Rome's Lost Son

by Robert Fabbri

  ‘I don’t think so, sir. If that was organised by who I think it was, then I’m a dead man if I stay. I’m out of Rome as soon as I can.’

  ‘What about me?’ Narcissus asked, some of his haughty dignity returning to his voice. ‘I can’t risk going to find my carriage. You must protect me; this was meant to be a safe place for a meeting.’

  Magnus frowned at that statement and then led the way across the courtyard.

  Vespasian looked at the Greek and wondered whether he would feel gratitude for saving his life or the opposite because his latent cowardice had been exposed.

  He decided he had nothing to lose and would probably have more to gain by aiding him. ‘You’d better come with us.’

  Speed was the issue, or, rather, lack of it, as Magnus guided Vespasian, Gaius and Narcissus through the unlit alleys and yards that separated the insalubrious dwellings, built with little thought of civic planning, between the two diverging major roads of the Quirinal. It was not Gaius’ girth nor was it Narcissus’ inability to run more than ten paces without gasping for breath that impaired their progress; it was the refuse, both solid and slimy, scattered on the dirt ground already laced with unseen potholes. Magnus cursed as he led them, single-file, stumbling forward, arms outstretched and feet taking unsure steps, through gloom that was only occasionally alleviated by guttering light from a candle burning in a window or a torch sputtering in a holder next to a door. From all around came shouts and cries, not the sounds of escape and pursuit but the noise of the inhabitants of this underbelly of the city arguing and fighting amongst themselves in an environment where contentment is a far-off dream.

  Vespasian glanced over his shoulder; the end of the alley was faintly illuminated by the glow of the fire raging through the tavern, two hundred paces away. There were no signs of their attackers nor of Magnus’ brethren who had split up into small groups and fanned out in different directions, blending into the neighbourhood and losing themselves. But that was easy for men dressed in the rough woollen tunics and cloaks favoured by the urban poor; their passing would cause no more notice amongst the footpads and cut-throats than that of one of the mangy dogs that infested these lawless lanes.

  He pulled off his cloak and handed it to Narcissus in front of him. ‘Cover your clothes with this; and keep your hands inside it so that your rings aren’t visible.’

  ‘Surely we’re safe enough with Magnus; no one’s going to rob us in his area when we’re with him?’

  ‘You may not have noticed,’ Magnus said, stumbling over an unseen obstacle that squelched and then gave off the sickly scent of decomposition, ‘but someone has just burnt down my crossroads headquarters and tried to kill me. I’d say that my authority in the area is at quite a low ebb at the moment. And besides, if a gang of thieves catch a glimpse of your rings or fine clothes in a pool of light and they outnumber us, they ain’t going to have a look to see who you’re with until we’re all lying down bleeding copiously from our slashed throats. I think that it’ll be a bit late by then, don’t you?’

  Narcissus drew the cloak about him, breathing heavily after the exertion of talking and walking fast.

  Gaius pulled his hood over his finely tonged hair. ‘Who do you think that was, Magnus?’

  Magnus turned right with the confidence of a man who knew his way. ‘If it was one of the brotherhoods then it could be any number of them, but my guess is it was Sempronius’ lads from the West Viminal; we share a border and have a few disputed streets. Sempronius and me have never got on personally since a dispute over whore-boys twenty-five years ago. We’ve had a few run ins and he holds a grudge better than a woman.’

  ‘Do you want me to do something about him?’ Vespasian asked.

  ‘Oh, you’ll never be able to touch him, even as consul.’

  ‘Who protects him?’

  ‘His brotherhood controls the Viminal Gate and so consequently has close ties with the Praetorian Guard who use the brothels along the Vicus Patricius; Sempronius and Burrus, the prefect, have a very good understanding, if you take my meaning?’

  ‘So what will you do?’

  ‘I ain’t going to do anything, Tigran will. I spoke to him and told him to take the strongbox; he’ll take over now. It’s a younger man’s game and I don’t qualify any more, especially after losing the eye. He’ll do nothing until he knows for certain who it was and who’s behind them. If it was one of the brotherhoods, he’ll have to hit them hard and quickly. A lot of blood needs to be spilt in order for the South Qurinal to reassert itself.’

  ‘What do you mean “if”? Surely it was a rival brotherhood? You just said it was.’

  ‘You’d think so, wouldn’t you, sir? That is until you look at the timing. It might be just a coincidence but why did they choose to attack at precisely the moment that the Junior Consul and the imperial secretary were on the premises?’

  CHAPTER IIII

  ‘HE WANTS ME to help him force either Pallas or Agrippina into admitting to Claudius that she has cuckolded him not only with Pallas but also with her own son.’ Vespasian ran his fingers through Caenis’ raven hair, enjoying the musk scent rising from it. ‘He says that he believes she is responsible for a treasonous crisis that Pallas is ignorant of but would be implicated in anyway.’

