False God of Rome (26 page)

Vespasian spun around and glared at him.

Narcissus grinned mirthlessly. ‘Your expression tells me that I was right to do so. However, as I am in your debt on two accounts now, I have neglected to cancel it with Thales in
Alexandria. If you ever manage to get permission to visit there, which I doubt, it’s yours. I wouldn’t want to make it too easy for you to misappropriate my master’s money, would
I?’

V
ESPASIAN WAS SILENT
as they tracked Kosmas down the Esquiline towards the Forum, keeping the secretary in view as he
gradually gained on his master’s litter. He contemplated the dignity with which Poppaeus had met his death and the motives that had caused him to become Antonia’s enemy. He could not
help but feel that Poppaeus had been right: the Julio-Claudian family was utterly unsuitable to rule. Denuded of its brightest talents through years of intrigue and poisonings, its male line was
now reduced to a rump consisting of: Tiberius, a sexually depraved, mad old man; Claudius, a stuttering, power-hungry mediocrity; Vespasian’s friend Caligula, an incestuous hedonist; and
Gemellus, a young lad of no consequence whose only interesting feature was the speculation surrounding him as to which of his relatives would eventually murder him. And then there was Antonia, that
brilliant political strategist; her ruthlessness in dealing with any threat to her family’s position he had at one time, through the idealism of youth, mistaken for a high-principled defence
of legitimate Roman government. But now, older and more jaded, he was beginning to see her for what she really was: a vicious gang-leader who would stop at nothing to maintain her power. He had
made a choice as a callow youth and now he was stuck in Antonia’s world as a very minor member of her gang. His grandmother had been so right all those years ago when she had warned him
‘that the side that seems to serve Rome may not always be the most honourable’. But surely that must soon change; surely, with the murder of so many of the family, the bloodline of the
Julio-Claudians must soon expire? Perhaps this, then, would be the new age that the Phoenix heralded: an age where Rome was ruled with honour through merit and not through tainted blood. But then,
he reflected, if he was destined to play a part in this new age of honour, how could he now, guilty as he was of despicable and dishonourable murder?

‘Where’s the litter?’ Magnus asked, breathing heavily as he and Ziri caught up with them on the Via Sacra.

‘About a hundred paces ahead,’ Pallas replied, pointing through the crowd to where the roof of the litter could just be seen bobbing over the sea of heads. ‘Kosmas is just in
front of us but he’s catching up with it; you and Ziri had better try and delay him until it gets to the Forum.’

‘But he’s seen me.’

‘Barely, and he hasn’t seen Ziri.’

‘Fair enough.’

A huge roar from behind them caused Vespasian to turn his head towards the Circus Maximus.

‘Missing the fucking racing,’ Magnus moaned. ‘Come on, Ziri, you’re going to do some jostling.’

Ziri looked uncomprehendingly at his master.

‘You’ll get the hang of it, it’s easy, you just have to use your elbows,’ Magnus told him as he ploughed forward into the crowd.

They neared the Forum and the crowd got denser as the people of Rome who had not been lucky enough to get seats in the circus flocked to watch acrobats, jugglers and other
entertainers performing in honour of Apollo.

Gradually they caught up with the litter until it was only ten paces ahead of them as it neared the Rostra. To his right Vespasian could see the tall figure of Kosmas battling to get past Magnus
and Ziri. Suddenly the crowd shifted backwards and Vespasian could see, just ahead of him, the axe-heads on the tops of the fasces of twelve lictors making directly for the litter.

‘Asiaticus is there,’ he said as the lictors surrounded the litter.

‘Good, we’ll watch from here,’ Pallas replied. Most of the crowd moved on past the official cordon, uninterested in the doings of the Senior Consul on a festival day.

‘Proconsul Poppaeus,’ Asiaticus shouted above the hubbub, ‘how fortunate to have met you.’ He stepped up to the litter and waited for a reply. ‘Poppaeus?’ he
repeated after a few moments. Again receiving no reply he untied the curtains and looked in. ‘Poppaeus?’

‘Let me through, that’s my master’s litter,’ Kosmas shouted, pushing through the lictors.

Asiaticus put his hand in and then withdrew it quickly. ‘Jupiter! The proconsul is dead!’ He pulled the flaps right back to expose Poppaeus’ reclining form as they had left it;
his head lolled down to one side, resting on the fake Capella’s chest. There was a shocked intake of breath from the few people who stood watching the scene; more now joined them. The
litter-bearers looked aghast at their dead master.

