Rome's lost son

CHAPTER IIII

‘He wants me to help him force either Pallas or Agrippina into admitting to Claudius that she has cuckolded him not only with Pallas but also with her own son.’ Vespasian ran his fingers through Caenis’ raven hair, enjoying the musk scent rising from it. ‘He says that he believes she is responsible for a treasonous crisis that Pallas is ignorant of but would be implicated in anyway.’

Caenis ran a hand across his broad chest, moist with the sweat of exceedingly active sex, and nuzzled her cheek on his shoulder. ‘What treason?’

‘He was about to tell me when the attack started and then, when we eventually managed to get to Gaius’ house, he refused to elaborate and insisted on being escorted back to the palace by almost every one of Uncle’s slaves; he left promising that he’ll be in contact when he’s made the necessary arrangements for what he wants us to do, warning us that it will involve leaving Rome for a while. He wouldn’t give us any more details. However, he did say that it was connected with the Parthian embassy to the tribes north of the Danuvius and the timing of the toppling of the last Armenian King. And he says that Agrippina’s using my brother’s failure to intercept the embassy against me and has had my governorship of Africa revoked so that the only hope I have of preferment is to help him get rid of the bitch and in the process bring down Pallas.’ Vespasian stared up into the dark of Caenis’ bedroom slowly shaking his head in disbelief at the position he was being forced into.

Once again he had been sucked into the mire of high imperial politics, caught between two opposing forces who cared only for safeguarding their own positions. In the past he had learnt to make as much money as possible out of his enforced involvement in situations not to his liking. That had helped to wash away the inevitable bad taste that was left in his mouth as he acted in ways so contrary to his lofty, youthful ideals of service to his family and to Rome; those lost ideals had existed only in his imagination when he had first entered the city twenty-five years before as a naïve lad of sixteen. He had discovered over time that Rome was an entirely different place to his delusional juvenile picture of it; the only goals worth achieving were the twin gods of status and power, and access to these was only through the much worshipped deities of patronage and wealth. Nothing else mattered.

This time, however, he could see no way of benefitting financially from what he was being compelled to do and no way that he could extract himself without damage to the patronage that he enjoyed of Pallas and, to a lesser extent, Narcissus. He had betrayed Narcissus already by telling Caenis just what the imperial secretary required of him and Narcissus would be sure to find out at some point; if the imperial freedman ever rose to prominence again, Vespasian could expect no preferment from that quarter. Therefore it seemed to him that his best option was to work for Pallas; but even if he remained loyal to him, Agrippina would continue to block his career and Pallas’ patronage would be worthless. And then there was also the question that Magnus had planted in his mind as they escaped from the tavern: the question of Pallas’ loyalty to him. Only Pallas had known of the time and place of his meeting with Narcissus and he had made a special point of having Vespasian confirm the location; had he ordered that attack as a convenient way of getting rid of his rival as collateral damage in a supposed underworld feud? Was Vespasian’s life the price paid for such an opportune demise? This thought he dared not share even with Caenis because he felt sure that if it were true she would either know about it, in which case her love was false and she was no more than a spy in his bed and that thought he could not endure; or, more likely, she was unaware of her master’s duplicity and would be suitably outraged and feel obliged to take some form of vengeance on Pallas, thus exposing herself to his wrath should he suspect her of moving against him.

All in all, Vespasian could see no satisfactory way forward other than to retire from politics and live out the rest of his life farming his estates with the seasons marking the years and, as his brother had once said, the years being differentiated solely by the standard of the annual wine vintage. That was something he could not contemplate: how could his sons hope to thrive in Rome if their father had no influence to push them through the series of military and magisterial appointments that was the Cursus Honorum? How would they get the plum posts in the provinces and legions if he just disappeared? And then, more to the point, how would he ever manage to pursue and realise the destiny that he felt sure had been conceived for him as the sacrifice’s liver had indicated only a few hours ago that morning?

No, he decided, somehow he had to navigate himself through this and try to come out of it with, if not some credit, then at least without too much damage.

‘Pallas will always try to help you if it coincides with his interests,’ Caenis murmured, kissing him.

