad for her. She wants to go for a walk soon. I think the city might be too dangerous around now for that.”

“True enough. Did you hear about our trouble? One of the girls got murdered on her way home, I told her she shouldn’t be going home that late and to stay here, but she didn’t listen. Got stabbed by some bastard in an alley.” She said, brow furrowing in anger.

“Some men like to hurt women. I’ve never understood why.” He said, sighing and standing. As he stood, he remembered the girl he had killed again, perhaps the first time he had killed a woman. At least he had not enjoyed it. But some part of him felt fulfillment, and that horrified him. He shook his head. “Goodbye, Portia. Let me know how things go with my little accident.” He said. She smiled up at him and chuckled.

“Goodbye Tiberius, and again, I truly am sorry. I’ll say a prayer for your sister and her family. I bet they’re up in the White Mountains.” She said warmly, and he left, wondering how the gods responded to the prayer of a prostitute.

He marched home through the streets of the Aveline. It was almost dawn, and he had woken Portia on his arrival at the brothel. Most of the women were staying there after the girl’s murder, it seemed. He was home before long, and upon entering, he saw his wife sitting in their small courtyard. He was not an especially rich man, but he had some decent plunder to bring back from his battles in Rodina, long before the war, and half a dozen slaves to sell. One still worked in his kitchen, Dunya. She had been a teenager when he took her, and now she was a woman, with a child to boot, bore from another slave of the house, Publius. He had tried his best to be kind to her and often brought her son gifts. He promised that when her son was a little older, he would give them money and grant her, Publius, and their son freedom. He was about five now, and the time to do so was coming, but Tiberius was perilously low on funds, even considering taking mercenary or guard work. For a moment, the image of him slitting Dunya’s throat haunted him, and he gripped the wall. His wife frowned at him and stood.

“You and your friends kept me up all night, and now you stink of sweat. You’ve gone to the brothel again, haven’t you? That’s twice this month. I told you once was the bloody deal.” She said, her face twisting in anger. Tiberius did not respond, and his lips trembled. Caprenia’s face softened.

“Oh Tiber, I apologize. I shouldn’t have… I know this is a tough time for you. But I want you to tell me what you’re doing, thinking, feeling.” She said. This was the most honest she had been in a while. She rarely called him Tiber anymore, either. Rare occurrences were piling up today.

“No, it’s me who should be sorry.” He said, steadying his mouth and stumbling over to a wicker chair. He sat down and sighed, exhausted, not having slept in more than a day and barely before that. He placed a hand on his head and asked his wife for a cup of water. She obliged and returned to him holding it. He gulped at it and spoke again. “I found them. The slaves who murdered Claudia, Marcia, and Maximus. I went with the men I had brought here.” He said, his voice catching in his throat. Caprenia stared at him, fear in her eyes.

“What have you done?” She asked. Tiberius shifted in his seat.

“We killed them. Burnt down the house and slaughtered those who tried to escape. I could not go on living knowing they were living happily in the other home of Claudia’s husband. I’m sorry, my love.” He admitted. She looked at him for a long time before covering her face with her hands and leaning on the wooden table.

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“You commit murder-“

“Not murder, justice.” He cut her off.

“Call it what you will, but there were young slaves and women, and you killed them too?” She asked, tears welling in her eyes. He looked at her until he couldn’t bare it and stared at the ground.

“Yes. I killed a girl. Must have been sixteen or so.” He said. Her eyes widened.

“Her name was Asinia. Do you really think she helped murder Claudia? The girl was a child.” Her throat caught as his had. “She… She was pregnant. By that slave boy, one of ours.” She said, tears overflowing her eyes.

“I didn’t know-“ he lied, trying desperately to calm her.

“Liar! Claudia told us herself! You’ll go to the bloody black pits for this. You’ve condemned your soul, for what, revenge on a girl who probably didn’t touch your sister?” She asked, shouting now. He heard stirring from the slave quarters, having woken someone.

“She was with them! She didn’t try to stop them. She didn’t care that they murdered damn children! She stayed with them all the same. Septimus admitted to it. And she was closer to adult than child, she should have known better.” He declared, slamming his hand on the table. Caprenia jumped in fright. He had never hit her, but had raised his hand once, when she threatened to free Dunya before her child was born, leaving her destitute with a newborn.

“I don’t care. You knew, and you did it all the same. I can’t even look at you.” She said finally.

He followed her up to the bedroom, demanding she look at him and see sense, but she didn’t listen. She began dressing in thick linens for the chilly dawn outside.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He asked. She shook her head angrily.

“I’m going to stay with my brother Gaius. I need time to think. I can’t sleep in the same bed as a man who has the blood of a pregnant girl on his hands. Goodbye, Tiberius.” She said, filling a small sack of things and attempting to leave the bedroom. He stepped before her with pleading eyes and took her by the shoulders.

“My love, I am sorry. Please don’t leave me, not now, I can’t do this alone. I should not have killed her. You were right, I regret it every moment. Please, stay.” He begged, but she didn’t care to hear. She pushed his hands off her, walked into the landing, and then down the steps and towards the door. He ran down after her as she opened the door.

“Caprenia please!” He said, she gave him one final look.

