Rome's executioner

CHAPTER XIII

‘I don’t care how useful you think he might be; I want him dead.’ Vespasia Polla was adamant. Outraged by the murder done in her home and still recovering from the mental exhaustion brought on by accepting that she was going to die, she wanted her revenge. ‘If none of you men have the balls to do it then I’ll do it myself. Titus, give me your dagger.’

‘My dear, if Sabinus and Vespasian say that Secundus should live for political reasons then I’m not about to gainsay them,’ Titus said as patiently as he could. Blood still oozed from his wound. ‘I would remind you that the last time you got involved in matters that neither you nor I understood, your impetuousness-’

‘Impetuousness!’ Vespasia snorted.

‘Yes, impetuousness, woman,’ Titus retorted sharply. ‘Your impetuousness caused us to be smuggled out of Rome like thieves in the night, and made me look like a foolish country bumpkin unable to control a wilful wife; a laughing stock in other words. Now enough of your opinions; go and organise whatever slaves we have left to clear up this mess.’

Vespasia looked for a moment as if she would explode. She glanced at Vespasian and Sabinus.

‘Mother,’ Vespasian said placidly, ‘trust us.’

Realising that she was not going to get the better of her menfolk in this argument, she acquiesced, but resolved to some day have her revenge for the time she had spent locked in Titus’ study, listening to the savage fighting outside and gazing at the knife that he had given her. One moment she had been peacefully asleep in her bedroom; the next, her husband was dragging her through the atrium. Flames were coming from under the front door and the door to the courtyard garden was being battered down. Titus had hauled her into his study — the only room off the atrium with a lock — and given her his knife with the order to kill herself should the door be broken down. She had been terrified, staring at her reflection in the blade distorted by the strange lettering engraved on it. When Titus and his sons had unlocked the door after the fighting had ended they had found her on her knees holding the knife to her breast ready to fall on it, in the expectation that the defenders were all dead and the attackers had found the key. It was only the quick reactions of her husband in catching her as she fell forward that saved her life.

The men breathed a sigh of relief as she walked, with as much dignity as she could muster, out of the body-strewn atrium.

Titus approached his two sons and put a hand round each of their necks. They were alone. Pallo and Clemens had taken Secundus to be locked up and Magnus and his brothers were helping the rest of the household extinguish the fires. The front door still smouldered but the fire was quenched; smoke drifted through the room.

‘Thank you, my sons, thank you,’ Titus said, pulling them to him and resting their foreheads on either side of his own.

Vespasian tried to place his left hand on his father’s shoulder but winced with pain.

‘We need to get that thing out, brother,’ Sabinus said surprisingly gently. ‘I’ll send for Chloe.’

‘And Father needs to get his ear sewn back on,’ Vespasian replied, trying to make light of Titus’ disfiguring wound.

‘That ear’s long gone, my boy.’ Titus gingerly felt the side of his face. ‘It was nearly the death of me; I slipped on it during the fight and almost lost my balance. Still, there’s one good thing to come out of it: I won’t be able to hear your mother’s sharp remarks nearly as well!’

The three of them burst out laughing — more in hysteria than amusement. The relief of still being alive, the relief at finding his parents still alive, the relief from the anxiety he had felt all the way up the Via Salaria flooded over Vespasian and he released the tension with a laugh so strong that his chest heaved uncontrollably, pushing at the arrowhead embedded in his shoulder; the pain and loss of blood suddenly overwhelmed him and he collapsed on to the floor in a faint.

Vespasian opened his eyes and recognised the ceiling of his old room. It was day.

‘And about time too!’

Vespasian turned his head to see Magnus sitting on a chair in the corner of the room, polishing his sword.

‘What time is it?’ Vespasian asked weakly.

‘Almost midday, I should think.’

Vespasian put his hand to his shoulder and felt a well-padded dressing tightly bandaged on.

‘You didn’t make a sound as that old Chloe was cutting it out, sir. Stayed unconscious all the way through you did, even when she cauterised the wound. Remarkable woman. I’ve never seen an arrow removed so quickly. I’ll bet she was quite a looker in her younger days.’

‘I’m sure that if you asked her nicely she’d be only too glad to revisit her youth for you. I know how partial you are to the older female form.’

‘I’m never going to hear the end of that, am I? Gods below, you fuck one goat and you’re branded a goat-fucker for life.’

‘At least you earned your reputation justly; I’ve never touched a mule but Sabinus still mocks me about them. Anyway, how are your lads?’