‘That’s just the point: while he is, for whatever reason, Agrippina’s lover then his and my interests will never coincide. I stand more to gain by Narcissus bringing down the Empress, but I’ve already jeopardised that by having this conversation with my lover who will report it back to Pallas.’

‘I don’t have to, my love.’

‘Of course you have to; and, of course, I had to tell you because I’d promised Pallas I would. He’ll be impatient for the full transcript first thing tomorrow and he’ll be expecting me to keep him informed of all contacts that I have with Narcissus concerning this matter. You know and I know that trying to lie to him is not an option; to construct a lie that fits the facts as he knows them will be fine now but it’ll be impossible to maintain as events take their inevitably unforeseen course.’

Caenis was quiet for a few moments and then looked up at him in the dark. ‘There may be a way for you to play both sides but it involves patience.’

‘I can be patient.’

‘We need to find out exactly what Agrippina’s done and get proof of it before Narcissus does.’

‘We?’

‘Of course “we”, my love; who else can you trust to help you? I’ll tell Pallas all that you’ve told me. He’ll want to know what Agrippina’s done and how he could be implicated and I’ll be able to say, quite truthfully, that Narcissus didn’t have time to tell you before the tavern was attacked. All he said was that he believed it was to do with the embassy. That will leave Pallas with a straight choice: demanding Agrippina tells him what she’s done behind his back, which he’ll be afraid of doing for fear of her refusing and their relationship being permanently damaged; or finding out himself and then making a judgement whether to betray her to the Emperor to save his skin.’

Vespasian stifled a yawn. ‘Which, if I can help him achieve that, would free me of her and keep Pallas in a position where he could still be of use to me.’

‘And you can help him achieve that: Pallas will see that the easiest way to find out what she has done is through you; he’ll realise that Narcissus didn’t come to you because he thought you would help him as Agrippina’s blocking you. Narcissus doesn’t care about things like that. He chose you because you, and only you, can help him. Narcissus can’t accuse Agrippina and Pallas of treason without the proof. I know how his mind works because I was his secretary for six years; he feels that you and your uncle are the key to finding that proof, otherwise why else did he want to meet with you in secret? Now, why would that be? Why did he specifically choose you?’

Vespasian squeezed Caenis’ shoulder. ‘Of course! You’re brilliant, my love; what’s the common factor between Agrippina’s supposed treason and me and Gaius? Sabinus. What she did has something to do with the embassy that Sabinus failed to capture. Narcissus suspects that, inadvertently, Sabinus knows something that can help.’

‘Exactly; and my guess is that Narcissus wants you and your uncle to talk to your brother and find out; he will ask you both to travel to Moesia.’

‘Both of us?’

‘Yes, I assume so; it seems odd, but otherwise why meet with you both?’

‘But what can Gaius do or say that I can’t?’

‘I’m sure that’ll become clear. Now, when I present this to Pallas I can do it in a way that he comes to the same conclusion as you just did. He will think that it’s his idea and his first reaction will be to have Claudius recall Sabinus to Rome and question him here.’

‘Then Narcissus would know for sure that I’ve betrayed him.’

‘And Pallas will lose any advantage he may have; far better for him to have Narcissus believe that he knows nothing. Far better for Pallas that Agrippina doesn’t suspect that her lover is investigating her. Far better for us that you go to Moesia at Narcissus’ request but with Pallas’ secret blessing. And to convince Narcissus that you are working solely for him I shall have Pallas dismiss me from my post for plotting against him.’

Vespasian sat up as the full implication of what Caenis was suggesting hit him. ‘And if I were to find out the proof of whatever it is that Agrippina has done, then when I return I can give it to whoever has the best chance of giving me the governorship of a province.’

‘Precisely, because both will believe that you are working solely for them until the moment that you hand over the information to the other one. And I will be able to take my position back with whomever we choose because I will be seen to have done no wrong in their eyes.’

‘That, my love, is cold, dispassionate politics worthy of Pallas or Narcissus themselves.’

