Rome’s Fallen Eagle

CHAPTER IIII

Away from the atrium, the palace seemed almost completely deserted. They passed the occasional imperial functionary in the high, wide corridors as they snaked their way deep into the complex. The overcast day allowed for very little light or heat to enter through the few, high-set windows and the atmosphere was chill and gloomy; the clacking of the hardened leather soles of their red senatorial shoes echoing around them made Vespasian feel that he was being led to a place of incarceration rather than to the centre of power.

Eventually the clerk stopped outside a grand set of double doors; he knocked on the black lacquered wood.

‘Enter,’ a familiar voice ordered languidly.

The clerk swung the heavy door open, slowly and soundlessly, and then ushered Vespasian and Gaius into a room, predominantly decorated in deep red, awash with flickering golden light.

‘Good day to you, Senators Pollo and Vespasian,’ Narcissus crooned from behind a sturdy oaken desk littered with scrolls; he did not get up. Five chairs were placed opposite him in a semicircle; the left-hand one was already occupied.

‘Good day, imperial secretary,’ Vespasian and Gaius replied, almost simultaneously.

Narcissus indicated the slight, shaven-headed man already seated. ‘Do you know my fellow freedman, Callistus?’

‘Our paths have crossed,’ Vespasian confirmed.

Callistus nodded briefly to them. ‘Senators.’

‘Please, have a seat,’ Narcissus offered.

They walked forward. In each corner of the room, standing in front of a curved, polished bronze mirror, was an identical silver candelabrum. All had ten arms and were set on four legs ending in perfectly formed lion’s feet; each was as tall as a man, and gave out a beautiful golden light.

Gaius and Vespasian took the two central unoccupied chairs and sat stiffly on the hard wooden seats; Narcissus evidently did not want his interviewees to feel comfortable. The scent of his lush pomade enshrouded them as they sat.

The freedman considered them for a while with his extravagantly ringed fingers steepled, resting against full, moist lips protruding from a neatly combed beard. He cocked his head slowly as if to get a better view; two weighty, gold earrings rocked gently, glistering in the magnified candlelight. Behind him rivulets of rain trickled down the outside of a window, crisscrossed with lattice work supporting the individual, almost translucent, glass panes. Next to it, a heavy curtain blocked the draught from a door leading to the outside world.

Vespasian had not seen Narcissus up close for two or more years and he noticed new lines of stress etched into his wellfleshed, fair-skinned face. He was also evidently greying as there were tell-tale signs of dye staining the skin around his hairline.

Vespasian and Gaius sat in uncomfortable silence as they were scrutinised, unsure of whether it was their place to open the conversation or not.

A merest hint of amusement flickered across Narcissus’ iceblue eyes as he sensed their unease; he linked his fingers and gently laid his hands on the desk. ‘So what is a life worth?’ he mused, almost rhetorically. He let the question hang in the air for a few moments before gazing directly at Vespasian.

‘That depends on who is buying and who’s selling.’

The corners of Narcissus’ mouth rose slightly and he nodded almost imperceptibly. ‘Yes, Vespasian, market forces are always at work, especially in the commodity that we’re trading in at present. That’s why I find myself in such a delicate position in this case. There have been prior investments made by both parties in this deal and I’m forced to admit that one outweighs the other.’

Vespasian tensed inwardly; was Narcissus remembering his debts? A knock at the door ruptured the silence; Vespasian almost jumped.

‘Ah!’ Narcissus exclaimed with interest. ‘That will be the arrival of the object of our bargaining. Enter!’

Vespasian frowned; how did Narcissus know of Sabinus’ presence? Gaius shifted uncomfortably in his seat, which was too narrow to fully support his ample behind.

The door opened and Pallas walked in; Sabinus followed, supported by Magnus.

‘Secretary to the treasury, how good of you to bring the masked assassin.’

If Pallas was surprised that Narcissus was expecting them it did not show on his face. ‘I am glad to be of service in clearing up this matter, imperial secretary.’

‘Of great service, my dear Pallas, please stay,’ Narcissus urged, his voice brimming with overly genuine entreaty. ‘I have had five chairs put out.’

Pallas inclined his head. ‘It would be my pleasure, my dear Narcissus; I wouldn’t wish to upset your seating arrangements.’ He took the chair between Gaius and Callistus.

Vespasian was confused: who was surprising whom? Or were the freedmen acting and this meeting had been planned in advance?