‘Lucio didn’t make it, but Chloe reckons that Cassandros may well pull through. The arrow went through the roof of his mouth and out through his cheek, just knocked a few teeth out; that’s the luck of the Greeks for you.’

‘I wouldn’t call that particularly lucky, given that he was shot by someone that he was trying to defend.’

Magnus grunted. ‘Well, if you look at it that way I suppose you’re right. And it’ll be some time before he can chew on a decent Roman sausage again; being Greek, he’s partial to sausage, if you take my meaning?’

Vespasian grinned. ‘I’m afraid I do. Help me up, Magnus.’

‘Is that wise, sir?’

‘Are you so enamoured now of Chloe that you think your medical opinion is worth something?’

‘No, it’s just that I know how weak I feel after every time I get spitted.’

Vespasian raised himself off the bed with an effort; his wound throbbed but stayed closed. ‘Well, I’ve got no choice in the matter; we’ve got to see to our dead and then leave.’

‘What’s the rush?’ Magnus asked, helping his friend to his feet.

‘Livilla will be expecting her men back today,’ Vespasian replied as he walked unsteadily over to a basin of water placed on the chest. ‘When they don’t show by nightfall she’ll want to know why; she’ll probably send some more up here tomorrow to find out, a lot more. They’ll more than likely arrive tomorrow night — I’d say it would be best if we weren’t here, wouldn’t you?’

‘If they find the place deserted they’ll burn it to the ground.’

Vespasian splashed handfuls of water over his face. ‘Then we’ll rebuild it.’

‘Where are we going?’

‘You and your lads are going to help Clemens take Secundus back to Rome,’ Vespasian replied, drying his face. ‘I want you to stay there until Antonia sends for you to bring me a message at Cosa.’

Magnus didn’t look too pleased. ‘If she knows that I’m in Rome she’ll be sending for me all the time.’

‘Well, that’s the perks of the job. I wouldn’t mind borrowing a couple of your boys to come to Cosa with Sabinus and me, just for a bit of extra security.’

‘Sure, have Sextus and Marius; they know the place. What about your parents, where are they going?’

‘They’re going north and Artebudz will go with them, it’s nearly on his way home and he seems anxious to get back to Noricum as soon as possible.’

‘Yes, I know, he’s was going on about it for the whole voyage home. He’s worried that his father, Brogduos, may already be dead.’

‘How long has he been away?’

‘Nearly twenty years.’

Titus came in without knocking. The side of his face was heavily padded; a linen bandage around his head held the dressing in place.

Magnus diplomatically slipped out of the room.

‘You’re awake, good,’ Titus said, smiling. ‘How are you feeling, my son?’

‘Fine, Father, how about you?’

Titus cocked his head. ‘What?’

‘Fine, Father, how about… Oh, very funny!’

‘Your mother didn’t think so when I played the joke on her earlier; and she’s in a worse mood now that Sabinus has told us that we need to get out of Italia and go and hide in some forsaken place — what’s it called again?’

‘Aventicum. It’s for the best; until things change in Rome, that is.’

‘I know, I understand but your mother doesn’t. She thinks that because we beat them last night that should be the end of it.’

‘Well, she’s wrong,’ Vespasian asserted, slipping on his tunic.

‘I know, but you try telling her that. Sabinus and I have both tried and given up. It was only when I ordered the valuables to be packed on to wagons that she realised she had a choice: stay alone and undefended in an empty house that’s liable to another attack, or come with me.’

‘What did she choose?’

‘I don’t know, she’s still thinking about it. I gave her my knife back though.’

Vespasian chuckled as he fastened his belt. ‘What are you going to do with the livestock?’

‘The mules and the sheep are all up on the summer pastures on the north of the estate. Pallo and some of the freedmen are going stay up there with the herdsmen for a while. They’ll be safe enough; no one’s looking for them. As to the slaves, we’ll take the household ones with us.’

‘What about the field slaves?’

‘They’re all dead; burnt last night.’

‘Shit, no? All forty of them?’ Vespasian looked up incredulously from tying on his sandals.

‘Sixty now. We’ve been expanding whilst you were away. Yes, I’m afraid so. Still, it’s solved the problem of what to do with them.’

‘That’s a very expensive way of solving a problem. They were worth a lot of money.’

‘You don’t need to tell me that, I paid for them. But that loss to the family will be more than made up by the dowry that Clemens’ sister will bring; I made the arrangements with him this morning. He’s going to bring her to Cosa for the marriage within a month; I assume that you’re going straight there.’

