Before Claudius could consider the question, Agrippina hurried to his side and knelt beside him. ‘My dearest Claudius, we cannot let this good man suffer just because one of your servants suspects him of some kind of involvement in this awful plot by the Liberators.’ Her voice was low and sweet and she cast a pitying look at Tigellinus. ‘It would be a poor reward for saving my life and that of my son. Besides, Pallas has vouched for him.’
Claudius smiled at her. ‘Yes, but Narcissus has not, and I have learned to trust his judgement over the years.’
Agrippina took his hand and pressed it to the thin folds of material covering her breast. Claudius’s smile took on a distinct leer. She spoke again, in a lower, softer voice that was almost a purr. ‘Narcissus has worked tirelessly for you. I know that. But tired men make mistakes, my love. It’s only to be expected. The poor man is overwrought and is so used to seeing conspiracies that sometimes the simple truth escapes him. You’ve heard his accusations, and you have heard Tigellinus’s explanations of his conduct. I believe him.’
Claudius twisted round to cup her cheek with his spare hand, while keeping the other on her breast. ‘My dear, you are t-t-too good. Too innocent of the ways of men.’
Cato saw the panic etched on Narcissus’s face. The imperial secretary took a step towards his Emperor. ‘Sire, I suggest that we leave my interrogators to settle the matter. If Tigellinus is innocent we shall know soon enough. Better that he suffers a little than permit a traitor to go free.’
‘Please, Claudius, there’s been enough blood shed tonight,’ said Agrippina, then she moved her head slightly so that she could kiss the palm of his hand. As Cato watched, he saw her tongue dart out and flick over the Emperor’s skin and Claudius gave a little shudder of pleasure.
‘You’re right, my love.’ He smiled, then looked up at the others gathered in the audience chamber. ‘The plot against me has been crushed. The ringleaders are dead. All that m-m-matters now is to start feeding the people of Rome again. Pallas, you can take charge of that.’
‘With pleasure, sire.’ Pallas bowed low.
Claudius turned to Narcissus. ‘You have done well, my friend. Once again you have defeated my enemies and I am in your d-debt. But the Empress is right. We must not lash out in a blind panic. The centurion was carrying out Pallas’s instructions. I am indeed fortunate to have two such devoted servants …’ He paused and looked at Cato and Macro. ‘I owe my thanks to you …’ His brow creased.
‘Cato, sir,’ Cato filled in. ‘Prefect Cato and Centurion Macro.’
‘Cato and Macro. Fine work. You shall be rewarded. It is thanks to you that R-rome can be fed once more.’ He rose from his throne and approached them with a grateful smile. Then he stopped at arm’s length and sniffed the air and grimaced. ‘Yes, well. Good j-job. Better go and, er, get yourselves bathed and find some fresh t-t-tunics.’
‘Yes, sire,’ Cato and Macro replied with a smart bow of their heads.
Claudius forced another smile before shuffling back out of range of the odour emanating from their filthy tunics. He took Agrippina’s hand again and beamed dotingly at her. ‘Come, my love. It has been an eventful night. We could b-b-both do with a rest, eh?’
The Empress raised her plucked eyebrows suggestively. Claudius led her towards the rear door of the audience chamber. Then he paused and looked back at the prisoners who had been standing silently, hoping that they might have been overlooked. ‘Oh, and have those men executed. Their heads are to be mounted next to their leaders’. See to it, Pallas.’
‘Yes, sire.’
Claudius turned back to his wife and continued towards the door with his awkward gait. Britannicus and Nero followed a short distance behind. The rest of the men in the chamber stood in silence until the Emperor and his family had left. Then they began to talk in muted tones. The Germans marched the prisoners away to their deaths while others removed the bodies of Geta and Sinius. Tigellinus turned to Cato and Macro with a smirk. ‘I hope for your sake that our paths don’t cross again.’
‘Don’t worry,’ Macro responded. ‘We’ll be quitting the Praetorians as soon as we can. Back to the proper army for us.’
‘Lucky you. Less pay, fewer prospects and the squalor of the frontier. I am positively consumed with envy.’
Macro grabbed the centurion’s tunic and pulled him close. ‘I know what you are,’ he said in a soft voice, dripping with menace. ‘You may have fooled the Emperor but we know the truth, Cato and me. If our paths do ever cross again, I swear I’ll kill you first and ask questions later.’
‘That would be rather pointless,’ Tigellinus observed as he reached up and pulled his tunic out of Macro’s fingers. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, I find your stench offensive.’ He backed away to a safe distance and took his place beside Pallas. The freedman could not help a triumphant grin as he faced Narcissus.
‘It’s not over,’ the imperial secretary said firmly. ‘You’ve won this round, but you won’t be able to fool the Emperor for ever.’
‘I won’t have to. How much longer do you suppose Claudius will live? Five years? Three? One?’ Pallas plucked at the hem of his tunic. ‘My boy is next in line to the purple. Britannicus is a spent force. Face it, you picked the wrong horse, Narcissus. I have Nero, I have his mother and the Emperor has given me the job of handing out the grain. I should think that makes me the most popular man in a starving city, don’t you? Meanwhile, what do you have? The Emperor’s gratitude, that’s what. How long do you think that’s going to work in your favour when Agrippina has her claws stuck into the old boy? Whatever your undoubted talents, I doubt that seducing a randy old man is among them.’ Pallas patted the imperial secretary on the shoulder. ‘Enjoy this moment, my old friend. There won’t be any more opportunities. You have my word on it. Come, Tigellinus.’ He beckoned to the centurion and headed towards the door of the chamber. ‘We must have a little talk about your future.’
Only Narcissus, Cato and Macro remained in the chamber. The imperial secretary stood and stared at the Emperor’s throne with a bitter, weary expression. Macro tugged his friend’s arm and spoke softly. ‘Come on, we’re done here. It’s over.’
‘Over?’ Cato shook his head. ‘How can you say that?’
‘The people will get their grain. The Emperor’s survived an assassination attempt. We’re still alive.’ Macro shrugged. ‘That’s as good a result as you can hope for in my book. Now, I could use a bath, a drink and some sleep. So could you. Let’s go, lad.’
‘Go? Go where? Back to the camp? Isn’t that going to be difficult now that our cover story has been exposed?’
‘Where else can we go? We don’t have any home outside of the barracks, Cato.’
Cato thought a moment, and nodded. Now that the plot had been foiled, they should be safe enough at the camp under their real names. For a few days at least, until some better arrangement could be made. Cato took one last look at the dejected imperial secretary. There was still one matter to be resolved.
‘Narcissus … We’ll talk later.’
‘Yes,’ Narcissus replied vaguely. Then he turned to face Cato with a calculating look. ‘Talk about what?’
‘The Liberators,’ Cato replied deliberately. ‘That, and your promise to find us postings back to the army, with confirmation of my promotion.’
‘I see. Yes.’ Narcissus nodded slowly. ‘We’ll speak later then.’
CHAPTER THIRTY
‘Lurco and Vitellius were not particularly grateful when I gave orders for their release,’ said Narcissus, smiling faintly. ‘Vitellius swore that he would have his revenge on you two, apparently.’
‘Then perhaps you shouldn’t have bothered with Vitellius,’ Macro responded without a trace of humour. ‘It would have been better if you had arranged for him to be dropped into a nice deep well. I doubt he’d have been missed by many people. Come to that, if you want the job done, you only have to ask.’