Narcissus looked over to Sabinus, pale and resting on Magnus’ shoulder. ‘Our surprise visitor: the legate of the Ninth Hispana; and so far from his posting. Or ex-legate to be more accurate, which is a pity really as my people in that legion tell me that Camp Prefect Vibianus and Primus Pilus Laurentius are very impressed by you, but no matter. I guessed it was you when one of my agents saw a hooded man being taken secretly into Pallas’ apartments earlier. Well, well. Please sit down, ex-legate; you, out of all of us, look like you most need a chair.’

‘Thank you, Narcissus,’ Sabinus said, hobbling to the chair next to Vespasian.

‘My title is imperial secretary,’ Narcissus reminded him coldly.

Sabinus swallowed. ‘My apologies, imperial secretary.’ Magnus helped him down.

Narcissus put a finger to his lips in thought and then shook it gently at Magnus. ‘The redoubtable Magnus of the South Quirinal Crossroads Brotherhood; of course, that’s where you were hiding, Sabinus. Why did I not think of that?’ He turned to Pallas. ‘But you did, I’m sure, esteemed colleague; or did Magnus’ involvement with this family slip your memory too?’

‘Evidently not, Narcissus.’

Narcissus nodded slowly. ‘You just forgot to share it with me. Well, we can all be a little forgetful at times; but no matter, Sabinus is with us now. I assume that you’ve managed to get him here unnoticed.’

‘Apart from us, only Caenis and Vespasian’s wife know that he’s here in Rome, and they will keep that secret,’ Pallas confirmed.

‘And my two lads, sir,’ Magnus put in, ‘and my slave, but they’re all loyal.’

‘I’m sure they are, Magnus, but they’re also irrelevant; as are you.’ Narcissus waved a hand. ‘You can go.’

Magnus shrugged, then turned and walked out; the clerk followed him, closing the door.

Narcissus played with the point of his beard, ruminating for a few moments in the silence. ‘I imagine that you’ve been thorough, Pallas, and have ensured that Herod Agrippa doesn’t go sneaking to our patron, undermining us if we keep this between ourselves?’

‘Sabinus and I have just had a short conversation with our eastern friend. I told him that I was minded to block the addition of the two tetrarchies that he’s asking to be incorporated into his kingdom on the basis that it would be a considerable loss of revenue to the imperial treasury which, after Caligula’s excesses, we can ill afford. I then asked him to look carefully at Sabinus and tell me if he was convinced that he was the man he’d seen just before Caligula was assassinated.’

Narcissus pretended to look interested. ‘And?’

‘Regrettably, after further consideration, he now feels that he has made a mistake. He thinks that we may never know who that man was.’

‘I see, so Sabinus could now be considered innocent; admirably done, dear partner.’ Narcissus flicked a look to Callistus as if to gauge his thoughts. His face was unreadable to Vespasian but Narcissus seemed to gain some insight; he nodded cogitatively and then arranged a couple of scrolls on the desk in front of him. ‘So, to business, gentlemen. I recommend that we confine ourselves to straight talking; I think we all know each others’ positions. So let me begin. Sabinus, were you the masked man who took part in Caligula’s assassination?’

‘No.’

Narcissus pointed vaguely to Sabinus’ right thigh. ‘Lift up your tunic.’

Sabinus glanced at Pallas, who widened his eyes a fraction; he slowly revealed the bandaging.

‘I’ll ask you again. Were you the masked man who took part in Caligula’s assassination?’

Sabinus hesitated for a moment before conceding the point. ‘Yes, imperial secretary.’

‘You may drop the formalities now that we are all old friends together.’

‘Indeed, Narcissus.’

‘Good. Your comrades are due to be executed as soon as I command it. I have delayed it until today so that they can spend a few last hours with their wives and children. I’ve allowed that because I am not insensible to the fact that they have done my patron, me and indeed the whole of Rome, especially its treasury, a great service in ridding us finally of Caligula. However, they must die for obvious reasons. And, at the moment, despite Pallas’ best efforts to clear you, you may well be joining them.’

Sabinus lowered his head.

Vespasian felt his guts tense.

Narcissus picked up a scroll and rolled it in his hands. ‘I don’t know whether you’re all aware that the conspirators had a deal with Pallas, Callistus and me to protect them against any retribution, in return for declaring Claudius emperor. They kept their side of the bargain but only the most naïve fool would expect us to keep ours.’ He glanced at Pallas and Callistus.

‘It would be a recipe for instability,’ Callistus stated.

Pallas nodded once in agreement.