‘Yes, we’ll take a couple of Magnus’ lads to-’

Sabinus popped his head around the door. ‘Father, Vespasian, Ataphanes is dying, he’s asking for us.’

The freedmen’s lodgings were at the far end of the stable yard where, along with the estate office and the estate steward’s quarters, they ran along the whole wall; they had escaped the worse ravages of the fires.

Titus led his sons through the chaos of three wagons being loaded with the family’s possessions and on into the freedmen’s common mess room, where meals were served and the men drank and played dice in the evenings. At the far end was a long windowless corridor with the doors to the men’s individual rooms down the side facing on to the stable yard. Titus made to enter one and then paused; although as the master of the household he had the right to go anywhere he pleased without asking he thought to honour a man who had served him for six years as his slave and a further ten as his freedman: he knocked.

The door opened and Chloe peered out. Surprise that the master should have knocked showed on her wrinkled, sunburnt face, which always reminded Vespasian of a walnut shell.

‘Masters, come in,’ she wheezed, bowing her head. ‘Master Vespasian, it’s good to see you conscious. How is the shoulder?’

‘It’s stiff and it aches but it’ll be fine. Thank you for what you did for me last night, Chloe,’ Vespasian replied, taking her hand in genuine affection. She had sewn up many cuts and dosed him with all sorts of potions a child, and he had come to think of her as a part of the immediate family.

‘You were lucky that it hit nothing vital,’ she said, beaming at him. The few teeth that remained to her were yellow or black. ‘I was able to clean and cauterise the wound. Not, alas, like poor Ataphanes; the arrow pierced his liver and he bleeds inside. He doesn’t have long.’

Vespasian nodded and stepped into the small whitewashed room. To his surprise, Artebudz was standing by the only window; behind him, in the stable yard, the business of loading the wagons continued apace.

Ataphanes lay on a low bed. His once-proud, sculpted Persian features seemed flaccid and grey. His breathing was laborious. He opened his eyes — they had a yellow tinge to them — and he gave a weak smile.

‘I am grateful that you have come, masters,’ he whispered.

‘The master knocked,’ Chloe piped up from the door; she was well aware that she was talking out of place but wanted Ataphanes to be aware of the fact.

‘Thank you,’ he said to Titus, ‘you do me honour.’

‘No more than you deserve after the long years of service to my family,’ Titus replied, taking his hand. He squeezed it gently and then looked quizzically at Artebudz.

‘I’m Artebudz, sir. Your son won my freedom for me; I owe your family a debt of gratitude.’

‘This is the man that shot me, master,’ Ataphanes informed Titus weakly. ‘It was a great shot; far better, Ahura Mazda be praised, than mine at Vespasian.’ He spluttered a faint laugh; blood appeared on his lips. ‘But my squat Scythian friend, Baseos, missed altogether. I have had my last archery competition with him and I won.’

‘Though, luckily for me, not with a bull’s-eye,’ Vespasian said, feeling his shoulder.

Ataphanes nodded and closed his eyes. ‘I have two favours to ask of you, masters.’

‘Name them,’ Titus said.

‘First, that you do not cremate my body but rather expose it for the carrion fowl to devour on a tower of silence as is the custom of my people who follow the teachings of the prophet Zoroaster.’

‘That will be done.’

‘Thank you, master. My second request isn’t so easy. I have saved a good deal of money, in gold; it’s in a box under my bed, along with a few personal possessions that I want my family to have. I had planned to use it to return to my homeland one day, but now that’s not to be. I would ask you to return it to my family with a letter telling them of my life; I’ve had no time to write one. They can read Greek.’

‘Gladly, Ataphanes, but how will we know where to send it?’

‘My family are from Ctesiphon; we are spice merchants. Being the youngest of five sons there was no place for me in the business so I was sent to pay my family’s feudal dues and serve in the army of our Great King. And here I am and shall remain. My family did a great deal of trade with the Jews of Alexandria; I would have thought that they still do.’ Ataphanes paused to catch his breath; his chest heaved irregularly. ‘There was one Jewish family in particular — they had received Roman citizenship two generations before from Julius Caesar, the man’s name was Gaius Julius Alexander. He would know where to send the money.’

Ataphanes’ breathing became increasingly sporadic.

Titus looked down at him, concern in his eyes. ‘No one of our class is allowed into Egypt without permission from the Emperor himself. How can we trace that family without going there?’

Ataphanes opened his eyes with a huge effort and whispered: ‘Write to the alabarch, he’ll know. Farewell, masters.’

He was gone. Artebudz stepped forward and closed his staring eyes.