Caenis cupped his face with her hands and kissed his lips. ‘Thank you; but you must remember that I’ve lived and breathed their world all of my adult life and I know how they function better than anyone. But my loyalty is not to them, only to you, my love, and when they threaten you I will always help you defend yourself. I will always see you safe.’

Vespasian returned the kiss with full measure, feeling shame welling up inside. ‘I’m sorry that I doubted you.’

‘Doubted me? Why?’

He told her of the timing of the attack on the tavern and how only Pallas knew when he and Narcissus would be there.

‘You think that if I knew of that then I might not have told you? Of course I would. But I can honestly say that Pallas had nothing to do with it; I would have known.’

‘Then who did organise it? Callistus perhaps, trying to edge his way back into power by eliminating Narcissus?’

‘No, he’s just happy to keep his position as secretary to the Law Courts; it’s very lucrative. He knows that Agrippina has her eye on him, firstly for being Messalina’s creature and secondly for not supporting her becoming empress. He wouldn’t do anything to attract her attention.’

‘Who, then?’

‘It was coincidence, my love; a brotherhood turf war that you got caught up in. Now put it from your mind and get some sleep.’

Vespasian kissed her again and lay back down. But sleep would not come; he found it very hard to believe in coincidences.

The summons from Claudius came as a surprise to Vespasian as he left the Senate House that afternoon preceded by his lictors. The immaculately presented Praetorian centurion, waiting at the foot of the steps, snapped a rigid salute, his right arm thumping his highly polished scale-armoured chest and causing his transverse white horsehair helmet crest to judder. With military brevity he begged leave to report that the Emperor wished Vespasian to accompany him back to the Palatine as soon as the trial, over which he was presiding at the far end of the Forum Romanum, concluded. Vespasian found himself with little option but to process slowly towards the open-air court, receiving petitions from the importunate and cursing Claudius for his inconsideration in keeping him from a reviving bath that he hoped would wash away the fatigue he felt at having had very little sleep.

‘I can’t imagine what good they think it’ll do giving a petition to a consul who has only two days left in office,’ a clipped voice observed as Vespasian dismissed a supplicant with platitudes about looking into his appeal concerning his right to contest his father’s will.

‘Corbulo!’ Vespasian exclaimed, his expression turning from irritation to mild pleasure as he spied his old acquaintance watching him from beside the Rostrum. ‘I didn’t know that you were back in Rome.’

‘I’ve just got back today,’ Corbulo said, walking forward, looking down the long nose of his horse-like face at Vespasian and proffering his right arm for him to grasp. ‘I’m here to pay my respects to the Emperor and thank him for giving me Asia.’

Vespasian took Corbulo’s arm, astounded. ‘But you’re the Governor of Germania Inferior.’

‘I was, Vespasian, was.’ Corbulo drew himself up and adjusted his face into a picture of aristocratic smugness as they continued progressing towards Claudius’ court. ‘But I did such a fine job of dealing with the Cherusci and Chauci trying to take advantage of our weakened state on the Germanic frontier. I killed thousands of the bearded barbarians and taught them that just because we’ve taken three legions away from the Rhenus and one from the Danuvius to subdue some fog-drenched island that no one is interested in, that’s no reason to stop paying tribute to Rome. The Emperor’s very pleased with me — or at least his freedmen are.’ Corbulo wrinkled his nose in patrician distaste. ‘I’ve been summoned back to Rome to be presented with Triumphal Regalia.’

‘That doesn’t mean anything these days; Claudius gave every one of the hundred or so senators who accompanied him to Britannia the right to wear Triumphal Regalia. Even my uncle, who’s never done anything more martial in his life than inspect the monthly payday parade, has that privilege; it’s completely reduced the status of the award.’

‘Yes, well, my status is not in question. I’ve been given Asia and the promise of another military command soon; there’s a growing worry about the stability of our client kingdom of Armenia and with my experience I’m obviously the best man for the job.’

‘I’m sure you are, Corbulo,’ Vespasian agreed without much enthusiasm.

