The civil wars soon started as the generals battled for supremacy over each other, leading to half a century of chaos. The Senate was divided and powerless to exert its authority. Order was eventually restored by the only logical means: rule by one man. The Republic had been a victim of its own success; it had created an empire but had been unable to control it. Vespasian now understood: it took an emperor to rule an empire.
‘It seems that Asinius managed to get your parents out of Rome safely,’ Tertulla said, putting down the letter and bringing him out of his reverie.
He felt a jab of guilt as he realised that he’d hardly thought of them in the time that he’d spent in Tertulla’s company. ‘I’m pleased to hear it,’ he said.
‘Asinius asked your father to write to you here in the hope that his warning would reach you in time: don’t go to the military camp at Genua.’
‘Why not? I have to get to Thracia.’
‘He’s heard from his source in the Guard that they’re looking for a military tribune passing through Genua on his way to the Ninth Hispana in Pannonia. A Praetorian tribune by the name of Macro and a legionary from the Urban Cohort are waiting there to identify him.’
‘So what should I do? Make the journey to Thracia on my own?’
‘My darling boy, if you’re going to command men then you’re going to have to do better than that. You’ve just asked my advice and in the same breath made a ridiculous suggestion. The key to being a successful commander is to know immediately what to do when things go awry. A swift and correct decision will always endear you to your men; they will respect you, learn to love you even; but above all they will follow and support you. So you tell me what you should do.’
Vespasian thought for a moment. ‘Wait for the relief column to leave the camp, track it for a couple of days to check that there are no Praetorians amongst it and then join it late.’
‘Good. Next time something goes wrong think like a leader, not a follower.’ Tertulla took a sip from her cup, placed it down on the table and looked at him intently. ‘I believe that as the imperial family spends more time in its palaces and less on campaign where the soldiers can see its ability to lead it will start to lose the support of the legions. At that point the Praetorian Guard and the legions of Germania, Hispania, Syria and elsewhere would all declare for different emperors; civil war would erupt again. The Empire will eventually fall into the lap of the general with the most loyal army; let us hope that he has Rome’s best interests at heart. Treat your soldiers well, Vespasian, lead them to victories, because there’s no reason why you should not be that general.’
Vespasian laughed. ‘Tute, you really are losing your wits; whatever the gods have decreed as my destiny it certainly is not to be Emperor. Imagine it, me?’
‘Perhaps one day you will imagine it,’ Tertulla said quietly, rising to her feet. ‘But not today. Come, my darling, we should sleep.’
The west-facing beach was in shadow as Vespasian and his companions picked their way down the winding cliff path leading their horses and a donkey, upon which perched Tertulla riding sidesaddle. A small trading ship was tying up at the jetty, which thrust out twenty paces from the shore into the now calm, slate-blue sea. Vespasian could make out six or seven crew members scurrying around with ropes making the ship fast.
The vessel was a classic flat-bottomed sailing ship that plied the shallow waters up and down the Italian coast: a sixty-foot-long, single-masted, carvel-built, high-sided, open, wooden ship. Two keel planks joined by a wooden shaft were attached either side of her raised stern; they served as a rudder as well as preventing the keelless boat from drifting too much. Between these was a six-foot-high carving of a swan’s neck and head that gave the ship an illusion of grace it would have otherwise not have merited.
Attalus was already on the jetty talking with the squat, bearded ship’s master as the party approached; voices were raised and the steward’s worried expression was obvious to Vespasian.
‘Master Vespasian, the master is now saying that he doesn’t have room on board for the horses as he’s taken on more olive oil than expected at Ostia,’ Attalus said in a hushed voice, coming up to Vespasian as he and Magnus made their way along the jetty.
‘How much have we paid him already?’ Vespasian asked.
‘One hundred denarii.’
‘So he’s willing to lose out on a hundred and fifty denarii?’
‘No, he still wants that before you get on board.’
‘I thought the deal was four passengers and four horses.’
‘It was, but now it’s changed.’
‘I see. Magnus, I think we might have some explaining to do to this gentleman of the sea.’
‘I think you may well be right, sir.’ Magnus looked back at Sextus and Marius, who were helping Tertulla down from the donkey. ‘Stand by, lads; we may have a problem that needs resolving.’
Vespasian walked up to the master. His speckled grey and black beard almost totally covered his face, leaving only the very tops of his browned cheeks and forehead open to the elements. His eyes were barely visible from years of squinting against the sun and wind. The rough leather sleeveless tunic, which seemed to be the only garment that he was wearing, gave off an unpleasant odour, a mixture of dead fish, sweat and decomposing flesh, as if it hadn’t been tanned properly.
‘My steward tells me that you are going back on the deal that you made with him,’ Vespasian said brusquely.
‘It ain’t my fault, sir, we was meant to be sailing back to Genua half empty, then the ship’s owner brought an extra load of olive oil and there weren’t nothing I could do about it.’
Vespasian looked down into the ship’s open hold to see, at each end, two large stacks of amphorae sitting in their circular storage slots, leaving only ten feet of deck space between them.
‘Surely we could fit the horses in that gap there?’
‘It ain’t about space, it’s about weight. If you bring the horses on we’ll be too low in the water and that ain’t good, I can tell you, especially as it is winter when a storm can brew up without much notice.’
‘But it’s a lovely calm day, there’s hardly a cloud in the sky.’
‘Now it is, but how long will that last? I ain’t going to sea in an overladen vessel, that’s for sure, not for two hundred and fifty denarii.’
‘Ah, so that’s it, is it? So, for how much would you go to sea in an overladen vessel, then?’
‘Five hundred and that’s my last word.’
‘And will the extra money help us to stay afloat? I think not. What if we just decide to take the road?’
‘If you had wanted to take the road then you would have done, but for some reason or other you can’t, so you chose to take passage on a ship in winter. My guess is you want to get to Genua unnoticed, so I think that deserves a larger fee.’ The master smiled coldly in a take-it-or-leave-it sort of way. Vespasian could see that he was going to get nowhere negotiating with him.
‘It would seem that you have us by the balls. I will talk with my friends.’
Back on the beach Tertulla was adamant. ‘If you sail with such a dishonest rogue he’ll either murder you, throw your bodies overboard and take all your money, or he’ll hand you in to the port authorities in Genua and still take all your money.’
‘It depends on how many of them there are,’ Magnus said. ‘Did you count them, sir?’
‘I reckon there’re six or seven plus him, maybe more.’
‘Well, that ain’t the sort of odds that I’d fancy in a small space like that over two days and nights; we’d best get on the horses.’
‘We can’t,’ Vespasian answered, realising just how stuck they were. ‘Even if we had the time go cross-country, which we don’t any more, those bastards have seen us. When they get to Genua they’ll be able to tell anyone who pays them or threatens them what we look like and where they saw us. They’ll lead them straight to Tertulla’s house and then it will be a simple case of deduction to lead them to me and the rest of the family.’