‘Very good, master,’ said the steward. ‘His tutor says he is very quick.’
‘Glad to hear it. Now let’s go and have something to eat while you tell me all about it.’
They went to the informal dining room next to the kitchen and Lucius babbled about all the things he had learned and seen in the capital over the last few months. As the bread, cheese and honey was brought to them by the steward, Apollonius joined them and Lucius launched into a long monologue, repeating everything he had just told his father, while the agent good-naturedly feigned deep interest. When Lucius turned to his food and began to devour a bun smothered with honey, Apollonius glanced at Cato.
‘You’ll be making for the palace soon, I imagine.’
Cato nodded. ‘Once we’ve eaten.’
‘I’ll come with you part of the way.’
‘There’s no need.’
‘I have business of my own in the city. I know a senator who has one of the finest libraries in Rome. I’ve been intending to look him up and see if he’ll let me borrow some of his books. I’ll accompany you as far as the Forum.’
Cato thought it over. The company would be a distraction from his anxiety over having to present his report at the imperial palace. ‘Very well.’
They set off at the second hour as the early-morning sunlight began to warm the city. Cato was dressed in a fresh tunic and his boots had been cleaned and polished. Due to the formal nature of his visit to the palace, he wore a soft leather cuirass over his tunic and his medal harness on top of that. He looped a simple belt about his middle but left his sword and dagger in their sheaths at home. His appearance was military and smart enough to present himself to the emperor and his advisers.
As they strode down the hill into the heart of the city, Apollonius spoke first.
‘How do you think it will go?’
‘We completed the tasks we were given. Claudia Acte was escorted into exile and the brigands were defeated. I’ll try and keep it short and sweet.’
‘I’m sure you will. What do you intend to do about Claudia?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘You can’t hope to keep her presence a secret for ever.’
‘I know that,’ Cato responded irritably.
‘Your Praetorian friends might have given their word about saying nothing, but you know how it goes when they’re in their cups. You’ll have to do something about her as soon as possible.’
‘Since we’re asking questions, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.’
‘Oh?’
‘That shepherd, Milopus.’
‘What about him?’
‘You said you left him tied up behind the rocks before we made for the pen on the day of the attack. You were going to go back to release him afterwards.’
‘That’s right.’
‘Is that true?’ Cato glanced sidelong at his companion. ‘Did you do that?’
‘I dealt with him, yes.’ Apollonius stopped abruptly as they reached the next crossroads. ‘I’m heading that way. I hope all goes well at the palace.’
Cato fixed him steadily with his good eye. ‘Did you free him?’
‘I’ve answered your question, Prefect. The matter is closed.’ Apollonius nodded in farewell. ‘Until later.’
He turned off the street into an alley and strode away. Cato regarded him warily for a moment before he continued on his way.
Once he had reported to the chief clerk of the imperial secretariat, Cato was directed towards the large hall outside Nero’s audience chamber, where a number of people were waiting for the chance to submit their petitions or plead their cases. He moved to the side and leaned against the wall as he scanned the modest crowd. He saw Rhianarius, and met his gaze just as the man looked in his direction. At once Cato glanced down and made a close study of his fingernails.
‘Prefect Cato!’ a voice called across the room.
‘Oh bollocks,’ Cato growled to himself.
‘Prefect Cato, I thought it was you!’ The shipowner bustled through the crowd towards him and Cato looked up with a polite smile of recognition.
‘With the eye patch I couldn’t be sure at first,’ Rhianarius continued. ‘I take it your work in Sardinia is complete?’
‘I’m afraid my report is for the ears of the emperor first.’
‘Well, of course. Of course it is. I wouldn’t presume to encourage you to breach protocol.’ He leaned closer to Cato and lowered his voice. ‘But since you’ve just returned from Sardinia, you can tell me if the rumour from Ostia is true. Are they going to quarantine the island until the pestilence has passed?’
‘Like I said, I can’t comment.’
‘But I need to know. That sort of thing could ruin my shipping business.’