‘You don’t seem very pleased for me. Have you been given Bithynia or somewhere equally as unprestigious? Not that it would be surprising, your family being what they are; I was very surprised when I heard that Sabinus had been given Moesia, Macedonia and Thracia.’

Vespasian was used to Corbulo’s snobbishness, having known him for twenty-five years since they served together as military tribunes in the IIII Scythica during the Thracian revolt; but that did not make it any easier to swallow. ‘Yes, it was a surprise seeing as we are New Men and at the time our family could only boast one consulship; but it’s even more surprising that, now we can boast two, I don’t get given a province and yet you, whose family is far older than ours and yet has only achieved the consulship once, if I recall, get given a second province.’ Vespasian hid his amusement as Corbulo harrumphed at the dig. ‘But I am pleased for you, Corbulo; although I confess that I’m surprised that you’ve heard about trouble in Armenia. It hasn’t been discussed in the Senate.’

Corbulo took Vespasian’s elbow and pulled him closer, away from the lictors. ‘That’s because officially there isn’t any trouble there and Mithridates, our client king, is still on the throne.’

‘That’s what I’m aware of officially. And unofficially I know that he’s been deposed but I don’t know the details.’

Corbulo’s smug expression reached new heights as he revelled in being in the possession of superior knowledge. ‘Unofficially, three months ago at the beginning of October, Mithridates was defeated by a young upstart with the uncouth name of Radamistus, the son of King Pharasmanes of neighbouring Iberia. Obviously we detect Parthian money behind Radamistus as nothing happens in Armenia without either their or our collusion.’

‘And we wouldn’t depose our own puppet.’

‘Quite, not even … well, I won’t say who is that stupid. Anyway, I’m told that if diplomacy fails then an invasion may be required and my military experience makes me the obvious choice for leading it.’

‘And what would happen if diplomacy failed and, the gods forbid, you didn’t restore Mithridates by military force and Armenia became a Parthian client kingdom?’

Corbulo frowned, unable to comprehend something so outrageously implausible. ‘I won’t fail.’

‘Yes, yes, of course you won’t, Corbulo. But let’s just say, for example, that the Emperor sent someone else, not of your calibre, who did fail, and Armenia came back under Parthian sway for the first time since Tiberius; what then?’

‘Then the Emperor would have to send me out to redress the matter.’ A loud bleating noise erupting from deep in Corbulo’s gorge alerted Vespasian, who recognised the symptoms, to the fact that Corbulo had attempted levity. It soon passed. ‘But seriously; if that were to happen then we would have a very serious situation. Parthia would soon have access to the Euxine and a Parthian fleet in that sea threatening the Bosphorus with the possibility of breaking out into Our Sea is not something that we would wish to contemplate.’

More than that, Vespasian thought as they arrived at the court, they would also have access to the Danuvius and therefore to the heart of Europa. He stopped close to the imperial litter awaiting Claudius and admired Narcissus’ ability to construct a viable narrative out of so few facts and wondered briefly what connection Agrippina could have with Iberia, Armenia and a Parthian embassy to the trans-Danuvius.

‘And as for you, you’re a stupid old fool!’

Vespasian looked up in the direction whence the yelling came to see a lawyer hurl his stylus and wax tablets.

Claudius yelped and ducked as the missiles narrowly missed him.

‘A curse on your idiotic, cruel judgements!’ the lawyer continued with rising venom. ‘How can you admit the evidence of a woman, a common prostitute at that, against a member of the equestrian class?’ He pointed indignantly at the defendant standing in the well of the court; seated beyond him were the fifty jurists, all fellow equestrians, looking in outrage at their Emperor and the overly painted woman, dressed in the masculine toga that symbolised her profession, standing before him.

Vespasian sighed and shook his head, looking at Corbulo. ‘It’s been getting worse in the past couple of years. From all accounts he drinks himself senseless every evening and it seems to be making him more and more erratic.’

Claudius adjusted his toga in an attempt to restore some dignity but still managed to look shambolic. ‘C-c-curse me if you like, b-b-but keep your hands off!’

