Poppaeus’ covered litter was next to the steps. Pallas pulled back the curtains and indicated to the mound of pillows at one end. ‘Put him this way round with his head on the cushions.’
Magnus and Ziri heaved the body into the litter. Pallas then arranged it so that it appeared that Poppaeus was reclining on his right elbow. Vespasian and Corbulo helped him to stuff pillows around the torso, wedging it in position.
‘Arrange his clothes,’ Pallas said once satisfied with the pose, ‘I won’t be long.’
By the time Poppaeus’ toga looked natural Pallas had returned carrying Capella’s chest.
‘How did you get that off Kosmas?’ Vespasian asked, amazed.
Pallas gave a rare smile. ‘I didn’t, it’s an exact copy that I had made when you left me the original; the same locks and seven fake land deeds inside.’ He placed the chest next to Poppaeus and closed the curtains, tying them shut. ‘Magnus, go and get the bearers from the kitchens; put the fear of the gods into them so that they rush, we don’t want them looking inside the litter. Then follow them round to the front and stand in front of the only bearer who has a clear view of the steps, ready to open the litter curtains slightly when I give you the nod. Ziri, get the gate open.’
Magnus and Ziri hurried off; Pallas led Vespasian and Corbulo back into the garden where Claudius was waiting.
‘Now to complete the deception as we discussed yesterday. Remember, we walk through the atrium talking loudly about the elections as if Poppaeus is in our midst,’ Pallas reminded them as they walked through the garden. ‘As we near the door Narcissus will bring Kosmas out of his study so that he will see us from the rear. The key to it is for each of us to say the name Poppaeus a few times and laugh a lot; but try to keep it sounding natural.’
As they passed the table Pallas picked up Poppaeus’ walking stick and propped it up against the chair that he had sat in.
‘B-but my dear Poppaeus,’ Claudius almost shouted as they entered the atrium, ‘I can see no reason for me to support young Lucianus, he’s a b-b-buffoon.’
Pallas burst into laughter and Vespasian followed his lead. Corbulo’s aristocratic reserve held rigid and he remained silent.
‘Oh, well said, Poppaeus,’ Pallas guffawed, ‘you are so right.’
‘Will you support my brother this year in the praetor elections, Poppaeus?’ Vespasian asked, getting into the spirit of the ruse.
‘His brother is another buffoon, don’t you think, P-P-Poppaeus?’
They all gave another burst of laughter as they passed the impluvium.
‘I would be honoured if you would support me this year, Poppaeus,’ Corbulo blurted as Vespasian heard Narcissus’ study door open.
‘I missed that, Poppaeus,’ Pallas said, ‘what did you say?’ He gave another burst of laughter to cover the missing reply. ‘You are truly the wisest man in Rome, Poppaeus, it has been an honour to meet you.’
They passed through the vestibule and out through the open front door into the street with another round of laughter. Vespasian looked behind and saw Kosmas scurrying to catch up, clutching the real chest.
‘P-P-Poppaeus, it’s been a pleasure d-doing business,’ Claudius said as they walked down the steps in a tight group towards the waiting litter; Magnus stood blocking the line of sight of the rear nearside bearer. ‘I shall see you in the Forum presently.’
‘Allow me to help you in, Poppaeus,’ Pallas said, nodding at Magnus who pulled the curtain slightly open. Pallas took it with his left hand and passed his right hand up along the inside as if a head were rubbing against it as Kosmas came racing down the steps; Narcissus followed just behind him.
‘Your stick, Poppaeus? Of course I’ll send Kosmas back for it. Kosmas, your master has left his stick in the garden,’ Pallas said, letting the curtain go and turning to the secretary. ‘Here, let me help you while you go and fetch it.’ He took the chest under one arm and opened the curtain again, exposing Poppaeus’ legs for the secretary to see and placed the chest next to them as Narcissus walked around to the other side of the litter.
‘Quickly, Kosmas,’ Vespasian snapped, ‘Poppaeus is in a hurry, he has an urgent appointment in the Forum.’
‘I didn’t know about that,’ Kosmas said, looking confused.
