Burning his hands, Vespasian slid down and landed with a jolt in the street below; the rope quickly followed.
‘What’s the panic?’ Magnus asked, collecting the rope.
‘Just run!’
Taking the steps three at a time Vespasian hurtled down to the docks followed by Magnus and Ziri. Ahead he could see the ship; its furled sail had been hoisted ready for departure. Sprinting along the stone quay he hurdled a coil of rope and a drunken sailor before turning sharply left onto the jetty to which his ship was moored. Although there had been no sign of pursuit during their dash across the city he was desperate to sail as soon as possible for fear that their theft of the breastplate had been discovered.
‘Triarchus,’ he shouted, running up the gangplank, ‘we sail immediately!’
‘You seem to be in quite a hurry,’ a familiar voice said as he jumped down onto the deck. ‘Now, why would that be, I wonder?’
Vespasian turned and saw Flaccus leaning against the mast. The rescued Jews and Flavia were huddled behind him guarded by two soldiers.
‘When I found your rope dangling from the terrace I thought that you’d just decided to run,’ Flaccus said, walking forward as Magnus and Ziri ran aboard. ‘So I rushed down here only to find that you’d given orders to prepare for sea and would be back in an hour or so. Been doing a little late-night burglary before whisking the lovely Flavia and your new Jewish friends back to Rome, have you? What’s in that bag?’
‘Nothing that concerns you, Flaccus.’
‘Oh, but it does concern me. If you’ve done what I expressly forbade you to do then it concerns me deeply, so I would be much obliged if you would open it.’
‘Prefect, I would remind you that this is an imperial ship.’ Vespasian pointed at the imperial banner on the masthead. ‘It is therefore under the direct command of the Emperor himself, you have no jurisdiction here. Whatever may be in this bag is the property of the Emperor.’
Flaccus gave a half-smile and tilted his head. ‘That may be so, but no matter, I’ve sent one of Alexander’s priests to go and check his tomb; if he finds a certain item missing then we might review where my jurisdiction ends.’
‘You can review it all you like but it would be unwise to interfere with Caligula’s property.’ Vespasian handed the bag to Ziri. ‘Take that to the cabin, Ziri.’
‘It wouldn’t be Caligula’s property if Caligula’s thief hadn’t stolen it, but we shall find out soon enough – I can see our priest approaching.’
Vespasian turned and saw the priest running along the quay with his legionary escort.
‘He can come on board, but the soldiers stay on the jetty.’ Vespasian put his hand on his sword hilt. He felt Magnus take a pace closer to him.
‘Very well,’ Flaccus agreed, walking to the top of the gangplank, ‘I have no need for military muscle, yet. Centurion, keep your men there, but have them ready to board if I shout. Send the priest up.’
The priest who had escorted them down to the chamber made his way onto the deck.
‘Well?’ Flaccus asked him.
‘I don’t understand it,’ the priest said, shaking his head. ‘Someone has been in there; they must have got in through the roof, the soldiers found a puddle of fresh urine up there. There was grain and some bread scattered on the temple floor that they must have used to keep the geese quiet. The guards said that they had seen and heard nothing except that a couple of the geese that had escaped turned up and they caught them and put them back inside.’
‘Yes, but what about the breastplate?’ Flaccus pressed.
‘That’s what I don’t understand; it was still there. I had the soldiers lift the lid off and I examined it; it was the real breastplate, I can swear to it, there is a stain on the left-hand side. Nothing else was missing but someone must have taken the lid off earlier.’
‘What makes you so sure?’
‘Because there was a drop of fresh blood on the neck of Alexander’s tunic, it was still moist.’
Flaccus glared at Vespasian. ‘Just what have you done, senator?’
Vespasian shrugged. ‘Quite evidently nothing, prefect; now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to Rome. Triarchus, we sail as soon as the prefect and his men have disembarked.’
‘Fine, you can go but I’m taking those Jews.’
‘If you do then my report to the Emperor will be even more damning than it already is, and believe me, Flaccus, no matter how much money you have he will have you found and hideously despatched. He’s mad, don’t you know?’