‘Quite so,’ Narcissus concurred. ‘However, the great advantage of this deal was that we have been able to prepare, for the past few months, for our patron’s elevation. My agents have been busy, sounding people out, ascertaining how they would react to a drooling cripple who has been the butt of countless jokes, becoming emperor.’ He unravelled the scroll. ‘This is a condensation of the reports from my agents in the Rhenus legions and it does not make for comforting reading.’ He perused the contents for a few moments as if to remind himself. ‘It’s not good at all; nor is that one.’ He indicated to the second scroll in front of him. ‘That is from the Danubius. In short: the officers think of Claudius as a laughing stock and the men are at best ambivalent — even though he’s the brother of their favourite, Germanicus. And I have no reason to think that anyone here in Rome thinks any differently.’

‘Nonsense, Narcissus,’ Gaius protested. ‘We are great admirers of Claudius; his knowledge of law and history …’

‘Spare me the platitudes, Gaius,’ Narcissus cut in, waving the scroll at him. ‘I said that we would be straight talking. Do you really want Claudius as emperor?’

Gaius’ mouth fell open, his jowls wobbling.

‘Well?’ Narcissus pressed.

‘It’s not ideal,’ Gaius conceded.

‘No, it’s not ideal for most people. But it is for me.’ He looked at his colleagues. ‘As it is for Pallas and Callistus.’

‘It suits us perfectly,’ Callistus confirmed.

‘And what’s more, it’s a fact: Claudius is emperor,’ Pallas stated.

‘Yes, he is.’ Narcissus almost purred with pleasure. ‘But the question is: how do we keep him there? We’ve bought the Guard, so in Rome Claudius is safe. But what if the legions on the Rhenus mutiny as they did on Tiberius’ ascension? Civil war? A breakup of the Empire? Or perhaps both. That cannot be allowed to happen. So how do we secure our malformed patron in his office?’ Narcissus’ eyes slowly came to rest on Vespasian.

In a moment of clarity, Vespasian now saw that the three freedmen had been acting in concert over a different matter. This was never going to be a meeting about saving Sabinus’ life; there was much more to it than that. Narcissus’ look told him that this was about his, Vespasian’s, role in securing the new regime. Pallas had merely used the opportunity to try and add Sabinus to whatever was about to be negotiated. In removing the threat of Herod Agrippa’s testimony he had given Narcissus a face-saving way of sparing him even though he had admitted his guilt. He now saw where they were heading. ‘Make the army respect him, perhaps even love him. He needs a victory.’

‘Exactly; and he needs it soon.’ Narcissus rolled up the report and discarded it to one side as if it offended him. ‘But where?’

Silence filled the room so that the marching stamp of a small column of men outside the window could be clearly heard.

After a few moments, Sabinus brought himself out of his morbid introspection. ‘Germania is out of the question since Varus lost the Seventeenth, Eighteenth and Nineteenth Legions there. The border is now set on the Rhenus; it would be hard to persuade the legions to cross it and, even if they would be willing, it would not be a quick victory.’

‘No, it wouldn’t,’ Pallas agreed easily. ‘Nor would any attempt to annex the lands north of the Danubius be the work of just a year or two.’

‘And the legions refused to embark onto the ships when Caligula attempted to cross to Britannia,’ Callistus said as if he was reciting from a well-rehearsed script.

‘There’s nothing worth having south of our provinces in Africa,’ Narcissus carried on almost seamlessly. ‘We are planning to annex Mauretania, further west; Suetonius Paulinus has been given that task and, as a reward for his timely declaration of loyalty, the Emperor has made Hosidius Geta legate of one of the legions under Paulinus’ command.’ Narcissus paused for a moment in thought, as if a fact had just occurred to him. ‘But it is of little value and would hardly be a martial feat. Not really deserving of a triumph, although I’m sure the Senate will vote Claudius one, which he will, of course, modestly refuse.’

‘We could always annex Thracia.’

‘Indeed, my dear Callistus, but where’s the glory in that? And in the east, Armenia has a Roman client king on its throne. So all that leaves is Parthia.’

Pallas nodded, taking up the reins of the argument without a pause. ‘However, Lucius Vitellius fought a successful campaign there a few years ago and for the moment we have a settlement that is working in our interests. So we should forget going east and, anyway, if we did go that way it’s too great an area to hold without committing the sort of resources that we just cannot afford. So that only leaves one financially viable option.’

‘Yes, Pallas, you are so right. It only leaves Britannia,’ Narcissus said slowly. ‘But this time we do it properly. Callistus, please.’

