Sabinus sighed. ‘They should be praised, not killed.’
‘I’m sure Narcissus is praising them quietly to himself all the time; but he’s going to kill them anyway. Now, dear boy, we should get going soon. Magnus, get your lads.’
Magnus nodded and left the room.
‘What’s going to happen, Uncle?’ Sabinus asked, hauling himself up unsteadily onto his elbows.
‘First we’re taking you to my house and then tomorrow morning you’re going in front of Narcissus and, however distasteful it may seem to crawl to a freedman, you’re going to beg him for your life.’
Gaius knocked on his own front door; it was sharply opened by the very attractive young doorkeeper. ‘Tell Gernot to put a brazier in a spare bedroom and then have the cook prepare some soup,’ Gaius ordered the young lad.
The boy looked up at his master with frightened eyes. ‘Master, we’ve had the …’
‘Yes, I know, Ortwin, the house has been searched. Don’t worry; there was nothing that you could have done to prevent it. Now go.’
Ortwin blinked and ran off through the vestibule; Gaius eyed with appreciation his slave boy’s short tunic, revealing, as he ran, what it should have concealed, before turning back to the crossroads brothers in the street. ‘Bring him in, Magnus.’ He looked at Vespasian. ‘Flavia must not be told the truth, dear boy; obviously I wouldn’t know, but I’m told that women are prone to gossip amongst themselves.’
Vespasian chuckled. ‘Of course not, Uncle, I understand. However, there’s no explanation that will fit the facts.’
‘Then don’t try to give her one.’
Vespasian marvelled that his uncle could feel that it was that simple.
‘Careful with him, lads,’ Magnus warned Marius and Sextus. ‘An arm each around his waist, then ease him up.’
‘Arm round the waist and ease him up,’ Sextus repeated, as always slowly digesting his orders.
Marius nodded. ‘Right you are, Magnus.’
Vespasian watched with concern as Marius and Sextus hauled Sabinus off the handcart they had used to transport him as Ziri steadied it. Sabinus grimaced as the two crossroads brothers supported him and he stood upright on his left foot. A trace of blood had seeped through the heavy bandaging on his right thigh as a result of the rattling journey along the Quirinal. Aided by the brothers he hobbled painfully through the door.
‘Take the cart around the back, Magnus,’ Vespasian requested, ‘we’ll need it tomorrow.’
‘What about us, sir? Will you be needing an escort in the morning?’
‘Yes, can you and the lads be here at dawn?’
‘We’ll be here,’ Magnus confirmed as Ziri turned to wheel the handcart down the side alley.
Vespasian walked through the vestibule and into the atrium to be confronted with a sight he had never before witnessed: his wife and his mistress in the same room. They both looked less than pleased; Gaius was nowhere to be seen.
‘Just what has been going on?’ Flavia demanded, her voice shrill with indignant outrage. ‘We’ve both had our houses forcibly entered and our bedrooms searched by men who have worse manners than them.’ She pointed an accusatory finger at Sextus and Marius who were helping Sabinus down onto a couch. ‘Then Sabinus is carted in here, more dead than alive, when he should be, by rights, a thousand miles away. And when I demanded an explanation from your uncle he took one look at me and ran off into his study.’
Vespasian was not surprised that Gaius had retreated. Flavia reminded him uncomfortably of his mother and he felt a deep sympathy for his father whom he had witnessed facing this sort of tirade many times in his life. An unpleasant thought flashed across his mind: had he married Flavia because she had reminded him, without him realising it, of his mother? He glanced at Caenis, standing so incongruously next to Flavia, and judged from her expression that he could expect little support from that quarter.
‘Well, Vespasian? We’re waiting.’ Flavia persisted, putting an arm around Caenis.
Vespasian winced at the sight.
‘What have you done to have caused our privacy to be so rudely intruded upon?’
Remembering the satisfying results that had followed his father taking the offensive in these situations — admittedly rather belatedly in life — he resolved to do the same. ‘This is not the time for shouting and recriminations, woman. And there’ll be no explanation! See to it that Sabinus’ room is being made ready and then tell the cook to bring him some soup.’
Flavia put a hand on her swollen belly. ‘I could have miscarried with all the stress; I will have an expl-’
‘You’ll get nothing, woman! Make sure that Sabinus is settled. Now go!’
Flavia started at the force of the dismissal and then, sharing a brief look of mutual sympathy with Caenis, turned and walked briskly from the room.
‘Caenis, see to Sabinus’ bandaging; it needs changing,’ Vespasian ordered, far more curtly than he had intended.
Caenis opened her mouth and then shut it immediately as Vespasian shot her a warning look; he did not want to shout at her and she understood. She walked over to Sabinus who was by now lying, propped up with cushions, on the couch; the look on his pale face told of just how much he had enjoyed witnessing the colliding of his brother’s complicated domestic arrangements at first hand. Sextus and Marius stood next to him, clearly unsure of where to look or how to escape.
‘Thanks, lads,’ Vespasian said, his equilibrium returning. He reached into his purse and pulled out a couple of sesterces apiece for the brothers. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ Marius mumbled, heading for the door. Sextus grunted something unintelligible and followed him out; neither looked Vespasian in the eye.
‘The stitches have held,’ Caenis observed, examining Sabinus’ wound, having removed the bandage. ‘It just needs swabbing with vinegar and a fresh dressing; I’ll go and get some.’
She left the room, keeping her eyes to the floor.
Vespasian sank into a chair and wiped the sweat from his brow with his toga, leaving a white stain of chalk.
Sabinus looked at him, too weak to do more than chuckle. ‘I take it that was the first time that all three of you have been in the same room?’
‘And the last, I hope.’
‘Unless it’s in your bedroom, perhaps?’
Vespasian glared at his brother. ‘Piss off, Sabinus!’
Any more comments on the subject were curtailed by Gaius poking his head around his study door. ‘Have they gone?’
‘Yes, Uncle, but they’ll be back.’
Gaius quickly retreated behind the door.
Vespasian reached for a jug on the table next to him and poured himself a large measure of undiluted wine. He took a long sip and savoured the taste, with his eyes closed, wishing that what he had just witnessed was not true.
Unfortunately, a short while later, it was reconfirmed: the sound of two sets of footsteps came from the tablinum at the far end of the atrium. Vespasian took an extra-large slug of his drink. Flavia and Caenis walked in together; Flavia with a bowl of soup and a loaf of bread and Caenis with a bottle of vinegar and fresh bandages.
In silence they ministered to Sabinus together, until his bowl was empty and his wound re-dressed. They then called for a couple of slaves to help them take him to his room.
When they returned they stood before Vespasian, still slumped in his chair, nursing his second cup of wine.
‘I shall go home now,’ Caenis said quietly.
Flavia looked contrite. ‘I’m sorry, husband, you were right to refuse to tell me anything. Caenis has guessed what has happened … why Sabinus is in Rome; and he did the right thing by Clementina. I know you would have done the same.’
Caenis walked past Vespasian to the door, laying a hand softly on his shoulder as she did so. She took her cloak from a hook in the vestibule, slung it around her shoulders and then looked back. ‘We both understand the importance of keeping this secret. We won’t say a word about this ever, Vespasian, not to anyone; will we, Flavia?’