‘You don’t look too pleased,’ Magnus commented.
‘That’s because I’m not. I need you to do something for me,’ Vespasian replied, pulling his friend to one side to explain the situation.
Magnus stared at Vespasian for a few moments in amazement, and then burst into a roar of laughter. ‘You’ve taken a loan? I never thought I’d see the day.’
‘Keep your voice down! I’ve not taken a loan, Flavia has.’
‘Well, it’s the same thing, ain’t it? She’s your wife so you’re responsible for her actions.’
‘I know; and the stupid woman doesn’t realise the danger that she’s put me in because her vanity can’t see past the glory of being on good terms with the Empress and wants to milk the jealousy that it provokes in other women.’
‘I did warn you about marrying a woman with expensive tastes.’
‘Saying “I told you so” gets me nowhere; and you were wrong, by the way; she didn’t get herself two hairdressers.’
‘No?’
‘No, she got three!’
‘I seem to remember saying that she would need at least two, so I was right, but I won’t rub it in. So what is it you want me to do?’
‘I need cash and I need it fast without borrowing against my property so I want you to find that slave-dealer, Theron, and bring him to me with all the money that he owes me. He should either be in Rome or at Capua.’
‘Fair enough, sir; that won’t be a problem.’
‘Thank you, Magnus,’ Vespasian said, hastening to finish the conversation as he saw Sabinus approaching.
‘I imagine that you’ll not want me to mention your loan to your brother?’
Vespasian scowled while Magnus tried but failed to hide a grin, and then turned to greet his brother, who looked as sombre as the situation dictated.
‘I’ve written a new will,’ Sabinus said, handing Vespasian a scroll. ‘I haven’t had time to lodge it with the Vestals so will you keep it and read it if it becomes necessary?’
Vespasian’s personal worries disappeared as he was confronted with the reality that Sabinus may well not see the day’s dusk. He took the scroll and placed it in the fold of his toga. ‘Of course, brother; but it won’t come to that.’
Sabinus’ look made Vespasian regret his crass remark; only Narcissus could make that decision.
‘Dear boys,’ Gaius said with less of a boom than was normal, having dismissed the last of his sixty or so clients, ‘I trust we have all made the necessary sacrifices to the relevant gods? We’ll need their help today.’
As Vespasian followed his uncle and brother he was only too aware that he had been so angry he had completely neglected to appeal for divine protection. It was with a prayer to Mars running through his head and a promise of a sacrifice at the close of the day that he entered the palace and submitted to the body-search that was now compulsory for anyone wishing to come into the presence of the Emperor.
A slave was waiting for them in the atrium, which was alive with imperial functionaries, the products of the bureaucracy that Narcissus, Pallas and Callistus had created since their master had come to power. ‘Follow me, masters.’
They were led through the high, wide and labyrinthine corridors of the palace complex, every echoing step becoming heavier as the weight of the power within the building seemed to grow and oppress them. Each felt helpless; their destinies were now out of their hands. They were to be used as pawns in the political manoeuvrings, for his own personal gain, of a man of inferior birth who had become the most powerful person in the Empire.
Vespasian felt the bile rise in his throat, knowing that there was nothing that they could do. They could not run or hide or plead for mercy. For a few moments he envied Corbulo the certainties of the military camp, of which he had spoken so wistfully, and the decent Roman values of discipline and honour. But a career in Rome could not be forged by military achievement alone if a man was to rise; the politics had to be endured. All they could do now was accept their positions in this most hierarchical of societies; to do otherwise would mean exclusion and that would lead to obscurity. And that, for their family’s honour, they could not countenance.
Vespasian followed the slave out of a side door of the palace and across a garden, walled off from the outside world with no sign of a gate, and then through a second door and on into another building. After they had turned a couple of corners recognition hit him with a jolt. ‘This is the Lady Antonia’s house, Uncle,’ he said with some surprise.
‘It was Antonia’s house; now, of course, it belongs to Claudius. However, he gave it to Messalina last year because she told him that she wanted somewhere quiet to keep out of his way whilst he dealt with the weighty matters of state.’
‘Oh, I see.’
‘Exactly.’
The presence of the slave meant they could say no more, but Vespasian understood well enough what the house of his old benefactress was now used for.
They turned another corner and Vespasian recognised the corridor in which Antonia had confronted Sejanus, all those years ago, as Sabinus, Caligula and he had hidden behind an unlocked door; it was to this very door that the slave led them, ushering them in with a bow to a small room, no more than an ante-chamber, sparsely furnished with three stools. Narcissus and Pallas waited within, along with two Praetorian centurions.
‘Good morning, senators,’ Narcissus said, waving the slave away. ‘I’m sure that you remember this room and the view that it has into the house’s formal reception room.’ He indicated the curtain through which the brothers and Caligula had spied on Sejanus on the evening that they had rescued Caenis from his and his lover Livilla’s clutches. Since then the curtain had been replaced with one of a finer material and the room beyond was visible so that the features of those already within could be discerned. ‘I want you to be able to see and hear the proceedings so that when I call upon you to speak you will be able to answer the questions asked of you with the benefit of knowing how the arguments have been made.’
‘Or what I was supposed to have said, I suppose,’ Gaius muttered.
Narcissus looked at him in surprise. ‘Exactly. So you’ve worked out why you’re here.’
‘Vespasian did.’
Narcissus gave Vespasian an appreciative look. ‘You’ll make a politician yet.’
‘I don’t think I have the stomach for it.’
‘It has nothing to do with your stomach but, rather, your natural instinct to survive.’
‘I have that all right; we all do. That’s why we’re here and not helping Sabinus into a warm bath and giving him a sharp knife.’
Gaius looked into the brightly lit reception room where Asiaticus sat in profile, guarded by Crispinus, opposite a dais with two chairs upon it, and then turned nervously to Narcissus. ‘Won’t people see that we’re in here?’
‘No, this room is much darker; from out there you can see nothing through the curtain so no one will know that you’re here except Pallas and me as well as these two gentlemen.’ He indicated to the centurions. ‘They are here to ensure that, on the off-chance that Claudius or Messalina order the curtain to be drawn back, I can’t be accused of putting their lives in danger seeing as you are being guarded by two seasoned killers.’ With a curt nod of his head, Narcissus walked past them to the door. ‘You’ll be called if and when you’re needed.’
As Pallas followed him he whispered, ‘Remember that whatever happens I’ll try and secure the best outcome for you all.’
Vespasian watched him go and then looked at his brother and uncle; neither would meet his eye as they struggled with their own thoughts. Two men entered the reception room; one, whom Vespasian recognised as Lucius Vitellius, sat next to Asiaticus and the other, whom he guessed was Suillius, took his place next to the dais. Claudius’ freedmen then made their appearance and placed themselves on three chairs in a row, facing Vespasian, between the accused and the imperial seats. Vespasian slumped down onto a stool, feeling his belly churn — more violently, even, than before combat, when at least a man holds his life in his own hands — and, with an increasing sense of helplessness, waited for the arrival of the Emperor and Empress.