  Caenis ran a hand across his broad chest, moist with the sweat of exceedingly active sex, and nuzzled her cheek on his shoulder. ‘What treason?’

  ‘He was about to tell me when the attack started and then, when we eventually managed to get to Gaius’ house, he refused to elaborate and insisted on being escorted back to the palace by almost every one of Uncle’s slaves; he left promising that he’ll be in contact when he’s made the necessary arrangements for what he wants us to do, warning us that it will involve leaving Rome for a while. He wouldn’t give us any more details. However, he did say that it was connected with the Parthian embassy to the tribes north of the Danuvius and the timing of the toppling of the last Armenian King. And he says that Agrippina’s using my brother’s failure to intercept the embassy against me and has had my governorship of Africa revoked so that the only hope I have of preferment is to help him get rid of the bitch and in the process bring down Pallas.’ Vespasian stared up into the dark of Caenis’ bedroom slowly shaking his head in disbelief at the position he was being forced into.

  Once again he had been sucked into the mire of high imperial politics, caught between two opposing forces who cared only for safeguarding their own positions. In the past he had learnt to make as much money as possible out of his enforced involvement in situations not to his liking. That had helped to wash away the inevitable bad taste that was left in his mouth as he acted in ways so contrary to his lofty, youthful ideals of service to his family and to Rome; those lost ideals had existed only in his imagination when he had first entered the city twenty-five years before as a naïve lad of sixteen. He had discovered over time that Rome was an entirely different place to his delusional juvenile picture of it; the only goals worth achieving were the twin gods of status and power, and access to these was only through the much worshipped deities of patronage and wealth. Nothing else mattered.

  This time, however, he could see no way of benefitting financially from what he was being compelled to do and no way that he could extract himself without damage to the patronage that he enjoyed of Pallas and, to a lesser extent, Narcissus. He had betrayed Narcissus already by telling Caenis just what the imperial secretary required of him and Narcissus would be sure to find out at some point; if the imperial freedman ever rose to prominence again, Vespasian could expect no preferment from that quarter. Therefore it seemed to him that his best option was to work for Pallas; but even if he remained loyal to him, Agrippina would continue to block his career and Pallas’ patronage would be worthless. And then there was also the question that Magnus had planted in his mind as they escaped from the tavern: the question of Pallas’ loyalty to him. Only Pallas had known of the time and place of his meeting with Narcissus and he h
ad made a special point of having Vespasian confirm the location; had he ordered that attack as a convenient way of getting rid of his rival as collateral damage in a supposed underworld feud? Was Vespasian’s life the price paid for such an opportune demise? This thought he dared not share even with Caenis because he felt sure that if it were true she would either know about it, in which case her love was false and she was no more than a spy in his bed and that thought he could not endure; or, more likely, she was unaware of her master’s duplicity and would be suitably outraged and feel obliged to take some form of vengeance on Pallas, thus exposing herself to his wrath should he suspect her of moving against him.

  All in all, Vespasian could see no satisfactory way forward other than to retire from politics and live out the rest of his life farming his estates with the seasons marking the years and, as his brother had once said, the years being differentiated solely by the standard of the annual wine vintage. That was something he could not contemplate: how could his sons hope to thrive in Rome if their father had no influence to push them through the series of military and magisterial appointments that was the Cursus Honorum? How would they get the plum posts in the provinces and legions if he just disappeared? And then, more to the point, how would he ever manage to pursue and realise the destiny that he felt sure had been conceived for him as the sacrifice’s liver had indicated only a few hours ago that morning?

  No, he decided, somehow he had to navigate himself through this and try to come out of it with, if not some credit, then at least without too much damage.

  ‘Pallas will always try to help you if it coincides with his interests,’ Caenis murmured, kissing him.

  ‘That’s just the point: while he is, for whatever reason, Agrippina’s lover then his and my interests will never coincide. I stand more to gain by Narcissus bringing down the Empress, but I’ve already jeopardised that by having this conversation with my lover who will report it back to Pallas.’

  ‘I don’t have to, my love.’

  ‘Of course you have to; and, of course, I had to tell you because I’d promised Pallas I would. He’ll be impatient for the full transcript first thing tomorrow and he’ll be expecting me to keep him informed of all contacts that I have with Narcissus concerning this matter. You know and I know that trying to lie to him is not an option; to construct a lie that fits the facts as he knows them will be fine now but it’ll be impossible to maintain as events take their inevitably unforeseen course.’

  Caenis was quiet for a few moments and then looked up at him in the dark. ‘There may be a way for you to play both sides but it involves patience.’

  ‘I can be patient.’

  ‘We need to find out exactly what Agrippina’s done and get proof of it before Narcissus does.’

  ‘We?’