Kosmas rushed forward. ‘Master? Master?’

‘Your master appears to be dead,’ Asiaticus informed him.

‘Impossible, he was alive when I left him not half an hour ago.’

‘Well, he’s dead now; look.’

Kosmas lifted Poppaeus’ chin and then let go in shock. ‘But I swear that he was alive when we left Claudius’ house, I saw him get into the litter; he sent me back for his
stick.’ He waved the stick at Asiaticus as if to prove the veracity of his story. ‘He must have died on the way here.’

Vespasian and Corbulo glanced at Pallas, who allowed himself a brief smile of satisfaction.

‘Who are you?’ Asiaticus demanded.

‘My name is Kosmas, I’m Poppaeus’ secretary.’

‘What’s this?’ Asiaticus asked, pointing at the chest.

‘It contains some paperwork of my master’s.’

‘Let me see.’

Kosmas took the keys from around his neck and opened the chest.

Asiaticus took out a couple of the scrolls and gave them a cursory glance and sniffed them. ‘There’s nothing in there that could have killed him.’

Kosmas looked inside and nodded his agreement.

‘You had better run back to his house and get his household to come and bear his body home in honour. It would be unseemly for such a great man to be carted home in a litter.’

Kosmas looked at the Consul then back to Poppaeus and then back at the Consul, unsure of what to do.

‘Go on, man,’ Asiaticus shouted, ‘stop dithering, I’ll stay here with the body.’

‘Yes, Consul, thank you.’

‘You’d better take this chest with you.’

‘Yes, Consul.’ Kosmas quickly closed the lid and locked it.

‘Run!’

Vespasian grinned as the hapless secretary picked up the chest, balanced the stick on it and scampered off. ‘He’ll never believe his own eyes again.’

‘Sadly for him he won’t have much time to test them out,’ Pallas said, nodding to someone at the far side of the crowd.

Vespasian followed his look and saw the younger version of Pallas nod back at his elder brother, patting the knife on his belt. Felix detached himself from the crowd and followed Kosmas out of
the Forum.

‘I think the Consul played his part admirably,’ Pallas commented as they left the Forum, which was now buzzing with the news of Poppaeus’ death. ‘And
there were enough people who heard Kosmas swear that Poppaeus was alive when he left Claudius’ house. My mistress will be delighted.’

‘I feel sorry for Kosmas, though,’ Vespasian said, ‘it’s a shame that he had to die.’

Corbulo looked confused. ‘Kosmas is dead? When?’

‘About now, I should imagine,’ Pallas informed him. ‘My brother will ensure that the body disappears and then it will be assumed that a dishonest secretary took advantage of
the situation and made off with the deeds to his master’s property. Even if Macro suspected something was wrong, he wouldn’t be able to prove otherwise without admitting that he knew
about the Egyptian estates; which he could never afford to do.’

‘So Claudius is now richer by fourteen and a half million denarii,’ Vespasian said sourly.

‘I’d rather it was him than Macro.’

‘Would you, though, Pallas? Poppaeus made a good point about what would happen to the succession if Macro became emperor.’

‘Yes,’ Corbulo agreed, ‘it reminded me of what you were saying on Capreae. The more I think about it the more it really makes sense. Rome cannot carry on with madmen in charge
just because they are in some way descended from Julius Caesar.’

‘It’s idealism, I’m afraid,’ Pallas told them. ‘The aristocracy may hate the Julio-Claudian family with good reason, seeing as a lot of them have been killed as
they came to power and more will die as they cling on to it; but the army and the people won’t stop supporting them. They like stability and stability for them is one family ruling so that
they know who’s going to be doling out the largesse, the grain and putting on the shows in the arena. Not until there’s been a succession of bad emperors and their living conditions are
affected will they start to think about a better system.’

‘That’s a depressing view.’

‘Not if you happen to be in the service of the ruling family.’

And that was just the problem, Vespasian thought, as they began to ascend the Palatine to the bellowing of the crowd in the Circus Maximus: there were so many people with a degree of power like
Pallas, Asiaticus, Narcissus, the Praetorian Guard, his uncle, most of the Senate, whose fortunes where inextricably linked through patronage to the Julio-Claudians. The very thought of change
frightened them because ultimately everyone was out for themselves and their families. All talk of high ideals about the governance of Rome came to naught if you feared that you had nothing to gain
and everything to lose by a change of regime. It was human nature and there was nothing that he could do about it.

