The Furies of Rome (8 page)

For over four years now Nero had been emperor and during that time his degeneration had been slow but palpable; however, in recent months it had been accelerating as he had made the transition from youth to man without the benefit of the restraint of the Cursus Honorum. It had not been Nero’s lot to work his way up the ladder, commanding and being commanded in differing ratios the higher one climbed. No, Nero had found himself at the top without ever having to obey an order; he had achieved absolute power but had never felt the threat of such power. He knew not what it meant. And it was because of this that the murmurings against him had grown stronger with every year that passed of his reign; conspiracy was in the air and that was to Vespasian’s advantage if his suspicions concerning the omens at his naming ceremony were correct. Therefore, if Paulinus was part of a conspiracy against Nero he was happy to aid it provided his actions could remain secret, which he felt, by giving Venutius into Caratacus’ charge, they could.

But Sabinus was right, Vespasian accepted: what he was doing was dangerous; but what concerned him more was his mother’s observation that:
for a man to know the exact course, timing and mode of his destiny would mean that his decisions would be shaped by something other than his own desires and fears; it would unbalance him and ultimately bring him down.
Had his decision to act as he had done been motivated by what he thought was prophesied for him, and in which case was he guilty of trying to force it to come true and thus putting it at risk? Or had it been a decision influenced solely by the opposing forces of his genuine fears and desires? Only Mars knew the truth of it and he was unlikely to share it with him as that was always the way of the gods.

Thus his mind whirred as he walked, unsure in his course one moment and then confident the next, as was ever so when contemplating things that are not fully understood. So it was that he came to the Quirinal but it was not to his house in Pomegranate Street that he went but, rather, to a smaller house a couple of streets away.

‘Thank you, Sextus,’ Vespasian said, handing the ox-like brother a couple of silver denarii, as they waited for the door to be answered, ‘buy the lads a few jugs with this.’

Sextus’ dim eyes lit up. ‘We’ll be able to take it in turns with a whore as well as drink our fill for that; thank you, sir.’

The image that his tip had conjured was not pleasant but Vespasian managed to keep his expression dignified as he acknowledged the profuse thanks of the other three lads before turning his back on them as the door was opened by a huge middle-aged Nubian who smiled a white-toothed greeting at him as he bowed. ‘Good evening, master; the mistress is entertaining. I will send word that you are here.’

Vespasian acknowledged the doorkeeper with a nod and then stepped through the vestibule and on into the brightly lit atrium belonging to his mistress of many years and the true love of his life: Caenis, the former slave, secretary and surrogate daughter of the Lady Antonia and then secretary to Pallas and then Narcissus and now to Seneca. She was a woman of high intelligence, political cunning and rare beauty whom he had first glimpsed as he had entered Rome as a lad of just sixteen and who had been his lover since soon after that day; his lover and his mistress but never his wife due to the Augustan law prohibiting the union of senators and freedwomen. He sat next to the impluvium watching the water spurt from the fountain, forming droplets in the air that fell like golden gemstones glinting in the lamplight to spatter softly into the pool. How different would his life have been if not for the existence of that law; how different might his children have turned out. Then he dismissed the thought from his mind, as there was one thing of which he was certain and that was he could never regret marrying Flavia, for to do so would be to regret his children and that he could not do – not even Domitian.

It was but a short while until a woman’s footsteps echoed through the marble columns and Vespasian drew himself out of his introspection and got to his feet. Caenis, her eyes of sapphire, her skin of cream and her lips so full and inviting, smiled at him and walked quickly into his embrace. He buried his face in her hair and inhaled the musk of her perfume.

‘I’m so sorry for your loss, my love,’ she whispered, ‘I’ve grieved for you and for Vespasia. To lose a mother is a sore hurt as I found out when mine was ripped from me at such an early age and then again when my mistress, Antonia, who had taken her place, took her own life.’

He kissed her brow. ‘It’s done and she has passed. Sabinus and I have mourned her and placed her ashes in a tomb next to our father; we can do no more now other than honour her memory.’ He pulled back and looked Caenis in the eye. ‘And try to forget all the annoying traits in her character,’ he added with a grin, ‘and how she could manage to get on my nerves just with one look of disapproval.’

