The Pillars of Rome (24 page)

‘My good friend, how pleased I am to see you!’ he cried, arms outstretched. He gave Aulus a perfunctory embrace and, still talking, took his arm to lead him back to his study. ‘Why is it, these days, that we see so little of each other?’

There was a slight trace of pique in the voice, as
though their lack of social contact was the fault of his visitor. Aulus fought the temptation to snap at him, keeping his tone even. ‘You have declined more than one invitation to dine, Lucius.’

His host threw up his hands, exposing bony wrists in a gesture meant to imply frustration, though both men knew that Claudia was part of the reason. ‘I know, my friend, and you have been most forgiving in not taking it badly. It requires the breeding of a true aristocrat to know when an apology is just that, and not some disguised slight. What Rome needs are more people of our stamp. The consuls we get these days are a sorry bunch.’

Lucius faced him, his hands on Aulus’s arms, with a look in his eye that denied all responsibility for the dubious qualities of those who held power, men who could not have dreamt of office without his aid. ‘If I have not apologised already, please accept one from me now. The pressure of work is so great that it leaves little time for pleasure.’

‘I saw young Marcellus in the classroom,’ said Aulus, in order to stem this tide of insincerity.

‘Ah yes,’ replied the boy’s father, his eyes lighting up. ‘A fine specimen of Roman youth, wouldn’t you say. He makes his old father proud, though he sometimes angers me with his want of attention.’

Aulus produced a grim smile. ‘He seems to make his teacher somewhat angry too.’

‘Then I hope the fellow punishes him severely for it.’

Aulus had intended to intercede on the pupil’s behalf, and suggest that Lucius curb the pedagogue, but those words made him bite his tongue. The punishment the man was meting out had the full approval of his employer, so he had only managed to save the boy one swipe of the sapling and he was not foolish enough to believe that his words would stop the teacher for long. The man would be lashing away again tomorrow, and with more venom to compensate for his humiliation.

‘Pray, be seated,’ said Lucius, waiting till Aulus had obliged before continuing. ‘I asked you to call so that I could outline to you a matter that troubles me greatly. Yet I find that some information, just come in, may be of more interest to you.’ With a grin, he threw the despatch from Domitius across the desk, the heavy scroll landing with a thud. ‘Fresh in from Spain, this very day, and with a kind reference to your son Titus.’

The name Brennos leapt out at Aulus like a spear aimed at his innermost being. It was not just care that made him read the words slowly, his pounding heart and the need to disguise his emotions from Lucius made it difficult to concentrate. The renegade Druid was back with a vengeance.

‘Interesting reading,’ said Lucius.

‘Itcertainly is.’

‘Nonsense of course. Those Greeks are exaggerating. They always do!’

‘Have you read what he is preaching at the tribes?’

‘It’s not something I haven’t heard before, Aulus. It’s a message repeated on every border we share with barbarians.’

The truth of that remark made Aulus check himself and he fought to bring his thoughts and his voice under control. It occurred to him to mention that eagle charm and relate it, as he had, to their joint prophecy. The thought died as he recalled that Lucius had never seen it in the same light as he, had always humoured him about his fears and right at this moment that was a reaction he did not wish to engender, especially since the charm and its wearer were so far away, too far to be any threat to either man. Unless, of course, Brennos succeeded in his long-term aims.

‘Perhaps you’re right, Lucius, but take the advice of someone who’s fought him.’

‘And what would that be?’

‘Spy on him, bribe, threaten and cajole. Make sure you know what he does before he does it, what he thinks before he thinks it. Don’t wait for him to act! Anticipate his every move. This man could represent the greatest threat to Rome since Hannibal.’

‘This fellow has possessed you, Aulus.’ He
reached over and took the scroll out of Aulus’s hands. ‘But important, no doubt, as he is, we have other matters to discuss. I take it that you are available, if called upon, to serve the Republic again?’

‘As always,’ replied Aulus, swiftly, his finger pointed to the despatch. ‘With a strong preference for a return to Spain. Let me deal with this menace.’

Lucius threw back his head and laughed. ‘Nonsense, Aulus. This Brennos, as a pest, ranks alongside a flea. Take my word for it, he is beneath your dignity. The problem we have is in Illyricum, which I hazard is a province with which you’re even better acquainted. I need you to go back there.’

‘I doubt Vegetius Flaminus would take kindly to that.’

‘And what if he is the problem?’

‘Explain,’ Aulus said, without anything even approaching enthusiasm.

It took some persuading; nothing could be worse for a provincial governor than to be under the gaze of a predecessor. That lasted till Lucius showed him some of the things the locals had been saying about Vegetius, letters that made it obvious everything he had achieved in pacifying the place had been thrown away on the altar of the man’s greed. Lucius wanted to send a commission out to investigate and he wanted Aulus to lead it.

‘I think you’ll agree he needs to be reprimanded.’
Aulus’s expression, when he looked at Lucius, implied that he had in mind more painful punishments. ‘But I cannot do anything with letters from disgruntled provincials, however true they might be, because I cannot lay them before the Senate as evidence. They will just throw such complaints out.’

‘If there are enough of them…’

Lucius interrupted, but not in a rude way. ‘You know our fellow senators as well as I do, Aulus. Some are honest, like you and I, but not enough of them. The rest will not take these as we would intend, rather they will think of what they have done in the past and what they might like to do in the future and judge Vegetius on that criteria rather than the truth. The man is making a great deal of money and few would wish to see the ability to make a fortune curbed. Also, I have to tell you that should you accept this task you will be part of a commission that has on it representatives who will openly admit to being the man’s friends. I take it, if what these communications say are true, you would not wish Vegetius to retain his governorship.’

