‘I am honoured that he even knows my name,’ Sabinus replied, ‘let alone that he should speak well of me.’
‘Credit where it is due is one of his guiding principles. He needs to keep an eye out for outstanding young officers. How else will he know whom to promote to command the legions that keep our Empire safe?’
‘Indeed, domina,’ Gaius said, ‘the Emperor is very assiduous in reading all despatches from the legionary legates. Sabinus does honour to our family to have been mentioned.’
Antonia turned to Vespasian. ‘So this is the lad who startles my maid,’ she said, looking at him with mock severity. Vespasian stared at the mosaic floor, unable to think of anything sensible to say. Antonia covered his embarrassment by gently lifting his chin with a slender hand. ‘Don’t worry, Vespasian, I’m not cross; I expect a good-looking young man such as you will cause quite a few young girls’ hearts to flutter in his time.’
Vespasian smiled at her; he had never before been told that he was good-looking. ‘Thank you, domina,’ he managed to get out.
‘Come and make yourselves comfortable whilst we wait for our other dinner companion to arrive.’
She ushered them into the room. It was dominated by an enormous bay window that to Vespasian’s amazement was glazed. The late-afternoon sun flooded through the near transparent glass, held in place by a lattice frame, beyond which a strangely distorted view of the gardens was visible. Three couches, upholstered in light tan leather and with gracefully curved walnut-wood headboards, stood on spindled bronze legs in the bay. The low table, around which they were set, was also made of walnut polished so brightly that it reflected the sun up on to the frescoed ceiling. At the far end of the room stood a large oak desk draped with maroon cloth and covered in scrolls of paperwork. On the floor next to it, in front of a pastoral fresco, was a strong box made of copper-decorated iron with sturdy-looking locks at each end.
Antonia clapped her hands; from behind a curtain to their left appeared three slave girls who waited as the men undraped their togas, then took them away for safe keeping.
There was another knock on the door.
‘Enter,’ Antonia called again.
Pallas walked in. ‘Domina, the Consul, Marcus Asinius Agrippa.’
‘Consul, you do me great honour,’ Antonia said as the surprisingly short and balding figure of Asinius stepped into the room.
‘As you do me,’ Asinius replied. His quick, dark eyes flashed around the other guests; his reaction showed that everyone that he had expected was present. ‘Senator, you are well, I trust?’
‘Thank you, Consul, never better,’ Gaius replied. ‘May I present my nephews Sabinus and Vespasian?’
‘I am pleased to make your acquaintances.’ Asinius acknowledged the brothers with a nod of the head whilst handing his toga to a waiting slave girl.
‘Gentlemen, let us recline and eat,’ Antonia said, moving over to the central couch. ‘Consul, you and Gaius on this side of me,’ she indicated to the more prestigious right-hand couch, ‘and the two young men to my left.’
Pallas pulled back the curtain and the slave girls appeared again to remove the guests’ sandals and wash their feet. They replaced the sandals with the slippers that each man had brought with him and then, once the diners had settled on the couches, spread a large white napkin in front of each of them.
The girls left with the sandals, passing a group of five more slaves bearing knives, spoons, plates and drinking bowls. Vespasian felt a surge of excitement as Caenis entered last in the group to wait on her mistress. He tried not to stare as she leant down over the table and her simple dress fell away from her chest to reveal two beautifully shaped, pink-nippled breasts, swaying gently from side to side as she placed the cutlery and crockery in front of her mistress. Vespasian felt the blood rush to his groin and was forced to adjust his position on the couch before he embarrassed himself. Antonia noticed his discomfort and, guessing the cause, smiled to herself. She looked over at Asinius.
‘Consul, I find myself in the awkward position of being a hostess with no host beside me. I would be grateful if you would take the host’s responsibility for the strength of the wine.’
‘Of course, dear lady, it will be my pleasure.’ Asinius looked at Pallas. ‘We shall start with four parts water to one part wine.’
Pallas nodded and then signalled the slaves who were waiting patiently behind each diner to fetch in the first course. Vespasian made an effort not to look at Caenis as she walked away for fear of compounding an already considerable problem and cursed himself for being infatuated by a mere slave to whom he could not even talk whilst in the same room, let alone hope to possess.
The dinner progressed in a sedately formal manner; the gustatio was followed by a dish of huge lobsters garnished with asparagus, which in turn was replaced by mullet from Corsica followed by goose liver with truffles and mushrooms and finally a roast boar with a cumin and wine sauce.
Antonia led the conversation through a range of uncontentious subjects, always allowing her guests time to express their opinions and deferring to those of Asinius should there be a disagreement. Vespasian found himself relaxing and, apart from a few glances in Caenis’ direction, was able to relax and enjoy the meal and contribute now and again, albeit slightly awkwardly, to the conversation. They whiled away the late afternoon in pleasant companionship, waited on constantly by the deferential slaves who padded noiselessly around them. By the time the dishes of pears, apples and figs were served the sun had set, lamps had been lit and a couple of portable braziers brought in to supplement the underfloor heating. The room, deprived of its main source of light, took on a more intimate feel and conversation grew more animated, due in part to Asinius reducing the water level in the wine.
Pallas, seeing that the diners had everything they needed, signalled the slaves to retire. He made sure there was no one listening in the serving room behind the curtain or outside the door, then he nodded to Antonia and withdrew to a darkened corner to wait, unobtrusively, on his mistress’s pleasure.
Antonia picked up a pear and began to peel it with her knife. ‘Well, this has been very pleasant; but, Gaius, as I’m sure you are aware, I didn’t just invite you and your charming nephews here to discuss the recent campaign in Africa, racing and the hideous price of good slaves. There’s a far more pressing political crisis, whose beginnings we have already seen in the rise of Sejanus in the Emperor’s favour, which will, if not countered, come to a head in the coming months.’ She paused, discarded the pear skin, cut a small slice off the fruit and placed it in her mouth. ‘I think our esteemed Consul here could best outline the situation.’
Asinius nodded and let out a loud burp. ‘Indeed; and thank you for a most delicious meal.’ He took a sip of wine, savoured the delicacy of the vintage and then began. ‘When the Divine Augustus created the Praetorian Guard, after the ravages of years of civil war, it was to safeguard the city from the external threat of any mutinous legions and the internal threat of the sort of rabble-rousers that we had come accustomed to in the last days of the Republic. One thing kept it in check and that was the power of the Emperor, who in his wisdom appointed two Praetorian prefects so that neither could get too powerful. Sejanus was appointed to the post in Augustus’ last year and shared it with his father Lucius Seius Strabo. An honest man from all accounts, so honest in fact that one of Tiberius’ first actions as Emperor was to send him to govern Egypt. Unfortunately Tiberius neglected to appoint a replacement for Strabo and so Sejanus has commanded the Guard alone now for over ten years, during which time he has managed to win Tiberius’ complete trust.’ He paused for another sip of wine and then continued. ‘And now because of the unfortunate deaths of your beloved Germanicus, domina, and the Emperor’s son Drusus, he feels that he can position himself to become Tiberius’ heir.’