‘I could swear to that.’
‘I know and so does Callistus, which is why Pallas thinks that it will never come to trial, it’ll never get anywhere near a court.’
‘But Callistus is the secretary in charge of justice.’
‘Yes, and as you know from when he tried to have Sabinus, you and me killed four years ago he’s …’
‘And me,’ Magnus’ voice came from the shadows.
‘Yes, and you … he’s the most duplicitous, slimy piece of treacherous filth that ever walked the corridors of the Palatine Hill and that is saying something indeed.’
Paetus grimaced at the memory of Callistus’ treachery when he, Paetus, had helped Vespasian and Sabinus in the search for the lost Eagle of the XVII Legion.
From outside the murmur of thousands of waking voices gradually grew into a constant hubbub, punctuated by bellowing centurions encouraging the less keen from their blankets.
Paetus’ face brightened. ‘If it means that I’m going to get a measure of revenge on him, then I’m willing to do whatever Pallas wants.’
‘It will. Callistus has made it a habit to change his allegiances at what he considers to be the right time. He used to be Caligula’s freedman but when it looked for certain that it was only a matter of time before Caligula fell to an assassin’s blade he decided to hasten that moment and join in the conspiracy against him by allying himself with Narcissus and Pallas.’ Vespasian glanced at the letter again. ‘Now, according to Pallas, it seems that he might be thinking about changing sides again and throwing his lot in with Messalina or, at the very least, backing both sides.
‘But apart from Callistus failing to report an outrageous infidelity of Messalina’s to the Emperor, Pallas hasn’t any positive proof of this matter. However …’ Vespasian paused to see whether the young man had the political acumen to finish the sentence; he was not disappointed.
‘… however, if a prosecution were to be brought against the Empress’s brother which would carry the death penalty if it were proven, then Callistus would be obliged to delay it or dismiss it out of hand if he was secretly supporting Messalina, thereby exposing himself.’
‘Exactly. But it gets better than that; it’s all about timing. Pallas is convinced that Narcissus will soon be in a position to bring down Messalina so the prosecution would be brought just before he presents the damning evidence to the Emperor and Callistus will go down with the Empress.’
‘That’ll suit me perfectly.’
‘Indeed, as it suits me.’
‘And me,’ Magnus put in.
‘Yes, and you. But more to the point it suits Pallas because he’ll secure his place as the second most powerful man in the Empire.’
Paetus raised his eyebrows. ‘Just one more step to negotiate, eh?’
Vespasian contemplated the implication of that remark for a moment, enjoying the mingled smell of woodsmoke and cooking, seeping into the tent. ‘I don’t know about that but he’s certainly thought this step through.’
‘So who will bring the prosecution?’
‘Ah! That’s the problem for you. Obviously it can’t be Pallas, as Callistus would see through the ploy straight away, so he’s chosen someone to act as his proxy. Someone whose career has been halted since his half-sister was assassinated along with her husband, Caligula.’
‘Corbulo?’
‘Yes. He’s desperate to be given a province; he’s had no advancement since he was consul six years ago.’
‘But he’s a jumped-up snob from a family that can’t even boast one consul before him.’
‘Prefect! I would remind you that I come from an even newer family. Do not let the fact that the Junii can trace their family back to before the Republic prevent you from working with men who have slightly less lineage but pretend to more.’
‘I apologise, legate. My personal views on Gnaeus Domitius Corbulo will not be an issue.’
Paetus’ emphasis on Corbulo’s full name implied he was not being exactly truthful, but Vespasian decided against pursuing the point. ‘Good, let’s hope that his less than favourable opinion of you is likewise put to one side.’
‘I’ve got one question.’
‘Go on.’
‘Apart from the chance of revenge on Callistus, what’s in this for me?’
‘In the long term you might be thrown a scrap or two but the real reward is short term: as I said, you’ll get the chance to further your career; but that’s mainly because you’ll get to keep your life.’
CHAPTER III
The sun glowed deep golden as it dropped beneath the covering cloudbank’s western extreme, out towards the horizon. Warm evening light brushed the undulating belly of the low, grey blanket with colour as it dispensed a gentle drizzle; the drops were back-lit by the dying orange rays in a way that Vespasian had never seen before. The weather on this island continually surprised him.
But the quirks of the weather were not what interested him as he sat on his horse surveying the silhouetted hill-fort that the day’s march had brought them to, just a quarter of a mile distant, somewhat detached from a line of hills running to the southwest. ‘We’ll lose a lot of men trying to take that. Any news from your scouts, Cogidubnus?’
The Britannic King shook his head. ‘I’m beginning to think that they won’t be coming back; they would have arrived here about two hours before us. It’s starting to look like they’ve been taken prisoner or killed.’
‘What about the scouts in the north; have you heard from them yet?’
‘No, a message should have arrived today. I admit I’m worried.’
Vespasian contemplated that news for a few moments. In the two years since Cogidubnus had surrendered to Rome he had proved his loyalty and Vespasian had come to trust him; if he was concerned about something it was as well to take notice. ‘Have you sent more out?’
‘Yes, with orders to report back at first light.’
Vespasian nodded his approval and looked again at the three great ditches that encircled the hill’s irregular, triangular summit separated by four concentric earthen ramparts, each the height of a man, the innermost being topped with a stout palisade; a few heads could be seen peering towards the Romans. ‘We’ll never get men across all those obstacles and up to the wall with scaling ladders.’ He examined the main gate in the northeast corner and then looked at the lesser one in the southwest. ‘It’ll have to be coordinated assaults on the two gates if they don’t see sense and surrender.’
‘I ain’t never known a savage see sense,’ Magnus muttered, not altogether to himself. ‘Present company excepted, obviously,’ he added quickly as Cogidubnus shot him a dark look. ‘Not that I think you’re …’ He trailed off before getting himself embroiled in a matter of honour.
Vespasian glared at his friend.
Cogidubnus snorted and turned his attention back to the fort. ‘Even then it would be a bloody day; a force of a few hundred could easily hold both gates if there’re no diversionary attacks on the ramparts.’
Vespasian assessed the problem ahead and saw that the Briton was right. ‘Then we go in at night.’
‘If Caratacus is in there then he will have a very good opportunity to escape in the confusion of the attack under the cover of dark.’
‘Do you think he’s still there?’
‘I doubt it; he would have left at first light, knowing that we would be following him here.’
‘I think so too; so therefore balancing the slight risk of Caratacus slipping through our fingers against the amount of Roman lives that we’ll save by going in at night, it’s worth the risk. That way we’ve a chance of surprising them and also getting a cohort or two to the walls if we can find a weaker spot in the defences.’
As they scanned the earthworks for such a place the gates opened; three men were led out by half a dozen warriors. They were thrown to their knees, shouting at the tops of their voices in words unintelligible at that distance. Three simultaneous flashes in the evening sun silenced them and their bodies slumped forward as their heads rolled away down the hill.