The name was hardly a surprise, but it still didn’t explain the lengths to which the Praetorian prefect had gone to sabotage a mission for which he was partially responsible. ‘I can understand why Torquatus dislikes me, even hates me, but not why he would want to destroy me. I am no threat to him and never could be. Why would he want me to fail when he was instrumental in giving me the mission to hunt down Petrus and the Christians in the first place?’
‘Because if you fail, Torquatus succeeds. He can’t allow you to find this Petrus when he could not. That is why he has had Rodan dog your footsteps ready to pounce on Petrus. With the Christian in his grasp he would denounce you as a traitor who knew all along that your father was one of the people you sought. If your enemies have their way, you and Lucius will die on neighbouring pyres, Valerius, and the Emperor’s greatest amusement will be in deciding who burns first.’
‘That still does not explain why Torquatus should be so determined to have me killed, or what I have done to earn so much hatred.’
She laughed, short and sour. ‘You mean apart from being you, so handsome and so strong and always so certain? He mentioned it once, quite casually, as if he was discussing a horse that needed disciplining. A family matter, he said, some cousin who had served with you in Britain. The man was a centurion in the Twentieth legion who sent Torquatus a letter claiming you had destroyed his career and demanding help to gain reinstatement. He died in the British rebellion, but our Praetorian prefect was left to salvage the family’s honour. Such a trivial reason to die, don’t you think?’
Valerius stared at her. It didn’t seem possible. Crespo? Rapist, bully, murderer and thief, the man had been a senior centurion in Valerius’s cohort. It had been Valerius’s accusation which had forced Crespo into the service of Catus Decianus, Britain’s procurator, who had made the decision to strip Boudicca of her lands and her people. Crespo had vowed revenge for that humiliation. Before he could fulfil his promise, the centurion, whose rape of Boudicca’s daughters helped ignite the rebellion, had met a terrible end at the hands of the Iceni queen. Now Crespo had reached from beyond the grave to destroy Valerius. He could almost hear the gods laughing.
He shook his head. ‘You could have come to me instead of betraying me.’
Some of the old spark returned and her eyes flashed. ‘You can be such a fool sometimes, Valerius. If I had come to you, we would both be dead. While you are close to finding Petrus, Torquatus has to keep you alive so that he can take the credit. He tried to have you killed in Dacia because he already had Lucina and thought he no longer needed you. You must believe me, I have always tried to protect my friends, whatever Torquatus has asked of me and however he has asked it.’ Her voice was close to breaking and Valerius realized how much anguish lay behind those words. A man like Torquatus had many ways of inflicting pain so that the wounds did not show. She recognized the look on his face. ‘Yes, pity me, Valerius, for there is no escape for me in this life. If you can find Petrus and present him to Nero you can still thwart Torquatus, but the only escape for Fabia Faustina is death.’
‘No,’ he said. ‘Come with me and we will fight him together.’
‘You mean die together? If I leave Rome without Torquatus’s permission he will know that I have betrayed him; perhaps he knows it even now. If I stay it will give you the time to do what you must do.’
He hesitated, but he knew she was right. The only chance he had to find Petrus was to leave her. Another friend failed. He got up to go, all his anger forgotten.
‘Wait, Valerius. There is more you need to know.’
She told him about Poppaea.
‘In many ways she is very like me, trapped in a loveless world and forced to sell herself to stay alive. Perhaps that is why we became friends. You think you know Nero, but you do not. His subjects see a charming young man who wants to be loved for his talents. Yes, he can be irrational and even vicious if the mood takes him, but men look at his line, shake their heads and ask: how could it not be? But in the night, in the privacy of his palace, he is different, more beast than man, and willing to couple with either if Torquatus is able to provide it. Poppaea is not a wife to him; no woman could be. She is flesh, as we all are, and she survives by being willing flesh, but not too willing, for she must be seductive as well as available. Compliant, but a challenge for his talents in the bedchamber. And, of course, she must entertain, as we all must entertain who enter beyond the doors of his personal quarters. What sordid piece of theatre will Torquatus provide tonight? Will it please him? Will we be able to suffer it with a smile? Will we survive it?’
Fabia stared into the distance and Valerius knew that she was only telling him part of what went on in the palace. She wore the same look as a soldier who has stared death in the face, lost in the Otherworld that is at the centre of every human soul.
‘Poor Poppaea, she confides in me, all unaware that I am part of the trap Torquatus has set for her. He knows that she hates him more than she hates Nero, and he fears her, because her access to Nero makes her powerful. To Torquatus that combination is a threat which cannot be ignored. He too is like a beast, and will lash out at anything which endangers him.’
‘She confides in you and yet she has come to no harm?’
Her voice took on the fierceness of a mother leopard protecting her cubs. ‘Believe me, Valerius, Fabia Faustina values her friends. Torquatus may have me by the throat, but there are things that I tell him and things that I do not.’
‘Then with your protection she will survive. She does not need me.’ He said it with finality and she shook her head at his failure to grasp what she was saying.
‘You don’t understand. Only by saving Poppaea can you save your father and Olivia, and only by saving Poppaea will you find Petrus.’
‘How can that be?’
‘It is very simple. Poppaea Augusta Sabina has become a Christian.’
The room seemed to suddenly go cold.
‘Nero knows?’
She shook her head. ‘Nero suspects.’
‘Then Torquatus knows.’
‘Torquatus believes he knows, but he has no evidence yet, and without evidence he cannot denounce Poppaea. If he does and Nero does not believe him, his own life will be forfeit.’
‘How…?’
‘Cornelius Sulla first intrigued her, then seduced her. He opened her eyes to a world beyond the pain of this world. Somehow he arranged that she meet Petrus and from that day onwards she was a different Poppaea; a Poppaea prepared to challenge Nero’s tyranny, to fight him from within his own palace.’
Still Valerius was not entirely convinced. ‘You protect her, but you gave Cornelius to Torquatus? He could have exposed her with a single word.’
‘If you had known Cornelius, you would know that he would never betray her. He sacrificed his brother to blind Torquatus to Poppaea, then went through the torments of hell to ensure she stayed hidden. That was the kind of man he was; if he gave his life for Poppaea he gave it gladly.’
Valerius remembered the burning red eyes in the blackened skull and wondered at the strength of will it had taken to stay silent. Nero was right not to underestimate the Christians. An enemy without fear is an enemy to fear.
‘And you, Fabia?’
‘Am I a Christian?’ She laughed. ‘Surely, Valerius, you understand by now that I am beyond saving. I have sent too many to their deaths for an unguarded word to believe I have any value. Yet I hope I still have some honour in your eyes. Each time I provided Torquatus with an opportunity to bring you down, I provided you with one to thwart him.’
He studied her, wondering if that was true and knowing that, in the end, it didn’t really matter. He had to trust her.
‘How do I find Petrus?’
‘By finding Poppaea.’