Scourge of Rome

XXVII

To Valerius’s surprise the meal didn’t take place in camp. Escorted by a reinforced troop of a hundred legionary cavalry, they rode north until a pair of flickering torches signalled the gates of a villa or a farmstead. Trusted soldiers from Titus’s old command, the Fifteenth, guarded the gateway and Valerius had no doubt more of them waited in the darkness. Whoever they were dining with was precious to the young general.

‘A great deal of security.’ Titus read his thoughts with a smile. ‘But I have to remember that I am the Emperor’s son now, and soon to be his heir. Besides, did you not chide me for exposing myself to the enemy earlier today?’

‘Who lives here?’

‘It is owned by a local magistrate murdered by the Sicarii, but I have commandeered it to house a friend who is visiting.’ As they turned into the gateway he inspected Valerius, who wore a borrowed toga beneath his cloak, and nodded approvingly. ‘You will do. The scarred tribune – Paternus, isn’t it? – told me you wore a general’s armour the first time he saw you.’

‘A gift from Sohaemus of Emesa for a service I did him,’ Valerius admitted. ‘I intend to pass it on to someone more worthy of it.’

‘No, you must keep it.’ Titus grinned. ‘Who knows, you may yet have need of it. In fact, you should have worn it tonight. Our host would have been most impressed.’

They rode up the shallow slope of a ridge in the direction of a dull glow in the ink-blue sky. Moments later the light from numerous oil lamps illuminated a building of surprising scale. They dismounted and servants took their cloaks before a chamberlain escorted them to a large room set out with cushioned couches and an ornate low table. The moment he entered Valerius had the sensation of being stripped bare under the appraisal of a pair of hypnotic eyes the colour of polished chestnut. At first glance she was no classic beauty, but a moment later he decided she was one of the most striking women he had ever seen. A half-smile as she noted his reaction said she knew it too.

Long, silken lashes framed the brown eyes and she had a narrow, aristocratic nose set above full lips that shone like Caspian rubies. Her face was a perfect oval and he guessed the wide mouth could turn sulky if – and he doubted it happened often – she didn’t get her way. The dark lines of her brows arched in perfect curves across a smooth brow and her hair was styled in tight ringlets arranged in waves across her scalp. Like all her features, her ears were in precise harmony with the whole: small, delicate and hung with gold and precious gemstones that matched the necklace at her throat. She wore a dress of Roman design, but in an exotic shimmering blue that reminded him of a sunny morning off the coast of Creta, with gold braid at the neck, sleeves and hem.

She lounged comfortably on a couch arranged at the far side of the table and it took a moment before he realized she wasn’t the only occupant of the room. Two other women stood behind the couch. One was Tabitha, with an amused glint in her eyes that told him she was having trouble keeping her face straight. Her presence confirmed his suspicions about the identity of the woman at the table and the reason for Titus’s visit.

‘Queen Berenice of Cilicia.’ Titus made the introduction. ‘My comrade Gaius Valerius Verrens, a valiant soldier and a holder of the Corona Aurea.’

Valerius bowed and Berenice responded with the slightest inclination of her head. Here was a woman accustomed to men’s homage. When she spoke, her voice was husky, low and naturally seductive. ‘Your description did not do him justice, Tabitha.’

Under the gaze of the two women Valerius felt as if his tongue had been tied in a knot. Berenice’s wide eyes pinned him until Titus broke the spell.

‘Valerius, I do believe you are blushing.’

The jest inspired a change in the atmosphere. Berenice struggled not to laugh and Valerius caught the mood. ‘I merely reflect the glow of my lady’s beauty.’ He repeated his bow, catching a look in Tabitha’s eyes that made him feel as if he were caught between a charge of Iceni champions on the one side and Parthian Invincibles on the other.

‘Come, sit by my right side.’ Berenice pointed to the couch. ‘You must tell me about the first time you and Prince Titus met.’

Titus’s unexpected elevation surprised Valerius, but he managed not to show it. Vespasian’s son gave him a tight smile that warned this wasn’t a subject for discussion. The queen gestured a servant forward and he poured wine into three of the four silver cups on the table. Of course Berenice, a ruler in her own right, would grace her lover – and Valerius had no doubt they were lovers – with a title. When he considered it, Titus, the heir to an emperor, was certainly a prince at the very least, a prince of Rome.

‘If I remember it correctly I was roasting like a fish on a griddle on an Egyptian beach, with the last sip of water a distant memory …’

A bustle of activity from outside the room interrupted his account and a figure in military uniform appeared in the doorway. Titus looked up expectantly and frowned when he discovered the newcomer wasn’t the one he expected.

