Defender of Rome

XVI

‘Are you certain you possess the zeal your Emperor requires of you?’

The summons had come as a surprise and the atmosphere in the room was relentlessly hostile. Torquatus sat behind his desk, with Rodan, conspicuously armed and in the dark tunic of the Praetorian Guard, smirking over his shoulder.

Valerius stared at the two men. On the face of it he’d been called to the Palatine to explain his lack of progress, but he suspected there was another motive. ‘In an inquiry of this nature lack of zeal cannot be equated with lack of progress,’ he pointed out. ‘As I’m sure you are aware, prefect, it is a question of ensuring all the pieces are in place before you make your decisive move.’

Torquatus was unimpressed. ‘The future of the Empire is no game, Verrens,’ he snapped. ‘Perhaps the Emperor did not impress upon you enough the seriousness of your commission. It would take but a stroke of the stylus and you would be no more Hero of Rome.’

Valerius allowed himself a laugh. If Nero had wanted to get rid of him he wouldn’t be standing in front of Torquatus’s desk, he would be having a much more painful conversation in the torture chambers which existed somewhere beneath the hill. That thought reinforced his decision to keep what he’d discovered about Lucina Graecina and Cornelius Sulla to himself. There were things he needed to know before he handed them over to Torquatus’s tender mercies. He stared directly at Rodan.

‘I’m told you’ve been searching for Petrus for six months without any success. Is that why the Emperor asked for me? I’m sure your zeal cannot be questioned, prefect, but perhaps the competence of your investigators…’

Rodan let out a low growl, an attack dog confronted by a rival. Torquatus’s lips compressed into a thin smile. ‘So that is what you and Seneca talked of. I was curious. My spies in his household had grown careless. They have now been replaced. A word of warning. Do not put your faith in a man whose time has passed, Gaius Valerius Verrens. Seneca will be too busy saving himself to worry about you. However…’ His voice changed and it was like hearing a snake speak, sibilant and seductive, but with the fangs barely concealed. ‘If you were to give your undivided loyalty to a man whose time has come, you would not find him ungrateful. Do not look so surprised, young man. I am not blind. I have recognized your talents just as the Emperor has, but, like him, I require proof of your devotion.’

‘What proof?’

‘The followers of Christus are not the only threat to the Emperor. You are popular in the courts. People tell you things. Perhaps they are occasionally indiscreet?’

‘You want me to spy on my friends?’ Valerius struggled to keep a dangerous edge from his voice. ‘And what would be the reward for this service, apart, of course, from your gratitude?’

Torquatus smiled. ‘We talked of a legion, did we not? A single word from me to your Emperor would win Gaius Valerius Verrens the scarlet cloak of a legate. A year, perhaps eighteen months; a successful command in some profitable but not too arduous theatre of war. Then a place in the Senate. Why not? It is your birthright. You would have your seat before you were thirty and, with good fortune and the right friends, your consulship when you come of age for it.’

Valerius relaxed and returned the smile. Torquatus offered him everything his father had ever dreamed of, and more. The consulship? It was almost laughable. The only thing he hadn’t placed on the table was a promise to restore his right arm. How like this man to overplay his hand. If the offer had been genuine, a legionary command would have been bribe enough.

‘You are too generous,’ he said, hoping Torquatus was as immune to irony as he was to subtlety. ‘I will do what I can, but finding the Judaean is my first priority. I hope you won’t have cause to question my zeal again.’ He turned to leave.

A word from Torquatus stopped him. ‘Valerius?’

‘Yes.’

‘You are right not to be distracted from your investigation. The others can wait — for now. The Emperor is becoming impatient and my offer means nothing without progress in this matter of Petrus. I urge you not to take too much upon yourself. You may call on Rodan for what support you require. He has already begun to bring together evidence that may assist you.’

‘Evidence? What kind of evidence?’

Torquatus’s tone was almost kindly, but it sent a knife point running down Valerius’s spine. ‘Perhaps you should ask your father.’

Ask your father. Valerius left the palace with the words still ringing in his ears. Torquatus was trying to keep him off balance, he understood that, but was there anything more? Politically, Lucius, despite painful experience, was still a babe in arms. His friendship and position as client to Seneca also made him vulnerable. The message was a threat, but how great a threat? Olivia, Petrus and now his father. How many more burdens must he carry?

He almost missed Felix among the crowd loitering on the steps of the Temple of Jupiter Stator. The Spaniard nodded to indicate that he was still being followed. As Valerius walked back towards the Clivus Scauri he struggled to work out his priorities. He had to find a way to reach Petrus. The boy had predicted that if Valerius sought the Judaean, Petrus would eventually come to him, but he couldn’t depend on that. He had two sources of leverage. Lucina and Cornelius Sulla. It was a question of who was most likely to provide the information he needed. And that was really no question at all.

The brothel stood at a crossroads in the valley between the Caelian and Esquiline hills. It was one of Rome’s more superior establishments, with a pair of muscular watchmen at the door to ensure that the social status of the customers matched the aspirations of its owner. The three men stood on the opposite side of the street. ‘He’s been in there for more than an hour. I don’t know where these young fellows get the strength,’ Marcus grumbled. Serpentius muttered something from the darkness that made the old gladiator laugh. ‘Oh, there’s always money for a good shag, Snake. And this Cornelius is obviously prepared to pay for the best.’

Valerius laughed with them, but he wondered why Cornelius Sulla, who had free access in Nero’s palace to the greatest and most degenerate brothel in Rome, had need to visit somewhere like this. True, it was of the better class, but with a word in the Emperor’s ear Cornelius could have any handsome boy, beautiful slave girl or even senator’s wife who took his fancy. The doorkeepers studied the three men suspiciously and Valerius could hardly blame them. Streets around brothels tended to be haunted by robbers and he still wore the cloak and hood he’d used to evade Torquatus’s followers. It had been deceptively simple. Serpentius had accused one of the watchers of attempting to steal his purse and as the others were drawn into the brawl, Valerius had slipped away to join Marcus.

