Corbulo frowned, but before he could respond Antonia’s litter turned into the street with Pallas walking next to it carrying Capella’s chest.
The twelve taut-muscled Nubian bearers set the litter down next to the steps leading up to the front door. Antonia pulled aside the curtain and stepped down. Vespasian’s heart jumped as Caenis followed her mistress out. She glanced up at him and gave a shy smile; her normally crystal-clear blue eyes were shaded with sorrow but still lingered on him, taking his breath away. He opened his mouth to try to explain everything to her but, suddenly remembering that they were surrounded by people, closed it immediately and essayed instead a nervous smile. Caenis gave a slight nod as if understanding that they needed to talk and then turned to collect her writing materials from inside the litter.
‘Good morning, gentlemen,’ Antonia said, bringing Vespasian out of his private world. The faint look of amusement on her face gave Vespasian the distinct impression that his and Caenis’ tacit conversation had been a lot more public than they had intended. ‘I will do the talking; you should remain silent unless I ask you to speak. Remember that you are here solely to work out the logistics of our…er…enterprise.’
Pallas mounted the steps and rapped on the door.
‘I was t-totally unaware, M-M-Mother,’ Claudius affirmed, dabbing with a handkerchief at a trail of saliva that leaked from the corner of his downturned mouth, ‘of what would happen to the estates.’ His alert grey eyes darted across to his freedman, Narcissus, seated next to him on a bench underneath a fruit-laden pear tree in the well-kept courtyard garden. ‘As I’m sure was N-N-Narcissus.’
Vespasian and Corbulo sat either side of Antonia watching with interest as she interrogated her son. Claudius had twitched and stammered almost uncontrollably when she had showed him the deeds and he had admitted to knowing that Narcissus had been buying land illegally for him in Egypt. Narcissus had remained unruffled throughout the interview as if it were a matter of little import and consequently beneath his dignity to acknowledge. Vespasian glanced over to Caenis but she kept her head down, concentrating on recording the conversation on wax tablets on her lap. Pallas stood, expressionless, behind her.
‘I’m supposed to believe that you were going to sell seven of the biggest wheat-growing estates in Egypt,’ Antonia said, indicating to Capella’s chest placed, open, on the table between them, ‘to an unknown buyer without being remotely interested in who it was?’
‘But we thought that we did know, good Lady, we thought it was Poppaeus,’ Narcissus replied, stroking his oiled beard with a chubby hand; the ostentatiously bejewelled rings on each stubby digit glinted in the strengthening sun.
‘I did not address that question to you, freedman,’ Antonia snapped. ‘You’ve already committed an outrage by sitting in my presence without invitation, do not make matters worse by talking out of turn; and I am “domina” to you.’
‘Indeed, domina,’ Narcissus replied, slowly inclining his head and spreading his hands in acquiescence.
‘So you didn’t know the end purchaser was Macro?’
‘M-M-Macro!’ Claudius looked horrified. Narcissus’ full lips twitched. ‘No, M-M-M-Mother. P-Poppaeus said that he would wipe off the debt for all the estates if I sold seven to h-him.’
‘And he didn’t tell you what he was going to do with them?’
‘No, M-M-M-Mother.’
‘Stop m-m-mothering me, Claudius. If you have such trouble saying the word then don’t attempt it and this conversation might go a lot more swiftly.’
‘Yes, M-M- yes. We er…I, that is, assumed that he was going to keep them for h-himself.’ Claudius glanced again at Narcissus who was studying his manicured fingernails; with an almost imperceptible nod of the head the freedman indicated that he had given the right answer.
‘Well, he’s not; he’s going to sell them on to Macro. Luckily for you I believe your story. I know that even you aren’t stupid enough to hand such potential wealth to a ruthless man set upon dismembering the Empire that you may one day rule.’
‘M-m-me!’ Claudius exclaimed in exaggerated surprise. Vespasian noticed a faint smile briefly tweak the corners of Narcissus’ mouth.
‘Yes, you, Claudius. Don’t try to play the innocent with me; it’s insulting to both of us. Now, if you want me to seriously consider you as a potential heir then you have to help me put an end to this deal without Macro suspecting that it was me who moved against him. And you must not tell anyone; not even your money-grabbing little friend Herod Agrippa.’
Narcissus placed a silk handkerchief to his mouth and delicately cleared his throat, raising both eyebrows and looking at Antonia.
‘What is it?’ she asked impatiently.
‘My thanks, domina,’ Narcissus purred, his voice oozing obsequious sincerity. ‘We, that is, my master and I, will naturally do everything that you ask and you can rely on our discretion. I would suggest, if I may, that just stopping the deal or, indeed, eliminating Poppaeus would not be subtle enough to fool Macro.’
‘Do you think that I haven’t thought of that?’
Narcissus held his hands up and humped his shoulders, tilting back his head and half closing his eyes. ‘No, domina, no, of course not. But might I suggest an accidental death?’
‘No, you may not, you impertinent little man. We are going to stage a natural death and we’re going to stage it in this house.’
Narcissus’ eyes widened as he understood the implications. ‘And this would be staged after we have done the deal, domina?’
‘Yes, Claudius will end up with both the signed-off debt marker as well as the deeds.’
‘May I compliment you on such finesse?’
‘No, you may not; it was Vespasian’s idea.’
Whether that was true or not, Vespasian did not know any more. He felt Narcissus’ gaze and looked over at him; the freedman’s eyes betrayed a mixture of admiration and appreciation; he gave a half-smile and inclined his head fractionally. Vespasian’s mind turned to the bankers’ draft; he would cash it with the Cloelius brothers as repayment of that debt once the deed was done.
‘I will leave you to discuss the details,’ Antonia said, rising and giving her son a stern look. ‘Get this right, Claudius, and I might think better of you. Come, Caenis.’
The men all stood as Antonia left; Caenis followed with a hesitant look at Vespasian. He watched her walk out of the garden, wondering when he would get the chance to try to put things right with her.
‘So to recap our plan then, masters,’ Pallas said, putting down Capella’s chest, as they entered the atrium having walked around the whole house and stable yard, where Magnus had joined them. ‘On their arrival Poppaeus and his secretary, Kosmas, will be shown into the garden where the deal will take place. Once it is done Claudius will ask Poppaeus for a private word; Narcissus will take Kosmas to his study through the atrium where he will see us waiting for an interview with Claudius. Meanwhile, Poppaeus’ litter will have been ordered around the back to the stable yard where it will be left as close as possible to the steps leading into the house. The litter-bearers will be offered food and drink in the kitchen and kept there until Magnus runs to tell them that their master is waiting at the front of the-’
A loud knock at the door interrupted his briefing. Before Narcissus could stop him, the doorkeeper opened it and in walked a tall, elegant, middle-aged man dressed in a jet black robe that fell to his ankles and a purple cloak edged with gold embroidery. A freedman accompanied him.
‘H-H-Herod, my dear friend,’ Claudius called, shambling over to greet the new arrival. His weak knees knocked together as his feet shuffled forward, making his walk more like a lurch that gave the impression that he would fall flat on his face if he lost his momentum.