They stood a moment in silence.

‘Get the box, Sabinus,’ Titus said after a while. ‘I’ll have Pallo get some men to deal with the body; we’ve got our other dead to cremate, the pyres are ready.’

Titus walked out, leaving the brothers looking at each other.

‘What’s an alabarch?’ Sabinus asked.

‘Fuck knows. We’ll worry about that later. Come on, get the box and then we’ll talk with Secundus after the funerals.’

Sabinus bent down and felt around under the bed. He pulled out a plain wooden box, one foot cubed; there was no lock on it, just a catch. He opened the lid. The brothers gasped; it was a quarter full of not just gold coins but also nuggets and jewellery.

‘How did he get all this?’ Sabinus asked, picking up a handful and letting it drop.

‘He saved everything your father ever gave him for his work,’ Chloe said. There were tears in her eyes. ‘Once a year he would go to Reate and buy gold.’

‘But that’s more than ten years’ worth, surely?’ Vespasian exclaimed. ‘Father’s not that generous.’

‘Baseos always gave him most of his money. He said he had no need of it; he had everything that he needed here and if he ever did go back to his home what good would so much money do him in the grasslands of Scythia? He thought it better to give it to his friend, who’d have some use for it.’

Sabinus grunted. ‘I suppose that makes some sort of sense,’ he said, heaving the heavy box up. ‘In future I’ll go out of my way to befriend Scythians.’

He walked out. Vespasian followed him, struggling with the concept that someone could have no need or desire for something that had always been very close to his heart: money.

With Titus officiating, the rest of the dead had been cremated on two pyres outside the stable-yard gates: one for the estate’s dead and the crossroads brother, Lucio, and one for the others. A coin for the ferryman had been placed in all their mouths, including, much to Vespasia’s disgust, Livilla’s men’s.

Vespasian now stood next to his father by the hastily constructed wooden platform, supported by four eight-foot poles, upon which Ataphanes had been laid. The estate’s freedmen and Artebudz were gathered behind them. Baseos, who was weeping freely, held Ataphanes’ bow, which he was keeping in memory of his friend. When Vespasian had asked him if he wanted to have any of his money back the old Scythian had said that he could get more food with Ataphanes’ bow than he could buy with all his money; he seemed very content with the transaction so Vespasian had let the subject drop.

As no one knew the Zoroastrian funeral rites Sabinus had decided to use the Mithraic, the religions being in some ways related. He said prayers to the sun for the dead man’s soul, whilst holding aloft a green ear of wheat. He then sacrificed a young bull and did some strange hand gestures above the fire before throwing the heart into it. It seemed all very weird and foreign, yet at the same time the sacrifice was familiar.

‘What was that all about?’ Vespanian asked his brother as they walked back through the stable-yard gates. It was the eighth hour of the day; the business of loading was almost complete and the mules were being harnessed to the wagons; Pallo had told them that they would be ready to leave in under an hour.

‘If I told you I’d have to kill you and then kill myself,’ Sabinus replied without a trace of irony. ‘If you want to know you have to be initiated into the lowest grade: the Ravens.’

‘How can I know if I want to be initiated if I don’t know a thing about the religion?’

‘Faith, brother.’

‘Faith in what?’

‘Faith in the Lord Mithras and the Sun God.’

‘And what am I supposed to believe about them?’

‘That they will guide your spirit and cleanse your soul in the transition from one life to the next.’

‘How?’

‘The mysteries are revealed gradually as you are initiated into the different grades.’

‘What grade are you?’

‘I’m a Soldier, the third grade. It’s not until you reach the seventh that all is revealed, then you become known as “Father”. But seriously, if you’re interested I can arrange for you to be initiated.’

Vespasian found it odd that a religion could be so hierarchical that its secrets were kept by the few from the many, who were required just to have faith and follow blindly. He guessed that it must be something to do with power and control, which was why, he surmised, that it was becoming popular within the army.

‘Thanks, but no thanks, Sabinus. I prefer the old gods whom you just have to appease in order to ask practical favours of: like bring me victory or a good harvest or death to an enemy; tangible stuff, not worrying about your spirit or your soul, whatever that may be.’

‘The old gods too have their mysteries, which, I’m led to believe, are very similar to those of Mithras.’

‘Then why have you chosen to follow this new god?’

‘All religions are essentially the same if you delve deeply into them; it’s a matter of choosing the one that best expresses the truth to your inner self about life, death and rebirth.’