‘I’m not sure I would want him to retain his head.’

‘Then I must tell you that will not happen. Replacing him as governor will be hard enough.’

‘It would be better if I went alone.’

‘I agree, but that is not possible. Getting you as
head of the commission means I have to accommodate the views of others to maintain balance in the house. It will probably please you to know that even I cannot force through the Senate any measure I like.’

There was a temptation on Lucius’s part to add that Aulus was partly responsible for that, but he held his tongue. His initial fear, when Aulus publicly separated from him was that he would become the focus of opposition. Lucius could guess how many people had tried to persuade him into that role. His hope was that his old friend stood alone and aloof, supporting those proposals with which he agreed, and staying silent when he could not. This was one he should be eager to back.

Smiling to take the sting out of a slightly barbed observation, Aulus replied. ‘It will not please you to know that I think that is as it should be.’

‘On the contrary, my friend. If I have fought for any principle in my life it is that such a situation should not only exist but be maintained.’ Lucius paused, and looked Aulus in the eye. ‘I am going to allude to something that perhaps would be better left unsaid. I sometimes wonder if you understand me, Aulus, just as I wonder if you think I aim for supreme power.’

‘If I thought that I would be your enemy.’

‘I know, and I hope you are aware that I respect you for it.’

‘If I have sometimes failed to support you, Lucius, it is because my conscience had left me no choice.’

‘And how can any honest man not praise you for that?’

‘I dislike the idea of going to Illyricum without a proper mandate.’

Lucius allowed himself a ghost of a smile at what was nothing less than a deliberate change of subject. Honesty, or the lack of it, was not an area into which Aulus wished to enter.

‘I have an idea to circumvent that.’

‘Circumvent the Senate!’

‘No. Do you really think I would ask you to do such a thing? What I propose is that you should send back to me whatever information you gather by private letter.’

‘Why?’

‘I will show these to certain of our fellow senators and I know before the commission report comes in that they will very likely be at odds with what it says. Vegetius’s friends will force even you to compromise – to see his actions in the light of precedence rather than justice. Any attempt to dissent would make you a lone voice, and that, even from you, will not be heard. But certain people, primed, will know what questions to ask, questions which may expose the report as fraudulent. If you were then to voice your dissent on the floor of the
house we might just bring about the downfall of a man who deserves no less.’

‘How much of an enemy to you is Vegetius Flaminus?’

‘He is an enemy of the Imperium of Rome, Aulus, and sometimes my likes and dislikes coincide with that. Besides, you mean rival, not enemy, and he is certainly not that.’

‘Private letters? It smacks of chicanery.’

‘Only if the truth comes out, which it will not, since I will return your correspondence to you as soon as you come back to Rome.’

‘You know I will burn them?’

‘Aulus, my old friend, you have no idea how you would shock me if you did not.’

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The battle was reaching its climax. Marcellus Falerius, wooden sword in hand, had allotted himself the role of Scipio Africanus, while Gaius Trebonius had been given the role of Hannibal. Marcellus commanded his troops to open their ranks just as the slave appeared. He tried to ignore him – the man was interrupting their war game – but that proved impossible. When the slave, tired of waving at him, walked straight between the opposing armies locked in the mock battle of Zama, completely ruining, in the shape of the Calvinus twins, the encircling movement of Marcellus’ cavalry, he had to call things to a halt.

‘Your father has asked you to come to his study, Master Marcellus.’

‘Not now!’ cried the boy.

The slave just looked at him; with a father like Lucius Falerius, to state the immediacy of the summons would be superfluous.

‘Ignore him, Marcellus,’ cried the acting Hannibal. ‘If you go now the Carthaginians will win.’

‘Sorry.’

‘Just tell your father this fellow forgot to call you.’

‘What a thing to say, Gaius. How can you make a suggestion like that and call yourself Roman?’

Trebonius stuck his tongue out and blew a raspberry. ‘Right now I’m a Carthaginian.’

‘I don’t think even they would sink so low as to inflict punishment on an innocent slave.’

‘Don’t be stupid, Marcellus,’ said another boy. ‘Who cares about slaves?’

Marcellus just fixed him with an icy stare, and adopting what he thought was a proper Roman posture, a pose that they had named his Horatius look, he followed the slave towards the back door of his house.

‘Look at him,’ snorted one of the Calvinus twins. ‘You’d think he had a broomstick shoved up his arse.’

‘Louder,’ said Gaius Trebonius, since the other boy had made sure that Marcellus would not hear him.

‘No fear. Let’s get on with the fight. I’ll be Africanus now.’

The boy took his place at the head of his small band of troops and issued his first command. ‘On guard. Open ranks and prepare to receive elephants.’

Marcellus stood before the parental desk. Just turned nine, he was, even at that tender age, expected to confer with his father about all his recent decisions and come to a conclusion that pleased him, which Lucius never tired of telling his son was part of his training. His father was enlightening on the history of Rome, in a way that no Greek tutor could match, so it was not always a trial. He had been a power in the Senate, or close to it, for so long that he was steeped in knowledge of the leading personalities of the Republic, all the way back to the Tarquin kings. Such knowledge provided Lucius with his two guiding concepts; the first being that Rome should never again fall under the tyranny of a monarchy, with the caveat that he was no Athenian democrat, being equally opposed to sharing power with all and sundry. To his way of thinking, only those of the right class had the foresight, combined with the lack of avarice, to rule wisely. That was his second, and seemingly stronger, principle, one, as a patrician himself, he was prepared to sacrifice even his life to maintain.