Caenis laughed.

‘Still, at least it has simplified my life in that I won’t have my mother and my wife constantly vying with one another for my attention by pursuing petty female arguments and then coming to me for adjudication.’

‘What about your mistress? Where does she fit in the battle for your attention?’

‘First and foremost, my love, and I adjudge you to be the most beautiful and attentive.’

‘Not attentive enough, it would seem.’

‘How’s that?’

‘I didn’t realise that you were back in Rome and I have a couple of dinner guests.’

‘I know, the doorkeeper told me; but he didn’t say who.’

‘He wouldn’t know who as they are here incognito.’

‘How intriguing.’

‘All the more so seeing as when you arrived unexpectedly they said that they would very much like to talk to you if you would put old differences that you have with one of them behind you.’

‘Now you really have got my attention.’ He creased his brow quizzically. ‘Who?’

‘Pallas and Agrippina.’

Vespasian made polite enquiries as to the health of the other two guests on the opposite side of the table as slave girls took his toga and sandals, washed his hands and feet and shod him in soft slippers before helping him to recline on a couch next to Caenis and then spreading a napkin before him upon the fine upholstery. All the while he was trying to work out just what it was Agrippina could want of him seeing as she had been his sworn enemy since marrying her uncle, Claudius, and becoming the most powerful woman in Rome. It had been Agrippina who had blocked his career: she had been responsible for his not getting a province to govern, as was his due once he had served as consul. It had also been her doing that his term as consul was just for the last two months of the year, which had been an insult he had been forced to bear. As to her lover, Pallas, he had been Vespasian’s greatest supporter in Claudius’ court even though he was cuckolding the Emperor by sleeping with Vespasian’s greatest enemy.

‘I was sorry to hear of your mother’s death,’ Pallas said, although his face, grey-bearded Greek style, showed no sign of sorrow; in fact, it showed no sign of anything as it remained, as always, impassive. ‘She was a fine, respectable woman.’

Vespasian dried his hands on the napkin. ‘Thank you, Pallas; she thought very highly of you.’

Agrippina, unsurprisingly, made no gesture of condolence but, rather, nibbled on a chicken thigh. Her dark eyes regarded Vespasian with a cool disinterest that he felt to be a vast improvement on the venom they used to hold when looking at him in the past.

‘How is life in the country, Pallas?’ Vespasian asked after the pause in the conversation had stretched almost to embarrassment.

‘Dull,’ Agrippina answered, surprising Vespasian, ‘and for the most part pointless.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that; I have always had a great fondness for my estates.’

‘I can tell your attachment to all things rural by the Sabine burr that affects all your vowels; it’s like talking to my swineherd – not that I ever do, naturally.’

Vespasian let the insult wash over him, helping himself to a portion of the chicken.

Pallas put a hand on Agrippina’s arm. ‘That is not, my dear, how to go about enlisting someone’s help.’

That Agrippina should wish to seek his help came as a mild shock to Vespasian; he glanced at Caenis who inclined her head a fraction to signal that she knew and approved of what was to be asked of him.

He took a sip of wine and swilled it around his mouth leisurely; swallowing, he dabbed his lips with the napkin, taking his time, before looking up at Agrippina. ‘Why should you think that I would wish to help you and why would you, of all people, wish to seek my help?’

Agrippina’s cold eyes lingered on him and her nose twitched in distaste. ‘Because, sadly, it would seem that only you are in a position to help us.’

‘If that were so it would make me doubly determined to refuse your request; you who’s done all you can to block my career.’ Vespasian let his hatred show upon his face. ‘You, who had the governorship of Africa taken away from me. You, who arranged it that I should have the least prestigious consulship imaginable, and what had I done to deserve that? Offered Messalina a sword so that she could take her own life when I accompanied Burrus and his execution party to where she was hiding in the Gardens of Lucullus; what was wrong with that?’

‘It showed sympathy to her; Burrus confirmed that to me later.’