Callistus cleared his throat. ‘When my former patron, Caligula, was planning his haphazard attempt to invade Britannia, I played a major role in co-ordinating all the various elements. I know that an invasion of Britannia is eminently possible. And it has three great advantages: firstly, we’ve already put the entire infrastructure in place; this will save us millions.’ He twitched one corner of his mouth at Pallas in what Vespasian assumed was his equivalent of a self-congratulatory beam; a suggestion of a raised eyebrow signalled Pallas’ approval. ‘We already have a disembarkation port, Gesoriacum, filled with granaries, warehouses, workshops and supply depots; the Gallic provinces are very fertile, so we will have ample supplies with which to fill them. There are still a goodly amount of ships up there, although nowhere near the thousand or so that we’ll need, but that will be addressed by our senior general on the northern coast, Publius Gabinius Secundus, the Emperor’s personal friend.

‘Secondly, we have two exiled British Kings, Adminios and Verica, currently here in Rome asking us to restore them to their thrones; this gives us an air of legitimacy and pro-Roman local rulers once we’re successful.

‘And the third great advantage is that the chief city in the south of the island, Camulodunum, is no more than a hard summer’s campaigning from where we would land. Claudius could have his victory within one season.’

‘If the legions don’t refuse to embark,’ Pallas reminded everyone.

‘If the legions don’t refuse to embark,’ Narcissus repeated. His gaze now wandered to Sabinus.

‘How do you propose to make them this time, Narcissus?’ Sabinus asked, interested, his present dilemma seemingly forgotten.

‘That’s how you and your brother now have the chance to save your life, my friend. Had it not been for Pallas’ adroit handling of your predicament — albeit behind my back — you would have been a dead man.’ He paused and gave Pallas a fleeting look of disapproval that carried far more weight than the minuscule movements of the facial muscles outwardly conveyed. ‘However, I now find myself free to give you this opportunity in payment for the debt I still owe you for the discretion you showed over my patron’s foolish letter. Will you take it, not knowing what it is, or would you prefer to die with the others?’

Vespasian glanced at his brother, relief flooding through his body. Gaius exhaled as if he had been holding his breath for the entire meeting.

It was an easy question for Sabinus. ‘I’ll take it, Narcissus, whatever it is.’

‘Good. Palagios!’

The door opened and the clerk walked in. ‘Yes, imperial secretary.’

‘Are the prisoners ready?’

‘Yes, imperial secretary.’

Narcissus rose. ‘Come with me, Sabinus; Vespasian, you’d better help him.’ Pulling back the curtain, he opened the door and stepped through.

Vespasian and Sabinus followed him out into a small courtyard, grey with drizzle. Six men knelt at its centre before a wooden block; each guarded by a Praetorian with a drawn sword under the command of a centurion. The closest prisoner raised his auburn head and smiled in resignation at the brothers, his pinched face more pallid than ever.

‘Proceed, centurion,’ Narcissus ordered, ‘there will be no one else added to their number. Centurion Lupus first.’

‘Yes, imperial secretary.’

As Lupus was led forwards to the block Sabinus grabbed Narcissus’ arm. ‘You can’t make me watch my wife’s brother’s execution.’

Narcissus glanced down at the hand grasping his arm and removed it. ‘You are in no position to make demands, Sabinus; unless, that is, you wish to demand to join them.’

Vespasian placed an arm around his brother’s shoulders and pulled him away. ‘There’s nothing to be gained by arguing.’

Lupus knelt before the block, placing his hands upon it as the Praetorian guarding him touched the back of his neck with his blade; Lupus tensed as the weapon was raised, hunching his shoulders close to his head. The sword flashed down; Lupus screamed in agony as it embedded itself in the base of his neck, severing his spinal column but not his head. Paralysis was almost instantaneous and Lupus slumped to the ground, bleeding profusely but still alive.

Narcissus tutted. ‘I would expect a Praetorian centurion to be able to hold himself with a little more dignity and extend his neck when faced with death.’

As Lupus’ limp body was stretched out with his head over the block, his eyes staring in agonised terror, Vespasian glanced at Clemens; he held himself calmly as the executioner brought down his sword a second time and struck off Lupus’ head in an eruption of spurting gore.

‘That’s better,’ Narcissus commented as the headless corpse was dragged away from the block, leaving a copious trail of blood across the wet paving stones. ‘I think we should have Prefect Clemens next, let’s see if he can do better.’

Sabinus stiffened, the muscles in his cheeks pulsating as he struggled to keep himself under control. Vespasian kept his arm firmly around his shoulders.

