‘Gaius has kept his word to Macro and has promised him Egypt but not until next year, once he feels completely secure in Rome. This comes as no surprise as he still seems to be bedding Ennia as part of his busy sexual schedule. However, even though his new wife died in childbirth in January he’s showing no sign of wanting to make Ennia his empress as he had promised. I believe that this is because he has become frightened of Macro; he’s realised that just as Macro made him emperor he could easily take it away. You must exploit this fear; play on it anytime that you can. I have asked Clemens to do the same thing; he has always been loyal to Gaius and I think that Gaius may soon come to realise that he would be much safer with his friend Clemens as his Praetorian prefect rather than his potential rival Macro. If that could come about, then it would be just a question of convincing Clemens that Gaius is unfit to rule and the Guard should kill him.’
‘You’re asking me to help bring about your grandson’s death?’
‘Someone’s got to before he goes completely mad and brings down Rome. When that comes to pass Claudius must be made emperor; I have charged Pallas with keeping him out of trouble and to make sure that he doesn’t dabble in politics and continues playing the fool.’
‘And if he’s not successful, what then?’
‘There will be another civil war.’ Antonia pulled open a drawer and withdrew a sheathed sword, which she looked at fondly. ‘This belonged to my father, Marcus Antonius. Just before he used it to commit suicide in Alexandria he wrote a letter to Augustus asking that he should return it to me so that I could pass it on to my future son. Augustus granted his erstwhile brother-in-law and friend’s dying wish and brought it back to Rome for me. When Germanicus came of age I gave it to him and he used it to subdue the Germanic tribes and to push back the Parthians. After he too died his wife, Agrippina, wanted to pass it onto her eldest son, Nero Caesar. I refused her, saying that I would decide which of my grandsons most deserved it — it would be the one that I considered would make the best Emperor. For a while I thought that I would give it to Gaius but then as his brothers were killed off I began to see his true nature, so I withheld it and I’m pleased that I did; he dishonours his great-grandfather’s memory.
‘In a short time I will use this sword to open my veins; when I am dead Caenis will bring it to you. It will be yours. Remember that it was borne by two of the greatest men of our age — use it well and perhaps you will live up to them.’
‘Thank you, domina.’
‘Now go and wait in the atrium for Caenis while she helps me to leave this world. Pallas will then show you both to her new house; take Magnus with you so that he knows where it is and after that it’s up to you and him as to whether she lives in safety or in fear. Goodbye, Vespasian, and bear my father’s sword in a manner worthy of him.’
Vespasian took one last look at the most powerful woman in Rome, in awe at the way that she could still try to order matters from even beyond the grave. Yet for all her political adroitness in life she had been unable to ensure that she went to that grave naturally. The power that she had sought for her family had been concentrated into the one person over whom she had no controclass="underline" her grandson Caligula. This sudden departure from life — although, Vespasian reflected, it was no more sudden than any death — was her only chance to wrest that power back and place it into the hands of the son she had always despised: Claudius. The irony was bitter and Vespasian could tell from her saddened, green eyes that it was not lost on Antonia.
‘Goodbye, domina, and thank you for the favour that you’ve shown me.’ With a nod of his head he turned and left the room.
The day was fading and Vespasian had been waiting for more than an hour when Caenis, Pallas and Felix finally appeared. Tears rolled down their cheeks as they walked towards him through the atrium whose very air seemed heavy with grief; the whole household had come to a standstill as the mistress had bled to death in her bath.
‘She’s gone,’ Caenis sobbed, offering Vespasian Marcus Antonius’ sword with both hands. ‘This is now yours, my love.’
Vespasian took the sword by its tightly bound red-leather hilt and drew it from its scabbard; the weight was perfect and the balance exact. A blue shimmer ran down the length of the burnished steeled-iron blade — engraved with its original owner’s name — to the unadorned bronze, oval guard that bore the scars of long-ago parried strokes. The pommel too was of plain bronze and the scabbard was simple tan buck-leather glued onto the wooden case and strengthened by four evenly spaced bronze bands. Despite his grief at the knowledge that it had recently been used to open Antonia’s wrists, Vespasian smiled; this was not a parade-ground soldier’s weapon, this belonged to a fighting man and he understood why Antonia had used it to end her life.
He re-sheathed it with a soft rasp. ‘How did she die?’
‘Nobly,’ Pallas replied, ‘and without fear. She signed her will and Caenis’ and Felix’s documents of manumission and then dictated a couple of letters; she went to her bedroom and prepared herself and then got into the warm pool and…and did it, without hesitation. She lay back with her eyes closed as she bled and then, before she grew too weak to speak, she cursed Caligula before all the gods and the spirits of her ancestors, calling on them to bring him down and to ease Rome’s suffering.’
‘If they would listen to anyone they would listen to her.’ He looked at Caenis and lifted her chin; tears still glistened around her eyes. ‘Stop crying now, Antonia Caenis, you are finally freed.’
Caenis smiled through her tears. ‘Yes, I shall always bear her name to remember her by, she who was a mother to me.’
Vespasian pulled her close and kissed her perfumed hair. The sound of footsteps drew his eyes; they widened in surprise as Magnus walked into the room.
‘What are you doing here?’ he asked, and then realised that he could guess the answer. ‘Oh, I see.’
‘Yeah, well,’ Magnus mumbled, looking bashful.
‘We should go, Vespasian,’ Pallas said, not wishing to dwell on the reason for Magnus’ presence for the sake of his late mistress’s dignity.
‘Yes, we should,’ Vespasian agreed, pleased also to change the subject. He turned to leave.
‘Vespasian, before you go,’ Felix said.
Vespasian looked back at Felix. ‘Congratulations on your liberty, Marcus Antonius Felix.’
Felix smiled at being addressed by his new name. ‘My thanks, Vespasian. My mistress has instructed me to go back to Egypt immediately to wind up her affairs there; it’ll take me a year or so. She also told me that you were trying to get permission to visit; if you’re successful and I can be of service please contact me. The Alabarch will always know where to find me.’
Vespasian nodded his thanks and, putting a protective arm around Caenis, walked towards the door.
Set in a quiet street just three hundred paces from Gaius’ house, Caenis’ new home was small and unobtrusive. Antonia had chosen well, Vespasian reflected as they approached the front door, Caenis would be safe from Caligula here.
‘I shall leave you now,’ Pallas said, pulling the bell chain, ‘I have my mistress’s funeral to attend to.’
Caenis kissed him on the cheek. ‘Thank you, Pallas.’
‘Most of your things are already here, the rest I’ll have sent over tomorrow.’
‘I’ll come with you,’ Magnus said with a grin, ‘I imagine that I’ll be in the way if I stay. I’ll make arrangements to have one of my lads always watching the street, making sure no one unpleasant is snooping round if you take my meaning?’
The door opened as Magnus and Pallas walked off to reveal the largest Nubian Vespasian had ever seen. ‘Antonia was evidently keen that your door should be well guarded,’ he said, bending down and putting one arm under her knees and the other under her arms to lift her up. ‘This is the nearest that we’ll ever get to me being able to carry you over the threshold.’