‘Sextus has got a new joke, I take it,’ Vespasian said as he took the seat that Magnus had just vacated.
Magnus picked up the pitcher on the desk and poured three cups of wine. ‘Each time he hears it he thinks it’s for the first time.’
‘Just like he used to when he was always offering to give one-armed Marius a helping hand.’
‘Yes, it’s the same thing and it keeps him amused for hours.’
Gaius sat in the chair next to his nephew, accepting a cup of wine. ‘Still, he’s a reliable solid lad, from what I know of him.’
‘Solid being a good choice of word in more ways than one, sir,’ Magnus observed, proffering a cup to Vespasian. ‘He knows his limitations and didn’t make a fuss when I promoted Tigran to my second in command when old Servius died.’ Magnus walked across the room, opened a door on the far side and looked out into the darkness beyond. ‘I do miss the old bugger,’ he continued, closing the door and bolting it. ‘Even though he was blind towards the end he could still see the right way through a problem.’ Magnus paused to consider for a moment. ‘I was thinking over what you were saying this morning about retiring now; it may not be such a bad idea. I promised Tigran that I would soon. Perhaps it’d be better to do it now rather than have it forced upon me by one of the other brotherhoods staging a takeover or Tigran slipping a knife between my ribs because he can’t wait.’
Vespasian raised his eyebrows. ‘He’d do that?’
‘He’s already thought about it; it was only my promise that stopped him. Anyway, that’s how I got the job all those years ago.’ Magnus closed and secured the shutters on the only window in the room, dulling the rumble of traffic and drunken shouts coming in from the street.
‘Twenty-six, to be precise,’ Gaius informed them. ‘I should remember because it cost me a fortune in bribes and blood-money to save you from being condemned to the arena.’
‘For which I’ve always been grateful, senator.’
‘And you’ve repaid me many times over.’ Gaius chuckled, holding his cup in both hands. ‘I don’t suppose I’ll get quite as good service from the brotherhood if Tigran becomes the patronus.’
‘It’ll certainly cost you more; but I’m sure we can come to an accommodation as part of the transfer of power.’ A knock on the door prevented him from elaboration on the point. ‘Ah, your guests.’ He opened it to find Sextus’ massive form blocking the doorway; he moved to one side, his shoulders shaking slightly as if he was still controlling his amusement.
A moment later, Narcissus walked into the room, removing his hood; Agarpetus followed. Narcissus glanced at Magnus with languid, pale eyes. ‘The redoubtable Magnus of the South Quirinal Crossroads Brotherhood,’ he crooned, walking straight to a chair and sitting opposite Vespasian and Gaius; the scent of his pomade wafted through the room. ‘Thank you for your hospitality. Losing your grip a bit recently, I hear, hmm?’
Magnus bristled. ‘Not so as you’d notice.’ He shot Narcissus a one-eyed glare and then pushed past Agarpetus and left the room.
Narcissus affected not to notice the slam of the door. ‘Good evening, gentlemen.’
‘Good evening, imperial secretary,’ Vespasian and Gaius replied as Agarpetus stepped forward to stand at his patron’s right shoulder.
‘You had a safe journey, I trust,’ Gaius asked at his most ingratiating.
‘I came by carriage and the roads were terrible; clogged with scroungers and wastrels drunk on our merciful Emperor’s wine.’ The Greek examined one of the many bejewelled rings he wore on each of his chubby fingers and spoke as if addressing the ruby set in it: ‘Which is exactly why I chose tonight for our meeting. So we will get directly to business and forgo the small talk.’
‘We’ve always respected your penchant for straight-talking,’ Vespasian replied while pouring another cup of wine.
Narcissus’ mouth twitched into the nearest he ever came to smiling. He leant forward and placed his elbows on the table, steepling his fingers and pressing them to his lips above his trimmed and oiled black beard; weighty gold rings, dangling from each ear, glinted in the lamplight as they rocked to and fro. He considered Vespasian and Gaius for a few moments, his eyes slowly passing between them as if he was deciding whom to address first. Raucous laughter over a steadily increasing chanting and clapping filtered in from the tavern; a whore and her client were evidently being encouraged in their endeavours.
Vespasian pushed the filled cup across the desk, holding his visitor’s gaze when it fell upon him, and was shocked by how lined Narcissus’ well-filled-out face had become since the last time he had seen him at such close quarters. The strain of losing his position of influence with the Emperor — if not his title and function — to his colleague Pallas had evidently borne down hard on him; it was not easy living with the constant fear of execution. However, Vespasian felt no sympathy for him as he observed the black staining of dye on the pale skin around his hairline and beneath his beard. The threat of arbitrary death had been the lot of every Roman of the equestrian order and up from Tiberius’ reign onwards; the closer one was to the centre of power the more acute that danger became. It was something that Pallas had admitted the one time he had let his mask slip in front of Vespasian.
‘You both know very well the situation that I find myself in,’ Narcissus began, half-closing his eyes. ‘I am the Emperor’s secretary, in charge of his appointments and therefore access to him; yet for the last couple of years my influence over him has been negligible. Since Pallas and Agrippina manoeuvred me into ordering Messalina’s execution before Claudius had completely settled his mind upon it, I have been out of favour with my patron. Yes, I can still make a great deal of money charging for audiences but that is nothing compared to what Pallas makes charging for influence. I remain alive because Claudius cannot bring himself to order my execution as only I know the ins and outs of all his business affairs; I’m alive because he is too chaotic to survive without me. Agrippina has made a couple of attempts on my life but I’m too careful for her; but very soon she won’t have to resort to murder. Once Claudius is dead I think it is very obvious to all what will happen.’ He parted his hands a fraction and held them still, inviting Vespasian to fill in the gap.
‘Nero will become emperor.’
‘Yes, Claudius’ attitude to Britannicus this afternoon showed us just how far he has estranged himself from his own flesh and blood. He even granted Agrippina’s request and had Sosibius executed this evening as being responsible for Britannicus’ carefully studied insult.’
Vespasian was shocked at the extreme result of Britannicus’ revenge and wondered if either the boy or Titus had realised the possibility of that outcome. He found himself hoping that they had: it was sweet justice for the man whose lies had forced him to bear false witness. ‘Of course, he was Messalina’s appointment; I suppose it was only a matter of time before Agrippina got him.’
‘She is not feted for her mercy; and she is ruthless in fighting for Nero’s and therefore her own position. She couldn’t have the boy executed so the tutor would have to do.’ Narcissus inclined his head a fraction. ‘Lucky that Titus wasn’t standing next to Britannicus.’
Vespasian chilled but then felt a surge of hope. ‘Perhaps with his tutor’s death, I’ve got a good excuse to find an alternative for Titus.’
‘I’m afraid not; Britannicus’ education and that of his companions has now been entrusted to Seneca. Claudius has managed to put Britannicus in even more danger by giving him to the one man whom Agrippina respects and Nero actually listens to. Because Seneca’s as ruthless as the two of them in the pursuit of power he will share their view that Britannicus is an obstacle. Whatever you thought of Sosibius, at least he provided some sort of protection from those three.’
Vespasian took the point and began to wish that the odious tutor had not been so summarily dealt with.