This was long before Galba made his move; it was even before the Judaean war had really started. We didn’t know yet what Vespasian could do. Except Pantera, obviously, who had seen enough to be sure.
He went on, ‘He has eight legions he can call on. That’s enough if we can put the weight of the Senecan network behind him. With them he could rule the world from Jerusalem. Or Alexandria. Or the Rhine. But he won’t need to. We can give him Rome.’
This, then, was the true reason Pantera had come back to see me that autumn: to find out if I would throw the network’s full weight behind Vespasian when I had only given parts of it to Nero, and then only at second hand.
Then and there, in the bar of the Rest, I still had a choice. I could have tried to turn him back and I didn’t.
The decision not to was mine alone, and I take full responsibility for it. I gave him what he wanted and if you want to call that weakness on my part, you are welcome. But ask yourself this: in my place, knowing him as you do, would you have acted differently? Could you have?
‘Does Vespasian know you want this of him?’ I asked.
It was as good as saying ‘yes’. The light in Pantera’s face was something to see.
He shrugged, like a boy caught out in a half-truth. ‘Not yet, but there are people around him who do. Hypatia, Mergus, Estaph… They’ll help to steer him in the right direction.’
‘He’s a stubborn man,’ I said. ‘It won’t be easy to change his mind.’
‘But it can be done. There’s a prophecy in Judaea which says a leader will arise out of the east to rule the whole world. He listens to such things.’
‘Does it apply to him?’
‘It can be made to.’
And it was. I have no idea how he did it, you’d have to ask Demalion for the details, but after the fall of Jotapata, Yusaf ben Matthias had emerged alive from the wreck of Hebrew hopes, and proclaimed Vespasian the inheritor of the Star Prophecy; then, later, an oracle at Mount Carmel said the same, and another at the shrine to Venus outside Alexandria.
They say Vespasian paid attention to such things, but even if he didn’t, his men certainly did.
All that said, it was Lucius’ assassin who tipped the balance and set Vespasian on the path to civil war. We might not be here if that one man hadn’t tried and failed to kill the general, and if he hadn’t said what he did to Pantera.
But he did, and that led directly to our third meeting.
Chapter 10
Rome, 3 August AD 69
Jocasta
The third meeting between Pantera and me took place on the same day that Trabo returned to Rome. I didn’t know that at the time, but we found out soon enough.
Pantera had sent word ahead that he would meet me in the early evening at the Inn of the Crossed Spears. I got there before him and took a place in a corner of the courtyard, where it looked out on to the street, and waited.
He arrived near dusk, weaving drunkenly through the crowd, jeering and laughing at the girls on the tightrope, at the jugglers who flung their fire sticks up and round and tossed swords at each other.
He looked seasick. He isn’t a good traveller, and while it was two days since he had hit land at Ravenna, I think he was still feeling the ground sway beneath his feet. He looked as if the smell of wine was going to make him vomit, but it may have been an act; he was playing the part of a centurion and carried papers in his belt pouch that said he was from Britain, sent with news of the latest insurrection.
It was a subterfuge he could carry easily; he’d lived in the province for long enough to be able to talk for days about the tribes and their uprisings if he had to. It was all to waste, though: nobody challenged him. Rome was full of strange centurions; another one here or there made no difference.
He reached my table, just another drunken officer greeting his wife, or more likely his mistress. That evening, I was better than a tavern slut, but rather more gaudy than a good Roman matron; more gilt on the brooches in my hair, brighter stones around my neck. If I was a bought woman, I was expensive.
We each played our parts with the ease of long practice. Anyone looking at us would have thought our attention was all for each other; a passionate, erotic delight, barely kept decent by the public place in which we met. In reality, we were both watching a bearded carter with a wide-brimmed hat who was not paying quite enough attention to the whore on his knee.
I had watched him come in and knew he was out of place, but I was impressed by how fast Pantera picked him out from the rest. He sloshed his wine on the table, hiccoughed a laugh, swept the mess away with the heel of his hand and stumbled down beside me.
Leaning in for a kiss, he said, ‘Man at the far corner. The one with the girl on his knee who’s watching a house in the street of the widows. He walks like a soldier.’
‘I know,’ I said. ‘That’s Trabo.’
Pantera eyed me sideways. ‘Are you sure?’
It was well over a decade since anybody had questioned my skills. Tightly, I said, ‘We lived next door to each other as children. My brother was in love with him. It’s him.’
‘So, then, what is an enemy of Vitellius doing watching the house of Vespasian’s mistress? He is Vitellius’ enemy?’
‘If he wasn’t, he is now. A tribune of the Guard drew his name in the lottery two days ago: Juvens.’
‘That should be interesting.’ Pantera whistled, softly, then glanced around the bar. Really, it was barely a look, but he said, ‘I count three men that are yours, plus the boy collecting the empty beakers. Did you pay the tumblers too?’
I could have lied, I suppose, out of professional pride, but why bother?
‘Yes.’ I shrugged. ‘I thought we might have need of them. Zois and Thais can provide a distraction that no man will be able to withstand.’
‘And all without losing their maidenhood. Very clever.’ He toasted me, lifting his beaker. He tipped it back, but he didn’t drink.
Two small boys were watching us, round-eyed. For their benefit, Pantera hooked an arm around my shoulders and drew me into the shadows where it was possible to speak almost normally.
‘Tell me about Juvens. I thought Nero had killed him with Seneca and the rest?’
‘He did.’ I rested my head on his shoulder. He held me close, pressed his lips to my head, but he didn’t lose his focus as another man might have done. Did I want him to? I didn’t expect it, he was too professional for that, but I expected… something. Some stirring of the loins or quickening of the pulse to show that I had reached him. There was none of that.
I might have thought he loved only men, but I knew about the healer-woman, Hannah, about the child they’d had, about what she’d meant to him.
What I didn’t know was whether there had been another woman since the night of the fire when he had loved her. The news from the east was limited and it all came from people who knew him, and cared for him. He had that effect on those he touched: they wanted to protect him because he spent so little effort protecting himself.
So if he had his secret loves, they stayed secret, and he was not about to be seduced by his own spymaster.
I answered his question.
‘Juvens the father is dead. The elder son tried for the consulship and when he failed he fled into exile. This is Juvens the younger. He escaped to the Rhine legions, and was there when they made Vitellius emperor.’
‘And thence to the new Guard. Does Trabo know about the lottery?’
‘If he doesn’t, he deserves to die. If he does, it would explain why he’s made himself into a carter.’
‘But not why he’s watching the home of Vespasian’s mistress.’
I thought about that. ‘He was Otho’s man. He might have the same purpose as us. Your letter was less than explicit, but I am assuming our purpose is to visit Caenis?’