‘Burrus was lying to ingratiate himself with you; but I suppose that seemed to work seeing as it was you who got him appointed as the prefect of the Praetorian Guard. But I would no more have shown sympathy to that Fury than I would for the one who replaced her – you. I offered her the sword so that she could finally be in the same situation in which she had placed so many other people, and I enjoyed watching her cowardice at the end and the disbelief on her face when Burrus ran her through. It had nothing to do with feeling pity for her and it certainly did not mean that I would rather not have you as empress, which was the insinuation that I’m told you read into it.’ He glanced at Pallas who had furnished him with that information; the Greek was still expressionless. ‘What difference does it make to me which Fury is in the Emperor’s bed, when she has the time in her busy sexual schedule, that is?’

This was too much for Agrippina; she threw the chicken thigh at him, hitting him on the forehead. ‘How dare you speak to me like that, you country-upstart!’

‘I’ll speak to you however I like seeing as you’re the one asking me for the favour.’

‘You Sabine mule-herder! My family was—’

‘I don’t believe that this is getting us anywhere,’ Pallas interjected, putting a calming hand onto Agrippina’s arm. ‘We came here to ask Caenis to intercede with you, Vespasian, on our behalf and then, when you turned up unexpectedly, we thought that we would speak to you directly; I apologise if that seems to have been an unwise decision.’ His grip tightened on Agrippina as he restrained her. ‘I can understand your reluctance to help us, especially in the light of that display. However, I would appeal to you, Vespasian, to grant us this favour for my sake, considering everything that I’ve ever done for you and your brother to help your careers.’

‘Like sending me off to Armenia on a mission that ended up with me in a cell for two whole years of my life? Or almost getting Sabinus and me killed by hairy-arsed barbarians in Germania Magna? I don’t call that being helpful.’

‘I got your brother his position as prefect of Rome; surely that’s a favour worth repayment?’

Vespasian hid his surprise but his curiosity was piqued; he and Sabinus had been unable to ascertain the identity of his brother’s benefactor. It had not occurred to them that it would be the marginalised Pallas. ‘I don’t believe you.’

The corner of Pallas’ mouth twitched up into the closest he ever came to smiling. ‘Just because I’m banished from Rome doesn’t mean that I’ve lost all my influence; don’t forget, my twelve years as secretary to the Treasury and after that as chief secretary left me a very wealthy man. With more than three hundred million sesterces to my name I’m probably the wealthiest person after the Emperor, certainly wealthier than Seneca, which is a fact that I exploit often, seeing as he will do anything for money. I bought Sabinus’ position for ten million sesterces, which I considered to be a bargain.’

‘Ten million!’ Vespasian could not conceal his confusion. ‘Why did you do that?’

‘For precisely a situation such as this. The position was coming vacant and no one else was prepared to pay the amount that I offered Seneca, as well as forwarding a sound political argument as to why Sabinus should get the position.’

‘Which was?’

‘That he had done very well in Moesia and Thracia, perhaps too well, and it would be better if he were brought back to Rome and honoured with a position that would keep him in the city where the depth of his ambition could be monitored. The negative arguments always work better than the positive when dealing with people anxious to hang onto power.’

‘As you should know only too well, Pallas.’

Pallas surprised Vespasian by breaking into a genuine half-smile, something he had rarely seen before. ‘Indeed; and Seneca quite understood the argument, just as he understood the ten million. So he added the money to his ever-growing fortune and took the argument to Nero; Sabinus was recalled from his province and made prefect of Rome.’

‘Very neat; but to what end?’

‘To this very end: we need your help and your family owes me a favour.’

‘Sabinus owes you the favour, not me.’

‘But you are better placed to deliver what we need.’

‘In what way?’

‘You know Cogidubnus, the King of the Regni and the Atrobates, very well from your time in Britannia.’

Vespasian took a moment to register the Britannic client king whom he had not seen, and had barely thought about, in more than ten years. The man he had defeated on the Island of Vectis off the south coast of Britannia and who had subsequently become his ally and friend. The man to whom he owed his life. The man who had helped him to rescue Sabinus from the druids. ‘But my brother also knows him.’

‘He does indeed, but as prefect, Sabinus cannot go more than a hundred miles from Rome without the Emperor’s permission.’