Saviour of Rome

VII

The five men sat deep in the shadows of a shabby, dilapidated room illuminated solely by moonlight that filtered through the open shutters. Their faces were mere pools of darkness marked by the icy glint of eyes that reflected either inquisitive anticipation of what was to come or fearful apprehension. Each had his own thoughts about the current situation, but only one man’s views mattered. This house was one of several that man owned in Asturica Augusta: a dusty, half derelict building on a back street where their comings and goings would go unnoticed. For more than three years, since Servius Sulpicius Galba had marched in triumph from Tarraco’s gates escorted by the Seventh legion, they’d profited from the chaos of the civil war. Now their world was changing.

‘Our lives will be forfeit if Vespasian discovers what has been happening here.’ The man they had come to hear, a grim presence in the corner, announced the painful truth of which they were all aware in a soothing voice designed to steady fraying nerves.

Each could have pointed out that he would not be here but for this man’s encouragement and the temptation of the gold he had quite literally poured before their eyes. One of them wanted to say it, but he knew that in the end it would make no difference. He had taken his share along with the rest. Nothing could change that.

It was another man who spoke. ‘Then we must stop. Now.’

‘Do you really believe that will solve anything?’ The leader laughed. The man had always been weak. ‘All it will do is harden their suspicions when the gold yields suddenly rise again after three years. On the contrary, we should continue what we’re doing. In fact, we must increase it.’

‘What?’ Four mouths gaped.

‘Why do you think I always insisted we should build up such a large reserve? Not because you were already rich beyond other men’s wildest imaginings. No,’ he shook his head, ‘I did so because gold is power.’

‘You said Asturica deserved to be the richest place in Hispania,’ another man dared to speak out. The leader recognized the voice of the sceptic, always questioning, but kept loyal by his greed. ‘This should be its greatest city, because this is where the greatest natural resources are. Strong men make strong decisions, you said. We would use the gold to create a new Rome in the west that would be the equal of the capital.’

‘That was before the old fool Galba got himself killed. Before a new man like Vespasian could take the throne against all the traditions of the Empire. A former muleteer and the son of a tax farmer, with not an ounce of true patrician blood in his veins.’

‘He won the war,’ the weakling pointed out. ‘He has been hailed Emperor by the Senate and people of Rome.’

‘And the Senate is already plotting against the muleteer and his brood.’ The leader’s gravelly voice was dismissive now. ‘They saw what happened to Vitellius and they panicked because they believed they would be served the same way after Vespasian’s brother Sabinus was butchered on the Gemonian Stairs. Now they see what an enormous mistake they have made. A man like Vespasian does not have the bloodline to rule the Empire. Why does he keep so many legions on the Rhenus?’

‘To keep the Batavians honest.’

‘No, because he still does not trust the German legions who originally supported Vitellius. And without Spanish gold he cannot buy that trust.’

‘What are you suggesting?’ The latest interruption came from the facilitator, without whose connections and access none of this would be possible. He did not understand his position of strength, but of them all he was the man of whom the leader was most wary and he was careful to treat him with respect.

‘The governor, Gaius Plinius Secundus, came within a heartbeat of uncovering our scheme.’

The room seemed to freeze as they sensed the enormity of what was to come. ‘You told us you had stopped the flow of information. Stopped it dead.’

‘That is true, but Plinius Secundus is not a man to give up so easily. He is like a hunting dog on the trail of a boar; once he scents blood there will be no stopping him. That is why I have acted on your behalf to ensure he is not in a position to continue.’

They all registered the ‘on your behalf’ which ensured their heads would roll alongside his if the knowledge ever left this room.

‘You sent assassins to kill the governor?’

‘Hopefully he is already dead.’

‘You’re mad.’ The weakling sounded genuinely shocked. Did he even realize his timidity put him next on the leader’s list?

‘Not mad,’ the leader corrected. ‘Pragmatic. Think on it, my friends. It was him or us. Did you want to feel the cold blade of the executioner’s sword kiss the nape of your neck before the blow? Or have your arms torn from their sockets as you hung on the cross for hour after hour in the terrible heat with the scourged wounds on your back salted? That was the end that awaited you if I had not had the courage to act. Now you must have the courage to follow me. The only way to stop Vespasian killing us all is to topple Vespasian.’

‘No!’

‘You’re talking treason.’

The leader stood, his presence seeming to fill the room, and now he did not hide his contempt. ‘Do you really think it makes any difference if the blood that spurts from your neck is the blood of a thief or a traitor? I can assure you that the thief’s head will certainly roll, but a man with the courage to stand up for Rome gives himself a chance of not just life, but prosperity. This is not treason. It is natural justice. Titus Flavius Vespasian has no right to the purple.’

‘Then who has? You?’ The weakling almost laughed and the leader decided he really would have to deal with this problem before long.

‘No.’ He raised his voice. ‘You may come in.’ A moment later a tall, slim figure appeared from a side room where he’d been listening. ‘A man with the blood of Caesars in his veins. Servius Sulpicius Galba named an heir before he died, but that heir was killed before he could don the purple. His descendants are the true Imperial family.’

‘Vespasian is a usurper and a commoner.’ A young voice and a strong one. ‘Rome needs strength and a steady hand that was born to rule. I believe what you have done in Asturica has been directed by the guiding hand of Jupiter. Not one of the men who took the throne during those three years deserved to rule. Why then would you send them the gold that would have allowed them to continue? You bided your time until a worthy candidate came forward. When I am Emperor, far from being punished the men in this room will be raised to the highest offices of the Empire.’

He could feel their continued scepticism and he faltered for a moment, but the leader came to his aid.

‘And how is this to be achieved?’

‘I already have the support of my comrades in Hispania.’ His tone had regained its authority. ‘The Seventh is Galba’s legacy and will follow his heirs. The German legions can be bought with the gold in your coffers. That same gold will keep the units on the Danuvius frontier where they should be, holding the barbarians at bay. One of our allies is already prepared to march. When he arrives with his men we will form a second Hispanic legion and march on Rome, with the Rhenus legions on our flank.’

‘Can we truly succeed?’ the sceptic demanded.

‘We must succeed.’ The weakling had found his courage. ‘Or we are all dead.’

‘There is one thing.’ A new voice, one that had been quiet for too long. The enforcer.

‘Yes?’

‘It is my understanding the man Petronius had an Asturian ally.’

‘That’s true,’ the leader said thoughtfully. ‘But there is no return from where he is.’

‘Why take a chance?’

‘Why indeed.’