Eventually, after the demise of three or four hundred wild beasts of many different varieties and almost twice that number of humans, the people of Rome had cheered their Emperor as he left the circus until they were hoarse. No one could dispute that it had been a fitting climax to the games of a lifetime and Claudius’ popularity had soared; no one bothered to question the fraudulent calculation that had enabled him to pull such a massive propaganda coup. The Secular Games, with their long cycle, served as a reminder to the people that Rome would last far longer than anyone’s lifetime, except, perhaps, the deified Julius Caesar and his adopted son the deified Augustus whose blood flowed in Claudius’ veins.
But it was the memory of Messalina’s dark eyes staring at him with such cold desire and then warming as they beheld Flavia that Vespasian found hard to forget as he walked up the fragrant path, curving through each beautifully designed and manicured section of the gardens. He knew that he had to avoid being drawn into her entourage, as Flavia had quite evidently already been; but how intimate the relationship was he did not know, nor did he want to guess. Instead, he allowed the tranquillity of this hillside retreat to soothe away the cares and troubles of his first two days back in Rome.
Putting Flavia’s profligacy and suspect morality to the back of his mind, as well as Messalina’s lasciviousness, Claudius’ gambling, Titus’ friendship with Britannicus and the fact that he still had not properly seen Caenis, Vespasian walked through the apricot orchard enjoying the soft cooing of doves and the dappled sun playing on his cheeks.
‘It needs to be moved at least ten paces further back,’ a voice ordered from beyond the trees.
Vespasian turned a final corner and came out in front of the villa to see Asiaticus standing in front of his funeral pyre with a well-dressed slave whom Vespasian presumed was his steward. Beyond them guests mingled on the terrace.
‘Yes, rebuild it in front of the steps up to the terrace; if it burns here it’ll damage the apricots.’
‘Yes, master,’ the steward replied. There were tears clearly visible in his eyes.
‘And stop crying, Philologos, you’ll make all my guests feel gloomy; this is going to be a happy occasion.’
‘Yes, master.’
‘You of all people should be celebrating as I’ve freed you in my will.’
‘I’m deeply grateful, master,’ Philologos said, bowing and backing away.
‘Good evening, Asiaticus,’ Vespasian ventured. He was slightly nervous as to how he would be received.
‘Ah! My false-accuser, welcome!’ Asiaticus clasped Vespasian’s arm with surprising affability. ‘There is someone here that I want you to talk to.’
‘Of course, Asiaticus. But first I want to assure you that when I enjoyed your hospitality last night I had no idea of what I was going to be pushed into this morning.’
‘I believe you, my friend; and I do not blame Pallas for doing what he did. My fate was sealed the moment that I refused to sell these gardens to Messalina; as she left the room she primed Vitellius to lie about me asking if I could choose the manner of my death as if I had recognised my guilt. Pallas knew she would get me and was just trying to make something positive out of it. I assume that your brother was the real culprit?’
‘He was.’
‘Some honesty at last. So my death will clear him.’
‘You can accept being condemned for a crime that you didn’t commit without rancour?’ Vespasian took a cup of wine from a passing slave and put it to his lips.
‘Yes, because my revenge is assured.’
Vespasian paused, mid-sip.
Asiaticus’ face creased in amusement; he took the cup, downed half its contents and then handed it back. ‘It’s not poisoned; I would consider it the height of bad manners to poison a guest at a dinner party. And anyway, you have nothing to fear from me because you will be an instrument of my revenge.’
Vespasian drained the rest of the wine and looked at his host uneasily as Philologos arrived with half a dozen slaves to begin dismantling the pyre. ‘I suppose that would be the least that I could do after this morning.’
‘This morning has nothing to do with why I’ve chosen you.’ Asiaticus put an arm around Vespasian’s shoulders and led him off towards a man leaning against an apricot tree with his back towards them, looking out over the Campus Martius to the Seven Hills of Rome awash with soft, evening light. ‘These gardens are about everything that is good in Rome,’ Asiaticus said, gesticulating with his free hand. ‘Here there is peace, cultivation — both literal and metaphorical — beauty and a remarkably fine view of the world. However, because they represent all that, they are also a mighty lure to the other forces that prevail in Rome: greed, ambition and a lust for power. Claudius told me this morning that I may keep them to hand on to my heirs; but I’m not stupid, I know that Messalina will persuade him to confiscate them and give them to her, because someone who possesses those last three qualities in such abundance will never be able to resist such beauty.’
‘She already has, Asiaticus, this afternoon at the games.’
‘She was quick,’ Asiaticus commented dryly as they drew close to the figure next to the tree.
‘She has always been good at getting what she wants,’ the man said, keeping his back to them. ‘But this time her greed will be her downfall.’
The man turned and Vespasian failed to hide his surprise as he saw the hated, familiar face with its haughty patrician sneer. ‘Corvinus!’
‘Hello, bumpkin; it seems that we’re to be friends — for a while.’
The guests applauded as the main dish was brought out on six silver platters held high by slaves. Six roast fowl, each with their small heads still attached and propped up so as to give the impression that the birds were roosting; three of them had their magnificent tail plumage reinstated behind them in a resplendent fan, whilst the other three, the duller females, looked less magnificent but equally delicious.
‘The only way that I can take my peacocks with me is to have them in my stomach when I’m cremated,’ Asiaticus announced to the good-humoured reaction of the two dozen senators reclining around three separate tables. ‘Because I’m certainly not leaving them here to be enjoyed by the next owner; whoever she may be.’ This raised a nervous laugh and Vespasian was aware of more than a few eyes glancing at Corvinus, next to him, as a pair of peacocks was placed on each table.
The presence of Marcus Valerius Messalla Corvinus had been a source of confusion all evening, which neither Corvinus nor Asiaticus had done anything to alleviate. Vespasian had had to assume that only he and his host were party to Corvinus’ treachery towards his sister. However, why his old enemy had had a change of heart remained unclear.
Vespasian reached over and carved a slice off the breast of the male bird; it was perfectly roasted, remaining moist and with a texture that did not strain the jaw. ‘My uncle said that they would taste far better than they sounded,’ he observed to Corvinus, who surprised him with a smile that could not quite be classified as a sneer.
‘That is hardly difficult.’ Corvinus leant closer to Vespasian as the conversation around the tables grew louder with the guests commenting on the rare delicacy. ‘I’ll answer your unspoken question, bumpkin: it’s because I don’t wish to go down with her. She has become so arrogant that she’s getting careless. She believes that Claudius will always swallow her version of events. Even you will have the gumption to realise that in that state of mind she’s about to make a major mistake.’
‘Insulting me is not going to help enlist my aid; I assume that’s what you want.’