Opposite the Imperial Secretary stood three dishevelled individuals. Spattered with mud and sporting several days’ growth of beard, they eyed him blearily. Vespasian was the first to respond.
‘Yes. That would be nice. Thanks.’
While Narcissus called for a servant and gave the orders, his guests slumped down into the seats arranged in front of the Imperial Secretary’s desk. Cato, mindful of his rank, waited until Vespasian and Vitellius were seated before he joined them. As soon as Cato was in place Narcissus leaned across his desk with an excited expression.
‘So then, to business. The scrolls–let’s see them.’
Vespasian took the small knapsack from his side and undid the strap. Then he flipped the cover back and reached inside. He brought the scrolls out, one at a time, and placed them on top of the desk, then pushed them towards Narcissus. The Imperial Secretary gazed at them in unabashed awe. Then he glanced up at Cato. ‘I assume you’ve worked out what these are?’
‘Yes, sir.’
Vespasian stirred for a moment. ‘I thought…Never mind.’
Narcissus had returned his gaze to the scrolls and had not noticed the prefect’s brief look of surprise.
‘The Delphic prophecies,’ Narcissus said quietly. ‘I can hardly believe they exist, and yet here they are. It doesn’t seem possible.’
‘It nearly wasn’t.’ Vespasian scratched his chin. ‘You have no idea how much blood has been shed to retrieve those scrolls.’
‘Yes, I’m sure I’ll read all about it in your reports.’ Narcissus flashed a smile at him. ‘You won’t find me, or the Emperor, ungrateful for your efforts, I Promise.’
‘That’s so reassuring.’
The comment was lost on Narcissus, whose eyes had been drawn back to the scrolls. It seemed to Cato that Narcissus hardly dared to touch them. It was quite understandable, the young centurion reflected. The scrolls had been penned by the Oracle at Delphi: the sum total of many years of reading the omens and interpreting the will of the Gods, in order to map out the future of the greatest of nations. A little humility in the presence of such revered documents was the least that could be expected.
And yet there was something else in Narcissus’ expression, something that troubled Cato. It was like avarice, or ambition or both. It was clear that Narcissus recognised the power that the scrolls conferred. And there was also fear, clearly visible in the hand that stretched out, and stopped just before the tips of the fingers touched the aged leather of the scroll cases.
If there was any prophetic value in the scrolls then knowledge of events to come was a double-edged gift and Cato wondered if–had he been in Narcissus’ position–his thirst to know would have won out over his fear of knowing too much; of knowing what fate had in store for the Empire. After all, what would it profit a man to be forewarned of some great calamity to befall the state, or some tragedy more immediate and personal, if he could do nothing to cheat such a destiny? Sometimes ignorance could be a blessing, thought Cato with a wry smile.
He glanced at Vespasian and Vitellius and wondered if they shared his trepidation about the contents of the scrolls. Vespasian perhaps. But it was hard to imagine that the ruthless desire for self-advancement that burned in Vitellius’ heart would be able to resist the lure of the scrolls.
Vitellius sniffed. ‘Go ahead,’ he told the Imperial Secretary. ‘They won’t bite you.’
Narcissus looked at the tribune searchingly, then leaned forward and drew the scrolls back across the desk towards him. ‘I’ll have a look at them later, when I can give them the time they deserve.’
‘Oh, I’m sure they’ll make for interesting reading,’ Vitellius smiled. ‘Assuming the prophecies don’t share our soothsayers’ predilection for ambiguity and wild speculation. If you need any help…’
‘I’ll manage, thank you, Vitellius.’
Glancing at Vitellius Cato could not help feeling that it was just as well that Vespasian had taken charge of the operation to retrieve the scrolls, and had taken them into his protection the moment the scrolls had fallen back into Roman hands.
The scrolls, in their knapsack, had not left Vespasian’s side for the entire journey from Ravenna to Rome. Cato had watched him as closely as possible and not once had he seen Vespasian even tamper with the straps that fastened the knapsack. Of course, it was just conceivably possible that Vespasian might have risked a quick look, one night as they slept round an open fire, or shared a dormitory of an imperial staging post. But Cato doubted it. Vespasian seemed to suffer from the usual arriviste affliction of wanting to do the right thing. If his orders clearly stated that he was to deliver the scrolls to Narcissus without reading them, then it was hard to imagine that Vespasian had even opened his knapsack to give them a curious glance. Vitellius, on the other hand, could not have been trusted with them. Cato was not fooled by his flimsy explanation for his attempt to retrieve them by himself. As ever, the scheming aristocrat had confected the story to cover his tracks. If Telemachus had not caught him, then Cato was sure that Vitelhus would have kept the scrolls for himself.
‘Once you have read them, what then?’ asked Vespasian.
‘What then?’ Narcissus frowned. ‘What do you mean?’