Pallas stuck his head into the litter. ‘Of course, Poppaeus, I’ll tell him,’ Pallas said, reappearing. ‘The Forum Romanum, by the Rostra, as fast as possible,’ he ordered the bearers before turning to Kosmas. ‘He says to meet him there with his stick.’
Kosmas shrugged and hurried back inside as the litter was lifted and moved quickly off down the street exposing Narcissus, on the far side, standing with his back towards the house. Vespasian and Corbulo’s eyes widened in astonishment as he turned to face them; he was holding Capella’s chest.
‘Quick, take this around the back,’ Narcissus said as he handed the chest to Magnus, ‘we wouldn’t want our friend Kosmas to see it as he comes back out.’
Magnus had just enough time to clear around the corner as Kosmas came scuttling back out with Poppaeus’ stick.
‘Master,’ Narcissus cried, putting his hand to his forehead, ‘your book!’
‘Of course, Narcissus, thank you; where would I be without you?’ Claudius responded with equal melodrama. ‘Kosmas, wait a few moments while I find the first four volumes of my History of the Etruscans that I’d promised to lend your master.’
The hapless secretary glanced down the empty street and then back at Claudius who was already walking back inside with Narcissus; his shoulders drooped and he trudged back up the steps.
Vespasian had to suppress an amused grin at the way he had been played. ‘He won’t be able to swear to anything other than Poppaeus left in a rush and had him running back and forth for everything that he’d forgotten,’ he observed.
‘That was the objective,’ Pallas said, ‘but his part’s not over yet; Claudius and Narcissus will delay him a while longer and then we’ll follow him down to the Forum and watch him react to Poppaeus being found dead.’
‘Wouldn’t the bearers have seen Narcissus take the chest from the other side of the litter?’ Corbulo asked, still in a slight daze from the fast moving events.
‘Only the man on the far side at the back could have seen it but Narcissus reached in as they bent to pick up the litter and always kept his back to that bearer. Anyway, no questions should be asked about the chest as the false one will be found along with the dead Poppaeus in the litter.’
Kosmas’ arrival with Narcissus cut short their conversation.
‘My dear Kosmas,’ Narcissus crooned, placing a pudgy arm around the wiry secretary’s shoulders, ‘it has been a pleasure seeing you again. We secretaries should get together more often.’
‘Yes, thank you, Narcissus, we should. I must hurry.’
‘Of course you must. I shall see you soon.’
Kosmas bowed his head to Vespasian, Corbulo and Pallas and hurried off down the street with his master’s stick and four cylindrical, leather book containers stuffed into his bag.
‘We’ll follow him, Narcissus,’ Pallas said as the secretary disappeared around the corner, ‘and make sure that Asiaticus does his bit.’
‘We’ll meet tomorrow, Pallas. Gentlemen, farewell.’
As Vespasian turned to go he felt Narcissus’ hand touch his shoulder. ‘By the way, Vespasian,’ Narcissus whispered in his ear, ‘if you’re thinking of paying a visit to the Cloelius brothers while you’re in the Forum you’d be wasting your time; I had that bankers’ draft cancelled with them.’
Vespasian spun around and glared at him.
Narcissus grinned mirthlessly. ‘Your expression tells me that I was right to do so. However, as I am in your debt on two accounts now, I have neglected to cancel it with Thales in Alexandria. If you ever manage to get permission to visit there, which I doubt, it’s yours. I wouldn’t want to make it too easy for you to misappropriate my master’s money, would I?’
CHAPTER XII
VESPASIAN WAS SILENT as they tracked Kosmas down the Esquiline towards the Forum, keeping the secretary in view as he gradually gained on his master’s litter. He contemplated the dignity with which Poppaeus had met his death and the motives that had caused him to become Antonia’s enemy. He could not help but feel that Poppaeus had been right: the Julio-Claudian family was utterly unsuitable to rule. Denuded of its brightest talents through years of intrigue and poisonings, its male line was now reduced to a rump consisting of: Tiberius, a sexually depraved, mad old man; Claudius, a stuttering, power-hungry mediocrity; Vespasian’s friend Caligula, an incestuous hedonist; and Gemellus, a young lad of no consequence whose only interesting feature was the speculation surrounding him as to which of his relatives would eventually murder him. And then there was Antonia, that brilliant political strategist; her ruthlessness in dealing with any threat to her family’s position he had at one time, through the idealism of youth, mistaken for a high-principled defence of legitimate Roman government. But now, older and more jaded, he was beginning to see her for what she really was: a vicious gang-leader who would stop at nothing to maintain her power. He had made a choice as a callow youth and now he was stuck in Antonia’s world as a very minor member of her gang. His grandmother had been so right all those years ago when she had warned him ‘that the side that seems to serve Rome may not always be the most honourable’. But surely that must soon change; surely, with the murder of so many of the family, the bloodline of the Julio-Claudians must soon expire? Perhaps this, then, would be the new age that the Phoenix heralded: an age where Rome was ruled with honour through merit and not through tainted blood. But then, he reflected, if he was destined to play a part in this new age of honour, how could he now, guilty as he was of despicable and dishonourable murder?
