Masters of Rome

CHAPTER XVIII

Clutching at her mother’s waist the girl struggled against strong arms trying to rip her away. Her flame-coloured veil matched the colour of her shoes and covered her hair, which was dressed ritually in six locks fixed in a cone atop her head, but did not totally obscure her face; Vespasian enjoyed the expression of grim determination on it as Paetus tried to wrench his bride from her mother’s grip. With a small shriek that turned into a giggle, Vespasian’s niece, Flavia Tertulla, fell into the arms of her new husband.

‘Hymen, Hymenaeee!’ Vespasian shouted along with the other guests as Paetus released Flavia Tertulla; blushing, she stood next to her husband outside the open front door of Sabinus’ house on the Aventine Hill. Slender-faced with pale skin, auburn hair and young-leaf-green eyes, Flavia Tertulla was the image of her mother, Clementina, when Vespasian had first set eyes on her, seventeen years before. Paetus smiled jovially whilst exchanging crude banter with the more rakish of the guests, putting Vespasian in mind of his father, his long dead friend, whom he resembled so closely.

Spotting nine-year-old Titus, standing proudly in his boy’s toga praetexta in his capacity as one of the three boys with parents still living who escorted the bride, Vespasian ran a hand through his thinning hair and then clapped his brother on the shoulder. ‘Where does the time go?’

‘I know what you mean, brother, I’ve been feeling like that all day. It seems just a few days ago that Flavia Tertulla used to keep me awake with her mewling; now look at her, she’ll be producing mewling infants of her own very soon. In fact, with all the best appointments going to Messalina’s cronies, by the time I get a governorship she’ll probably have a whole pack of them.’

Sabinus threw a handful of walnuts, symbolising fertility, up into the air so that they rained down on the newlyweds as his fifteen-year-old son and namesake came out of the house with a flaming torch lit from the hearth with which he ignited a bundle of torches held by Paetus. With the torches, burning with the bride’s hearth-fire, distributed amongst the guests the procession from the bride’s parents’ house to that of her new husband on the Esquiline Hill was ready to begin. Flavia Tertulla took the spindle and distaff that Clementina offered her, representing her role as a weaving wife, and then, together with Paetus, set off down the hill, proceeded by the young Sabinus, Titus and a relation of Paetus’ whose name Vespasian was vague about.

Vespasian walked next to his mother, Vespasia Polla, on the bride’s side of the procession, smiling with a sense of wellbeing at the sight of so many of his family around him. His mood had been further improved by an excellent wedding breakfast and the sight of an emaciated Alienus hanging in the foul-smelling cage that had been his home for over a year now. Despite his condition he had still displayed defiance and had thrown a turd at the brothers as they gloated; it had fallen short. However, Vespasian had had a grudging respect for Alienus’ refusal to admit defeat; it had been Rome’s same stubbornness during the long struggle with Carthage, centuries before, that had eventually seen her through to victory. He foresaw a long struggle in Britannia if even half Alienus’ compatriots showed the same resilience; which, with the encouragement of the druids who were fighting for their very existence, he thought highly likely. His humour was even more enhanced by the knowledge that folly raging on in Britannia was no longer his fight.

With shouts of ‘Talasio!’ from passers-by — the ritual good-luck greeting for a bride, so old that its origin and meaning were now lost to time — the wedding party processed in a carnival atmosphere with much good-natured walnut lobbing.

‘I’m starting to feel my age, Mother,’ Vespasian commented. ‘Children grow so quickly.’

Vespasia snorted in derision. ‘Wait until you reach seventy and have outlived your spouse; that’s when you feel your age.’ She grabbed Domitilla by the shoulder as she went skipping past. ‘Child, show some decorum; you’re a member of a consular family and should behave as such.’

Domitilla looked up at her grandmother, evidently having no real understanding of what had been said.

Vespasia turned to Flavia walking behind her with Gaius. ‘You should keep the girl under control.’