“Think about what you’ve done. It hurts because it should. Feel it and atone, and maybe I’ll see you again. Goodbye.” She said. She closed the door behind her. Tiberius sunk to his knees and stared at the floor, rage welling inside him. He stood and rushed over to the table and chairs. He picked up the table by a leg and flung it against a pillar, roaring in anger. The table broke in two, and he smashed the chairs into the floor, the whicker splintering and bending. He went over to the plant bed, kicked the flowers across the ground, shattered a nearby vase, and sank to the floor again.

He heard footsteps. He looked across and saw Dunya’s little son clutching a woolen dog. Tiberius had given him that. He looked terrified, and hugged the dog tighter.

“What’s wrong, Uncle Tiberius?” He asked. They had told the child that he was the brother of Dunya’s father, her grand-uncle in truth, so the boy would not know that his mother was a slave. He had been taught the Doran tongue to avoid confusing the lie. Tiberius looked at the boy, eyes softening from rage and filling with sorrow.

“I’m sorry, sweet child. Uncle Tiberius is angry because of what happened to Auntie Claudia. I told you that she had gone away and left the city. I lied. She has gone to the White Mountains.” He said, struggling to press back a cry. The boy looked at him curiously.

“What’s that?” He asked, confused. His mother practiced a different religion. Tiberius sighed, sitting on his floor and crossing his legs as the boy approached.

“It’s another word for what you call Paradise. Has your mother taught you about it?” Tiberius asked.

“Yes. She says it's really nice, and everyone is very happy, and we all go.”

“Yes, that’s where she and your cousins have gone.” He said, and the boy looked confused.

“But if Auntie Claudia is really happy, why are you sad?” The boy asked so innocently. Tiberius’s tears began to abate as he thought about the boy’s words.

“…It may be that you’re right. Adults can be silly sometimes. It’s just that your Uncle knows he won’t get to see Claudia again for a long time, and that makes him sad and angry. That’s why I was smashing things. I’m sorry if I scared you.” He said. The boy approached and held out the woolen dog.

“Whenever I’m scared, I just pet Doggy. He makes me happy.” He said and then made a ‘woof’ sound, pretending it was the dog. He handed it to Tiberius, who took it in his hands.

“Thank you. Doggy will cheer me up, I think.” He said.

“Okay, I’m going back to sleep. Mummy says I need to sleep to grow big and strong.” The boy said, walking away.

“I’m sure you will, little one.” Tiberius said, holding the dog in both hands. He held the dog to his chest with one arm and stood up, wandering off to bed.

After a few hours of scattered sleep, he was awoken. Dunya was standing in his bedroom doorway, looking afraid, clearly having seen the destruction downstairs. He squinted at her, but tried his best to not seem angry. He wiped saliva from his chin.

“Um, there is someone at the door master.” She said, voice wobbling slightly. Tiberius’s head pounded, and he rose, leaving the woolen dog on his pillow, slowly pulling on a tunic and breeches.

“I told you not to call me that. And I’m sorry if I upset you or your boy. Caprenia left me last night to stay at her brother’s.” He said.

“Sorry, Uncle.” She replied. “But why did she leave so soon after you’ve lost your sister? That’s cruel.” Dunya said.

“No, it is I who has been cruel. I said and did things I should not have. Have Publius order some new furniture and a new vase.” He commanded before stopping. “No, never mind, we can’t afford to. Could you make me a plate of bread and cheese if it's no trouble?” He asked.

“Of course, Uncle. You’re grieving. You need food to keep you strong. I’ll get right to it. And I hope you’re feeling well.” She said, bowing and leaving him. He couldn’t feel further from ‘well’, as he lumbered downstairs and over to the door. A bald man with a golden slave collar stood outside, unimpressed.

“My master has sent me ahead. Consul Corvinus Gravius would like to visit with you for breakfast. He’d like to eat bacon and mushrooms. He will arrive in half an hour, please be prepared by then.” He said before walking away without so much as a ‘thank you’ or ‘goodbye’. Tiberius closed the door angrily. Corvinus was the last person he wanted to see right now.

They had been old friends, Centurions of two different centuries, groups of 100 soldiers who fought together often. They were of the same age and had attended each other’s weddings. Things had been good between them for many years, but as Corvinus saw success in politics and began to accrue enormous amounts of money, he became much more aloof. And now, Tiberius was furious with him. Perhaps his sister and her children would be alive without that stupid law he proposed. Also, it’d prevent him from freeing Dunya and the other two, which he believed was absolutely his right.

He marched to the kitchen angrily.

“Dunya, I’m sorry, but cook some bacon and mushrooms. The Consul is visiting. Make sure to dress properly for him. I don’t mean to be overbearing, but you know how he is.” He told her, and she sighed but obliged him, dressing in a silk toga he had bought her and fetching the bacon. The mess had been cleared away in the courtyard, and Tiberius decided to have him in the small lounge. He waited, trying to soothe his anger and trim his beard in the bathing room. He nicked his throat, and as the blood trickled down his neck in the brushed silver mirror, he saw the girl again, eyes staring lifelessly at him. Corvinus had made him sisterless, wifeless, and a killer of women and unborn children. His words to his old friend would not be kind today.