The arrival of the decurion of the Praetorian cavalry turma that had accompanied them to Ostia put an end to their idle chatter and their meal.
‘Macro’s carriage has just entered the town gates, prefect,’ the young man reported with a salute.
‘Thank you, decurion,’ Clemens replied, getting to his feet. ‘Have your men seal off this quay once it gets here.’
With another salute the decurion turned on his heels and made his way back to his turma, which was stationed out of sight behind the warehouses at the end of the quay.
Vespasian stood and adjusted his toga; the contents of the bag that he had retrieved from his room clinked in its fold as he withdrew Caligula’s warrant. ‘I hope Caligula isn’t playing a nasty joke on us and this contains orders for Macro to execute the bearers,’ he said with a grin.
Clemens scowled. ‘That’s not funny.’
‘No, sorry,’ Vespasian apologised, realising that it was exactly the sort of thing that Caligula would find hilarious.
Macro’s carriage rumbled into view at the far end of the quay preceded not by lictors, as he was only of equestrian rank, but by ten fellow members of his order in recognition that one of the most powerful posts in the Empire was open only to them and not to the Senate. The equites cleared the way along the crowded quay forcing a few of the unfortunate dock slaves — some laden with goods — to overbalance into the fetid water. Cries of indignation from the owners of the lost merchandise were met with uncaring looks as the cortege cleaved its way to the waiting trader. Behind them the Praetorian turma appeared and sealed off their retreat.
Clemens smiled coldly and stepped forward as the carriage door opened and the bull-like frame of Quintus Naevius Cordus Sutorius Macro appeared followed by the voluptuous figure of his wife, Ennia.
‘Clemens, how good of you to come and see me off,’ Macro said upon seeing his successor. ‘If, for any reason, you ever feel that you need a change of, how should I put it, commitment, then men like you would be welcomed by me in the East.’ He proffered his forearm; Clemens did not take it.
‘Going to the East wouldn’t change my commitment to Rome; how could it?’
‘Things change, Clemens, all things change,’ Macro replied, still holding out his arm and staring meaningfully into Clemens’ eyes.
‘Indeed they do, prefect,’ Vespasian agreed, appearing from behind the aedile’s group who had now stopped their argument to listen to the conversation.
‘You! What are you doing here?’ Macro drawled.
Vespasian held out the warrant. ‘I’ve come to give you an order from your Emperor and also to present you with a gift.’
Macro stared at it; uncertainty clouded his face; his eyes flicked up to Vespasian’s. ‘Why does the Emperor feel it necessary to give me new orders?’
‘You’ll have to read it for yourself, Macro.’
Macro took the scroll and, breaking the imperial seal, unrolled it; after a few moments his face paled. ‘I see,’ he said without looking up. ‘And what if I refuse this order?’
‘Then I will have a turma of my cavalry escort you back to Rome so that you can explain to the Emperor in person why you decided to disobey him,’ Clemens said, pointing towards the waiting troopers.
Macro turned and saw that his escape was blocked. He gave a wry smile. ‘It would seem that you have the better of me. I won’t give you the pleasure of watching me humiliate myself by jumping into the water and swimming away; I will do as the Emperor commands.’ He turned to his wife who waited a respectful distance away by the carriage. ‘Ennia, your ex-lover has ordered us to take our lives.’
‘That comes as no surprise to me, husband,’ she said, walking forward to join Macro. ‘I knew when he went back on his oath to me that he would also renege on his promise to you; you were never destined to see Egypt.’
Vespasian got his first close look at the woman whom Caligula had sworn to make his empress; she was indeed beautiful. Greek by birth, the daughter of Tiberius’ astrologer, Thrasyllus, she had the fair skin and clear blue eyes of the more ancient part of her race; her blonde hair, partly covered by a saffron palla, was arranged Roman style: piled high on her head in intricate weaves and secured with jewelled pins. There was no distress on her face, just a world-weary resignation as she took her husband’s hand.
‘I have failed you, Quintus,’ she said, ‘I could not keep him ensnared in my bed for long enough, forgive me.’
‘There is nothing to forgive, Ennia; you did all that a loyal wife could.’
‘And you would have rewarded that loyalty with a betrayal.’
Macro looked shocked. ‘You knew?’
‘Of course I knew. You could never have achieved your ultimate ambition with me still alive; that was obvious.’
‘Then why…?’
‘Because I love you, Quintus, and I wanted to help. What crime has he charged us with?’
‘You, with adultery with him; me, with pandering you to him.’
Ennia snorted. ‘Is that all he could be bothered to come up with after everything that you’ve planned, adultery with him? What irony.’
Macro turned back to Vespasian. ‘You said that you also have a gift for me, senator, but I’m struggling to see what would be of use with my life now over.’
Vespasian brought out a leather bag from the fold of his toga, opened it and pulled out two daggers. ‘These are both yours, Macro. This one you left in my leg on the Aemilian Bridge twelve years ago and the other one you dropped in the Lady Antonia’s house; you told me to keep it and promised to give me a third to make up the set. As you obviously are now unable to keep that promise I shall forgo completing the set and return them to you.’ He handed the daggers to Macro, who smiled with genuine amusement.
‘It seems that my need is greater than yours; I appreciate the consideration, Vespasian, most thoughtful.’ All trace of humour suddenly left his face and his eyes bored into Vespasian’s. ‘Let me tell you why you never received the third; it was for one reason alone: Caligula. He knew that I wanted you dead but, as a part of the deal in which I ensured that he became emperor and in return I became prefect of Egypt, I had to swear to keep you alive just because he likes you.’
‘Why?’
‘I asked him that and he told me that it goes back to the night that you rescued Caenis from Livilla. The two guards in the tunnel had been killed out of his view; but then, to get the key to release her, you had her start screaming to attract the attention of the guard on the stairs. As he came through the door you stabbed him in the throat; you were the first person whom Caligula ever saw kill a man outside of the arena and he’s always respected you for that.’
Vespasian digested this for a few moments, playing the scene back in his mind. ‘I was; but why is that so important to him?’
‘Because nothing happened to you for doing so and he realised that one could kill with impunity; it was a joyful moment for him.’
Vespasian’s eyes widened in horror, thinking of the blood that Caligula had caused to be spilled since. ‘I started him on his path?’
Macro shook his head, slowly smiling without his eyes. ‘He would have found it with or without you; it just means that you are the lucky one who will never suffer at his hands. I swore to him that I would forgo my vengeance and I kept that oath. Now he rewards me by throwing it back in my face and sending you, of all people, to order my death; I suppose that’s his idea of a joke.’
‘Perhaps it is, or perhaps I’m just here because this was my idea. I knew what you were planning to do in Egypt, the Lady Antonia had worked it out, and I assumed that even though she removed Poppaeus you would have found some other source of finance to help you become emperor of the East.’
‘Poppaeus died naturally, everybody knows that.’
‘No, Macro, he was murdered; I should know, I helped to do it.’
Macro looked at Vespasian appraisingly. ‘You are more dangerous than I thought; perhaps I should have broken my oath and had you killed. But you’re right, I did find another source of money but it’s of no use now that my life is over.’