Sabinus scratched the back of his head and cleared his throat. ‘But how am I meant to get that legislation through the Senate?’
‘The normal way: bribery with the money that I shall give you and appealing to everybody’s common sense. This will finally unite the Julian and Claudian families in marriage and will provide an heir who, if he marries Claudius’ daughter-’
‘But she’ll be his adoptive sister!’
‘Yes, but that can be easily dealt with when the time comes. When Lucius marries Claudia Octavia and disposes of Britannicus he becomes irrefutably the heir to Julius Caesar and Germanicus and the people will love him. The other consideration is that Agrippina is already forty-two and unlikely to conceive again and cloud the succession issue even more. If the Senate wants stability then that’s what they should have in their minds when they vote to make it legal for an uncle to marry his niece.’
Although Vespasian knew that Pallas had always thought Britannicus’ chances of survival to be slim — they had discussed the matter five years previously when Pallas had accompanied Claudius to Britannia — it was the clinical way that the freedman made the assessment that gave him a chill. He now saw the boy’s death as inevitable; it was what he dreaded for personal reasons. ‘What about my Titus? What happens to him as Britannicus is culled in this scheme of yours?’
‘He will be kept safe, you have my word; after all, what threat is he to Agrippina and Lucius? No one could dream of him becoming emperor.’ Pallas cocked his head and widened his eyes. ‘Unless perhaps there’s no issue from Lucius and Claudia Octavia’s union and the blood of the Caesars runs dry?’
‘It would be treasonous to explore that thought.’
‘I’m sure that most of the Senate have committed treason in that way. However, for the present, if you both want to advance your family’s position then I suggest you do as I ask; do I have your support, gentlemen?’
The brothers looked at each other and quickly came to a silent mutual agreement.
‘Yes, Pallas,’ Vespasian confirmed, ‘out of loyalty to you and the obvious gain to us, we’ll do it.’
‘Good. Flavia must go to Messalina tonight.’
‘She will. But I have a favour to ask.’
Pallas inclined his head.
‘If your scheme works-’
‘Which it will.’
‘Which it will. Then Narcissus will not be in any position to save people close to Messalina.’
‘Indeed.’
‘So Corvinus will die?’
‘Undoubtedly.’
‘Will you save him if I ask you to?’
‘As a favour to you, yes, I would; but why would you want such a thing?’
‘Because I took money off him indirectly in return for his life; I should honour that and in doing so I have the chance to finish our feud once and for all.’
‘Then consider his life as being in your hands.’
‘I’ve one question,’ Sabinus interjected. ‘What is the decree that you want me to have ratified by the Senate?’
Pallas got to his feet. ‘A small whim of the Emperor’s that mistakenly got overlooked.’
Vespasian rolled up the scroll and laid it down on the table, smiling at his wife sitting opposite him on the terrace of their suite. ‘A bankers’ draft from Messalina, redeemable at the Cloelius Brothers in the forum for a quarter of a million denarii payable to the bearer — well done, my dear; I’ll get Magnus to exchange it for another draft issued by the Cloelius Brothers themselves, again payable to the bearer, which I’ll cash in and there’ll be nothing to link the money to Messalina.’ He patted the scroll as if it were a treasured possession of rare beauty and then inhaled a satisfied breath of cool morning air. ‘How did she take the worrying news from a concerned lover who accidentally overheard her husband’s private conversation?’
Flavia took her husband’s hand over the table. ‘Vespasian, I shall be so glad when this is over and I think that it’ll be soon; she believed me and flew into a rage, cursing everyone from the Emperor and his freedmen to her four personal attendants, one of whom she had whipped in front of her to make herself feel better.’
Vespasian thought back to the slave girls who had accompanied Messalina to Asiaticus’ hearing and wondered which had been the unfortunate one. ‘Did she give any indication of what she plans to do?’
‘She swore that she’d see everyone plotting against her dead before the Ides of October and then left to go to the Gardens of Lucullus to calm down and meet with Silius.’
Vespasian contemplated this for a while, gazing over the rooftops of Rome in the direction of Messalina’s ill-gotten gardens. ‘Of course,’ he murmured, ‘that’s where she’ll do it to keep it secret; there’ll be no procession from one house to the other, no veneration of household gods in the street or re-enactment of the abduction of the Sabine women, it’ll just be a private party in the most private gardens in Rome. No one outside her circle will know until the new Suffect-Consul announces in the Senate the following morning that he is now married to the Empress who has divorced the Emperor and he is going to adopt Britannicus. If she really has managed to seduce enough officers in the Guard then the plan has a very good chance of succeeding. All he has to say is: choose between Claudius and Messalina because one of them is going to die; and, by the way, if it’s Messalina who perishes here’s a list of all her lovers, which will make interesting reading for the Emperor. Perfect.’
Flavia tightened her grip on her husband’s hand. ‘What will you do?’
Vespasian got to his feet. ‘First of all I’m getting you and the children out of Rome. Cleon!’
‘Yes, master,’ the steward replied, stepping out onto the terrace.
‘Have the mistress and children’s things packed up, enough to last for a month, and organise transport for them to my estate at Cosa. They’ll leave tonight under cover of darkness.’
‘Yes, master.’ Cleon bowed and backed away.
‘Are you sure that’s wise?’ Flavia asked. ‘I thought you said that you couldn’t move us out of the palace without permission from the Emperor.’
‘He’s at Ostia and by the time he comes back to Rome I’ll have that permission.’
‘How can you be sure?’
‘Because in the struggle between all the would-be masters of Rome I’m backing the winner.’
CHAPTER XVIIII
Gaius Silius stood before the Father of the House, his toga draped over his head and the most solemn expression etched on his well-carved features. ‘Before you, Jupiter Optimus Maximus, or whatever name by which you wish to be called, I swear, as a consul of Rome, to uphold the laws of the Republic and to give my loyalty to, and protect the life of, the Princeps of Rome, Tiberius Claudius Caesar Augustus Germanicus.’
‘That is the first lie of his consulship,’ Gaius muttered, looking at the Emperor’s empty chair in front of the altar. ‘It’s a shame that he didn’t tell it to Claudius’ face.’
‘He won’t get the chance,’ Vespasian asserted, ‘he’ll be dead in two days.’
‘I hope you’re right, dear boy, it’ll be very awkward for us if he’s not.’