Flaccus looked at Vespasian, uncertainty in his eyes, and then, spitting at his feet, stormed off the ship.
‘If you know what’s good for you,’ Vespasian shouted after him, ‘then you should pull the Greeks off the Jews and get the Emperor’s city back under control.’ He walked over to the two soldiers left guarding the Jews. ‘You two, off!’
‘What a terrible man,’ Philo commented as the legionaries left. ‘I shall write such a diatribe about him that his name will be blackened forever.’
‘Try not to make it too rhetorically flowery like the rest of your works, brother,’ Alexander said with a sad smile. ‘Just the facts.’
Philo snorted.
‘We shall have to bury your dead at sea,’ Vespasian said as the gangplank was hauled up and the mooring cables dropped.
‘That won’t be necessary,’ Alexander replied, ‘we’ve decided to go back.’
‘How? We’re sailing.’
‘In that boat that you came in; once we’ve left the harbour we can sail back to the beach bordering the Jewish Quarter.’
‘Flaccus will kill you if he finds you.’
‘No, he won’t, he’ll be needing me to broker a peace. If my people see that I do not ask for revenge for my murdered wife then they may be able to forgo their demands for retribution.’
‘And Flaccus gets what he wants?’
‘Maybe; but we cannot afford to fight any more, we would be exterminated. However, we will never forgive Flaccus. Once we have peace my brother will lead a delegation to the Emperor to complain about his treatment of our people.’
‘And Paulus?’
‘Our only condition will be that Flaccus at least expels him but preferably executes him, then we will be prepared to go back to how things were before. We’ve realised that we are not strong enough in the city to make demands, we should be content even if that means being second-class citizens and having a mad emperor’s statue in our temples.’
Guided by the blazing light of the Pharos the ship glided out of the harbour under sail and oars as the first glow of dawn broke in the eastern sky.
Once clear of the mole it heaved to for the Jews to disembark into the boat. The flayed corpses were lowered in and the survivors quickly followed.
‘Thank you, Vespasian,’ Tiberius said as he prepared to go over the side. His torso was heavily bandaged and blood stained his back. ‘I owe you more than my life, I owe you my hide too. I will always be in your debt.’
‘One day I will call it in,’ Vespasian said, helping him over the side.
Alexander was last to go. ‘We overheard your conversations with Flaccus and then with the priest; tell me, did you get the breastplate?’
Vespasian slapped him on the shoulder. ‘Alexander, my friend, let me put it this way: if you had to choose between giving the man who has the power of life and death over you what he asked for or a replica of the thing, which would you choose?’
Alexander nodded. ‘It makes me feel better to know that the Greeks have lost something precious to them, even if they aren’t aware of it.’
Vespasian looked over Alexander’s shoulder at the scores of fires still burning in the Jewish Quarter and shook his head at the wanton destruction. ‘For my part, Alexander, I’d rather it stayed here with them. Now that I’ve got it, I’m loath to take it back to Caligula. Who knows what new madness possessing it will push him to?’
PART V
ROME AND THE BAY
OF NEAPOLIS, AUGUST AD 38
CHAPTER XXII
THE DOCKS AT Ostia were strangely quiet; gone was the frenetic bustle of activity, to be replaced by a languid indolence that was not at all in keeping with a busy port at the height of the sailing season. Apart from a couple of gangs of dockworkers unloading two small traders, the quays were almost empty with only the occasional food vendor or whore attempting to sell their wares to sporadic, uninterested passers-by. Even the seagulls seemed to have lost motivation, and instead of cawing overhead or diving for scraps they sat in long lines on the warehouse roofs looking down balefully at the inactivity below that brought with it, for them as well as the citizens of Rome, a shortage of food.
‘Do you think that the plague could have broken out again?’ Magnus asked as the trireme came to rest alongside one of the many deserted jetties.
‘They wouldn’t have let us dock if it had,’ the triarchus informed him as the gangplank was lowered.
‘We’ll soon find out what’s happening,’ Vespasian said, watching the anxious-looking port aedile walking briskly towards them accompanied by a scurrying clerk.