‘General Tiberius Alexander sends his apologies, lord Titus, but the logistics of tomorrow’s move make it impossible for him to attend.’ Claudius Paternus saluted. ‘He suggested you might be happy to have my company in his stead.’

The words were courteous enough, but there was a sardonic edge to the tone that made Titus’s face harden as he looked up into the ravaged face. ‘I am sure you have more pressing duties-’

‘No,’ Queen Berenice intervened with a smile. ‘I am sure Tiberius would not make the suggestion without good reason. Let me see your face.’ Valerius saw Paternus flinch at what could be taken as a calculated insult before he turned so that the scarred portion of his features was visible. Berenice motioned towards a position directly across the table. ‘So we have two veterans with interesting stories to tell. How fitting.’ She looked to Titus for affirmation and he gave an irritated nod for Paternus to take his place on the couch. ‘You were telling me about your first encounter with Prince Titus, Valerius.’

Valerius glanced at Paternus, whose single eye almost smoked with suppressed fury. ‘We were out of water and I doubt we would have lasted another hour,’ he continued. ‘If Prince Titus hadn’t appeared with his auxiliaries I would not be here.’

Titus took the praise as his due. ‘It was fortunate we arrived in time,’ he smiled. ‘But more fortunate we found your young tribune staggering across our path. If anything, he was the true hero. What was his name again?’

‘Crescens.’ Valerius was looking at Titus, but he sensed the man to his left stiffen and wondered why. ‘Tiberius Claudius Crescens.’ He’d ridden more than thirty miles across featureless desert in a near suicidal attempt to reach help.

‘Of course. A fine young soldier. What happened to him?’

‘He didn’t survive the campaign.’ Valerius’s tone signalled his reluctance to go into more detail. There was much more to Tiberius’s story than the mere fact of his death, not least that Valerius had been the cause of it. Again he felt the baleful presence of the man at his left side. He turned to find Paternus’s eye fixed on him, the uninjured portion of his features a stony mask. As he returned the stare his mind picked up the tiny details that had previously escaped him. By the time Paternus looked away Valerius had a feeling they’d come to some kind of understanding. So that was the way it was?

Servants brought platters of food. Simple enough fare: sliced vegetables, boiled eggs and smoked fish for the gustus, followed by a roast goose and a fat-tailed lamb especially slaughtered for the occasion. Honeyed grapes and delicious pomegranate seeds that popped in the mouth to release their sweet juices completed the meal. Valerius suspected Berenice would have preferred a more exotic menu, but that Titus had decreed modesty, as befitting a soldier on campaign. The wine, a fresh, pine-scented eastern variety, was plentiful. No one at the table overindulged. Again, that sense of reserve, or perhaps anticipation, as if this was but the prelude to something more important.

Throughout, Valerius was aware of a pair of eyes staring at him from the back of the room. Tabitha and her companion never moved except to provide their mistress with a personal bowl and towel to wipe her hands between courses.

At one point Titus thawed enough to make conversation with Paternus, and Valerius found himself the sole focus of the queen’s brown eyes. She asked him about his journey, and Tabitha’s thrill of alarm at the question conveyed itself across the room like a lightning bolt. He looked up to see a warning in her eyes and moved quickly from Antioch to Emesa, bypassing Apamea and their first meeting. Berenice listened politely until he reached the Judaean ambush by the lake and mentioned Josephus. She stiffened, and if she had been a cat Valerius had a feeling she would have hissed. The other conversation faltered.

‘Thanks to the Emperor’s patronage,’ Berenice struggled to keep her tone civil, ‘Joseph Ben Mahtityahu has set himself up as a great hero – a David to the rebel Goliath – conveniently forgetting that as a leader of the Zealots he fomented the rebellion. He encouraged his people to die then surrendered himself. But for Vespasian’s good graces’ – the way she said it meant foolishness, and everyone at the table knew it. Titus only smiled indulgently – ‘he would have ended up on a cross.’

‘But you will admit he has his uses, lady,’ Titus reminded her gently. ‘Like you, he serves the Emperor. You are allies.’

‘Berenice of Cilicia has always supported Rome.’ The queen refused to be mollified. ‘This is a rebellion of peasants and priests, and Ben Mahtityahu, if you need reminding, is a priest. If he serves you it is because it suits his own ends. Treachery and betrayal are his currencies. When he is not plying them against his enemies he is as like to use them to advance his position among his friends. Yes, he has his uses, but there will come a time when his usefulness is at an end. When that day comes your father would do well to complete the business he left unfinished when he captured the man. By all means use him, Titus, but please never trust him.’

Valerius listened with growing alarm to the vilification of the man he was pledged to protect. The worst of it was that he suspected Berenice was right. Nothing in his acquaintance with the Judaean signalled the contrary. In his experience, those who dealt in treachery and betrayal tended to attract it in equal measure. When the moment of judgement arrived, Valerius Verrens would be standing by Josephus’s side as he faced the inevitable slings and arrows of his enemies.