Flavia’s lips tightened. ‘She was just enjoying herself on a happy day, Vespasia; leave her alone and don’t try to discipline my children again.’

‘I’ll discipline them as much as I like if I see them behaving in a way unbecoming for this family.’

‘What do you mean, “this family”? Do you mean the equestrian family that you produced or the senatorial family that my husband and his brother turned it into? There’s nothing worse than the snobbery of a person who has been raised up beyond their birth rank.’

‘My husband may have been only an equestrian but Gaius, my brother, was a praetor and has been in the Senate for over thirty years. I have always been of senatorial stock. At least I don’t have the taint of slavery in my blood, daughter of Titus Flavius Liberalis! Your grandfather was undoubtedly a slave and your lax way of rearing children bears out that fact.’

‘Mother!’ Vespasian exclaimed, his good mood fast disappearing. ‘You will not talk to my wife like that.’

‘No? I’ll talk to her however I see fit. A woman with morals like hers does not have my respect — or the respect of anyone in good society.’

‘Just what do you mean, Vespasia?’ Flavia asked coldly.

‘I mean that a woman who whores herself to the Empress is not fit to be treated as anything other than what she really is: a disgrace to her family name.’

‘You wicked old bitch! I’ll-’

‘Flavia!’ Vespasian snapped, stepping between the two women and grabbing his wife’s outstretched hand before the nails made contact with his mother’s cheek. ‘Control yourself.’

‘Control myself! After what she just said?’

‘Mother, you will apologise.’

‘I won’t apologise for telling the truth. What interests me, Vespasian, is that you don’t seem very surprised by the revelation.’

Vespasian kept hold of Flavia’s hand and forced it back down by her side as they walked on. ‘What interests me, Mother, is what would make you want to make such an accusation in the first place?’

‘Dear boy, keep your voice down,’ Gaius urged, ‘you’re spoiling the wedding procession.’

Flavia shook her hand free. ‘Defend me from such slander, Vespasian. I demand you to.’

Vespasia’s face contorted in spiteful triumph. ‘He’s not defending you because he knows it to be true.’

‘Mother, of course it’s not true and you will never say that again. Who told you such a thing?’

‘I got it from a very good source: Agrippina.’

Gaius looked doubtful. ‘Claudius’s niece has hardly been seen since the Emperor recalled her from exile at the beginning of his reign and married her to Passienus. She won’t go near the palace as she’s convinced that Messalina will try and murder her son, Lucius. The rumour is that the Empress has already made a couple of attempts on his life.’

‘Well, I see her,’ Vespasia said as the procession passed between the Appian Aqueduct and the southern end of the Circus Maximus. ‘After Passienus died last year he left all his property to young Lucius, including the neighbouring estate to ours at Aquae Cutillae. If you’d bothered to come up, Vespasian, you would know about it.’

‘I have better things to do with my time than to pry into my neighbours’ affairs; besides, I’ve been obliged to stay in Rome.’

Vespasia sniffed. ‘So you say. Anyway, Agrippina took up residence there a couple of months ago; she has invited me on numerous occasions since and is very well informed about Messalina.’

‘That’s no reason to repeat her malicious gossip.’

‘It’s not gossip, it’s true.’

Vespasian restrained Flavia again as her hand reached out, claw-like, towards Vespasia’s eyes.

Gaius steered his sister out of range. ‘I’d be very careful about becoming friendly with Agrippina; she’s not known for her kindness. In fact, the rumour is that she murdered Passienus. And don’t forget what her first husband, Gaius Domitius Ahenobarbus, said about their child — what was it? “I don’t think anything produced by me and Agrippina could possibly be good for the state or the people.”’

‘Nonsense, Gaius, she’s perfectly charming to me; it’s a great honour to be an intimate of the Emperor’s niece, the daughter of the great Germanicus, and it could be very useful for our family.’

‘How? She’s hardly ever in Rome.’

‘She’s going to be in Rome far more in the future, Gaius; she has her eyes on Messalina and in revenge for her trying to murder Lucius, she is going to take everything that she has away from her.’