‘That would be a great pity, I’m sure,’ Cato replied wryly.
The door to the audience chamber opened and a clerk slid through. All those waiting turned in anticipation. The clerk cleared his throat and announced, ‘Prefect Cato!’
‘Here!’ Cato stepped away from the wall, conscious of the deflated expressions of those around him, and the scowls of those who resented having waited for hours only for a latecomer to jump the queue. He made his way towards the door, but the clerk indicated a smaller door to the side of the antechamber.
‘This way, sir.’
‘My report is for the emperor.’
‘Yes, sir. But the emperor is dealing with another matter. Senator Seneca will see you instead. If you’d follow me.’
The clerk led him into a narrow corridor that ran alongside the imperial audience chamber and was lined with small rooms where clerks pored over documents. From the other side of the corridor Cato caught snatches of the business being carried out in the chamber.
‘. . . and if they want to erect a statue to me in Rhodes, then you tell them it has to be made of gold.’ That was Nero’s voice.
‘But Imperial Majesty—’
‘Gold, I said. And gold it shall be . . .’
The voices faded as the clerk reached a larger room at the end of the corridor and announced, ‘Prefect Quintus Licinius Cato, sir.’
Seneca was sitting on a couch beside the room’s only window. The shutters had been opened and sunlight poured in, illuminating painted walls that depicted the adventures of Aeneas.
‘Good to see you again, Prefect.’ Seneca gave a smile that was neither warm nor sincere, merely the reflex expression of a long-term politician. ‘I take it your return to Rome marks the end of our Sardinian difficulties, pestilence aside. But don’t stand there. Come and sit here by the window.’
Seneca shifted to the far end of the couch, and Cato crossed the room to sit as far from the senator as he could.
‘I’ve come to make my report to the emperor, sir.’
‘Nero is busy with other matters.’ Seneca looked at him shrewdly. ‘I imagine you overheard some of that out in the corridor.’
‘Enough to know that the people of Rhodes are not going to be happy about the outcome.’
‘They’re Greeks. They’ll find a way to work round Nero’s demands. They want a marble statue erected. Nero demands gold. They’ll compromise on silver, and even if work on it actually begins, Nero will have long forgotten it was ever discussed. Such are the weighty concerns of emperors. Which is why I am tasked with the slighter business of overseeing the campaigns that make the Empire safe while wiser heads haggle over slight matters such as sculptural materials.’ He gave a conspiratorial smirk, then hesitated. ‘You seem to have one eye fewer than when we last met.’
Cato gestured to the patch. ‘This? Just a wound. Nothing of concern to those dealing with weighty matters, or even slight ones.’
‘Your point is made. Now let’s have the report.’
Cato briefly related the details of the conditions he had encountered on arriving in Sardinia, and the campaign that had culminated in the destruction of the brigands and their stronghold. Seneca listened intently and nodded once he had concl
uded.
‘Good work. Though it seems that the pestilence did half the job for you.’
‘It hit the enemy before it began to work its way through my men. If it had been the other way round . . .’
‘Quite. You were lucky it didn’t claim you.’
‘I had the sickness. It seems that as many recover from it as die, and some seem impervious. However, by the time I left the province, it had killed many of my men, and thousands of civilians, as well as the enemy. In fact, it’s likely that without the intervention of the sickness, the brigands would have had the upper hand.’
Seneca nodded thoughtfully. ‘It’s strange, isn’t it? Rome is the greatest power in the world, and yet we are powerless before an invisible enemy that moves and strikes us down with impunity.’
‘There’s one other thing I must tell you.’ Cato braced himself for the lie he must tell, and tell convincingly. ‘Claudia Acte is dead. She was taken hostage by the brigands and died from the sickness while held in their camp. We buried her there with the other dead.’
‘Was she already dead when you discovered her?’
Cato hesitated before he replied, concerned that Seneca knew more than he had yet revealed. ‘No. But it was too late to save her. Before she died, she did say that she had brought the sickness into the enemy’s camp.’
