Enemy of Rome

XXXVI

Domitia Longina Corbulo studied the letter she’d written with parchment and ink stolen from the office of Titus Flavius Sabinus. When she was satisfied, she waited for the ink to dry, rolled the parchment into a tight scroll and used a thin strip of hemp to tie it. It had cost her several sleepless nights before she had made up her mind where her duty lay, but when it came to her the answer was obvious. Vespasian had been her father’s friend and helped her escape after his death in Antioch, but she was a Roman lady, and, whatever his faults, Rome’s Emperor was Aulus Vitellius Germanicus Augustus. She’d discovered a plot against the Roman state and it was her duty to expose it. On the other hand, she wasn’t a fool, and neither was she disloyal to her host. The letter remained unsigned and contained no names and no specifics, only a vague warning to beware of a plot involving the vigiles and the Senate. Even without more details she believed the letter would inspire Vitellius to tighten his grip on the vigiles and force Sabinus and Saturninus to abandon their conspiracy.

‘Tulla?’ she called. ‘You understand what you must do?’

Her maid appeared from the doorway, looking anxious, but fully dressed and in a dark cloak. She knew nothing of the letter’s contents, but Domitia had, of necessity, been forced to reveal its final destination and her hand shook with fear as she accepted it. ‘Of course, lady, but I still wonder if this is wise. If the master should …’

Domitia held up a hand. ‘Hush, child.’ She stood up and caressed Tulla’s dark hair, though the ‘child’ was less than a year younger than her mistress. ‘You will be in no danger. Go to the Forum and choose a suitable messenger from amongst those who hang about the basilica steps seeking casual employment. You will hand him a single denarius with the promise of two more if he returns to report the letter delivered.’

‘To the Emperor’s personal guard …’

‘Find a public place and wait,’ Domitia reminded the other girl. ‘But you must position yourself so you will see him before he sees you. If he is accompanied by soldiers you must slip away as inconspicuously as you can.’

‘But …’

‘You know this is important to me, Tulla.’ She fixed the slave girl with a mistress’s stare. ‘And of course, you too will be rewarded. Perhaps I will even give you your freedom.’

Tulla nodded, a swift darting motion like a finch pecking hungrily at seeds but always wary of the hunter’s net. With a last frightened glance she disappeared through the doorway and Domitia sat on the bed and allowed all the tension to drain from her. She knew how perilous this might be. What if the messenger simply betrayed Tulla? Or robbed her? But Domitia couldn’t go herself. It was not a question of courage. She knew Domitianus had his spies follow her every time she left the villa. It wasn’t perfect, but it was the only way, and whether it succeeded or failed she had done her duty.

When a servant called her down to break her fast with the owner of the house she pleaded an indisposition. She knew she was no actress and even someone as self-centred as Sabinus would realize something was wrong. Instead, she kept to her room all morning, her fears mounting with every moment that passed without Tulla’s return.

When she heard footsteps outside the curtained doorway she almost fainted with relief. But the curtain swept back to reveal Domitianus with a self-satisfied smile on his face that froze the blood in her veins. In his right hand he held a tight-rolled parchment scroll which he tapped against the palm of his left.

‘These are dangerous times.’ The young man’s voice registered hurt rather than anger. ‘Who knows whom one can trust?’

It was clear he expected an answer, but Domitia clamped her lip between her teeth to prevent herself from crying out. She stood frozen in place as he approached her with all the blood-chilling, lethal grace of a cobra. Domitianus stopped just within reach and the almost unbearable, breathless tension stretched like a bowstring.

‘You did not think I would have your slaves watched? How naive of you, and how like a woman. But this I did not expect.’ The eyes lit up in the pale face as he shook the parchment scroll in his right hand. ‘A lover perhaps? It would have been disappointing, but understandable. You prowl these halls like a trapped tigress; of course you would wish to escape. But now …’ He reached out with his left hand and touched her cheek and Domitia knew she must not blink. For all his apparent serenity danger lurked close; a threat of terrible uncontrolled violence. The hand moved to her shoulder and lower, then lower still, but his eyes never left hers. ‘Now,’ his voice dropped to a whisper, ‘there is truly no escape.’

She would have run then — the fear was so strong — had two vigiles not dragged an insensible figure into the room by the arms and left her lying on the marble floor. The beating had left Tulla’s pretty elfin face swollen to the shape of a water melon and her eyes were bruised purple slits. A thin line of scarlet dribbled from the corner of her mouth to stain the creamy white marble. For the first time Domitia noticed that the knuckles of Domitianus’s right hand were reddened.

‘She will live,’ Vespasian’s son said carelessly. ‘But no thanks to you. I’d have expected more from a Corbulo than this pathetic attempt at intrigue. They would have seized your messenger and beaten a description out of him. Your whore would have been taken and by nightfall she would have implicated you and everyone in this household. You see?’ He paused to allow the reality of her situation to be fully understood. ‘I have saved your life. And now I must decide whether to save it again. If Sabinus were to become aware of the contents of this scroll he’d have your throat cut, and your slaves’ too. He is not a cruel man, but he would have no option.’ All the time he’d been speaking his hand had been caressing her right breast, the fingers toying with a nipple made erect by fear. Suddenly his voice thickened. ‘We’ll discuss this,’ he brandished the scroll, ‘further. You will come to me tonight, and perhaps when we have spoken you will find that your captivity is not quite so onerous after all.’

With a final squeeze, he turned and walked from the room. As if in a dream, Domitia felt herself follow him to the doorway and draw the curtain. She couldn’t breathe, but she knew that if she opened her mouth she would scream until she had no screams left.

Tulla’s groan brought her back from the void. She was a Corbulo. A decision must be made. She remembered seeing her father, the eyes slightly open, the sword still held tight by his flesh. No, not her father at all. It was her father’s body, but the essence of him, the spirit that made him who he was, had gone. It did not look so difficult.

She bent low over Tulla and smoothed the sweat-damp hair from her brow. ‘My poor, poor child …’