‘Where’s the litter?’ Magnus asked, breathing heavily as he and Ziri caught up with them on the Via Sacra.
‘About a hundred paces ahead,’ Pallas replied, pointing through the crowd to where the roof of the litter could just be seen bobbing over the sea of heads. ‘Kosmas is just in front of us but he’s catching up with it; you and Ziri had better try and delay him until it gets to the Forum.’
‘But he’s seen me.’
‘Barely, and he hasn’t seen Ziri.’
‘Fair enough.’
A huge roar from behind them caused Vespasian to turn his head towards the Circus Maximus.
‘Missing the fucking racing,’ Magnus moaned. ‘Come on, Ziri, you’re going to do some jostling.’
Ziri looked uncomprehendingly at his master.
‘You’ll get the hang of it, it’s easy, you just have to use your elbows,’ Magnus told him as he ploughed forward into the crowd.
They neared the Forum and the crowd got denser as the people of Rome who had not been lucky enough to get seats in the circus flocked to watch acrobats, jugglers and other entertainers performing in honour of Apollo.
Gradually they caught up with the litter until it was only ten paces ahead of them as it neared the Rostra. To his right Vespasian could see the tall figure of Kosmas battling to get past Magnus and Ziri. Suddenly the crowd shifted backwards and Vespasian could see, just ahead of him, the axe-heads on the tops of the fasces of twelve lictors making directly for the litter.
‘Asiaticus is there,’ he said as the lictors surrounded the litter.
‘Good, we’ll watch from here,’ Pallas replied. Most of the crowd moved on past the official cordon, uninterested in the doings of the Senior Consul on a festival day.
‘Proconsul Poppaeus,’ Asiaticus shouted above the hubbub, ‘how fortunate to have met you.’ He stepped up to the litter and waited for a reply. ‘Poppaeus?’ he repeated after a few moments. Again receiving no reply he untied the curtains and looked in. ‘Poppaeus?’
‘Let me through, that’s my master’s litter,’ Kosmas shouted, pushing through the lictors.
Asiaticus put his hand in and then withdrew it quickly. ‘Jupiter! The proconsul is dead!’ He pulled the flaps right back to expose Poppaeus’ reclining form as they had left it; his head lolled down to one side, resting on the fake Capella’s chest. There was a shocked intake of breath from the few people who stood watching the scene; more now joined them. The litter-bearers looked aghast at their dead master.
Kosmas rushed forward. ‘Master? Master?’
‘Your master appears to be dead,’ Asiaticus informed him.
‘Impossible, he was alive when I left him not half an hour ago.’
‘Well, he’s dead now; look.’
Kosmas lifted Poppaeus’ chin and then let go in shock. ‘But I swear that he was alive when we left Claudius’ house, I saw him get into the litter; he sent me back for his stick.’ He waved the stick at Asiaticus as if to prove the veracity of his story. ‘He must have died on the way here.’
Vespasian and Corbulo glanced at Pallas, who allowed himself a brief smile of satisfaction.
‘Who are you?’ Asiaticus demanded.
‘My name is Kosmas, I’m Poppaeus’ secretary.’
‘What’s this?’ Asiaticus asked, pointing at the chest.
‘It contains some paperwork of my master’s.’
‘Let me see.’
Kosmas took the keys from around his neck and opened the chest.
Asiaticus took out a couple of the scrolls and gave them a cursory glance and sniffed them. ‘There’s nothing in there that could have killed him.’