‘The trouble is,’ Vespasian continued as he watched Claudius unroll and read a legal document, ‘that because he has such respect for the ways of our ancestors and the law he believes that he should run the courts as if there was still a Republic. He allows all the mud-slinging and insults and generally gets made to look a complete fool and does nothing to punish people who abuse him.’ Claudius rubbed his bloodshot eyes and then squinted at the small script. ‘During the hearings, that is,’ Vespasian added. ‘Outside the courts anyone who mocks him is liable to find themselves on a capital charge and given one more opportunity to mock him in court before being executed.’

With shaking hands, Claudius rolled up the scroll. ‘I w-w-will allow her evid-d-d-dence and I will also pronounce my judgement based upon it.’

The defence layer slammed a fist down on his desk. ‘Her testimony is even less reliable than that of the lowliest citizen, you fool.’ The scores of spectators, mostly ordinary citizens, surrounding the court took umbrage at this slur — as they saw it — on their honesty and began shouting abuse at the lawyer. Claudius again ignored the insult, handed the document to a clerk and then rummaged through a pile of scrolls and wax tablets in front of him.

‘But then he forgets his Republican sentiments,’ Vespasian continued, ‘and decides that his opinion is the only one that counts and makes unilateral decisions bypassing the jury.’

‘I find the d-d-defendant.’ Claudius paused as he scanned another scroll. ‘D-D-Didius Gaetullus, guilty of paying for services in this honest lady’s establishment with forged coinage and I advise the jury to do likewise.’

There was a huge cheer from the spectators who had taken the lawyer’s remark to heart and were now only too pleased to see a man of higher status convicted, whether it be on spurious evidence or not.

‘So whose patronage do you have to thank for this new appointment?’ Vespasian asked while the jury voted.

‘Ah!’ Corbulo looked around to make sure that no one was within earshot and lowered his voice. ‘That is the strange thing and I was hoping that, as the sitting consul, you could help me understand it.’

‘I doubt it, Corbulo, seeing as yesterday was the first time that I’d heard anything about this Armenia problem.’

‘Well, try. All the correspondence has come to me using the imperial relay system. However, even though the despatches bear the imperial seal none has been signed by Claudius or by one of his freedmen in his name, as would be normal. I questioned all the couriers and they insisted that they had received the despatches from the palace but had always been given them by a low-ranking functionary.’

‘That’s not unusual.’

‘I agree; but I’ve never received orders bearing the Emperor’s seal without his signature or one of his freedmen’s on them.’

‘So why did you believe them to be genuine?’

‘I wasn’t sure until my replacement turned up with a mandate from the Emperor.’

‘Guilty!’ the lead juror replied to Claudius’ question.

‘You see,’ Vespasian muttered, ‘they’ll condemn one of their own rather than go against the Emperor’s will; even if the evidence is suspect.’

Corbulo looked at the whore in disgust; the smile on her face was one of pure vindictive pleasure as she glared at the defendant who held his head in his hands. ‘It’s a disgrace taking her word above that of a wealthy man.’

Claudius finished writing the verdict on the relevant scroll and then addressed the court. ‘I shall now pronounce sentence. I-’

‘He’s a forger!’ someone in the crowd shouted. ‘He should have his hands cut off.’

Claudius’ head jerked a couple of times as he tried to locate the source of the suggestion.

‘It’s the way of our ancestors!’ a different voice reminded the Emperor, not untruthfully.

The defendant took his hands from his face, stared at them and then at Claudius in horror as he seemed to consider the unsolicited counsel. The horror on his face then blended with terror as Claudius began to nod, his mind evidently settled on the justice of the punishment. ‘D-D-Didius Gaetullus, I condemn you to a life without hands to prevent you from putting them to ill-use again. S-seize him and s-s-summon the executioner.’

Uproar ensued as the hapless man was secured; the spectators, scenting pain and blood, cheering the Emperor for his wisdom while the jurors made known their rage at the barbarity of the punishment on the man whom they did not have the courage to acquit.

Vespasian turned away, unwilling to watch any more. ‘So you think all this has been done without the Emperor’s knowledge?’

‘I’m not sure what to think, which is why I’ve come straight to the Forum to present myself to him before anyone else has a chance to tell him that I’m here. It’ll be interesting to see his reaction.’