‘Hush your mouth, woman; that’s treasonous talk.’

‘Is it? It’s also the truth, Gaius.’ She looked at Vespasian and Flavia. ‘If I were you, Vespasian, I’d remove that whore of yours from Messalina’s bed before she’s dragged from it clinging to her lover’s corpse.’

Vespasian pointed a finger in his mother’s face. ‘And if I were you, Mother, I would keep my mouth shut and my nose out of things that you obviously don’t understand. Don’t talk about this to anyone, do not hint that you know of it, don’t even think about it. Do I make myself clear?’

‘But Flavia-’

‘Flavia is my wife and I know perfectly well what is going on and why. You, on the other hand, are just another lonely old woman who enjoys her opinions far too much and talks carelessly about politics and intrigue without knowing just how dangerous her words are.’

Gaius agreed with a wobbly-jowl nod. ‘Vespasia, I forbid you to see Agrippina again.’

‘Why, brother, are you jealous of my well-connected friend? Are you feeling a little inferior?’

‘Don’t be stupid, woman; I’m just trying to protect our family.’

‘How does forbidding me to cultivate the Emperor’s niece do that?’

Vespasian looked at his mother in exasperation. ‘Because if what you say is true then Agrippina doesn’t just want to take everything away from Messalina, she wants to possess everything Messalina’s got; she has her eye on becoming the mother of the next emperor.’

‘She can’t; it’s illegal to marry one’s niece.’

‘Of course, but she doesn’t need to marry Claudius; all she need do is dispose of Britannicus. With him dead then her son, Lucius, would be the obvious choice to be Claudius’ heir; and actually he’d be a better choice: he’s three years older and he’s the grandson of Germanicus. The people would feel that at last the succession had got back to how it should have been.’

‘She would kill Britannicus?’

‘That’s the whole point, Mother; for her plan to work Britannicus would have to be dead. Agrippina is cultivating you because she knows that your grandson is Britannicus’ companion. Does she ask about him?’

Vespasia looked concerned, putting her hand to her mouth. ‘We always discuss my latest visits with my grandchildren.’

‘And if Britannicus had been there?’

‘Then she’s very interested; she likes to know what they do together, where they go, who supervises them.’

‘You see, Mother, you’re being used; and the information that you inadvertently give her is putting my son in danger. An accidental death will look much more convincing if two young boys suffered it instead of just the Emperor’s heir. You will not speak to Agrippina any more and you will not leave Rome. Am I clear?’

‘Yes,’ Vespasia whispered, looking suitably chastened.

‘And you will apologise to Flavia.’

But this was evidently a step too far for Vespasia and she turned away with her nose in the air as the wedding procession split in two and Paetus’ party began to ascend the Esquiline Hill so that they would arrive at his house before the bride, whose party would take a more circuitous route.

*

Flavia Tertulla rubbed oil and fat into the doorframe of Paetus’ house and then wreathed spun wool around it. Once she was satisfied that her role as the domestic wife in the house had been announced to the household gods she stepped over the threshold, taking great care not to trip. ‘Where you are Gaius, I am Gaia,’ she said, taking Paetus’ hand as she entered the vestibule.

‘Where you are Gaia, I am Gaius,’ Paetus replied before leading her on into the atrium with the guests following.

Vespasian threw his torch aside as he entered the house with his uncle.

‘Vespasia does have a point,’ Gaius remarked in a hushed tone as they walked into the atrium. ‘Perhaps it is time to think about protecting Flavia. Gaius Silius will be sworn in as suffect-consul in four days; Messalina will make her move very soon after that and you don’t want Flavia caught up in it, do you?’

‘That’s just it, Uncle; Flavia has to stay close to Messalina now of all times. Narcissus needs to have the wedding witnessed so he must know in advance where and when it’s going to be.’

‘Surely he could get that information from other sources; Corvinus, for example?’