‘Is the senator Titus Flavius Vespasianus aboard?’ the aedile called out as he mounted the gangway.
‘Yes, I am.’
‘Thank the gods, senator, I am so pleased to see you; now perhaps we can get this madness over with and get back to normal.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘The Emperor’s bridge, of course. Trade has come to a standstill and the people are getting hungry; he’s requisitioned every ship that’s arrived in the waters around Italia and sent them down to the Bay of Neapolis. There’re thousands of them down there all chained together and he won’t let them leave until he’s ridden across them and he won’t ride across them until he’s got whatever you’re bringing for him. I hope for everyone’s sake, especially yours, that you have it because he’s getting very impatient. He sends messengers two or three times a day to see if you’ve arrived.’
‘Well, I do have it.’ Vespasian lifted the leather bag in confirmation.
‘It’s as well for you that you do; I’ve orders to have you sent to Rome in chains if you come back empty-handed. As it is, you’re to ride to the Emperor immediately; I have a fast horse waiting for you.’
‘I’m accompanying a lady.’
‘She’ll have to follow behind in a carriage – I’ll organise one. And triarchus, as soon as those two merchantmen are offloaded you’re to sail with them down to the bay to become an integral part of that fucking bridge.’ With that he gave a harassed look, shook his head disbelievingly and quickly disembarked.
‘What was that, my dear?’ Flavia asked, appearing from the cabin.
‘I’m to present myself to the Emperor at once. Magnus and Ziri will accompany you back to my uncle’s house. With luck I’ll already be there when you arrive.’
‘I don’t think that it will have anything to do with luck,’ Magnus observed darkly. ‘It’ll be more to do with an insane man’s whim, if you take my meaning?’
Vespasian scowled at Magnus and then briskly walked down the gangway.
‘He refused to let you have it?’ Caligula was outraged and shook his trident threateningly at Vespasian. Behind him a long line of Rome’s urban poor shuffled incongruously through the grand atrium of Augustus’ House watched over by Praetorian Guards. ‘Why didn’t you just take it?’
‘I did, Divine God of the Sea,’ Vespasian replied, using the form of address that Clemens had recommended on account of the Emperor’s recently stated ambition of usurping Neptune’s place in the Roman pantheon. ‘But I had to break into the mausoleum, steal it and replace it with a replica without it being noticed.’
‘Ooh, that sounds like fun.’ Caligula emerged, with some difficulty, from the impluvium and struggled to walk in the tight skirt of scaly fish skin that adorned his lower body. ‘Was it a jolly caper?’
‘It had its moments.’
‘I should have come too; I could do with some distraction from all the demands made upon me, both by gods and men.’
‘I’m sure that it would have gone much more smoothly had you been with us, Divine God of the Sea.’
‘What?’ Caligula looked momentarily confused and then glanced down at his dripping fish-skirt. ‘Oh yes, of course, it must be confusing for you; I’m no longer in the water so I’m back to being the Divine Gaius. Now show me the breastplate.’
Vespasian reached into his bag.
‘Clemens!’ Caligula screamed, suddenly forcing the points of his trident hard against Vespasian’s chest, piercing his toga.
Vespasian froze as Clemens came pushing through the ragged queue that had come to an abrupt halt at the Emperor’s scream.
‘Is he trying to kill me?’ Caligula blurted out, glaring at Vespasian with his dark-rimmed sunken eyes. A stain of blood surrounded each trident point.
‘No, Divine Gaius,’ Clemens assured him as he took the bag, ‘I checked it for weapons myself; it only contains the breastplate.’
‘Show me!’
Clemens slowly put his hand into the bag; Caligula jerked his trident from Vespasian’s chest to Clemens’ throat. Keeping his chin high and looking down the trident’s shaft at his Emperor, Clemens gradually pulled out the breastplate.
