Masters of Rome (42 page)

‘That's a lot of money.'

‘Which they will be willing to pay if it buys them their life.'

‘Granted. And if you set up the meeting and I don't pass on my share to you?'

‘I will get the money off them in advance and give you your share before the meeting.'

‘And if I take the money but don't bother with the meeting?'

‘Then you won't have access to Messalina's private pillow talk.'

‘None of her lovers is going to be foolish enough to admit sleeping with her to me, even though I have a list of some of them already. There'll be a lot of executions when she falls.'

‘I imagine that once Claudius finally believes in his wife's infidelity then he'll want any man who slept with her punished.'

‘Impossible, we'd lose most of the Senate, the command structure of the Praetorian Guard and a goodly amount of the normal citizenry who frequent the brothel that she whores in when she fancies it rougher than usual. But certainly her more regular lovers will die; he won't pardon them.'

‘But if I were Claudius I think that I might be able to pardon a woman – if she was even to come to my attention in the first place.'

Narcissus leant forward, genuinely interested. ‘A woman, you say? I know she has sessions with men and women together but I'm not aware of a female lover.'

‘A lover of two years' standing; a regular lover to whom Messalina talks intimately.'

‘Information from that source would be priceless. Are you sure that you can deliver it and that it would be trustworthy?'

‘Yes, Narcissus, because that lover is also my wife.'

For the first time in their relationship Vespasian was aware that he had actually surprised Narcissus. He watched the freedman's eyes widen a fraction and his steepled hands fall to the desk.

‘Now that was something that I confess I was not aware of.'

‘Well, it's true; Flavia has just admitted it to me.'

‘And you are willing that this, er, arrangement carries on?'

‘As a favour to you, yes.'

‘And what favour would you ask in return?'

‘My second request is just as simple.' Vespasian took a scroll from the fold of his toga. ‘Do you know the slave-trader, Theron?'

Narcissus thought for a few moments, trawling through the vast amounts of information stored in his head. ‘He has a licence to purchase captives in Britannia, doesn't he?'

‘That's right.' Vespasian unrolled the scroll and placed it on the desk between them. ‘This is a contract that I had with him that gave him exclusive rights to the pick of prisoners in return for a percentage of their end sale price. He's refusing to honour it.'

Narcissus picked up the document and perused it. ‘Because he thinks that you won't take him to court as it shows you being, shall we say, a bit too Republican in these days of the Emperor?'

‘That's what he's gambling on but I didn't get him to sign a contract so that I could take him to court; I did it for precisely a time like this. Everything was done legally; the Emperor got his purchase tax in Britannia and I would assume that Theron was not stupid enough to avoid paying the sales tax here in Italia.'

‘Very commendable. So what do you want me to do?'

‘Revoke his licence for Britannia, ban him from conducting business in Italia and make it clear to him that unless he honours his debt to me and pays a premium of another hundred per cent of the amount, he will never have the chance of favour from you again.'

Narcissus raised his eyebrows. ‘You set a high price on your wife's virtue.'

‘I just intend to benefit from a situation that is not to my liking.'

‘Very well; I'll have Caenis summon this Theron for a little chat as soon as I get back from Ostia.'

‘I have men following him to find out where he's staying; I'll give the address to her.'

‘Very good. To show my good faith in this matter, that business will be concluded by the time I meet with Messalina's mystery relation. How will we manage that?'

‘We'll be on the steps of the Temple of Jupiter at Plautius' Ovation. Look out for us; the meeting will be as if by accident as he doesn't want to risk the—'

‘“He”?'

‘What?'

‘You've been careful with the sex of your kinsperson, I was assuming that it was because it was a woman; perhaps one of her
cousins, like Vipstania, the sister of the Vipstanus Messalla brothers.'

‘Knowing the way that imperial politics works, I was just keeping as much information to myself as possible.'

Narcissus inclined his head and spread his hands. ‘You've learnt well.'

‘I've learnt from the masters.'

‘I'll take that as a compliment.' Narcissus got to his feet, indicating that the interview was at an end. ‘I will look out for you at the Ovation. My guess is that you will be accompanied by Lucius Vipstanus Messalla; I've heard that he's disaffected because I blocked his consulship next year and Messalina couldn't persuade Claudius to overrule me. Perhaps he wants me to unblock it in return for his cousin's life.'