‘Perhaps; but if Flavia doesn’t provide him with that information, there’ll be no reason for him to persuade Claudius to let me take my family away from the palace. If what Mother says is true and we’re going to replace one poisonous bitch with another possessing even more venom, then that has to be my highest priority — for Titus’ sake. And besides,’ Vespasian added, with a conspiratorial grin, ‘Flavia hasn’t yet received the quarter of a million denarii that Messalina has promised to loan her.’

Gaius chuckled and clapped Vespasian on the shoulder. ‘You seem to be making a lot of money recently.’

‘I’ve made up my mind to profit whenever I can from the unpleasant situations that the politics of this city push me into, Uncle.’

‘Very wise, dear boy; no one is going to give you a handout for getting your hands dirty.’

They watched in silence as Flavia Tertulla passed her hand through the flame burning in the atrium hearth and then dipped it in a bowl of water placed next to it. Having touched the two elements essential to life through cooking and washing, Flavia Tertulla placed her hand in that of her father. Sabinus then formally handed his daughter over to Paetus, who was standing next to a miniature marital bed decorated with flowers and fruit and set next to the impluvium for the newlyweds’ spirits to consummate the marriage in. The guests broke into a song encouraging the couple to imitate their spirits and then Flavia, as the matron of honour, led Flavia Tertulla away to the bridal chamber to pray and sacrifice with her and then to help her undress in readiness for Paetus’ arrival.

‘The hypocrisy of it!’ Vespasia snorted. ‘She may be married just once to a husband who is still living but she can’t be accused of being the incarnation of a faithful wife.’

‘Mother, if you carry on about my wife any more then I shall see to it that you no longer visit the children; which judging by the unfair way you reprimanded Domitilla just now will probably come as a relief for them.’

Vespasia turned to Vespasian, outrage in her eyes. ‘You support your wife against the woman who gave you birth?’

‘I support the mother of my children against the uninformed opinions of an ageing woman who does not understand what is going on and why; the fact that you gave birth to me is irrelevant. Now let that be an end to it, Mother.’

Vespasia snorted again and walked off to join a group of similarly aged females.

‘She’s been getting worse every year since your father died,’ Gaius informed him as slaves came round with trays of wine and bowls of fruit.

‘She’s becoming dangerous, Uncle,’ Vespasian said, watching his mother break into the conversation of the women she had just joined. ‘If she starts to gossip about Flavia then her affair will become public knowledge.’

‘I wouldn’t worry about that, dear boy; if it suits her purposes, Agrippina will have seen to that.’

Vespasian knew that his uncle was, in all likelihood, right and cursed the situation that had kept him in limbo for the past year. Messalina had made no move to marry either of the first four Consuls of the year and it was now beyond doubt that it was Silius, the final nomination, that she had chosen for her husband. However, as she could not marry him until he had the protection of the consulship, which was not due until October, the few people in Rome who knew of the plot had settled down to a period of uneasy watchfulness. Narcissus and Pallas had eyed the antics of Messalina’s court with growing incredulity that their master’s ears were deaf to all rumour and report of their actions.

Messalina had grown even more reckless: she was now whoring herself out to the people of Rome almost every night as well as sleeping with her many lovers amongst the aristocracy. Despite her hectic sexual schedule, however, she still found time to enjoy her more constant lovers, Silius and Flavia, although Flavia was becoming less keen on Messalina’s favours as she spread them around so many of the insalubrious city folk.

But Vespasian had insisted that Flavia act as if nothing was wrong and she had borne the ordeal with reluctance and fortitude. The information that she had got from her pillow talk with Messalina had been of great value to Narcissus and Pallas: the names of new lovers, clandestine supporters in the Senate and, eventually, the final confirmation of her plan to marry Silius as a sitting consul; however, the date was never discussed.

Vespasian took a deep breath as he consoled himself that soon the wait would be over now that October was fast approaching.

He was pulled out of his reverie by the sound of Sabinus leading the cheering of his new son-in-law as he left the atrium to perform his marital duties whilst the guests drank and feasted, waiting for news of the coupling.