Narcissus turned to the brothers. ‘Do you know, I think you were right, Sabinus, it would be wrong for me to make you watch Clemens’ execution. I think that the perilousness of your situation would be far better stressed if you performed the deed yourself.’

‘I can’t execute Clemens!’

‘Of course you can; if you don’t I’ll have him execute you before he’s despatched.’

‘Do it, Sabinus,’ Clemens called as he was led to the block. ‘If I’m not to be allowed the dignity of suicide by this doublecrossing, oily Greek freedman then I would rather die at your hand than have the humiliation of a mere ranker taking my life.’

Sabinus shook his head, tears welling in his eyes.

‘You have to, brother,’ Vespasian whispered. ‘Narcissus is making you do this to emphasise the power that he has over us; either submit to it or die.’

Sabinus heaved a huge sigh, holding his head in both hands. ‘Help me over there.’

Vespasian supported his brother as he hobbled over to Clemens, kneeling in front of the blood-drenched block. The Praetorian offered his sword, hilt first; Sabinus took it and stood over his brother-in-law.

Clemens looked up. ‘Tell Clementina and my wife that you did this because I wanted you to; they will understand and be grateful that you made my death less of a humiliation.’

‘I will, Clemens. Thank you for giving your sister to me; she is a good wife and has made me very happy; I’ll always keep her safe.’ Sabinus hefted the sword in his hand, judging the weight.

Clemens nodded and mouthed: ‘Avenge me.’ He then placed both hands on the block and stretched his neck. ‘Watch over my children.’

With one continuous motion, Sabinus raised the sword above his head and swept it down, the muscles in his arm bulging with the exertion, to cleave through flesh and bone with a wet, crunching impact and a crimson explosion. Clemens’ head was propelled forward by the force of the spraying blood; it hit the ground and rolled once, coming to a halt facing Sabinus and Vespasian. For a moment the eyes stared at the brothers, life still in evidence, before a final beat of the heart sent a surge of blood slopping over them, blinding them for the last time.

Sabinus dropped the sword with a metallic clang that rang around the silent courtyard.

Vespasian averted his eyes from the macabre sight and saw Narcissus, the man who had gained so much from Clemens’ actions and yet had betrayed him, give the faintest smile of satisfaction before he turned and walked back inside. ‘Come, brother, it’s done; you have acknowledged Narcissus’ power.’

A third body was heard hitting the ground outside as Vespasian retook his seat but he knew better than to let his contempt for Narcissus play on his face. He looked briefly at Sabinus; his brother was having less success at controlling his emotions.

Narcissus noticed it too. ‘Whatever you think of me for having you execute your wife’s brother is irrelevant, unless, of course, I ever suspect that you are doing more than thinking. If that becomes the case then I will reverse this decision that I’ve been manoeuvred into and I shall make sure that you are not the only one who suffers.’ He glared at Sabinus and then slowly cast his eyes over Vespasian and Gaius as the threat hung over them. ‘But enough of this; back to business. What do we require of you both? Now that Pallas seems to have got his team back together again, I think that he had better explain, as it was his idea originally.’

Vespasian looked at Pallas, realising that his help had not been totally altruistic. Pallas caught his eye but showed nothing as from outside came the sound of another killing blow. ‘Thank you, Narcissus, for the recognition,’ Pallas began. ‘A month ago, after we’d decided to resurrect Caligula’s idea to conquer Britannia, we began thinking about how to make the army respect Claudius enough to get four legions and the equivalent number of auxiliaries to invade an island for him, that the superstitious amongst them — which is virtually all of them — consider to be haunted and rife with spirits. My colleagues were considering paying a bounty, which, to me, was out of the question; so I was looking for a cheaper option. Then I remembered Caligula’s other idea of emulating his father, Germanicus, who restored the army’s pride after Varus’ disaster in the Teutoburg Forest; he won their love forever by pushing back into Germania six years later, and recapturing the Eagles of the Eighteenth and Nineteenth Legions. Caligula wanted personally to find the third Eagle that fell in that battle but did not have the patience to see it through.

‘However, I recalled the enthusiasm with which the announcement of this plan was greeted and I realised that had Caligula succeeded he would have been so popular that the army would not have refused to embark for Britannia. So I thought: why shouldn’t Claudius do the same?’ He looked along the row to Vespasian and Sabinus as a dull thump indicated that the fifth prisoner had met his end. ‘Obviously Claudius couldn’t do it himself but someone could do it in his name; then I remembered how you two had gone to Moesia and found and extracted that hideous weasel-faced priest. And there we have it.’