When he wasn’t busy fawning over the Emperor, Cornelius spent a puzzling amount of time at the brothel, and it had been no surprise when he turned up this evening. Valerius sweated copiously beneath the heavy wool of his cloak, but he dared not remove it for fear of alerting his quarry. For once the rich smell of cooking overwhelmed the usual rancid street scents and his stomach warned him he hadn’t eaten since dawn. The smell came from a nearby bar where a few regulars had gathered to drink the sour wine and complain about their wives. The shouted conversations reminded him that he had only one more year of respectable bachelorhood left. But who would want a one-armed cripple? Strange that Fabia’s face should enter his mind. She would have begun her career in a place like this, and only a potent mix of beauty, intelligence and charm had won her way out. She was now more mistress than courtesan, although mistress to a dozen men who paid for the privilege. Most of these women would end their career on the streets, used up, ill-treated and available for the price of a cup of wine.

Could he marry Fabia? He smiled at the absurdity of the thought. In any case, a man didn’t marry for love, he married for wealth or patronage. He wondered what she would say if she knew he had linked her name with the word love. Would it draw some saw-toothed jibe, or…

‘He’s here,’ Marcus hissed.

Valerius looked from under the hood to where Cornelius Sulla loitered by the door of the brothel, his golden hair shining in the lamplight. The aristocrat held a girl in his arms. Dark-haired, she was blessed with heavy-lipped, sensuous features and breasts that spilled from the front of her dress. Valerius watched as Cornelius attempted to cover her up in a way that was almost brotherly. The girl playfully knocked his hands away and bared herself all the more, dusky nipples peeping from the folds of material. There was nothing brotherly in the way they kissed, long and passionate, their hands searching each other, until they parted breathless, Cornelius grinning inanely.

‘Silly bastard’s in love with a tart,’ Marcus muttered. ‘Who would have believed it?’

Eventually, someone called the girl inside and Cornelius was joined by two men who had been hidden in the shadows. One, burly and muscle-bound, with a rolling walk that hinted at more time spent on a horse than on foot, glared towards Valerius and whispered something to the young knight. Cornelius threw them a dismissive glance and shook his head. Valerius gave the three men time to move off before he followed, keeping pace a few yards behind. He knew they were aware of his presence, but that was how he wanted it. After about a hundred paces they stopped and the two bodyguards drew a pair of lethal-looking cudgels and moved protectively in front of the younger man. Valerius allowed his hood to fall back and Cornelius stiffened as he recognized his follower in the flickering torchlight.

‘What do you want?’ he demanded.

Valerius lifted the seal on its gold chain so all three could see it. ‘This is imperial business.’ He directed the words at the senior of the two guards. ‘Your master will be safe with me. Walk on for twenty paces and he will join you in a few moments.’

The men looked at each other, then to Cornelius, who stared at the seal as if hypnotized.

‘Twenty paces,’ Valerius repeated. ‘In the Emperor’s name.’

Cornelius nodded. One guard’s jaw came up as if he was about to argue, but the second man pulled his sleeve and they walked reluctantly away. When they were alone, Valerius directed Cornelius towards the shadows at the side of the street, but the younger man shrugged off his hand and glared furiously at him. Valerius decided he’d seen friendlier cobras.

‘What do you want?’ Cornelius demanded again. His eyes betrayed no concern because he was Nero’s favourite and he intended to make Valerius pay for this insult. For his part, Valerius stared into the handsome face and knew the boy’s arrogance made any attempt at compromise pointless.

‘Two days ago, you met in secret with the lady Lucina Graecina…’

‘You lie,’ Cornelius hissed, but Valerius ignored him.

‘… in the Horti Sallustiani. The lady was unaccompanied. You were unaccompanied. The lady reached the gardens first and waited fifteen minutes for your arrival. You spoke with the lady for approximately two minutes before leaving by the same concealed door by which you entered.’ Cornelius’s face shone like a pale orb in the torchlight. His flesh took on the look of aged parchment and fear replaced the anger in his eyes. ‘I want to know the reason for the meeting and what was said.’ Valerius raised his left hand with the imperial seal. ‘In the Emperor’s name.’

‘I… It’s not true.’

‘The mother of a man the Emperor ordered killed meets in secret with a member of the Emperor’s court?’

‘She…’

‘She may survive, because she is Lucina Graecina, but what will happen to the Emperor’s favourite, Cornelius Sulla? Nero is not known for his mercy, or his forgiveness. A single word from me, Cornelius, and you will be a dead man. Why did you meet her?’

‘I cannot tell. Do what you must.’ The boy’s voice shook, but his tone betrayed a defiance that made Valerius almost like him. He wished there could be another way.

‘Whether it is true or not, he will believe you betrayed him. Have you seen a traitor die, Cornelius? Citizenship will not save you. No merciful opening of the veins for you. It will be the cross or the fire. A slow death and a painful one. Could you bear it?’

‘I cannot tell… please!’ A tear ran across the fine down of his cheek.

‘What was said?’ Valerius kept his voice hard.

Cornelius bit his lips as if it was the only way he could stay silent.

‘You may be willing to die, Cornelius, but is she?’ The boy’s eyes flashed white as he realized ‘she’ didn’t mean Lucina. ‘They will make you watch her die. They will remove her beauty a little at a time for your pain and Nero’s pleasure. Do not make me do it, Cornelius. Tell me and you will both live. On my honour.’