Titus turned his attention to Berenice and the servants cleared the plates away. Valerius tried to catch Tabitha’s eye, but she seemed to have forgotten his existence. He wondered if they could contrive a meeting alone, and was disappointed when the Emperor’s son signalled that the evening was reaching an end.

‘Paternus, I am sure you have much to do before morning. Inform General Alexander I will meet him at the north-west sector of the outer wall at the fourth hour.’ Paternus rose from his couch and saluted. Valerius moved to go with him. ‘I need you to stay, Valerius. There are things we must discuss.’ Valerius bowed, but he remained standing.

‘If you don’t mind, lord, I will see the tribune to his horse. I have a message for Serpentius.’

Titus frowned, but nodded his approval. With a bow to Berenice the two men walked out together. When they emerged into the cool of the palace courtyard the night air was still and Paternus took a deep breath and looked to the skies. In the vast darkness above the stars twinkled like a multitude of tiny jewels.

‘It is on nights like these a man truly understands that it was worth surviving, don’t you think?’ He turned to Valerius, the ravaged face close and his voice low. ‘You must have felt diminished by your injury. A man with one hand is only part man, after all. Just as a man with half a face is. There must have been times when the point of a sword would have provided a welcome release.’

‘You knew Tiberius Crescens.’ It wasn’t a question.

The right portion of Paternus’s features creased in a bitter smile. ‘So you have guessed? I am surprised it took you so long. People once said the family resemblance was remarkable. His half-brother. A little older, some would say a little wiser. Not quite so quick, but then Tiberius was truly remarkable, as I’m sure you would agree.’

‘He was good.’

‘But not quite good enough, because you killed him. At least, as I heard it, you were responsible for his death.’

‘I would have saved him if I could.’

‘Yet you didn’t, Valerius.’ Suddenly Paternus’s words came in short, fierce bursts. ‘You allowed him to die in the most brutal, vile manner imaginable. A young man, a boy almost, on a mission to dispense justice for the legitimate Emperor of Rome.’

‘Nero had already lost his mind when he sent Tiberius to kill Corbulo. The general didn’t deserve to die.’

‘Neither did Tiberius.’

They faced each other, eyes only inches apart. For a dozen heartbeats Valerius was frozen by the memory of Tiberius Crescens’ terrible end, beaten to death by his comrades after he’d failed to assassinate Corbulo. He knew Paternus’s fingers were on his dagger, but he kept his arms by his side and the moment passed. A groom brought the scarred tribune his horse and handed him the reins. When they were alone again Valerius’s left hand went to his belt and he drew his pugio before the other man could react. Paternus felt the point against his breast. His eyes widened as the one-handed Roman spun the knife so it ended with the hilt towards his accuser.

‘Tiberius was my friend,’ he said quietly. ‘And not a day passes when I do not mourn him. If you truly think his shade will be satisfied by my death, take this and use it.’

He could see Paternus considering the possibility, but with a glance at the palace doorway the scarred soldier shook his head and pulled himself into the saddle. Before he could ride off Valerius grabbed the reins. ‘Did Domitian send you to kill me?’

Paternus gave a snort of laughter. ‘If he had you’d already be dead. When you were spared in Rome I knew you would run to your friend Titus. I arranged to be transferred to his staff – I still have friends in the Palatium. It was a coincidence we met in Emesa.’

Valerius wasn’t sure if he believed him, but he didn’t see any advantage in arguing the point. ‘Why, then?’

‘At first I wanted you dead, but when I discovered there were so many conflicting versions of Gaius Valerius Verrens I was intrigued. It became important to know the true value of the man who killed my brother.’

‘Yet you refused my offer of the dagger.’

Paternus leaned down so his mouth was close to Valerius’s ear. ‘In some trials it takes time to come to a verdict. Be assured, Valerius, if you are found wanting I will kill you.’ With a wrench he tore the reins free and spurred his horse towards the roadway where his escort waited.

Valerius was still staring down the track when he heard footsteps on the gravel.

‘He hates you, I think.’

Her mere presence made him smile. ‘Worse, he’s not certain whether he does or not.’ He turned and she was standing close; close enough for him to smell the perfumed oil on her body and close enough to touch. But not yet.

‘I have to see Titus.’ He shrugged. ‘Then, who knows.’

‘Titus has retired with my mistress,’ her voice turned mock serious, ‘to discuss policy, or perhaps the merits or otherwise of Josephus, or …’ He placed a finger on her lips and she smiled. ‘Come,’ she said. ‘The war can wait another day.’

So he did. And he was content.