Vespasian and Sabinus looked in disbelief at Pallas, the horror of Clemens’ execution momentarily put to one side. ‘You want us to find the Seventeenth’s lost Eagle?’ Vespasian gasped eventually, unable to believe that anyone other than Caligula could be mad enough to suggest it thirty-two years after its capture.

‘Yes,’ Narcissus confirmed. ‘If we can resurrect Rome’s fallen Eagle in Claudius’ name then we will have the army on his side and they will embark on those ships and they will invade Britannia. Claudius will have his victory; and his place, and, more to the point, ours, will be secured.’

‘And if we do this then I keep my life?’ Sabinus asked carefully.

Narcissus smiled faintly, devoid of humour. ‘No. If you succeed in this you keep your life; although I rather think that if you don’t succeed you’ll probably lose it anyway in the attempt.’

‘I expect you’re right. But why should my brother be going too?’

‘You miss the point, Sabinus,’ Vespasian said, looking around at the three passive-faced freedmen. ‘This was all decided before Caligula was killed; we were both always going to go.’

‘Whether we wanted to or not?’

Narcissus inclined his head. ‘Whether you wanted preferment or not under this regime, would be a better way of looking at it, but yes. And now you have no choice if you want that unfortunate misunderstanding about who was the man behind the mask to be cleared up.’ He paused as another sword blow sounded outside, followed by the final body collapsing onto the bloodwetted stone.

Vespasian shivered. Gaius shook his head sorrowfully and rubbed the back of his neck. The centurion bellowed at his men to pick up the heads and drag the bodies away.

Narcissus pursed his lips. ‘Well, that’s over with. They were good men if somewhat naïve; you did well not to join them, Sabinus — today at least.’ He turned to Vespasian as if nothing of import had happened. ‘I will repay the debt that I owe you for managing to leave my patron so wealthy after that business with Poppaeus — I think you’ll agree that cashing the bankers’ draft in Alexandria pays for the other?’

Vespasian forced his mind away from the image of Clemens’ dripping head being held up by its auburn hair; he nodded.

‘So to even our score, I — or rather the Emperor — will confirm you as the legate commanding the Second Augusta based at Argentoratum on the Rhenus.’

‘But that’s Corbulo’s legion.’

‘Indeed, but whoever heard of an ex-consul becoming a legate? Caligula gave it to Corbulo, rather than give him a province to govern, to humiliate him for daring to complain about the way Caligula exhibited Corbulo’s half-sister naked at dinner parties. In view of his semi-fraternal connection with Caligula’s wife, we feel it better that he returns to Rome and I’m sure he will be grateful to be relieved of a position that he certainly considers beneath him. You will replace him.’ He picked up a scroll and proffered it. ‘This is the Emperor’s mandate confirming your appointment. Will that be acceptable?’

‘Yes, Narcissus,’ he replied. Normally such news would fill a man with excitement and pride but all Vespasian could think of was Clemens’ decapitated body being hauled away outside.

‘Good. The Empress was very keen that her brother, Corvinus, should have the commission but fortunately there is now a vacancy for him with the Ninth Hispana; I wonder how he’ll measure up to the expectations of the camp prefect and the primus pilus.’

Sabinus stiffened on his chair and the muscles in his jaw clenched.

Narcissus glanced at him briefly, his lips twitching in a shadow of a mirthless smile. ‘No doubt my agents will tell me.’ He picked up two more scrolls from his desk and handed them to Vespasian. ‘These are the orders for you and Corbulo, both signed by the Emperor. You will present yours to the Governor Galba when you get to Argentoratum; he will make the necessary arrangements. Give Corbulo his orders personally. You will proceed there with Sabinus as soon as possible; as legate you’ll be free to use the resources of your legion and its attached auxiliaries to help your brother find this Eagle. My advice would be to start your search at the Teutoburg Forest.’

‘You’re toying with us, Pallas,’ Vespasian accused as soon as the doors to Pallas’ suite of rooms, on the second floor, were shut against inquisitive ears roaming the corridor beyond. ‘That meeting was not set up to bargain for Sabinus’ life; it was all about your ambitions and my role in fulfilling them.’

‘Both of your roles in fulfilling them,’ Pallas pointed out, gesturing to his steward to bring wine. ‘I need both of you to go. This is my idea, so my reputation with the Emperor rests upon it. I can’t afford it to fail.’