Vespasian raised his cup to Paetus and then took a long sip of wine, letting his eyes wander over the happy crowd. He was surprised to see Marius, looking rather out of place, walking towards him. ‘Are you looking for me?’

‘Yes, sir, you and your brother,’ Marius replied. ‘Magnus has asked if you can both come to the tavern at the sixth hour. He says to be as discreet as possible as there’s going to be someone there who wants to talk to you in private.’

*

Vespasian and Sabinus struggled through the crowds, up the Vicus Longus to its acute junction with the Alta Semita on the southern slope of the Quirinal Hill. Wearing tunics and cloaks rather than senatorial togas, there was nothing to signify their status so their progress towards the tavern at the apex of that junction was impeded by the citizens of Rome, male and female, free, freed and slave, all going about their business, which was, naturally, far more important and urgent than the next person’s.

Traders shouted their wares, either edible or functional, from open-fronted shops on the ground floors of the three- or four-storey brick-built tenements lining the street, and haggled with customers. Goods were inspected and then chosen or rejected, arguments flared and were quickly settled, either by violence or reason, bargains were made, coinage changed hands and deals were concluded. Acquaintances met with exaggerated geniality and discussed business over cups of wine, standing at the bars of open taverns emitting wafts of pungent smoke from charcoal grills upon which sizzled cuts of pork and chicken. The aroma helped to sweeten the sour odour of human sweat and stale urine that hung in the air warmed by the midday sun and was stirred only by the passage of the multitude.

Keeping to the crowded pavements, so as not to soil their sandals in the squelching refuse that befouled the street, Vespasian and Sabinus wended their way uphill, through the heaving knots of humanity that made Rome the busiest city in the Empire.

‘I was afraid that you might have been too occupied,’ Magnus said as they finally reached the tavern that acted as the headquarters of the South Quirinal Crossroads Brotherhood; a few of the brethren sat outside at wooden tables, playing dice.

‘I hope this is worth it on my daughter’s wedding day, Magnus,’ Sabinus growled. He had not been keen to come even though the marriage had been consummated and the ceremony was now over, but curiosity had got the better of him.

‘You can judge that for yourself, sir.’ Magnus rattled a dice-shaker and rolled its contents onto the table; with a look of disgust he slammed the shaker down. ‘That’s your fourth win in a row, Tigran; I ain’t playing with your dice again.’ He pushed his stake across the table to his eastern-looking opponent and got to his feet. ‘Were you followed?’

Vespasian shrugged. ‘I don’t think so, but we told Marius to trail behind us and keep an eye on our backs.’ He turned to see Marius making his way up the hill. ‘Here he is. Well, Marius?’

Marius wiped the sweat from his brow, looking puzzled. ‘No one followed you from Paetus’ house back to Sabinus’, but then when you left that to come here I kept on getting glimpses of two men in deep-hooded cloaks taking it in turns to keep about thirty paces behind you.’

‘Did you see their faces?’

‘No, all that was visible under the hoods were beards.’

‘Eastern?’

‘No, more like German beards.’

‘What else were they wearing?’

‘Normal stuff, tunics and sandals.’

‘What happened to them?’

‘That was strange as well. Having followed you half the way here they suddenly veered off and disappeared.’

Vespasian looked at Sabinus. ‘What do you make of that?’

‘Someone knows where I live but wasn’t so interested in knowing where I was going?’

‘Or they were scared off by someone,’ Magnus suggested. ‘Did you notice anyone else, Marius?’

‘No, brother; they was clean the rest of the way here.’

‘All right, then; you hang about out here and keep an eye out for anyone you might recognise.’

‘Right you are, Magnus.’

Magnus indicated with a jerk of the head to the brothers. ‘He’s inside.’

They followed Magnus past the altar to the Crossroads’ lares set into the wall of the building and on into the fuggy, raucous interior of the tavern. It was crowded with drinkers and a few whores who all made way for Magnus as he steered a straight course for a door at the far end of the room, next to the amphora-lined bar. The noise dipped as Vespasian and Sabinus passed and then resumed as they followed Magnus through the door and then right, along a short corridor and on into another room, dimly lit by shuttered windows and with the cloying blend of lamp fumes, damp wood and stale wine in the air.