Vespasian kept his face neutral as he rose. ‘Perhaps, Narcissus.'

‘I would like to think it was Corvinus, but that would be too good to be true: you and him working together; I don't think that you've come that far yet. But nothing should surprise one in imperial politics.'

Vespasian shrugged non-committally. ‘Before I go there is the matter of my third request, which I believe is the hardest of the three.'

‘Go on.'

‘When all this is over I want you to persuade Claudius to allow me to remove my family from the palace. If he wishes that Titus is still educated with Britannicus then he can come on a daily basis, but I have to get Flavia out before she spends all my money or compromises me again.'

Narcissus picked up Theron's contract. ‘You are asking a lot of me.'

‘I'm giving a lot to you.'

‘If I get everything that you've promised then I'll see to it.'

‘Thank you, imperial secretary,' Vespasian said, turning to go. For the first time in his political career he did not feel out of his depth. He walked to the door with an accelerating heart and allowed himself a satisfied smile only after he closed it behind him.

CHAPTER XVII

T
HE PEOPLE OF
Rome had begun to congregate along the route of the Ovation well before dawn; now, at the commencement of the third hour, the centre of the city swelled with the populace bent on watching the spectacle and benefiting from the largesse that would accompany it. Every street was crammed and every vantage point had been taken along the circular route from the Porta Triumphalis – the gate at the foot of the Quirinal Hill only opened for a Triumph or an Ovation – along the Via Triumphalis, then around the base of the Palatine, in the shadow of the Temple of Apollo, along to the Circus Maximus, back up to the Via Sacra and then into the Forum Romanum.

Vespasian walked with Gaius and Sabinus, amongst the senators as they processed, in the growing heat, from the Curia to assemble in the shadow of the Servian Walls. Here they would greet Aulus Plautius as he returned to Rome to give up his command officially and celebrate a lesser Triumph through the graciousness of his Emperor.

‘Where's Claudius?' Vespasian asked Gaius, looking towards the head of the procession, led by the two outgoing Consuls each preceded by their twelve lictors.

‘I've no idea, dear boy, but I presume that he's going to make the day his own. There's no precedent in these modern times for the conduct of an Ovation for a man not of the imperial family; Claudius can do just what he wants.'

Sabinus wiped the sweat from his cheeks with a handkerchief. ‘Don't you mean he can do just what his freedmen want?'

‘It comes to the same thing, dear boy.'

The Senate arrived at the Triumphal Gate and lined the street on either side; the crowd quietened and a sense of expectation
hung in the air filled with the aromas of roasting meats and baking bread from the kitchens set up to feed the spectators throughout the day and on into the night. A booming series of knocks on the gates prompted the Consuls to step forward and unbolt them as the first fanfare of massed bucinae, cornua and tubae rang out from the head of the parade, waiting on the Campus Martius beyond the walls. Slowly the gates swung open to the thunderous cheering of the populace and the lead horn players processed through with unhurried dignity.

Rank upon rank of musicians slow-marched into the city, their horns blaring out a repetitive, ponderous tune, and their feet moving in time to the measured beat of resounding drums that was taken up by the chanting and clapping of the crowd.

Following them came wagons laden with booty drawn by lumbering oxen that had no trouble keeping up with the pace. Files of shackled, matted-haired prisoners punctuated the inanimate plunder, their overseers cracking their whips in unison over their filthy backs in bizarre accompaniment to the music. Cart upon cart, file upon file of the spoils of war were driven into Rome and her citizens cheered every one.

‘The odd thing is,' Gaius commented, ‘I seem to remember most of these bigger pieces of booty from Claudius' Triumph.'