Vespasian was incensed. ‘So if you hadn’t had a use for Sabinus, you would have left him to his fate?’

‘Dear boy, calm yourself,’ Gaius advised, slumping down onto a couch placed haphazardly just beyond the doors. ‘It doesn’t matter how it was managed or what Pallas’ motives were, the end result is what counts; Sabinus has got a reprieve.’

Sabinus sat down next to him and rested his head in his hands, breathing deeply as the relief flooded through him in a delayed reaction.

‘Yes, but only just. Nar-’

‘“Just” is good enough, Vespasian!’ Sabinus snapped, glaring up at his brother from beneath his eyebrows. ‘I can even take the humiliation of Corvinus being given my command because I know that I have a chance to survive and have my revenge.’

Vespasian collected himself. ‘Yes, I know; but Narcissus seemed to be ahead of us. We didn’t surprise him by bringing you; instead he surprised us by knowing that you were coming.’

‘Oh, but we did surprise him,’ Pallas said, taking two cups of wine from the returning steward and proffering one to Vespasian.

Vespasian took it and downed a good measure. ‘Did we? I saw a man in full control of the situation.’

‘Of course,’ Pallas replied smoothly, taking a sip of wine. ‘That’s because he likes to think that he always is. I purposely told my clerks to let his agent see Sabinus come in here so that he had time to get used to the surprise and regain, in his mind, the upper hand. I know Narcissus very well and I know that if Sabinus had just come through the door of his study unannounced, then, despite how well I’d covered up his part in the assassination, Narcissus would have executed him anyway because he would have felt outmanoeuvred. Narcissus only spared him because he thought that he’d outwitted me; he gave me Sabinus’ life as a sort of consolation prize.’

Vespasian took another gulp of wine as he turned this over in his mind. ‘Why didn’t you tell us that that was what you were doing, instead of just having us sit there not knowing what was going on?’

‘Because, my friend, I needed Narcissus to see the confusion on your faces, otherwise he would have guessed what was happening. If he hadn’t believed that he had genuinely outwitted us, Sabinus would now be dead.’

Vespasian sighed, exasperated by how Claudius’ freedmen played mind-games with one another from behind their neutral expressions. He looked around for a seat and realised how sparsely furnished the room was.

‘Forgive me,’ Pallas said, ‘I have just moved into this suite this morning; it’s still being refurbished to my taste. Please follow me, gentlemen.’

Pallas led them through three high and spacious chambers looking out over the Circus Maximus to the Aventine Hill beyond, shrouded now in a damp mist. Slaves were busy arranging furniture, polishing ornaments and erecting a couple of statues of Greek, rather than Roman, origin. Vespasian could see that Pallas planned to make himself very comfortable. At the far end of the third room Pallas opened a door and ushered them into a study whose walls were lined with boxed, wooden shelving containing hundreds of cylindrical book cases.

‘Please,’ he said, bidding them to be seated, before going to the far right-hand corner and retrieving a case. He slipped out a scroll and spread it on the desk; it was a map.

‘This is Gaul and Germania,’ Pallas said, placing an inkpot on one side and a wax tablet on the other to keep the scroll from rolling up. ‘The two military provinces on the west bank of the Rhenus, Germania Inferior to the north and Germania Superior in the south, provide the buffer from the lost province of Germania Magna on the east bank.’

Vespasian, Sabinus and Gaius peered at it; there was not a great deal of detail to take in.

‘As you can see, the Rhenus is clearly marked, as are the legions’ camps along its western bank.’ Pallas pointed to each one, from north to south, with a well-manicured finger and stopped at one halfway down the river. ‘And this is Argentoratum, where the Second Augusta is stationed.’ He then traced his finger a good way north and east. ‘And this is the site of Varus’ disaster, in the homelands of the Cherusci.’

Vespasian looked more closely; there was no marking beneath Pallas’ finger. ‘How do you know?’

‘I don’t exactly, but from the reports we have from twenty-five years ago when Germanicus and his general Caecina found the decayed bodies of our men strewn through twenty miles of forest, this is our best estimation.’

‘How are we meant to get all the way there?’ Sabinus asked. ‘Walk in with a whole legion and invite the bastards to have a repeat show?’

‘I don’t think that would be altogether sensible,’ Pallas observed with the merest hint of condescension in his voice.

Sabinus bristled but refrained from a riposte.

‘The Eagle is not going to be there any more,’ Vespasian said, suspecting that he was stating the obvious but feeling that it should be said anyway.

