‘And the legions refused to embark onto the ships when Caligula attempted to cross to Britannia,’ Callistus said as if he was reciting from a well-rehearsed script.
‘There’s nothing worth having south of our provinces in Africa,’ Narcissus carried on almost seamlessly. ‘We are planning to annex Mauretania, further west; Suetonius Paulinus has been given that task and, as a reward for his timely declaration of loyalty, the Emperor has made Hosidius Geta legate of one of the legions under Paulinus’ command.’ Narcissus paused for a moment in thought, as if a fact had just occurred to him. ‘But it is of little value and would hardly be a martial feat. Not really deserving of a triumph, although I’m sure the Senate will vote Claudius one, which he will, of course, modestly refuse.’
‘We could always annex Thracia.’
‘Indeed, my dear Callistus, but where’s the glory in that? And in the east, Armenia has a Roman client king on its throne. So all that leaves is Parthia.’
Pallas nodded, taking up the reins of the argument without a pause. ‘However, Lucius Vitellius fought a successful campaign there a few years ago and for the moment we have a settlement that is working in our interests. So we should forget going east and, anyway, if we did go that way it’s too great an area to hold without committing the sort of resources that we just cannot afford. So that only leaves one financially viable option.’
‘Yes, Pallas, you are so right. It only leaves Britannia,’ Narcissus said slowly. ‘But this time we do it properly. Callistus, please.’
Callistus cleared his throat. ‘When my former patron, Caligula, was planning his haphazard attempt to invade Britannia, I played a major role in co-ordinating all the various elements. I know that an invasion of Britannia is eminently possible. And it has three great advantages: firstly, we’ve already put the entire infrastructure in place; this will save us millions.’ He twitched one corner of his mouth at Pallas in what Vespasian assumed was his equivalent of a self-congratulatory beam; a suggestion of a raised eyebrow signalled Pallas’ approval. ‘We already have a disembarkation port, Gesoriacum, filled with granaries, warehouses, workshops and supply depots; the Gallic provinces are very fertile, so we will have ample supplies with which to fill them. There are still a goodly amount of ships up there, although nowhere near the thousand or so that we’ll need, but that will be addressed by our senior general on the northern coast, Publius Gabinius Secundus, the Emperor’s personal friend.
‘Secondly, we have two exiled British Kings, Adminios and Verica, currently here in Rome asking us to restore them to their thrones; this gives us an air of legitimacy and pro-Roman local rulers once we’re successful.
‘And the third great advantage is that the chief city in the south of the island, Camulodunum, is no more than a hard summer’s campaigning from where we would land. Claudius could have his victory within one season.’
‘If the legions don’t refuse to embark,’ Pallas reminded everyone.
‘If the legions don’t refuse to embark,’ Narcissus repeated. His gaze now wandered to Sabinus.
‘How do you propose to make them this time, Narcissus?’ Sabinus asked, interested, his present dilemma seemingly forgotten.
‘That’s how you and your brother now have the chance to save your life, my friend. Had it not been for Pallas’ adroit handling of your predicament — albeit behind my back — you would have been a dead man.’ He paused and gave Pallas a fleeting look of disapproval that carried far more weight than the minuscule movements of the facial muscles outwardly conveyed. ‘However, I now find myself free to give you this opportunity in payment for the debt I still owe you for the discretion you showed over my patron’s foolish letter. Will you take it, not knowing what it is, or would you prefer to die with the others?’
Vespasian glanced at his brother, relief flooding through his body. Gaius exhaled as if he had been holding his breath for the entire meeting.
It was an easy question for Sabinus. ‘I’ll take it, Narcissus, whatever it is.’
‘Good. Palagios!’
The door opened and the clerk walked in. ‘Yes, imperial secretary.’
‘Are the prisoners ready?’
‘Yes, imperial secretary.’
Narcissus rose. ‘Come with me, Sabinus; Vespasian, you’d better help him.’ Pulling back the curtain, he opened the door and stepped through.
Vespasian and Sabinus followed him out into a small courtyard, grey with drizzle. Six men knelt at its centre before a wooden block; each guarded by a Praetorian with a drawn sword under the command of a centurion. The closest prisoner raised his auburn head and smiled in resignation at the brothers, his pinched face more pallid than ever.
‘Proceed, centurion,’ Narcissus ordered, ‘there will be no one else added to their number. Centurion Lupus first.’
‘Yes, imperial secretary.’
As Lupus was led forwards to the block Sabinus grabbed Narcissus’ arm. ‘You can’t make me watch my wife’s brother’s execution.’
Narcissus glanced down at the hand grasping his arm and removed it. ‘You are in no position to make demands, Sabinus; unless, that is, you wish to demand to join them.’
Vespasian placed an arm around his brother’s shoulders and pulled him away. ‘There’s nothing to be gained by arguing.’
Lupus knelt before the block, placing his hands upon it as the Praetorian guarding him touched the back of his neck with his blade; Lupus tensed as the weapon was raised, hunching his shoulders close to his head. The sword flashed down; Lupus screamed in agony as it embedded itself in the base of his neck, severing his spinal column but not his head. Paralysis was almost instantaneous and Lupus slumped to the ground, bleeding profusely but still alive.
Narcissus tutted. ‘I would expect a Praetorian centurion to be able to hold himself with a little more dignity and extend his neck when faced with death.’
As Lupus’ limp body was stretched out with his head over the block, his eyes staring in agonised terror, Vespasian glanced at Clemens; he held himself calmly as the executioner brought down his sword a second time and struck off Lupus’ head in an eruption of spurting gore.
‘That’s better,’ Narcissus commented as the headless corpse was dragged away from the block, leaving a copious trail of blood across the wet paving stones. ‘I think we should have Prefect Clemens next, let’s see if he can do better.’
Sabinus stiffened, the muscles in his cheeks pulsating as he struggled to keep himself under control. Vespasian kept his arm firmly around his shoulders.
Narcissus turned to the brothers. ‘Do you know, I think you were right, Sabinus, it would be wrong for me to make you watch Clemens’ execution. I think that the perilousness of your situation would be far better stressed if you performed the deed yourself.’
‘I can’t execute Clemens!’
‘Of course you can; if you don’t I’ll have him execute you before he’s despatched.’
‘Do it, Sabinus,’ Clemens called as he was led to the block. ‘If I’m not to be allowed the dignity of suicide by this doublecrossing, oily Greek freedman then I would rather die at your hand than have the humiliation of a mere ranker taking my life.’
Sabinus shook his head, tears welling in his eyes.
‘You have to, brother,’ Vespasian whispered. ‘Narcissus is making you do this to emphasise the power that he has over us; either submit to it or die.’
Sabinus heaved a huge sigh, holding his head in both hands. ‘Help me over there.’
Vespasian supported his brother as he hobbled over to Clemens, kneeling in front of the blood-drenched block. The Praetorian offered his sword, hilt first; Sabinus took it and stood over his brother-in-law.
Clemens looked up. ‘Tell Clementina and my wife that you did this because I wanted you to; they will understand and be grateful that you made my death less of a humiliation.’
‘I will, Clemens. Thank you for giving your sister to me; she is a good wife and has made me very happy; I’ll always keep her safe.’ Sabinus hefted the sword in his hand, judging the weight.