‘You’re right.’ Caligula breathed deeply. ‘It’s just the breastplate; hold this.’ He handed the trident to Clemens, oblivious to the fact that he had just given him the means to murder him, and took the breastplate. He rubbed a hand over it and looked up at Vespasian, smiling wildly. ‘That’s it, my friend, you haven’t tried to cheat me, this really is it, I remember the stain. I remember asking my father why the priests hadn’t been crucified for allowing something to soil Alexander.’ He held it to his chest. ‘How do I look?’
‘Like the great Alexander, only more divine,’ Vespasian replied solemnly, thinking that he looked like a man draped in fish skin wearing a breastplate that did not fit him.
‘Excellent! You will dine with me and my friends tonight. Your brother has finally come back from his province so he’ll be here – as will my horse.’
Vespasian wondered if he had heard correctly. ‘I look forward to seeing them both, Divine Gaius.’
‘Yes, Incitatus will be particularly pleased to see you, he’s so looking forward to pulling me across my bridge in a chariot; we can do that now.’ He looked with genuine pleasure at the breastplate. ‘I must show this to my sisters, if they’re not too busy servicing the poor.’ He turned and, forced to take ridiculously small steps, waddled off.
Vespasian wiped the sweat from his brow. ‘Servicing the poor?’
‘I’m afraid so,’ Clemens replied, examining the trident and considering what to do with it. ‘Since Drusilla died he’s become increasingly suspicious of everyone, especially his other two sisters, so he’s decided to punish them for whatever he imagines that they’ve been plotting by making them fuck every receiver of the grain dole in Rome. In his twisted mind he also thinks that it compensates the people for the shortages caused by his bridge. They’ve been at it for three days now and were up to over two thousand at the last count.’
‘That’ll kill them like it did Drusilla.’
‘More than likely, but then he’s going to kill us all so what difference does it make? It’s got to the stage now that I just don’t care; I stay loyal to him to protect my family for as long as I can.’ Clemens looked at Vespasian with tired eyes. ‘I don’t know how much longer I can stomach it. I’ll see you at dinner.’ Handing the trident to Vespasian, Clemens walked back over to the queue to continue his distasteful task of supervising the mass rape of two of Germanicus’ children.
Vespasian looked at the trident and then at the blood stains on his toga as the urban poor continued to shuffle past. He threw the trident back into the impluvium in disgust and, contemplating the options open to him and his family, turned and made his way, with a heavy heart, towards his uncle’s house.
&
nbsp; ‘Don’t even think about it, dear boy,’ Gaius warned Vespasian, helping himself to another honey and almond cake, ‘it would be suicide.’
‘Not if we succeed, Uncle,’ Vespasian argued.
A cooling breeze blew through Gaius’ shaded courtyard garden providing some relief from the mid-afternoon heat. The fish pond heaved with lampreys enjoying their daytime feed.
‘Even if you could kill Caligula and manage to avoid being cut down by his extremely loyal German Bodyguards, you would be dead within two days.’
Vespasian threw another fish fillet into the pond. ‘Why?’
‘The next Emperor would see to it, of course. Granted, he would be very grateful to you for leaving the position vacant for him to fill but then he’d have to have you executed because it wouldn’t do for people to see that someone outside the imperial family can assassinate an emperor, however depraved, and live. It would be an invitation for anyone with a grievance to murder him, surely you can see that? And don’t go giving me any naïve nonsense about restoring the Republic – the Praetorian Guard would never stand for that; the Emperor is their reason to exist.’
‘But something must be done, Uncle, before it’s too late.’
‘It’s already too late. There are too many people with vested interests in Caligula staying emperor. Only when he completely runs out of money and can’t pay them any more will they begin to look elsewhere; but I doubt that’ll ever happen because when his treasury is empty he’ll just start taking money from the rich.’
‘So what do you recommend?’
‘Two things: firstly, do not deposit that gold that you’ve brought back with you in a bank, because Caligula will hear of it. Keep it hidden here so that when he does start culling the wealthy you won’t be a target. Secondly, humour him, praise him, support him, worship him, laugh at his jokes, do whatever it takes to stay alive and wait for someone else to be foolish enough to try and kill an emperor.’
‘But what if everyone reasons the same way as you? He could remain emperor for years.’
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