‘What will happen to the scrolls? I assume you’ll have them placed with the others in the temple of Jupiter.’
Narcissus laughed. ‘I shall do no such thing!’
Vespasian stared at him for an instant. ‘I don’t understand. I thought that was the whole point–to reunite the scrolls.’
‘Why should I want to do that?’
‘So that they can be consulted.’
‘Consulted by who?’
Vespasian laughed. ‘By the Emperor. By his priests. By the senate.’
Narcissus nodded. ‘Precisely. You make my point for me.’
‘I’m sorry. I don’t get it.’
The Imperial Secretary sat back in his chair with a smile. ‘If people are given access to the scrolls then they might just use them for their own political ends.’
‘As if!’ Vitellius grinned.
Vespasian rounded on him irritably. ‘Not all of us are like you.’
‘No. But enough of us are. You have spent too much time away from Rome, Vespasian. There are any number of senators out there who harbour ambitions for high office.’ His eyes twinkled with malice. ‘And even if they don’t, you can be sure their wives do…’
Vespasian looked down to hide his anxiety.
‘You see my difficulty?’ Narcissus leaned forwards. ‘It would be a huge comfort to the Emperor if every senator was as committed to serving Rome as you are. But there are many who would sooner serve their own ends. They can not be permitted to know what fate intends for us all. Surely you can see that?’
Vespasian looked up. ‘I can see that we are losing a chance to take the future in our hands. To lay it before the best minds in the Empire.’
‘Ah, yes,’ Narcissus added, ‘but the best minds are not always the best–disposed minds, if you see what I mean? In any case, it would probably be far too dangerous to trust the future of Rome to the speculations of some half-mad mystic written down when this city was little more than a village. In fact, it really doesn’t matter what these scrolls say, just as long as the right people are made aware that they do exist. Then they’ll be afraid of what the scrolls might say. Therein lies their true value, to me and to the Emperor at least. You do understand, Vespasian?’
Vespasian nodded.
‘Good!’ said Narcissus. ‘Then you’ll also appreciate why you must tell no one about them. Only a handful of men know of their existence right now. I’d like to keep it that way for the moment.’
Vespasian smiled. ‘Naturally, you won’t hesitate to use the contents of the scrolls to enhance your own standing?’
A brief expression of anger flitted across his expression before Narcissus continued. ‘I serve Emperor Claudius. As do you. I will use the scrolls to make the Emperor’s position more secure.
’
‘I’m touched by your unswerving loyalty Narcissus. I’m sure you’ll be quite selfless in the way you use what knowledge you gain from the scrolls.’
They stared at each other for a moment, before Narcissus folded his hands over the scrolls and continued speaking. ‘I won’t insult you by asking for your solemn vow in this matter. I just ask you to understand that the stability of the Empire depends on this secret. Do I have your agreement on this?’
‘I suppose, if I did not agree, then I would be quietly disposed of?’
‘Naturally. It would be as if you, and your line, had never existed.’
‘Then I agree.’
Narcissus smiled. ‘Thank you. Vitellius?’
Vitellius nodded at once.
Then Narcissus turned his gaze on Cato, and the young officer felt a chill of fear ripple down his spine. He had no delusions about his expendability in matters of state. Yet he summoned enough courage to stiffen his back and stare back at the Imperial Secretary.
‘Centurion, I have watched your career with some interest. You show great promise. Of course, the fates have not always matched the appropriate reward to the services you have rendered the Emperor…’
That’s putting it mildly, Cato thought, but he nodded modestly.
‘You are here because you know about the scrolls, and I need to know that I can trust you, and your friend Macro with that knowledge. I’m sure you understand the need for secrecy, and you have nothing to gain from breathing a word about the scrolls. Indeed, you have everything to lose. Which means I will not have to arrange for both of you to be silenced. That would be a terrible waste of talent. Talent the Empire can ill afford to waste.’ Narcissus stretched back in his chair and smiled at Cato. ‘As it happens, I have need of some good men for another task, and you will be leaving Rome very shortly. Of course, your removal from the scene is one less problem for me concerning the secrecy of these scrolls.’
‘Leave Rome?’ Cato tilted his head a fraction. ‘Leave Rome and go where, sir?’
‘All will be revealed, soon enough, Centurion.’
Cato’s heart beat faster as a thought struck him. ‘Does that mean I am no longer under sentence of death?’
Narcissus nodded. ‘I will give instructions that the sentence be rescinded the moment this meeting is over.’
‘Centurion Macro’s in the clear as well?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then we will be available for reappointment to the legions.’
‘What else should I do with two such fine officers?’
It was as if a great knot had been loosened in Cato’s chest and he could breathe freely again. There was an instant of indignant outrage that he should ever have been the subject of such a judgement in the first place. Then he relented and relished the sense of relief Narcissus’ words had given him. The anxiety was over. The shadow of the executioner that had stalked him for months faded away and he felt the great comfort of a man who can look forward to the future again. Soon he and Macro would be back where they belonged: serving with the Eagles.
