‘I don’t blame you for agreeing to meet him; the way that it was put to you made your options seem very limited: a faithful son of Rome cast out by a grudge-bearing woman; lost and friendless, and then Narcissus comes to his aid offering a chance of preferment once again. I’m not going to ask you not to go, quite the reverse as a matter of fact. I want you to go and agree to whatever it is that he wants you to do for him. No doubt he’s moving to push me aside and reinstate himself as Claudius’ most influential advisor. I’ll be interested to know how he plans to go about it, so it should be a fascinating meeting.’
‘How do you know about this, Pallas? I only decided to go this morning.’
‘Then that should answer your question for you.’
‘But Narcissus’ messenger Agarpetus and my slave Hormus are the only people who know; other than my uncle and Magnus, of course.’
‘Do you trust your slave?’
‘Implicitly.’ Vespasian paused and made the obvious assumption. ‘So, Agarpetus must work for you, Pallas?’
‘Not in a way that he would know it; I just have his movements tracked and when he goes somewhere that interests me, like your house this morning for example, I make closer enquiries. Agarpetus is extraordinarily fond of the young lad who shares his bed and discusses much with him. Unfortunately for him that young lad has a greater love of coinage than he has respect for his lover’s privacy. One gold aureus bought me the fact that you were meeting with Narcissus, and when I noticed the look that passed between you both upon your arrival here I knew that I hadn’t been cheated out of my money. As to the time and place: I could guess that it was not going to be in the palace, for obvious reasons, and therefore Narcissus would be wise to use the festivities planned for this evening as cover to help him slip unnoticed through the city. They will still go ahead despite the Emperor pardoning Caratacus. The feast will now be to celebrate Claudius’ mercy in victory rather than his ability to vanquish all enemies.
‘But where Narcissus would be heading through all this joyful celebration, I don’t know for sure. However, if I were him I would choose Magnus’ tavern because his loyalty to you would ensure Narcissus’ complete safety.’
Vespasian could not help but smile. ‘It’s evidently quite pointless trying to have a secret from you; I suppose you know what we are going to discuss even though I have no idea?’
‘That I don’t know but I want you to tell Caenis after the meeting; she’ll be expecting you. She will inform me in the morning.’
‘And if I don’t?’
‘Then Agrippina will have her way and all that promise that you’ve shown in your career so far will most certainly be lost. Help me in this matter, spy on my enemy, and I will persuade the Emperor and Empress that you are the perfect man for a delicate task that could earn you much credit. Believe me when I say it’s the only chance you’ll get to serve Rome once you step down from the consulship. Agrippina’s mistrust of you is such that this offer is the only thing that I’ll have a chance of getting her to agree to.’
‘What have I done?’
‘It’s what you didn’t do. You didn’t kill Messalina.’
‘But Burrus did.’ Vespasian recalled the night in the Gardens of Lucullus when he had accompanied the then tribune Burrus to execute the faithless Empress.
‘He did, but only after you offered her the honour of suicide. Burrus is a very ambitious man and if he can do someone down at the same time as benefitting himself then he will grasp the opportunity. He has made much of your weakness in the Gardens of Lucullus that night, implying to Agrippina that you showed sympathy to Messalina to the extent that you might not have wished her death. Agrippina takes that as an indication that you would rather she were not empress. She does not forgive sentiments like that, even though I have tried to persuade her otherwise.’
Gaius was outraged. ‘But he offered his sword to Messalina not out of pity but out of a desire to see her do something that she had forced so many others into through jealousy and spite.’
‘Burrus does not frame it in those terms.’
Vespasian shook his head, sighing at the injustice of the matter. ‘And Burrus has done very well out of doing me down to the Empress.’
Pallas inclined his head in agreement. ‘He immediately became the obvious choice for Praetorian prefect.’
‘Very well, Pallas, I will spy for you despite the fact that you have given me no firm guarantee of advancement, just a promise to try to persuade the Emperor and Empress to allow me to perform some vague task.’
‘That is a very sensible decision; and you needn’t worry, I’m sure the Empress will agree to my proposal.’
‘Why, Pallas? If she distrusts me so much how can you manage to get her to agree to my benefit?’
Pallas cocked an eyebrow and gave a rare half-smile. ‘When she hears what I propose you do for Rome, she’ll be most enthusiastic. She will certainly support it because she will fully expect you to die.’
CHAPTER III
Unrecognisable in a deep-hooded cloak, Vespasian walked in silence next to his uncle, escorted by four of Magnus’ crossroads brothers who had been sent to see them through Rome’s nocturnal streets. Even in the middle of the night the city teemed with activity as suppliers made their deliveries with carts and wagons banned from Rome’s thoroughfares and lanes during daylight hours and the people feasted on the generous handouts made by the Emperor in thanks for the defeat of his persistent enemy, Caratacus. However, the presence of so many people abroad at this time did not make the journey to Magnus’ tavern any safer; quite the contrary in a city where the vast majority lived a hand to mouth existence. Gangs of footpads roamed the streets hauling the unwary or the intoxicated into dark alleyways to relieve them of their property and sometimes of their lives. Those who bore witness to the muggings would, in general, prefer the safety of minding their own business to the mortal danger of coming to the aid of a stranger. Only the club-wielding Vigiles, Rome’s nocturnal fire-watchers and keepers of the peace, offered any assistance to those in trouble and then, often, at the price of the contents of the victim’s purse.
With four torch-bearing crossroads brothers, daggers and cudgels secreted under their cloaks, Vespasian felt safe as they made their way along the bustling Alta Semita bordered by three-or four-storey tenements to either side; thin light delineated an occasional upper window and gloom-filled alleys divided them, leading into a dark and completely lawless world between the more frequented thoroughfares. But it was not his present well-being that concerned Vespasian as he blocked out the drunken singing, the cries of the street vendors and carters, the rattle of iron-rimmed wheels, the bestial calls of beasts of burden and the countless other sounds that made sleep a rare commodity on Rome’s busier streets; it was what the future held for him.
‘If Agrippina expects me to be killed,’ he said eventually to Gaius, ‘doing whatever it is that Pallas suggests, then how would you explain the mark that I found on the sacrificial liver this morning?’
‘I can’t explain it and I certainly wouldn’t make it public,’ Gaius said after hearing the incident recounted.
‘I’m not stupid!’ Vespasian snapped more tersely than he had meant to. ‘But that mark implies that Mars has a destiny set for me that is somehow involved in the greater affairs of state. I’m no auger, but when I put together a clear reference to me on a sacrifice to Jupiter Optimus Maximus, made in the very heart of Rome by my hand as a consul of Rome, with the fact that the auspices at my naming ceremony were of such a sensitive nature that my mother forced everyone present to take an oath never to talk of them, then I begin to wonder what that destiny is, seeing as I’ve already achieved the consulship.’