Rome
‘In some ways the greatest tragedy in the destruction of the Temple of Jupiter was not the death of my poor brother Sabinus, may the god succour him, but the loss of the Senate records,’ the Emperor lamented. ‘Much of our current law is based on the statutes they contained. Now they are nothing but meaningless puddles of melted bronze. Anyone with an opinion – and our colleagues in the Senate are not short of those – can impede the new legislation I’m bringing forward. How is the search for the copies progressing?’
‘We’ve recovered a few hundred out of an estimated three thousand,’ Titus, lounging on the right of his father beside the gold banqueting table, admitted. ‘We know of several hundred more, but they have a symbolic and emotional value for the families who own them and they won’t give them up lightly.’
‘I don’t suppose we could confiscate them as documents of the state?’ Vespasian saw the look of alarm on the face of another of the people lying on their sides around the heavily laden table. He was notorious for the simplicity of his regular fare, but he liked to indulge those he valued, and he valued this guest highly. ‘No, my dear,’ he smiled. ‘You’re quite right. I’m unpopular enough already.’
Domitia Longina, wife of Vespasian’s son Domitian and daughter of the celebrated General Gnaeus Domitius Corbulo, returned his smile. He thought her a melancholy creature compared to Antonia Caenis, but she was both intelligent and highly attractive and the Emperor liked to surround himself with attractive women.
‘Perhaps some show of Imperial favour could be made to the families involved, Caesar? An assurance that the tablets, which no doubt contain the names of revered ancestors, will be displayed with suitable prominence and honour?’
‘An excellent notion.’ The Emperor turned to his younger son who was in charge of the final stages of the temple’s restoration. ‘What do you think, Domitian, could a room be set aside for their display?’
‘I think they’d part with their heirlooms quickly enough if we offered them gold.’ Domitian’s voice was slurred by the wine he’d consumed. ‘But then we don’t have any.’
Vespasian’s smile tightened. He glanced up to see if there was any reaction from the slaves stationed just out of earshot in the huge room. If any of them displayed signs of having enhanced hearing they’d be on an auction block before the day was out.
‘As you know,’ he told his son, ‘we have taken steps to alter that situation and we have high hopes of their success.’ Domitian snorted derisively, but his father ignored him, more interested in the fleeting shadow that fell over Domitia Longina’s face. He was aware that Domitia had played a part in saving the life of Gaius Valerius Verrens, but did not know the detail. There were undercurrents here he didn’t understand. ‘Is something wrong, my dear? You’re not eating. Please try another honeyed quail.’
Domitia accepted his offer of one of the tiny birds and Vespasian turned back to Titus. ‘What is our latest news from Plinius Secundus?’
‘A message arrived today by way of Portus.’ Titus let his eyes drift to Domitian. ‘One of our cryptographers decoded it just before I came here. Pliny tells us that our agent arrived safely, but that during their discussions there was a determined attempt to take his life.’ Vespasian’s face darkened and Domitian’s jaw dropped as the implications hit him.
‘No, I-’
‘The attempt was on Pliny’s life,’ Titus continued smoothly, gracing his brother with a cold smile. ‘Fortunately our agent was on hand to ensure it was not successful. He is, as we know, a man well-versed in the art of survival. They captured one of the assassins and put him to the question, which led them to one of Pliny’s clerks, now unfortunately dead. However, further investigation has produced evidence that places the origin of the attack in the north.’
‘Asturica? What does that mean for our agent?’ Vespasian said, almost to himself.
‘Pliny doesn’t believe our agent has been compromised,’ Titus assured him. ‘But he can’t be certain. It was always a risk, but he’s overcome these difficulties in the past. Who else could have tricked their way into Vitellius’s palace at the height of the late war?’
‘Who else but a traitor.’ The sneer came from the other side of the table. ‘And I’ll lay odds he’ll betray you again,’ Domitian continued. ‘Better that he’d died under the executioner’s sword.’
Domitia Longina rose abruptly from her couch with an apologetic smile, but the effect was spoiled by the white line of her compressed lips. ‘I am sorry, Caesar, but you were right: I am indisposed. I ask your leave to return to my rooms.’
‘Of course, my dear,’ Vespasian said solicitously.
Domitian watched his wife walk from the room, every step a picture of suppressed fury.
‘My wife is always indisposed when that man is mentioned,’ Domitian sniffed. ‘His continued survival is a stain on my honour, Father.’
‘You may yet have reason to be grateful to that man,’ Titus spat.
‘Enough,’ Vespasian intervened. ‘Domitian, you may feel you wish to follow Domitia Longina and offer her comfort.’ It was phrased as a suggestion, but the words had a touch of steel and Domitian hesitated only fractionally before obeying them.
When he was gone his father sighed. ‘Poor Domitian. I do believe he has no worse enemy than himself.’
‘Poor Domitia Longina.’ Titus shook his head. ‘I don’t know why she ever married him.’
‘Oh, I think any daughter of Gnaeus Domitius Corbulo is well equipped to cope with your brother. I was more concerned with his reaction to your announcement about the attack.’
‘I agree.’
‘Then perhaps you should do something about it.’
‘I already have.’