‘Well, I’m very happy just worrying about life; whatever happens after, if indeed anything does happen, can look after itself.’

‘As you wish, brother.’

Their theological musings were brought to a close upon finding Clemens, who was remonstrating with a young stable lad about the tightness, or lack of it, of his saddle’s girth.

‘I’d swear that the little idiot was trying to kill me,’ he said indignantly to the brothers, having given the boy a sharp cuff around the ears and sent him to redo his work.

‘Where’s Secundus, Clemens?’ Sabinus asked. ‘We want to ask him a few questions before you take him back to Antonia.’

‘He’s in one of the storerooms. I’ll show you, but you’ll be lucky to get anything out of him. I’ve already tried.’

‘Perhaps you didn’t use the right sort of persuasion,’ Vespasian replied as Clemens led them away.

‘It seems to us,’ Vespasian said reasonably, ‘that you have a very clear choice, Secundus: talk to us and you’ll receive the Lady Antonia’s protection; or say nothing and Antonia will inform Macro that you have betrayed not only her but him, and the unpleasant death that he promised, for both you and your wife, will be forthcoming.’

‘You leave Albucilla out of this,’ Secundus snarled. His pronounced mono-brow was creased over his narrow, pale-blue eyes. His high cheekbones and square jaw showed signs of bruising.

‘I’m afraid that she’s very much a part of it,’ Vespasian replied smoothly, ‘and has been ever since you prostituted her to Livilla and Sejanus.’

‘I didn’t prostitute her. What she does is of her own volition.’

‘So it’s of her own volition, is it,’ Sabinus drawled, ‘that she repeats to you all the interesting snippets of information she could only have learnt whilst being crushed between her two new clients? Who does what to whom, I wonder?’

Secundus leapt from his chair at Sabinus but was immediately restrained by Vespasian and Clemens. A sharp punch to the solar plexus from Sabinus’ right fist took the wind out of him and he dropped to the floor.

‘Now listen, Secundus,’ Vespasian continued reasonably, ‘you and your wife have played a dangerous game, which is now over. Antonia can very easily have a nice little maternal chat with her daughter Livilla, even though they loathe each other, and mention a few of the things that Albucilla has passed on to you, which you have, in turn, shared with Macro. Just imagine what Sejanus will do when he finds out that there is a spy in his bed? I don’t know about you, but I think I’d prefer to take the unpleasant death that Macro promised rather than the lifetime of agony that Sejanus would doubtless offer you and your dear wife.’

Secundus had regained his breath; he looked up at Vespasian with a mixture of resignation and loathing. ‘What do you want and what can you offer me?’ he asked.

‘That’s better; I knew that you’d see sense. I admire ambition in a man but only if it is tempered by some degree of loyalty — something you don’t seem to possess at all. I suggest that you acquire some; the Lady Antonia and Macro may well reward you for it by keeping you and Albucilla alive and safe. As to what we want, it’s very simple: tell us why you went to Sejanus and what you’ve told him.’

Secundus struggled to his feet. ‘May I sit back down?’

Clemens retrieved the chair for him. Secundus sat down, wiped the sweat from his forehead and rubbed his bruised chest.

‘So,’ Sabinus said, ‘start talking.’

Secundus looked miserably around him. He knew that he had no choice and took a deep breath. ‘I’ve always been loyal to Macro,’ he protested, ‘but when he started to conspire with Antonia against Sejanus I began to worry that I might have backed the wrong chariot. Sejanus is a formidable enemy and I feared that Macro could well be destroyed by him and that I would go down with him. However, Antonia is not to be underestimated either and if I was seen to be disloyal to Macro and therefore her, I would also suffer if she won the struggle.’

‘But you didn’t want to risk being on the losing side,’ Sabinus said with a thin smile.

Secundus shrugged. ‘Well, it’s always better not to be. I don’t know anyone who’ll tell you different because they tend to be dead. Anyway, I told my wife about my concerns and she came up with the idea that she should seduce Livilla and then hopefully Sejanus and in that way it wouldn’t matter to us who won the power struggle as we would have a foot in each camp.’

‘That’s one way of putting it,’ Vespasian mused.

Secundus ignored the jibe. ‘Once she had managed to inveigle her way into their bed she started passing on bits of information about Antonia that I gave her under the pretence that she’d got them from one of the Praetorians guarding Caligula with whom, she told them, she was also having an affair.’

‘Who?’ Clemens asked suspiciously.

Secundus looked at him with a sneer. ‘You.’

Clemens’ fist lashed out. ‘You little bastard!’

