Rome: The Emperor's spy

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Nero’s ship, the Hera, made harbour at dawn two days after Ptolemy Asul’s death.

On his arrival, the great lighthouse of Pharos burned multicoloured fires through the night in celebration. The following night, at the emperor’s command, the fire shone through a tinted lens, splashing a pale green light across the entire city of Alexandria to honour the spring.

Under that unworldly cast, Pantera contrived to deliver a message to his emperor, and received a response. Shortly before midnight, after several hours spent watching one of the two doors, and with Shimon watching the other, he entered the comfortable, intimately lit bar of the Black Chrysanthemum tavern.

The light came from reed candles set at careful intervals along the walls. Mottled shade spilled over the spaces between, so that it was possible to navigate round the small round tables or the three-legged stools that stood around them without intruding on the commerce that took place there. The clients may have come for their host’s miraculous drink, but they stayed for the chance to conduct their business in discreet company, away from the city’s rumour mill.

To protect their anonymity and their purses, the windows were shuttered and the two doors were protected by Germanic tribesmen hewn from the same rock as the emperor’s Ubian guard, but taller and broader, with arm rings fashioned from human knuckle bones and hanks of red-dyed, tallow-dipped horse hair fixed at their temples as visible proof of their killing power.

The guards had removed Pantera’s two most obvious knives at the door. In a brief exchange of glances, it was made clear that they knew about the third, and that any attempt to use it that did not have their agreement would be unfortunate.

Pantera avoided catching anyone’s eye while he ordered two mugs of foaming iced sherbet water and carried them to a corner where a cluster of stools embraced a low table. A charcoal fire glowed dully behind him and a wall kept his left flank safe. Three tables of busy merchants filled the space between him and the nearer door-guard. Even so, when he looked up, the guard was watching him.

He turned his back to the wall and let the shape of the room order itself in his mind: the men who might fight if pushed to it, those who would try to run and so block the exits; those who were engaged in matters that might lead to arrest or death if they were overheard; those who were simply there for peace and a particular drink that could not be had anywhere else in Egypt, and so the world.

Nero entered as the Watch called the hour. The guards showed him no deference, but searched him as they did everyone else — and found nothing. Pantera could not tell if they knew who he was.

The emperor was dressed as a merchant; not flashy, but wealthy enough for nobody to question the manicured nails, the oiled hair or the scent of rosewater that followed where he walked. Two groups of three men trailed in behind him, not obviously bodyguards, except perhaps to the Germans, who searched them with particular thoroughness. They bought small beer and took up stations near both doors while their master pushed his way through to the fire and warmed his hands against the night’s chill.

It was surprisingly well done. Nobody looked up, no man nudged a neighbour, or nodded and turned away. The six bodyguards were close enough to be useful, but not suffocating, and nobody had linked them to their master.

‘Welcome.’ Pantera raised his mug in greeting and kicked a stool into place. The emperor sat down, leaning his arms on the table. Like Shimon, he, too, had lost weight over winter. The skin around his eyes was pulled taut as a drumskin and the ink wells beneath were filled with lack of sleep. Even so, he looked briskly alive, out here, away from the court.

‘Rome is a place of much intrigue,’ Pantera said, by way of greeting. ‘Has it been hard leaving Akakios in Alexandria over winter?’

‘Harder than I had imagined.’ Nero gave a tired smile. ‘The senate hates me, and yet must appear to love me. Without Akakios at my side, the veneer of their care wears thin.’

‘Do you hate the senators?’

‘Most assuredly I do.’

‘Enough to burn Rome to be rid of them?’

The emperor’s face lost all its life. His wearied eyes regarded Pantera flatly. ‘That is treason. You will apologize.’

Pantera said, ‘My lord, I apologize. An emperor never desires the harm of his subjects.’

‘On the contrary.’ Nero leaned his shoulder against the wooden wall. ‘As we both know, an emperor frequently desires the harm of his subjects. We have arranged the deaths of several ourself. What we do not — and never shall — desire is that those who love us should die. And while the senate plots our downfall, the men and women of the suburra and the ghettos still love us as their father and protector. Answer me this: if a fire was lit in Rome tonight, where would suffer first and most?’

‘The ghettos and the suburra, as you just said.’ Pantera stared into his mug. A froth of sherbet still laced the top. He dipped his finger into it and drew a rough circle on the barrel top. ‘This is Rome. The hills are set around. The forum is in the centre. The devastation would depend on where the fire was started and how the wind hurried it, but the ghettos of the palatine, the Circus Maximus, the suburra, are all dry as tinder. The dwellings are made of wood and muddy straw and are too close together. They’d burn like pitch torches.’

‘While the granite and marble of the senate houses up the hill will survive with ease.’ Nero leaned forward, his mug held between both hands. Bands of white skin showed on his fingers and thumbs where rings had been removed for this foray into Alexandria’s underworld. He said, ‘Know this: if Rome burns, it will be without my blessing.’

‘But there are men who work for you who may think they know what is best for your future, even for the future of Rome.’

‘They are mistaken. I expect you to stop them.’

A name hung between them. ‘There may come a time,’ Pantera said cautiously, ‘when I need to use your authority to gain control of men notionally sworn to you. I have your turquoise ring, but it may not be enough.’

‘We had considered this.’ Nero pulled a belt pouch from his waist and slid it across the table. His every move telegraphed a merchant making an underhand deal. Men at neighbouring tables turned away out of instinct, that they might be able to say they had not witnessed anything.

As Pantera took the purse, it fell open, spilling on to his palm a reproduction of the royal seal. He hoped it was a reproduction. To hold the real thing was not given to ordinary men. Even to hold a facsimile without Nero’s express consent was a capital offence.

Nero raised a brow. ‘With that, you have absolute authority,’ he said. ‘There is not a man in Rome or the provinces who can stand against it.’

‘Save yourself.’

‘Of course. And so there will be an accounting if you use this. We will require to know the detail of what was plotted against us.’

‘I have nothing to give you yet, but on the night of the new moon I hope to learn the date on which Rome must burn. If I don’t die in the attempt, I will also know who else is trying to find that out. Besides Akakios.’

‘He may seek it to save us.’

‘Indeed.’ Pantera finished his drink, slapped the mug on the table and rose. He grasped Nero’s hand, one merchant taking his leave of another.

Nero’s fingers closed on his, holding tight, so that he could not easily slide free. A new passion haunted the bleak eyes.

‘You care for us,’ he said. It was not inflected as a question, but was one none the less.

‘I care for a boy called Math,’ Pantera said, truthfully, and then, surprising himself, ‘but yes, I care, too, for my emperor.’

Nero’s lip curled. ‘Out of pity, or duty?’

‘Neither, my lord. Out of understanding for one forced to act against his better instincts by petty men who would bring him down. Out of respect for his courage and his care for his people.’ Pantera could have lifted his hand free now, but did not. The fingers that held it trembled. ‘Seneca told me you could scent a lie in a man from a hundred paces. I will not lie to you. You must know that.’

‘I do. You would not be alive were it not so. But I know, too, that you do not tell me all of the truth.’ Nero lifted his own mug for the first time. His eyes closed as the first explosive taste hit his palate. ‘Leave us now. We would enjoy our evening in peace.’