‘More to the point, it’ll be interesting to see the reaction of those surrounding him. I would say that whoever feigns the biggest surprise at the sight of you is your secret patron. And if it’s who I suspect it is then I should watch my step.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Let’s just say that you don’t want to be involved with her.’

Corbulo contemplated this as a heavily muscled man carrying a wooden block and a cleaver passed them, heading into the court, followed by two more men with a brazier full of red-hot coals. ‘But surely Agrippina would never dare to meddle so obviously with imperial policy. She may be the Empress but she’s still only a woman.’

‘Perhaps, but yesterday she was seated next to the Emperor on a dais of equal height and then instigated imperial policy by recommending Caratacus’ life be spared.’

‘That’s outrageous; sparing a rebel! If I’d done that in Germania, we wouldn’t receive any tribute and would be in constant fear of invasion across the Rhenus.’

‘For all Claudius’ concern about “the ways of our ancestors” he’s unable to control his wife as they did.’

There was a lull in the commotion coming from the court broken only by the pleading screams of one man.

‘I’ll not be beholden to a woman for my position,’ Corbulo asserted.

‘It’s that or quiet retirement on your estate until she’s gone; that’s the choice we all face.’

The screams abruptly stopped, silenced by the dull thump of honed iron striking solid wood; then followed a howl of agony accompanied by a low gasp of appreciation from the crowd. A few moments later the crowd gasped again but the sound did not mask the desolate wail of a man freshly deprived of both his hands.

Vespasian tried to block the pitiful noise from his mind, standing in silence with a thoughtful Corbulo as the court slowly broke up and the spectators dispersed in search of new amusement, chattering happily together about the outcome.

‘Ah! Th-th-there you are, Consul,’ Claudius called cheerily, lurching behind his lictors as they cleared a path for him towards his litter. ‘We have much to discuss.’

‘Princeps,’ Vespasian replied, acknowledging the Emperor with a slight bow of the head.

‘Princeps,’ Corbulo echoed.

‘C–C-C–Corbulo? Did I summon you too?’

‘You did, Princeps.’

‘All the way from G-G-Germania Inferior?’

‘Indeed, Princeps. You’ve replaced me there and have given me the province of Asia to govern.’

‘H-h-have I now? Well, well, that is fortuitous. Join us; you might as well hear what I have to say to Vespasian as it may well affect you if you are going to Asia. After all, Asia is almost next door to Armenia.’

‘So you see,’ Claudius said, adjusting his position amongst the copious cushions in his litter, ‘it’s of vital importance to our eastern policy and to our dealings with Parthia that Armenia remains in our sphere of influence. Should we lose it, the client kingdom of Pontus would be open to Parthian meddling or even annexation and our provinces of Asia and Syria would both be under threat.’

He had surprised both Vespasian and Corbulo by the fluency of his speech; he had hardly stuttered at all as he explained the present crisis in the region while they progressed along the Via Sacra. His grip of the detail, however, was not a revelation to them; they were both well aware that this chaotic man had a sharp mind for facts, both legal and historical, having written many books that had been praised for their learning. It was a scholarly inner-self betrayed by the drooling, twitching, limping exterior that was compounded by his feeble wit, his blurted, inappropriate comments, his malleability in the hands of his wife and freedmen and, of course, his increasing drunkenness. Although Claudius could see through a problem, the solution, however, was normally placed in his mind by one of the schemers who parasitically sucked on his power. And this case was no exception.

‘So Pallas has suggested that the best way to counter this is to send an embassy to Armenia and I agree with him, as does the Empress. She also believes that you, Vespasian, are the most suitable man for the job: as my junior colleague in the consulship this year you will still carry much authority when you step down. That should impress these petty easterners. I had been going to give you Africa to govern, but Agrippina persuaded me a couple of days ago that your family perhaps don’t make the best administrators and that your talents would be wasted there and that I should wait to see if something more suitable came along for you. I’m so pleased she did; she must have had divine guidance as Pallas only made his suggestion this morning.’