Secundus ducked and avoided the blow. ‘What else could she have said? They wouldn’t have believed that she was having an affair with a mere ranker; it had to be the captain of the guard. In that way I could pass on what I found out about Antonia’s plans from the messages that I carried between her and Macro without betraying him.’

‘So Sejanus doesn’t know that Macro is working with Antonia,’ Vespasian said, placing a calming hand on Clemens’ forearm.

‘Of course not. I’m not stupid — if Albucilla told Sejanus that, he’d have Macro murdered and Antonia would guess that it was me that betrayed them. I know what she’s like, I wouldn’t last a day, however far and fast I tried to run.’

‘So what have you passed on to Sejanus?’ Sabinus demanded, stepping threateningly close to Secundus.

‘Mainly small things, the things that Clemens would know: like the names of people I saw coming in and out whilst I was waiting to see her. The main thing that I passed on was about the arrival of the prisoner. You see, I knew that Antonia was trying to bring a witness to Tiberius to testify against Sejanus because I was there at the meeting with you, Pallas and Macro.’

‘Wait a moment,’ Vespasian butted in, turning to Sabinus. ‘You never told me that you had a meeting with Macro.’

‘You never asked,’ Sabinus replied dismissively.

‘How was I to know to ask you that question? I thought that we agreed to tell each other everything of relevance.’

‘Look, it doesn’t matter. I accompanied Pallas when he approached Macro on Antonia’s behalf. Secundus was there as Macro’s bodyguard, and that’s how I recognised him last night. Now carry on, Secundus.’

Secundus raised his mono-brow at the brothers. ‘When Antonia told me to tell Macro that what she was waiting for would arrive soon I guessed that it was this witness. Albucilla passed that on and Sejanus set a watch on the port and all the gates into the city. Albucilla told me that Sejanus was furious that his men couldn’t see the man’s face because he was hooded.’

‘So Sejanus has no idea who this witness is?’ Sabinus pressed.

‘No, or where he comes from. I couldn’t have Albucilla tell him that he was being fetched from Moesia because why would Clemens be a party to that sort of information? It would have made Sejanus suspicious and he might have got rid of her, in more ways than one. I needed her in that bed because I was getting information that pleased Macro; it was she that found out that Caligula was going to be summoned to Capreae.’

Vespasian admired the man’s duplicity, subtlety and nerve. He had indeed played a dangerous game, and had played it well, and would have guaranteed himself being on the winning side whoever won, had he not ended up being captured in the act of murder. ‘Why were you sent to kill our parents?’ he asked.

‘We weren’t; our orders were to take your mother to Livilla.’

‘What would Livilla want with her?’

‘Sejanus desperately wanted to know the identity of this witness and because he couldn’t get to Antonia he decided to ask one of her close confederates. Albucilla had mentioned your uncle’s name a few times to them and because Senator Pollo has been making a nuisance of himself in the Senate — as Albucilla said Sejanus put it — Sejanus calculated that he may know Antonia’s plans in some detail, so he sent some of Livilla’s men to his house to fetch him for an interview.’

‘Yes, we know. They didn’t find him,’ Sabinus said bitterly, ‘they just killed most of his household.’

Secundus shrugged. ‘We were to bring his sister along to help him with his memory. I was asked to come along because none of Livilla’s men knew what she looked like; Albucilla suggested I should accompany them because I’ve seen Senator Pollo a few times and would be able to recognise a family likeness.’

‘What about Sabinus and me?’ Vespasian asked.

‘You haven’t been mentioned by name, either in the bed or by Macro,’ Secundus replied, looking at the brothers shrewdly. ‘However, Albucilla said that two young men whom no one recognised were seen getting off the boat with the prisoner and then going into Antonia’s house. Perhaps it would be best if you stayed out of Rome for a while.’

‘We’ve every intention of doing so,’ Sabinus assured him.

‘So, what are you going to do with me?’ Secundus asked.

‘Livilla will send men here to find out what happened,’ Vespasian said. ‘They’ll find the place deserted and two funeral pyres; she’ll assume that you’re in one of them. Clemens will take you to Antonia where you can stay dead for a while whilst she decides what to do with you.’

‘What about my wife? Is she going to think that I’m dead?’

‘That’s down to Antonia to decide; I expect it will all depend on how loyal and useful you prove to be to her.’

‘Oh, I can be very useful.’

Vespasian smiled inwardly; he could well believe it. ‘Then you may find her grateful.’

‘She’ll be very grateful.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I can give her the biggest prize of all. I can give her Sejanus.’