‘We have an understanding then, Centurion? You will not breathe a word about the scrolls to another person as long as you live.’
‘Yes, sir.’ Cato nodded solemnly. ‘You have my word. I’m sure I can speak for Macro as well.’
‘I’m sure you can.’
There was a knock at the door, and Narcissus turned towards it. ‘Come!’
The servant entered the room and bowed. ‘Food and wine have been prepared for these gentlemen, sir.’
‘Very well.’
The servant dipped his head and retreated from the room and Narcissus turned back to his visitors.
‘There. I think that concludes our business. I’ll have your reports as soon as they’re ready. You can leave them with my clerk.’
He rose from his chair, and the others rose as well. Then Narcissus ushered them to the door where he clasped hands with Vespasian and bowed his head in respect. ‘Once again, my profound gratitude for all that you have accomplished.’
Vespasian nodded tiredly, and left the room. Cato was standing slightly behind and to the side of Vitellius as the Imperial Secretary took his arm and made his farewell. Narcissus bowed, and Vitellius dipped his head forward in acknowledgement. As he did so Cato could not help noticing a purple birthmark on Vitellius’ arm just below the hem of his tunic. It was not the mark so much as its shape that caught the centurion’s eye–an almost perfect crescent just over an inch long, shaped like a hunting bow.
‘Farewell for now, Vitellius,’ Narcissus was saying. ‘Good fortune go with you.’
Vitellius smiled back. ‘Oh, I’m sure it will.’
AUTHOR’S NOTE
The imperial Roman navy has attracted far less research than the legions and there are very few pieces of evidence that have survived to give us a truly accurate view of the ships. For those readers keen to read more about the navy I suggest obtaining a brief overview from Peter Connolly’s excellent Greece and Rome at War. Beyond that there is a hard-to-find but very worthy read in Chester Starr’s The Imperial Roman Navy. There are a few conscious deviations from historical fact. Firstly, I have used the more recent terms of ‘port’ and ‘starboard’ to give our Roman sailors some nautical ambience. Secondly, the moving of the Ravenna fleet’s base closer to the trading port. In reality the Roman naval bases were kept at a distance from the confusion of commercial shipping. However, I didn’t want to tire Macro and Cato out in any long walks into town for a drink!
In addition to the two huge naval bases at Misenum and Ravenna there were additional flotillas scattered around the frontiers of the Empire. The fleets were charged with guarding the sea lanes and providing ad hoc military forces that could be landed wherever there was an urgent need for an armed presence.
Piracy was a fact of life for the seamen and merchants of the Ancient World. Indeed, in the first century BC pirates were boldly landing on the Italian peninsula to abduct travellers on the Appian Way. This hubristic attitude reached its zenith with a raid into the harbour at Ostia, in which the pirates burned a fleet of Roman warships. The audacious act proved to be one step too far for the Roman Senate, who hurriedly empowered Pompey the Great to raise a vast fleet to rid the sea of pirates. This he did in a whirlwind campaign of three months. Thereafter, pirates were forced to operate on a far smaller scale and men like Telemachus would represent an occasional threat to the sea lanes. The action between the Ravenna fleet and the ships of Telemachus would be dwarfed by the scale of the naval actions of the Punic and civil wars.
In this respect, the historic mission of the imperial navy was an unqualified success for nearly three centuries. As Chester Starr notes, their task was ‘not to fight battles but to render them impossible’.
Despite Hollywood’s representations of Roman galleys being propelled by chains of slaves, the reality is more likely to have been something along the lines of the Renaissance galleys, in which the men at the oars were a mixture of slaves and free men who were paid for their duties.
One final note. The Delphic Scrolls are of course inspired by the story of the books of the Sybil of Cumae.
THOMAS DUNNE BOOKS.
An imprint of St. Martin’s Press.
THE EAGLE’S PROPHECY. Copyright © 2005 by Simon Scarrow. All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. For information, address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, N. Y. 10010.
www.thomasdunnebooks.com
www.stmartins.com
The Library of Congress has catalogued the hardcover edition as follows:
Scarrow, Simon.
The eagle’s prophecy / Simon Scarrow.—1st U.S. ed.
p. cm.
ISBN: 978-0-312-56526-8
1. Macro Lucius Cornelius (Fictitious character)—Fiction. 2. Cato, Quintus Licinius (Fictitious character)—Fiction. 3. Pirates—Fiction. 4. Rome—Navy—Fiction. I. Title.
PR6119.C37 E355 2006
823'
.92—dc22
2006050362
First published in Great Britain by Headline Book Publishing, a division of Hodder Headline
The Eagle's Prophecy Page 44