‘Most fortuitous, Princeps,’ Vespasian lied through gritted teeth. ‘What should I aim to achieve on this embassy?’

‘Pallas is waiting to brief you at the palace.’

Vespasian was admitted without question to the freedman’s apartments on the first floor of the section of the palace built by Augustus. Pallas was waiting for him in his formal reception room: a spacious chamber decorated with statues and frescoes of Greek mythology and furnished in a plain style with much use of polished wood and a marked absence of lavish upholstery. The sun, westering over the Circus Maximus and Aventine beyond, bathed the room with thin, winter-evening light.

‘Things have moved much faster than I anticipated,’ Pallas said, surprising Vespasian by getting to his feet as the steward showed him into the room. ‘Caenis’ report this morning caused me some concern; however, the timing is most convenient. Narcissus can ask you to stop in Macedonia and speak to your brother on the way out to Armenia. No doubt he will do as soon as you leave these rooms; I imagine that he has a messenger stationed outside to fetch you to him. I was careful to let him find out that you’re here being briefed for your mission to the East.’

They grasped forearms as equals although one was a consul of Rome and the other a mere freedman. Vespasian put the thought to one side knowing that there was nothing ‘mere’ about Pallas. ‘You have no idea what Agrippina has done?’

Pallas waved his steward away. ‘If, indeed, she’s done anything. It may be just Narcissus’ wishful thinking or a calculated lie contrived to seed mistrust between the Empress and me.’

Vespasian took the seat indicated by Pallas next to an already filled cup. ‘If that’s so then I’d say it’s working.’

‘Yes, well, Caenis’ analysis was correct: I can’t confront Agrippina with it so you have to find out for me; an admission or denial from her would put a strain on our relationship without doubt. However, if there is truth in the accusation and Narcissus is right and it does have something to do with the Parthian embassy, then I can make a shrewd guess as to what she has done.’

‘She’s the money behind Radamistus.’

Pallas’ face twitched, betraying surprise. ‘How did you get to that?’

Vespasian took a sip of his wine and closed his eyes as he savoured it; it was exquisite. ‘It’s the timing. The Parthian embassy arrived towards the beginning of September, stayed for a few days and then headed home, evading Sabinus on the way. According to Narcissus, the embassy went through the port of Phasis at the end of September. Also in September, Radamistus took his army from Iberia into Armenia and, in a very short campaign, deposed Mithridates by the beginning of October. Narcissus is certain that the embassy travelled to and from Parthia via Iberia. Now, one of Agrippina’s agents murdered the man who informed Sabinus about the embassy; Agrippina not only ordered his death but also the timing of it so she evidently wanted Sabinus to know about the embassy. But how was Agrippina aware of the embassy in the first place in order to make that decision? I find it very hard to believe in coincidences.’

‘Yes, as do I. If Narcissus is right and she is somehow connected to that embassy then that is the logical conclusion. And if that is the case, I can perfectly understand why she hasn’t taken me into her confidence. But what concerns me more is why my agents knew nothing of this. I’ve been well aware of the events in Armenia for a couple of months now, but this embassy being the possible instigator of Mithridates’ deposal is news to me. Agrippina evidently knew and Narcissus found out by intercepting Agrippina’s messages; but being closer to her than he is I can normally get access to all the correspondence that arrives at the palace; but not in this case. When it comes to messages about the Parthian embassy only his people intercepted them, not mine. It’s as if I’ve been purposely kept in the dark or, more worryingly, as if Narcissus has been purposely enlightened.’

‘But now you do know, what do you think the objective of the embassy was?’

‘Instability along the Danuvius to keep our eye off Armenia.’

‘Has there been any?’

‘No more than usual.’

Vespasian thought for a few moments, savouring his wine; somewhere in the gardens below a dove started cooing. ‘What does Agrippina have to gain by deposing our client in Armenia and replacing him with someone loyal to Parthia?’

‘I don’t believe that he is completely loyal to Parthia; these slimy eastern Kings don’t have any loyalty other than to themselves and their family — those family members that they allow to live, of course. Radamistus is Tryphaena’s nephew, she was the-’

‘Queen of Thracia, I know, I met her when I was with the Fourth Scythica there.’