‘Ah, then she did us a final favour before her death. She was doomed either way. I was on the point of persuading Nero to sign the order for her execution. She had to go. He’d made a fool of himself by falling for her charms. We couldn’t allow a woman from such common stock to exert influence at the highest levels of power and survive to tell any tales. She has saved me the bother of arranging an unfortunate end to her life. Still, I dare say Nero may feel a passing grief for her loss, though for those of us who have to advise him, the news is something of a relief.’
A cold dread filled Cato’s heart as he considered the senator’s words. There would be no mercy shown to Claudia if she was discovered alive, let alone alive in Rome.
‘Almost as much of a relief as hearing that that blustering clown Scurra has been claimed by the pestilence.’
‘Scurra, dead?’
Seneca smiled. ‘Ah, you haven’t heard then? I suppose not, since I only received the news from Tibula yesterday. Puts an end to his incompetent governorship of the province. I’ll find a better man for the job easily enough. After all, it’s not as if I could set the bar much lower . . . But that’s work for another day. The question is how to reward you now. Reappointment to the Praetorian Guard should be possible once a suitable vacancy comes up.’
It was a tempting prospect, but for the fact that it would require Cato to remain in Rome. If he was to protect Claudia, the city was not a safe place to be.
‘Thank you. I’ll give it some consideration.’
Seneca frowned. ‘I would have thought the prospect would have delighted you. It seems I am wrong. Have I missed something?’
‘It’s just that I am still recovering from the sickness,’ Cato replied.
‘You don’t look ill.’
‘I am still feeling weak. I have recurring bouts of exhaustion. I had hoped to rest a while and fully recover before I return to duty. Of course, I’d be grateful for the honour of serving in the guard again some day.’
‘I see . . .’ Seneca regarded him thoughtfully, then reached over and patted him on the shoulder. ‘You know best what is right for you. Take as much time as you like; you’ve earned it. Why not hire a villa down at Baiae? The sea air will do you good. It’s a beautiful place. I have a villa there myself.’
Cato nodded. ‘That’s a sound idea. I’ll think it over.’
‘Do that. And let me know when you are ready to return to duty. The Empire needs men of your calibre guarding our frontiers.’ Seneca stood up and waved towards the door in an unmistakable gesture of dismissal. ‘Now, I am afraid I must return to the emperor before the lad compromises too much and the Rhodians persuade him to accept a bronze statue.’
Cato bowed his head in farewell and left the room, conscious of the senator’s scrutinising gaze as he strode away. He increased his pace as he headed back down the corridor and left the palace, eager to return home as swiftly as possible and make his plans.
Chapter Thirty-Six
‘We have to leave Rome,’ Cato announced as he sat at the desk in his study with Claudia and Apollonius. Cassius was lying close to Cato, his head resting on his master’s foot as he stared blissfully into the middle distance with half-closed eyes. Cato’s steward had brought them a jug of watered wine before leaving them alone to confer.
‘Why?’ Apollonius asked. ‘We’ve only just arrived here.’
Cato related what he had learned from his meeting with Senator Seneca. He finished and looked anxiously at Claudia. ‘Your life is in danger every moment you remain in the capital.’
‘And yours,’ she said quietly. ‘And maybe your son’s too.’
Cato’s silence was confirmation enough for her.
‘I must leave your home, Cato. I’m putting you and everyone else here in danger.’
‘That may be so,’ said Apollonius. ‘But where else can you go? Who can you rely on to keep you safe and not betray you to Seneca or his agents? Can you think of anyone you would trust with your life?’
She thought a moment and shook her head. ‘I’ll have to leave Rome alone.’
‘And go where?’ the agent insisted. ‘And how will you survive without coin or connections?’
‘I’ll think of something.’
Cato leaned forward and took her hand. ‘You’re not going anywhere without me. I’ll look after you. It’s the least I can do after you saved my life.’
She smiled softly. ‘All I did was nurse you, Cato.’
‘At great risk to your own life. I was the one who passed the sickness on to you.’