‘Thank you for coming, gentlemen,’ a voice said as they stepped inside.

‘Pallas!’ Vespasian exclaimed. ‘Why so mysterious? Why go to all these lengths to have a conversation that we could have anywhere?’

Pallas rose from his seat and grasped their forearms in turn. ‘Because I can no longer trust anywhere in the palace: there are too many spies about; so I came here taking care not to be followed as I wouldn’t want to be seen going to either of your houses. My people have reported that Sabinus’ house is being watched and we must assume that yours is too, Vespasian.’

‘By Messalina?’

‘I would think so but I don’t know for sure; what I do know is that my people have reported undue interest in Sabinus in the last couple of days.’

‘That would explain the two bearded men, brother,’ Sabinus said as they each took a seat.

Magnus poured cups of wine from a pitcher on a table in the corner. ‘I’ll have my lads take a look at them, see if we can invite them here for a quiet drink and a hearth-side chat, if you take my meaning?’

Vespasian shook his head as he accepted his cup. ‘I think we’ll find out more by following them and seeing whom they report to.’

‘Fair point; I’ll go and get that organised.’

As Magnus left, Pallas turned his attention to Sabinus. ‘I need to call in the favour that you owe me for getting you cleared of all involvement in Caligula’s death.’

Sabinus inclined his head a fraction. ‘I acknowledge that I am in your debt for that, Pallas.’

Pallas’ semi-shadowed face betrayed no emotion. ‘I’m pleased that you accept the fact.’ He paused and collected his thoughts. ‘I have it within my grasp to supplant Narcissus, get rid of Callistus and become the most powerful man in the Empire, which, I think you’ll both agree, considering our past relationship, will benefit your family considerably. The key to it all is to set in train a series of events that move rapidly, so my opponents have no time to think how they are going to react. Firstly, I need to force Messalina’s hand by providing an impetus for her to bring her wedding plans forward to the first day of Silius’ consulship, rather than wait and react to her move. Vespasian, Flavia can do that for me and in return I’ll make good Narcissus’ undertaking to persuade Claudius to allow you to move her out of the palace. He won’t be able to, seeing as he will not be in a position of favour.’

Vespasian attempted to match Pallas in the neutrality of his expression. ‘What do you want her to do?’

‘Tell Messalina that she overheard you and Sabinus talking about plans for Claudius to marry again. She must tell Messalina that, according to you, Callistus supports the idea of Claudius marrying Caligula’s third wife, Lollia Paulina, while Narcissus and I want him to remarry his second wife, Aelia Paetina. You know, the one with whom he had a daughter before his mother forced him to divorce her because she was the half-sister of Sejanus.’

‘Thereby convincing her that a plot to remove her is far advanced?’

‘Precisely, and she’ll believe it because when she thinks about it she will see that those positions make perfect sense for us in protecting our own interests: Callistus trying to get the wife of his former patron into power and Narcissus and I trying to ensure that power stays in the hands of a woman already known to us. And those are our positions at the moment — outwardly at least.

‘To panic Messalina into action, Flavia is to tell her that she heard you saying that the whole matter will be decided very quickly, as the most auspicious day for the wedding has been given as the Ides of October at the festival of the October Horse.’

‘That will concentrate her mind.’

‘That will indeed. It’ll force her to declare her intentions publicly; she’ll marry Silius as soon as he becomes consul.’

‘But then how do you remove him?’

‘I’ve a way to deal with that. I’ll need to keep Claudius out of the city by delaying his return from the visit he’s making to the building project at Ostia — he’s leaving tomorrow. That’ll mean he misses Silius’ inauguration … but let me worry about those things. I need you to bring a couple of the wedding guests, using force if necessary, down to Ostia as quickly as possible after the ceremony so that they can confirm the marriage to Narcissus. But on no account must you keep your promise to Narcissus and warn him in advance of this.’

