‘No, she’s planning a change of emperor not empress.’
Narcissus’ mouth gaped open. ‘How?’
‘By having her new husband adopt Britannicus.’
‘But Claudius will just have him executed.’
‘Not if he’s a consul.’
Narcissus looked vacantly into space as he digested the idea. In front of the temple another bull crumpled into a pool of its own blood. ‘Of course,’ he muttered. ‘Although in law a consul’s person is not sacrosanct like the tribune of the Plebs used to be in the old Republic, technically no one has the power to order a consul’s execution. Claudius, with his knowledge and respect for the law and the way of our ancestors, wouldn’t dare breach that convention, nor would he be able to force the man to renounce his position and thereby condemn himself to death. Nor could he have him murdered because that would be seen as an affront to Jupiter Optimus Maximus to whom the Consul will have made an oath to serve Rome. Messalina is a genius: she’d be married to two men, one of whom is all but inviolate and the other, although emperor, is not because technically he has no official position in the state. Therefore he can be removed or killed at any time — as was proven with Caligula.’
Corvinus nodded. ‘And a promise of a large donative to the Praetorian Guard will be enough to get rid of the vulnerable one.’
‘How do you know this?’
‘Because this was how we’d planned to make me regent to Britannicus; she would’ve persuaded Claudius to award me the consulship for my conquest of Camulodunum and I would have adopted my sister’s children and Claudius would have been isolated. However, you managed to sabotage that so now she’s going to try again.’
‘Which consul is she planning to marry? I assume it must be Geta.’
‘It’s not one of this year’s Consuls; she’s not ready to make her move until she has more confidence in the Guard; she’s … er … bolstering her relationship with the senior officers, one at a time.’
‘I’m well aware of that. So she’ll choose one of next year’s Consuls then?’
‘Yes. I don’t know whom; but that should be obvious once the nominations are announced. Then it’s a question of how, when and where they’ll marry; that’s what Flavia will have to find out.’
‘The Emperor hasn’t finalised who they will be yet; so I’ve still a good chance of getting all my people on the list, which will buy me another year.’
‘I don’t think that you’ll be involved in the decision. Messalina’s given her list to the Emperor and has told him that unless he accepts each one there’ll be no brother for Britannicus.’
‘Who told you that?’
‘My cousin, Gaius Vipstanus Messalla Gallus, who couldn’t resist gloating about it to me: he’s one of her choices. He wouldn’t tell me the rest except to say that I wasn’t one of them. That’s what made me finally decide to turn against her.’
‘But I’ve blocked him and his brother with Claudius.’
‘Messalina’s unblocked them.’
‘She’s planning to marry her cousin?’
‘Well, it’s not illegal like marrying her uncle or nephew would be.’
Narcissus sighed and then considered the situation for a few moments. ‘How do you suggest I stop this?’
‘You can’t, Narcissus, however powerful you are you do not bear the Emperor’s children. Messalina is now taking advantage of that fact. All you can do is wait for it to happen then somehow persuade Claudius that in order to survive he has to do what has never been done before.’
‘Order the execution of a sitting consul? Impossible. It’ll turn the whole Senate against him!’
‘Then he will be a dead man, as will you.’
Narcissus’ normally unreadable face betrayed the fact that he knew Corvinus to be right.
Gaius dipped a piece of bread, smeared with garlic, into a bowl of olive oil and then chewed on it, deep in thought, whilst Vespasian sat contemplating the steaming cup of wine in his hands. Behind him, Hormus stood with a toga folded over his arm in readiness to drape it over his master once breakfast had been eaten.
Picking up the loaf, Gaius tore another hunk from it and began to rub a crushed clove of garlic over it. ‘Claudius won’t believe that she’ll do such a thing until she’s done it, so there’s no way that Narcissus can pre-empt her and have Claudius order the execution of whoever she’s chosen before he’s sworn in as consul.’
‘But Narcissus will know in advance who it is as soon as Claudius announces his nominations for next year’s consulships and then it’s down to Flavia keeping him informed as to the timing of Messalina’s plans.’
‘So you can’t move her out of the palace then?’
‘Not yet, but Narcissus has promised to organise that once this is over.’
‘If he’s still alive, that is.’
Vespasian frowned and shook his head. ‘I never thought that I’d hear myself say this but let’s hope he is. Anyway, until then I’m not going to move into the new house. With Mother away at Aquae Cutillae, I’ll stay here, if that’s all right with you, Uncle?’
‘Of course, dear boy,’ Gaius replied as a loud knock on the front door echoed around the atrium. ‘Who could that be trying to get in before I’ve even opened my door to my clients?’
Vespasian took a sip of his wine as the very attractive door-boy padded over and addressed his master. ‘There’s a man to see Senator Vespasian; he says his name is Theron.’
‘Excellent!’ Vespasian exclaimed, standing. ‘I’ve been looking forward to this. Let him in as soon as I’m ready; but just him, none of his bodyguards. Hormus, my toga.’
‘Most noble senator!’ Theron oozed with his old obsequiousness as he was shown into the atrium. ‘And your honoured uncle, Senator Pollo, I believe; I am at your service.’ He bowed to them both as they sat regarding him in frozen-faced silence. His eyes flicked nervously between them as it became obvious that he was not going to get a response; he licked his lips and then pressed on: ‘I’ve come about the terrible misunderstanding that we had the other day.’
‘I didn’t notice any misunderstanding, Theron,’ Vespasian said in a cold, quiet voice. ‘I asked for the money that you owed me and you refused to pay it; it was all very clear, especially you spitting at my feet.’
Theron wrung his hands, trying his best to smile but managing no more than a grimace. ‘Such a terrible lapse of memory as to whom I was dealing with; I mistook you, noble Vespasian, for another person with whom I have dealings.’
‘No you didn’t, Theron; you knew exactly whom you were insulting. What you didn’t know was that I have a deal of influence with Narcissus. That, I imagine, has come as rather a shock to you. I expect, too, that with his cancelling your contract in Britannia and forbidding you to trade in Italia you’re now regretting the way you treated me.’
Theron cringed his apologies and begged forgiveness as Vespasian looked on in disgust before turning to Hormus. ‘Can you believe that you were afraid of this,’ he waved his hand dismissively at the slave-dealer, ‘this snivelling piece of eastern dishonesty? Look at him, Hormus; take away his living and he’s more wretched than a slave like you and yet the other day he was confident enough to spit at the feet of a senator. I think that today I shall have my slave return the compliment with interest; piss on his feet.’
Hormus stood, paralysed, looking with fearful eyes between his current and previous owners.
‘Do it, Hormus! Do it for me because I command you to humiliate him; but also do it for yourself. I’m giving you the chance, for once, to do something that will make you feel some self-worth. Vengeance is the sweetest of sensations and every man should taste it at least once; even a slave.’
Drawing a series of deep, gasping breaths, Hormus fixed his stare on Theron; his face hardened and for the first time Vespasian saw an expression on his slave that was neither meek subservience nor timidity: it was hatred. Hormus walked steadily towards the slave-dealer, hitching up his tunic. Theron made no attempt to move but stood, clasping his hands, with his head bowed, staring dumbly at the slave’s penis as it emitted a short squirt of urine that spattered on the floor between his feet. Hormus strained his body and the flow increased, drenching the ground and splattering up Theron’s ankles and calves. Hormus looked directly at his former owner as he swayed left then right, spraying Theron’s feet until the pressure died off and with a few flicks of his wrist the last drops were teased out.