Pallas nodded. ‘In all probability not; but Narcissus is right, it’s the best place to start. It’s more than likely it’s in the homeland of one of the six tribes that took part in the battle under the leadership of Arminius, to give him his Latin name. The Eighteenth was found with the Marsi and the Nineteenth with the Bructeri. So that just leaves the Sicambri, the Chauci, the Chatti and Arminius’ own tribe, the Cherusci.’ As he named the tribes he pointed to their homelands marked with their names. ‘However, an Eagle is a potent and valuable trophy for these people and worth fortunes in trade, so there is no guarantee that it has stayed in one place.’

Vespasian looked at the seemingly endless lands over the Rhenus that extended to the end of the map and wondered how much further east they went and who or what was out there. ‘So we go to the battle site — but what then, Pallas? This is your plan; you must have had an idea when you formulated it.’

‘Arminius was murdered by a kinsman who resented the power that he had accumulated. After his death the confederation of tribes that he had brought together disintegrated. He did, however, leave a son, Thumelicus, he must be twenty-four now; if anyone can tell you where to look it would be him.’

‘And he’s in the Teutoburg Forest?’

‘We don’t know. Germanicus captured his mother, Thusnelda, whilst she was heavily pregnant with him. After they had been paraded in Germanicus’ triumph, two years later, they were exiled to Ravenna. The boy was trained as a gladiator and fought bravely enough to win the wooden sword and his freedom. After that he disappeared; in all likelihood he went back to Germania and to his tribe, the Cherusci.’ Pallas pointed vaguely to the huge area east of the Rhenus. ‘If he’s still alive then he’s probably somewhere out there and that’s why the Teutoburg Forest is the best place to start.’

‘So if we find this man, who may be dead, he might tell us where his father, whom he never met, might have hidden the Seventeenth’s Eagle.’

Pallas shrugged.

The brothers looked at each other and immediately burst into incredulous laughter.

‘There must be more that you can tell them, Pallas,’ Gaius said, studying the sparse map and sharing his nephews’ unease.

‘I have told them all we know; if we knew any more, then the Eagle would have been found by now.’

‘They might as well have sent you to find Venus’ hymen,’ Magnus muttered as they walked back down the Palatine in the deepening dusk.

‘At least we’d know then where not to look,’ Vespasian observed gloomily. ‘As it is, it could be anywhere across the Rhenus.’

‘Kept by any one of those tribes,’ Sabinus added.

His face was hidden by his hood but Vespasian could tell by the tone of his voice that he was scowling; and well he might. They had spent the rest of the daylight hours going through Pallas’ library reading anything that they could find on Germania and the tribes that inhabited it, as well as accounts of the battle of the Teutoburg Forest; none of it had made for very comforting reading: a land full of dark forests watched over by strange gods and inhabited by tribes who gloried in the masculine pursuits of battle and honour and yet held their women in highest regard. The one thing that united the tribes was their mutual antipathy and distrust for each other. It seemed that the Germanic code of honour would not countenance one tribe holding hegemony over another, so they were constantly fighting.

‘At least you’ll have the chance to visit your parents on the way,’ Gaius suggested, trying to lift the mood. ‘And you’ll see your wife and children, Sabinus.’

‘If we have time.’ Sabinus’ mood was not to be lifted.

‘What are you going to do with Flavia and young Titus, sir?’ Magnus asked.

‘Leave them here,’ Vespasian said. ‘I can’t imagine Flavia wanting to come to Argentoratum; she won’t even visit Cosa. You can keep an eye on them for me, Magnus, and Caenis.’

‘And how am I supposed to do that when I’m a thousand miles away?’

Vespasian frowned. ‘Where are you going, then?’

‘With you of course.’

Vespasian looked at his friend as if he had lost his senses. ‘Why in the name of every god that you hold sacred would you want to do that?’

‘Well, you’ve got to have someone with you who knows the way and what to look for, if you take my meaning?’

Vespasian was none the wiser. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t.’

‘Come on, sir, use your brain; I told you back in Thracia that before I was transferred to the Urban Cohorts I served with the Fifth Alaudae.’

‘Yes, and?’

‘We were stationed on the Rhenus. We were part of Caecina’s army when he and Germanicus went back into Germania after Arminius. I’ve been to the site of the Teutoburg massacre, I saw the remnants of our lads nailed to trees, strung up in the branches and scattered along the forest floor; we buried them, as many as we could find, that is. But more to the point, I was part of the force that found the Eighteenth’s Eagle. I’ve seen how they hide them, so I’ve got to come.’