‘But Flavia-’

‘Flavia will be fine, I’ll see to that. I must have Narcissus taken by surprise; it’s my only chance to outmanoeuvre him. Once he hears the marriage has taken place without his knowledge the consequences will be inevitable and it will be just a matter of time and timing for me to achieve my aim. And this, Sabinus, is how you can repay your debt to me: I need to have a decree ratified in the House the morning following the wedding and then a law changed the moment Messalina crosses the Styx. With your consular status, your right to wear Triumphal Regalia won in Britannia and the fact that you go to Moesia as governor next year should give you the authority that you need to muster enough support to do that for me in the Senate.’

‘Which law?’

‘The law against incest between an uncle and his niece.’

The brothers simultaneously sucked their breath through their teeth.

Vespasian recovered first. ‘That’s one of the oldest and most sacred laws there is, Pallas.’

‘Which makes it perfect for my purpose because no one will foresee the move.’

‘You intend for Claudius to marry Agrippina.’

Pallas twitched an eyebrow in appreciation of the insight. ‘It’s the only thing that makes sense. Consider this: we rid ourselves of Claudius’ wife but his son must be allowed to live — for the time being, at least. Now, should he reach manhood and inherit the Purple one of his first duties should be to avenge his mother and I will be a dead man, as, indeed, will be Narcissus and you, Vespasian, despite your son’s friendship with Britannicus, because your part in this cannot be kept secret. Narcissus believes that by promoting a marriage between Claudius and Aelia Paetina and then supporting Britannicus as Claudius’ heir he can avert this, for he will have put the boy deep in his debt. Perhaps that would work, who knows? However, for once he has missed something. If I get Agrippina into Claudius’ bed, she will never forgive Narcissus and Callistus for supporting different candidates even though she technically wasn’t eligible at the time.’ For once Pallas allowed himself a self-satisfied smile. ‘After the Asiaticus affair that would spell at least banishment for Callistus — but hopefully worse — and a massive loss of influence for Narcissus. It will also guarantee my safety from future vengeance by Britannicus — and yours incidentally, Vespasian — by providing a more suitable heir in Lucius Domitius Ahenobarbus, whom Claudius will adopt without too much persuasion because Agrippina will insist on it. And there we have it.’

Sabinus scratched the back of his head and cleared his throat. ‘But how am I meant to get that legislation through the Senate?’

‘The normal way: bribery with the money that I shall give you and appealing to everybody’s common sense. This will finally unite the Julian and Claudian families in marriage and will provide an heir who, if he marries Claudius’ daughter-’

‘But she’ll be his adoptive sister!’

‘Yes, but that can be easily dealt with when the time comes. When Lucius marries Claudia Octavia and disposes of Britannicus he becomes irrefutably the heir to Julius Caesar and Germanicus and the people will love him. The other consideration is that Agrippina is already forty-two and unlikely to conceive again and cloud the succession issue even more. If the Senate wants stability then that’s what they should have in their minds when they vote to make it legal for an uncle to marry his niece.’

Although Vespasian knew that Pallas had always thought Britannicus’ chances of survival to be slim — they had discussed the matter five years previously when Pallas had accompanied Claudius to Britannia — it was the clinical way that the freedman made the assessment that gave him a chill. He now saw the boy’s death as inevitable; it was what he dreaded for personal reasons. ‘What about my Titus? What happens to him as Britannicus is culled in this scheme of yours?’

‘He will be kept safe, you have my word; after all, what threat is he to Agrippina and Lucius? No one could dream of him becoming emperor.’ Pallas cocked his head and widened his eyes. ‘Unless perhaps there’s no issue from Lucius and Claudia Octavia’s union and the blood of the Caesars runs dry?’

‘It would be treasonous to explore that thought.’

‘I’m sure that most of the Senate have committed treason in that way. However, for the present, if you both want to advance your family’s position then I suggest you do as I ask; do I have your support, gentlemen?’