‘You don’t know that for certain.’
‘No? Then if not me, who?’
She squeezed his hand affectionately. ‘How long have you known me, Cato?’
‘Long enough to know what I feel for you. And long enough to know that I do not want to live without you. I will protect you with my life. Just as I did when we rescued you from the pen.’
She stiffened at the memory. ‘If you choose to protect me again, there is a good chance that this time it may cost you your life. I can’t live with that on my conscience.’
‘Any more than I can live with the idea of abandoning you to whatever dangers you may face alone. I won’t do it.’
Claudia withdrew her hand and looked to Apollonius for support. ‘Tell him I’m right. You know him well enough to know the right words to persuade him.’
Apollonius laughed and shook his head. ‘Just when I think I do know him, the prefect says or does something that surprises me. But I think his mind is made up this time. And when it is, nothing on earth can turn him from the course he is decided upon. That much I know.’
‘Oh, thank you,’ she responded bitterly. ‘You’re a great help.’
She turned her gaze to Cato, pleadingly. ‘Please, my dearest Cato. You know I love you . . . Yes, that’s true. I admit it freely and wholeheartedly. But that’s precisely why I must leave you. I could not bear to see you come to harm on my account. As long as I know you are safe, I will be happy.’
‘How can you be happy if you love me and choose to forsake me?’
She thought for a moment and sighed. ‘It is the way it has to be.’
‘No,’ Cato said firmly. ‘There is another way. Like I said, we must leave Rome. You, me and Lucius. We must go somewhere there is little chance of you being recognised. Somewhere far from here. Somewhere we can be among people we trust with your secret.’
‘And where would that be? I have been seen at Nero’s side in Rome, Baiae, Capreae and every place he has ranged across Italia. Nowhere is safe for me.’
‘Then we go further. As far from Rome as possible. To the very frontiers of the Empire if necessa
ry.’ Cato paused and took her hand again. ‘There are some people I can trust with your secret. There’s someone in particular I trust without reservation. A man who would give his life for me as freely as I would give mine for him.’
‘Who is this man?’
‘His name is Centurion Macro. I met him when I joined the army and we have fought side by side until this last campaign. He is the bravest man I have ever met. And the most honest. We’ll be safe with Macro, I swear it.’
‘And where will we find this paragon of soldierly virtues?’
‘In Britannia.’
‘Britannia? I’ve heard it’s an island peopled by ignorant barbarians intent on spurning every benefit the Empire has to offer them.’
‘That’s true,’ Cato conceded. ‘But what better place to hide from those who know you? We can stay with Macro until we are ready to make our home there. I have more than enough money to buy some property. A farming estate in the south of the island will do. That part of the province has been subdued. We’ll be safe there. I’ll get a tutor for Lucius . . .’ His mind raced with possibilities, each one confirming the rightness of his decision.
‘Oh, my dear Cato!’ Claudia laughed. ‘One step at a time.’
She turned to Apollonius. ‘Do you know this man Macro?’
‘Oh yes. He’s delightfully uncomplicated. Unlike our friend Cato.’
‘But is he trustworthy? Is he a man of principle?’
Apollonius made a face. ‘How would you define principle exactly?’
Cato scowled and made to speak, but the agent got in before him. ‘Macro is as Cato has described him. You could not ask for a better man to have at your side in a dangerous spot. That much I know.’
Cato’s umbrage subsided at the comment. It was the first time he had heard Apollonius describe Macro with such unqualified praise, and he was moved by his words.
‘That being the case,’ said Claudia, ‘I should very much like to meet this Centurion Macro.’
‘Then you’ll come to Britannia with Lucius and me?’
‘Gladly.’
‘In that case, we’ll need to make preparations, though nothing that gives away my intention to leave Rome for good, or at least until the danger to you has passed. It would be best that you leave the city as soon as possible. I have a small farm in the north. You can stay there while I settle my affairs in Rome.’
The Emperor's Exile (Eagles of the Empire 19) Page 39