Narcissus looked up warily at the dam towering some fifty feet above him. ‘Are we quite safe here?’
‘Perfectly!’ Apollodorus smiled confidently. He stepped forward and slapped one of the buttress timbers. ‘It will take a hundred men pulling on the ropes to dislodge each of these. When the time comes, that is exactly what will happen, once we’ve cleared the route that the flow will take down to the tributary leading into the Tiber. For now, nothing short of an earthquake will shift these. Once the water behind this dam has drained, we’ll move up the vale, draining each pool in turn until we reach the lake. That way we can control the flow of water and there’ll be only the slightest of rises in the level of the Tiber for a short time.’ He stood back and looked up at the dam with undisguised pride in his achievement. Then, conscious of the Emperor once again, Apollodorus turned to him hurriedly. ‘The celebration to mark the completion of the project is ready, sire. Just round the bend in the vale there, on the bank of the river. If you would do me the honour?’
‘What? Oh, yes. Yes, of course!’ Claudius smiled. ‘It would be m-m-my pleasure, young man. Lead the way!’
Narcissus stepped forward. ‘Sire, it is late in the day. It is already unlikely that we will return to the city by nightfall. It would be wise to set off for Rome without delay.’
‘Nonsense!’ Claudius frowned. ‘What? Are you afraid of the dark? In any c-case, this man has done a wonderful j-jo-job. The least we can do is celebrate his success.’
Narcissus bowed his head. ‘As you wish, sire.’
The Emperor patted Apollodorus on the back. ‘Lead on, my boy! L-lead on!’
The vale curved gently to the right before giving out on to an expanse of open ground. Two hundred paces beyond, the river gleamed in the sunshine as it flowed towards Rome. Several tables had been arranged together and covered with an expanse of red cloth. On the table sat a huge cake, artfully constructed to resemble the dam they had just seen. Thirty or forty of Apollodorus’s staff stood waiting beyond the table and bowed their heads at the Emperor’s approach.
Claudius smiled in delight as he reached the table and inspected the cake. ‘Excellent! Most excellent! I trust it tastes as good as it looks?’
‘It should, sire. The best cooks scoured Rome for ingredients to prepare it.’
‘This looks delicious. I’ll be the first to taste it, if I may?’
‘Of course, sire.’ Apollonius clicked his fingers and a slave ran forward with a spoon for the Emperor. Claudius paused a moment and then dipped it into the blue jelly behind the dam and turned to his retinue. ‘Tribune Burrus. One of your men please.’ Claudius turned to the engineer. ‘I m-me-mean no offence, but I have to be sure.’
‘I understand, sire.’
Burrus turned in his saddle to survey the men of the Sixth Century. Before he could speak, Tigellinus stepped forward. ‘I volunteer, sir!’
Burrus opened his mouth, as if to speak, then shrugged and nodded. Cato felt his muscles tense as the centurion paced forward, between two of the German bodyguards. He stopped a short distance from the Emperor and there was a brief pause before Claudius offered the spoon up to his mouth. Tigellinus leant forward and consumed the mouthful. His jaws worked briefly and then he swallowed. There was another pause before Claudius arched his eyebrows. ‘Well?’
‘Bloody tasty, sir!’ Tigellinus barked.
‘No ill effects?’
‘None, sir.’
‘Very well.’ Claudius waved him away and Tigellinus backed off through the cordon of German bodyguards. Cato let out a pent-up breath and felt his body relax.
‘We’ll have some of this delicious cake and then return to R-r-rome,’ the Emperor announced. ‘Tribune, you may order your men to stand down while I eat.’
‘Praetorian Guard!’ Burrus called out. ‘Fall out!’
The guardsmen, on reduced rations, looked on enviously, having moved off a short distance to allow Claudius and his small retinue to pick at the cake and indulge in small talk. Cato noted with a smile that Narcissus was doing his best to insert himself between his master and the engineer and respond to the words of the Emperor with his customary obsequiousness while frowning frostily at every comment made by Apollodorus.
Macro was staring wistfully at the cake. ‘I could murder some of that.’
‘It looks far too rich,’ Cato responded dismissively. ‘Probably give you indigestion.’
‘I could live with it.’ Macro tore his gaze away and looked at his friend. ‘I was a bit worried there, when our friend Tigellinus stepped up to test the food.’
‘Me too. Seems I was right. Whatever his plan is, it doesn’t involve suicide.’
‘Except by indigestion.’ Macro turned to look for the centurion as he and Cato leant on their shields. Tigellinus had moved a short distance off and had unfastened his chinstraps and removed his helmet. He mopped his brow and then began to unbuckle his breastplate. He glanced briefly back up the vale with a strained expression. Easing his armour on to the ground, Tigellinus stretched his shoulders, raising his arms into the air.
Macro turned back to look at the small party of dignitaries crowded around the cake, scooping away at the choice ingredients. His stomach grumbled loudly enough for Cato to hear and the two exchanged a smile. Cato opened his mouth to comment, but before he could speak a dull crash reverberated through the air. Everyone turned in the direction of the sound. A moment later there was another crash that merged into a cacophony of splintering timber and falling rocks. Then a rushing roar that swelled up and filled the air. A sudden breeze stirred at the end of the vale, and strengthened.
‘What the fuck is that?’ Macro turned towards the din.
But Cato knew instantly what the sound was and his stomach knotted in icy terror. He glanced towards the Emperor, staring up the vale, a spoon heaped with jelly halfway to his mouth. As Cato turned back he saw a dark liquid mass, gleaming and foaming, sweep round the bend in the vale, smashing down the stunted trees that clung to the steep slopes, dislodging boulders and mounds of earth, carrying all before it. The vast body of water that had been held back by the final dam roared out of the vale, directly towards the imperial party and its escort.
CHAPTER TWENTY
At first no one moved. Every man was too horrified by the sight of the churning wall of water sweeping towards them. Tigellinus acted first. He cupped a hand to his mouth and yelled, ‘Run! Run for your lives!’
The cry broke the spell and the imperial retinue, the engineers and the Praetorian guardsmen began to flee, some heading directly away from the water, while most tried to escape to the side where the ground rose slightly. Cato threw down his shield and spear and snatched at his chinstraps. Macro did likewise, already moving away from the wave.
‘Wait!’ Cato called to him. ‘We must save the Emperor!’
Macro paused, then nodded and they turned towards the table and the cake. Claudius was stumbling towards the river as fast as his limp would allow, casting terrified glances back over his shoulder as the wave approached. Tigellinus was racing across the ground after him and Cato saw, with a stab of fear, that the centurion might reach the Emperor first. He struck out, sprinting as fast as his legs would carry him, still weighed down by his scaled armour vest. Macro ran after him. A strong breeze rippled the folds of the Emperor’s toga and the loose strands of his hair as the wave thrust a cushion of air ahead of it. The hissing roar of the pounding water seemed deafening to Cato as he ran at an angle towards Claudius. To his left he could see that Tigellinus was gaining ground and would reach the Emperor first. His dagger was grasped in his hand, point held low and level as he single-mindedly sprinted towards his prey.