The brothers looked at each other and quickly came to a silent mutual agreement.

‘Yes, Pallas,’ Vespasian confirmed, ‘out of loyalty to you and the obvious gain to us, we’ll do it.’

‘Good. Flavia must go to Messalina tonight.’

‘She will. But I have a favour to ask.’

Pallas inclined his head.

‘If your scheme works-’

‘Which it will.’

‘Which it will. Then Narcissus will not be in any position to save people close to Messalina.’

‘Indeed.’

‘So Corvinus will die?’

‘Undoubtedly.’

‘Will you save him if I ask you to?’

‘As a favour to you, yes, I would; but why would you want such a thing?’

‘Because I took money off him indirectly in return for his life; I should honour that and in doing so I have the chance to finish our feud once and for all.’

‘Then consider his life as being in your hands.’

‘I’ve one question,’ Sabinus interjected. ‘What is the decree that you want me to have ratified by the Senate?’

Pallas got to his feet. ‘A small whim of the Emperor’s that mistakenly got overlooked.’

Vespasian rolled up the scroll and laid it down on the table, smiling at his wife sitting opposite him on the terrace of their suite. ‘A bankers’ draft from Messalina, redeemable at the Cloelius Brothers in the forum for a quarter of a million denarii payable to the bearer — well done, my dear; I’ll get Magnus to exchange it for another draft issued by the Cloelius Brothers themselves, again payable to the bearer, which I’ll cash in and there’ll be nothing to link the money to Messalina.’ He patted the scroll as if it were a treasured possession of rare beauty and then inhaled a satisfied breath of cool morning air. ‘How did she take the worrying news from a concerned lover who accidentally overheard her husband’s private conversation?’

Flavia took her husband’s hand over the table. ‘Vespasian, I shall be so glad when this is over and I think that it’ll be soon; she believed me and flew into a rage, cursing everyone from the Emperor and his freedmen to her four personal attendants, one of whom she had whipped in front of her to make herself feel better.’

Vespasian thought back to the slave girls who had accompanied Messalina to Asiaticus’ hearing and wondered which had been the unfortunate one. ‘Did she give any indication of what she plans to do?’

‘She swore that she’d see everyone plotting against her dead before the Ides of October and then left to go to the Gardens of Lucullus to calm down and meet with Silius.’

Vespasian contemplated this for a while, gazing over the rooftops of Rome in the direction of Messalina’s ill-gotten gardens. ‘Of course,’ he murmured, ‘that’s where she’ll do it to keep it secret; there’ll be no procession from one house to the other, no veneration of household gods in the street or re-enactment of the abduction of the Sabine women, it’ll just be a private party in the most private gardens in Rome. No one outside her circle will know until the new Suffect-Consul announces in the Senate the following morning that he is now married to the Empress who has divorced the Emperor and he is going to adopt Britannicus. If she really has managed to seduce enough officers in the Guard then the plan has a very good chance of succeeding. All he has to say is: choose between Claudius and Messalina because one of them is going to die; and, by the way, if it’s Messalina who perishes here’s a list of all her lovers, which will make interesting reading for the Emperor. Perfect.’

Flavia tightened her grip on her husband’s hand. ‘What will you do?’

Vespasian got to his feet. ‘First of all I’m getting you and the children out of Rome. Cleon!’

‘Yes, master,’ the steward replied, stepping out onto the terrace.

‘Have the mistress and children’s things packed up, enough to last for a month, and organise transport for them to my estate at Cosa. They’ll leave tonight under cover of darkness.’

‘Yes, master.’ Cleon bowed and backed away.

‘Are you sure that’s wise?’ Flavia asked. ‘I thought you said that you couldn’t move us out of the palace without permission from the Emperor.’

‘He’s at Ostia and by the time he comes back to Rome I’ll have that permission.’

‘How can you be sure?’

‘Because in the struggle between all the would-be masters of Rome I’m backing the winner.’