‘Of course; so then you’re aware that she has always been a friend of Rome’s.’

‘So why would the Parthians help Radamistus to seize the throne if his family is pro-Roman?’

‘Assuming, again, that Narcissus is right and they did, with Agrippina somehow involved, that is what you have to find out while you help Mithridates back to his rightful place where we originally put him.’

‘Me? Depose the usurper? I’ll need an army for that.’

‘That’s what we’re trying to avoid; if we send an army in we’ll be at war with Parthia. It may come to that but where would we take the legions from?’

‘Perhaps you shouldn’t have invaded an irrelevant island like Britannia and then tied up four legions trying to keep hold of it.’

‘What’s done is done and it achieved the political aim at the time of giving Claudius a victory and securing his position.’ Pallas paused and regarded Vespasian for a moment. ‘But I will admit that the repercussions of that venture have gravely reduced our aggressive power. We can’t strip any more legions from the Rhenus; we can’t risk moving them from the Danuvius as, although nothing has happened as yet, we must assume that the embassy was to encourage the northern tribes to push south into Moesia. The two Egyptian legions and the single African one protect the grain supply from those provinces and so cannot be moved and the Hispanic ones are busy most of the time cowing the locals. And if we send the Syrian legions in, Parthia could sweep through the province to Our Sea, no doubt aided by those treacherous Jews, if they can manage to unite themselves; although my brother Felix, whom I persuaded the Emperor to make procurator of Judaea, tells me that they are still as argumentative as ever.’

‘So we can’t afford to go to war.’

‘Not at the moment; we need a few years to prepare.’

‘So you want me to achieve by intrigue what we’re unable to do with force in order to remedy a situation that threatens the stability of the Empire that may have been instigated by the Empress herself for reasons that seem to escape everybody?’

Pallas’ face remained unmoved. ‘Yes.’

Vespasian laughed, loud and hollow. ‘It’ll cost you.’

‘You could come back from this very well.’

‘I’m not asking to be paid to come back, I’m asking to be paid to go.’

‘What do you want?’

‘Protection from Agrippina, a guarantee of a province when I return, my brother to be exonerated of all responsibility for losing this Parthian embassy and, just so I can get some financial gain from this situation, reinstatement into the equestrian class for a client of mine.’

‘I could guarantee all but the first; the Empress’s grudges are not easily forgotten.’

Vespasian thought for a moment. ‘But my wife’s are; in which case I also want the finest Gallic wet nurse available in the city. Make sure that Flavia knows just how much she costs.’

If Pallas felt surprise at that request he did not show it. ‘Very well. You’ll leave as soon as you step down from the consulship in a couple of days.’

‘But it’s still winter; the shipping lanes won’t be open yet.’

‘I’ll give you enough gold to tempt a crew out of their hibernation. You can cross to Epirus and then take the Via Egnatia to Macedonia; there you can question your brother and find out what it is that Narcissus suspects he knows that proves Agrippina’s treachery. As Caenis suggested, I’ve dismissed her from my service, ostensibly for disloyalty; Narcissus will assume that she refused to tell me what you talked about last night and think that he’s safe in trusting you.’

‘Caenis believes that Narcissus thinks my uncle is somehow important in that respect.’

‘I can’t see why but nevertheless you’ll take him with you: he can come back to Rome and give me the information once you’ve seen Sabinus.’

Vespasian knew that he would not be sending Gaius back with any information until he knew which freedman to give it to.

‘You, meantime, will carry on east in one of Sabinus’ ships and then travel overland from the coast and be in Armenia by the spring.’

‘Does Agrippina suspect that I have a dual mission?’

‘No, she suspects nothing. She’s just pleased that you’re going. Whether she is behind Radamistus or not, she isn’t concerned because she thinks that you will fail.’

‘Then she does suspect one thing.’

‘What?’

‘She suspects that I’ll never come back.’

Pallas regarded Vespasian with a shrewd eye. ‘That’s in the hands of the gods.’