With that realisation Vespasian trudged up the hill to Antonia’s house, contemplating the inevitable: an unprincipled life in which he would do as well as he could for himself by serving
the people with real power. It was not what he had dreamed of when he first entered Rome. However, he reflected ruefully, he should be good at it; he had already stooped to murder.

Antonia had left a message asking them to wait until she had finished dealing with some business. Pallas showed Vespasian and Corbulo into the garden where, to
Vespasian’s surprise, Gaius and Sabinus were sitting at a table sipping wine; neither of them looked happy and both were sweating in the noonday sun. Four extra cups were placed on the
table.

‘I’ll leave you gentlemen here while I attend my mistress,’ Pallas said. ‘I do believe that she is dealing with the one outstanding issue. Call if you need more
wine.’ He walked off towards the black lacquered door to Antonia’s private room at the far end of the courtyard garden.

‘Herod Agrippa?’ Vespasian asked as he and Corbulo sat down.

‘Yes,’ Sabinus replied less than enthusiastically. ‘He arrived just before you did.’

‘Did Antonia agree to help you?’ Vespasian asked, pouring wine into two of the cups and passing one to Corbulo.

‘Yes, but she wasn’t pleased. It meant that she’d have to find some other way to deal with Herod; she can’t now threaten him with confiscation of his stockpile without
him countering her by exposing me. He knows that I’m here, she deliberately let him see me as he came in.’

‘What have you done?’ Corbulo asked, taking a sip of wine.

‘Nothing that concerns you, Corbulo,’ Sabinus replied as two portly and bald, middle-aged equites were led into the garden by a slave. The colour drained out of Sabinus’ face;
he stood up. ‘Primus and Tertius,’ he spluttered, walking towards the new arrivals proffering his arm. ‘What brings you here?’

‘An inconvenient but impossible-to-refuse summons from the Lady Antonia, Senator Sabinus,’ the slightly elder of the two replied, taking his forearm. ‘And, judging by the
documents she asked us to bring, you shouldn’t be so surprised to see us.’ He placed a leather bag on the table and gave a curt business-like nod to Gaius and Corbulo. ‘Good day
to you both, Senators Pollo and Corbulo.’

‘Primus; Tertius,’ they both replied, getting up as Sabinus greeted the younger man.

‘Gentlemen, this is my brother, Vespasian,’ Sabinus said as they all sat down again. ‘Primus and Tertius Cloelius of the banking firm in the Forum.’

The conversation was sporadic and stilted as they waited in the strengthening sun for the black lacquered door to open. All attempts at small-talk were rebuffed by the bankers
who spent the time perusing accounts on scrolls and checking them with the help of an abacus retrieved from Primus’ bag. They had refused the offer of wine. Vespasian caught them a couple of
times giving him surreptitious looks and wondered if Narcissus had mentioned his name to them when cancelling the bankers’ draft. The rapid clicking of wooden balls on the abacus began to
irritate him.

The door eventually opened. Antonia walked towards them with Herod, looking very pleased, by her side, followed by Pallas. ‘Gentlemen, thank you for waiting. If you don’t mind we
will conclude our business here,’ she said sitting and indicating that Herod should do likewise. ‘I’m in need of some fresh air. Primus and Tertius, it’s good of you to
come. I hope that Secundus is well.’

‘He’s away on business, domina,’ Primus replied.

‘Good, he is well then. Did you bring everything that I asked for?’

Primus rummaged in his bag, brought out three scrolls and placed them on the table.

Antonia picked up a scroll and looked at it briefly. ‘Herod, this is a bankers’ draft for half a million denarii.’

Herod looked at it with relish.

‘And this,’ Antonia continued, picking up the second scroll and waving it at Herod to look at, ‘is the Cloelius brothers’ copy of the bill of sale for the grain that you
bought off Sabinus as well as their copy of the certificate of ownership signed by you and Sabinus. The brothers are obviously anxious to hand them over to me knowing that it was highly illegal of
them to take a percentage in a deal involving grain speculation.’

‘A lack of judgement on our part,’ Primus affirmed.

‘Which I’m very happy to correct for you.’ Putting the scroll back down on the table, Antonia turned to Sabinus. ‘Your copies please, Sabinus.’