‘It's very kind of the Emperor to share his spoils with the man who won them for him,' Vespasian observed as the first of the floats carrying tableaus depicting scenes from the invasion came trundling in; each had a figure representing Plautius in a heroic pose amongst cowering Britons but each also had a depiction of Claudius, much idealised, placed higher and more prominently and vanquishing more foes. Interestingly, for Vespasian, none of the tableaus specifically depicted Caratacus. He had heard no news of the rebel Britannic King since leaving the infant province; it was as if he had just disappeared. Nevertheless, Vespasian suspected that his resistance was still as bloody and resolute as ever but Rome's masters had decided not to trouble Rome's citizens with the details – especially on this day. The sight of druids, however, even though they were represented as almost comedic caricatures, gore-splattered, wreathed in
mistletoe and brandishing bloody, golden sickles, brought a chill to his heart as if it had again been squeezed by the hand of the Lost Dead. As they passed, Vespasian muttered a prayer of thanks that he would never have to face such horrors again.

Following the floats were the four white bulls destined as gifts for Rome's guardian god in thanks for yet another victory. Beribboned and unblemished they plodded along, led by tethers, slowly tossing their heads and lowing as they went. Then came the weapons and the standards of the defeated chieftains followed by the men themselves and their bedraggled families. Some Vespasian recognised as men he had conquered in his push west; amongst them he spied Judoc, looking very much the worse for wear after his spell in his own tin mines. Unable to resist gloating he jeered at the treacherous chieftain of the Cornovii sub-tribe but as he did the cry was strangled in his throat. He pulled at his brother's sleeve. ‘Look, Sabinus,' he said pointing to a man just behind Judoc.

Sabinus' eyes followed his finger and he whistled softly. ‘Well, well, Jupiter's tight sack; am I pleased to see him. I wonder if Plautius knows that he's got Alienus amongst his dignitaries. I pray that he does and he's brought him all the way back here to give him to me; it would be such a shame if he's just strangled along with the rest.'

‘What are you boys talking about?' Gaius shouted as the figure of Aulus Plautius appeared in the gateway and the noise escalated beyond what seemed possible.

‘That, Uncle, is the man responsible for Sabinus being kept in a cage for three months.'

‘Then I should like to take him by the arm!' Gaius roared.

Sabinus grinned. ‘You'll have plenty of opportunity; I intend to display him in a cage of his very own.'

At an unheard order the procession came to a halt and Aulus Plautius – on foot rather than riding in a chariot and wearing a purple-bordered toga praetexta as it was only an Ovation, and crowned with a wreath of myrtle rather than laurel, for the same reason – stepped into the City of Rome to be greeted by the two Consuls and to lay down his command and once again become a private citizen.

As the ancient formulae were spoken by the three men, unheard above the hubbub, there was a stirring in the crowd and fingers were pointed up to the Arx, above the gate, on the Capitoline Hill. There, before the Temple of Juno, resplendent in purple and crowned in laurel stood Claudius. He raised his arms and gestured for silence.

‘B-b-brave Plautius,' the Emperor declaimed, once the crowd was quiet, in a high-pitched voice that carried remarkably well. ‘Welcome back to Rome!' He threw both arms in the air to raise a cheer that was forthcoming and mighty. With an expansive swipe of his arm he cut it off and continued: ‘Stay there, b-b-brave P-Plautius, so that I may come and embrace you.'

Claudius turned and disappeared to the cheering of the crowd and the obvious fury of Plautius. He stood and waited as the crowd's enthusiasm dwindled and restlessness set in until eventually Claudius lurched into sight. The senators parted for their Emperor as he approached Plautius and, with melodramatic pleasure, enfolded him in the imperial bosom whilst liberally spreading saliva over each of his cheeks.

Once Plautius was released, a white horse was led through the crowd; Claudius was helped into the saddle and gave the signal for the parade to recommence. With a slave leading his mount, Claudius moved off, towering above Plautius, who, with as much dignity as he could muster, walked in his Emperor's shadow as an accessory in his own Ovation.

‘Well, that was well managed,' Gaius said as the senators turned to follow the Consuls up to the Temple of Jupiter for the climax of the spectacle – again, it being only an Ovation, they did not lead the procession around its route. ‘Narcissus, Pallas and Callistus hijacked that brilliantly and Plautius can't complain: the Emperor has shown him honour by accompanying him, yet because of his physical deformities he has to ride a horse. Very clever; even Plautius would have to admire it.'