Kosmas looked inside and nodded his agreement.
‘You had better run back to his house and get his household to come and bear his body home in honour. It would be unseemly for such a great man to be carted home in a litter.’
Kosmas looked at the Consul then back to Poppaeus and then back at the Consul, unsure of what to do.
‘Go on, man,’ Asiaticus shouted, ‘stop dithering, I’ll stay here with the body.’
‘Yes, Consul, thank you.’
‘You’d better take this chest with you.’
‘Yes, Consul.’ Kosmas quickly closed the lid and locked it.
‘Run!’
Vespasian grinned as the hapless secretary picked up the chest, balanced the stick on it and scampered off. ‘He’ll never believe his own eyes again.’
‘Sadly for him he won’t have much time to test them out,’ Pallas said, nodding to someone at the far side of the crowd.
Vespasian followed his look and saw the younger version of Pallas nod back at his elder brother, patting the knife on his belt. Felix detached himself from the crowd and followed Kosmas out of the Forum.
‘I think the Consul played his part admirably,’ Pallas commented as they left the Forum, which was now buzzing with the news of Poppaeus’ death. ‘And there were enough people who heard Kosmas swear that Poppaeus was alive when he left Claudius’ house. My mistress will be delighted.’
‘I feel sorry for Kosmas, though,’ Vespasian said, ‘it’s a shame that he had to die.’
Corbulo looked confused. ‘Kosmas is dead? When?’
‘About now, I should imagine,’ Pallas informed him. ‘My brother will ensure that the body disappears and then it will be assumed that a dishonest secretary took advantage of the situation and made off with the deeds to his master’s property. Even if Macro suspected something was wrong, he wouldn’t be able to prove otherwise without admitting that he knew about the Egyptian estates; which he could never afford to do.’
‘So Claudius is now richer by fourteen and a half million denarii,’ Vespasian said sourly.
‘I’d rather it was him than Macro.’
‘Would you, though, Pallas? Poppaeus made a good point about what would happen to the succession if Macro became emperor.’
‘Yes,’ Corbulo agreed, ‘it reminded me of what you were saying on Capreae. The more I think about it the more it really makes sense. Rome cannot carry on with madmen in charge just because they are in some way descended from Julius Caesar.’
‘It’s idealism, I’m afraid,’ Pallas told them
. ‘The aristocracy may hate the Julio-Claudian family with good reason, seeing as a lot of them have been killed as they came to power and more will die as they cling on to it; but the army and the people won’t stop supporting them. They like stability and stability for them is one family ruling so that they know who’s going to be doling out the largesse, the grain and putting on the shows in the arena. Not until there’s been a succession of bad emperors and their living conditions are affected will they start to think about a better system.’
‘That’s a depressing view.’
‘Not if you happen to be in the service of the ruling family.’
And that was just the problem, Vespasian thought, as they began to ascend the Palatine to the bellowing of the crowd in the Circus Maximus: there were so many people with a degree of power like Pallas, Asiaticus, Narcissus, the Praetorian Guard, his uncle, most of the Senate, whose fortunes where inextricably linked through patronage to the Julio-Claudians. The very thought of change frightened them because ultimately everyone was out for themselves and their families. All talk of high ideals about the governance of Rome came to naught if you feared that you had nothing to gain and everything to lose by a change of regime. It was human nature and there was nothing that he could do about it.
With that realisation Vespasian trudged up the hill to Antonia’s house, contemplating the inevitable: an unprincipled life in which he would do as well as he could for himself by serving the people with real power. It was not what he had dreamed of when he first entered Rome. However, he reflected ruefully, he should be good at it; he had already stooped to murder.
Antonia had left a message asking them to wait until she had finished dealing with some business. Pallas showed Vespasian and Corbulo into the garden where, to Vespasian’s surprise, Gaius and Sabinus were sitting at a table sipping wine; neither of them looked happy and both were sweating in the noonday sun. Four extra cups were placed on the table.
‘I’ll leave you gentlemen here while I attend my mistress,’ Pallas said. ‘I do believe that she is dealing with the one outstanding issue. Call if you need more wine.’ He walked off towards the black lacquered door to Antonia’s private room at the far end of the courtyard garden.
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