  ‘Of course “we”, my love; who else can you trust to help you? I’ll tell Pallas all that you’ve told me. He’ll want to know what Agrippina’s done and how he could be implicated and I’ll be able to say, quite truthfully, that Narcissus didn’t have time to tell you before the tavern was attacked. All he said was that he believed it was to do with the embassy. That will leave Pallas with a straight choice: demanding Agrippina tells him what she’s done behind his back, which he’ll be afraid of doing for fear of her refusing and their relationship being permanently damaged; or finding out himself and then making a judgement whether to betray her to the Emperor to save his skin.’

  Vespasian stifled a yawn. ‘Which, if I can help him achieve that, would free me of her and keep Pallas in a position where he could still be of use to me.’

  ‘And you can help him achieve that: Pallas will see that the easiest way to find out what she has done is through you; he’ll realise that Narcissus didn’t come to you because he thought you would help him as Agrippina’s blocking you. Narcissus doesn’t care about things like that. He chose you because you, and only you, can help him. Narcissus can’t accuse Agrippina and Pallas of treason without the proof. I know how his mind works because I was his secretary for six years; he feels that you and your uncle are the key to finding that proof, otherwise why else did he want to meet with you in secret? Now, why would that be? Why did he specifically choose you?’

  Vespasian squeezed Caenis’ shoulder. ‘Of course! You’re brilliant, my love; what’s the common factor between Agrippina’s supposed treason and me and Gaius? Sabinus. What she did has something to do with the embassy that Sabinus failed to capture. Narcissus suspects that, inadvertently, Sabinus knows something that can help.’

  ‘Exactly; and my guess is that Narcissus wants you and your uncle to talk to your brother and find out; he will ask you both to travel to Moesia.’

  ‘Both of us?’

  ‘Yes, I assume so; it seems odd, but otherwise why meet with you both?’

  ‘But what can Gaius do or say that I can’t?’

  ‘I’m sure that’ll become clear. Now, when I present this to Pallas I can do it in a way that he comes to the same conclusion as you just did. He will think that it’s his idea and his first reaction will be to have Claudius recall Sabinus to Rome and question him here.’

  ‘Then Narcissus would know for sure that I’ve betrayed him.’

  ‘And Pallas will lose any advantage he may have; far better for him to have Narcissus believe that he knows nothing. Far better for Pallas that Agrippina doesn’t suspect that her lover is investigating her. Far better for us that you go to Moesia at Narcissus’ request but with Pallas’ secret blessing. And to convince Narcissus that you are working solely for him I shall have Pallas dismiss me from my post for plotting against him.’

  Vespasian sat up as the full implication of what Caenis was suggesting hit him. ‘And if I were to find out the proof of whatever it is that Agrippina has done, then when I return I can give it to whoever has the best chance of giving me the governorship of a province.’

  ‘Precisely, because both will believe that you are working solely for them until the moment that you hand over the information to the other one. And I will be able to take my position back with whomever we choose because I will be seen to have done no wrong in their eyes.’

  ‘That, my love, is cold, dispassionate politics worthy of Pallas or Narcissus themselves.’

  Caenis cupped his face with her hands and kissed his lips. ‘Thank you; but you must remember that I’ve lived and breathed their world all of my adult life and I know how they function better than anyone. But my loyalty is not to them, only to you, my love, and when they threaten you I will always help you defend yourself. I will always see you safe.’

  Vespasian returned the kiss with full measure, feeling shame welling up inside. ‘I’m sorry that I doubted you.’

  ‘Doubted me? Why?’

  He told her of the timing of the attack on the tavern and how only Pallas knew when he and Narcissus would be there.

  ‘You think that if I knew of that then I might not have told you? Of course I would. But I can honestly say that Pallas had nothing to do with it; I would have known.’

  ‘Then who did organise it? Callistus perhaps, trying to edge his way back into power by eliminating Narcissus?’

  ‘No, he’s just happy to keep his position as secretary to the Law Courts; it’s very lucrative. He knows that Agrippina has her eye on him, firstly for being Messalina’s creature and secondly for not supporting her becoming empress. He wouldn’t do anything to attract her attention.’

  ‘Who, then?’

  ‘It was coincidence, my love; a brotherhood turf war that you got caught up in. Now put it from your mind and get some sleep.’

  Vespasian kissed her again and lay back down. But sleep would not come; he found it very hard to believe in coincidences.

  The summons from Claudius came as a surprise to Vespasian as he left the Senate House that afternoon preceded by his lictors. The immaculately presented Praetorian centurion, waiting at the foot of the steps, snapped a rigid salute, his right arm thumping his highly polished scale-armoured chest a
nd causing his transverse white horsehair helmet crest to judder. With military brevity he begged leave to report that the Emperor wished Vespasian to accompany him back to the Palatine as soon as the trial, over which he was presiding at the far end of the Forum Romanum, concluded. Vespasian found himself with little option but to process slowly towards the open-air court, receiving petitions from the importunate and cursing Claudius for his inconsideration in keeping him from a reviving bath that he hoped would wash away the fatigue he felt at having had very little sleep.

  ‘I can’t imagine what good they think it’ll do giving a petition to a consul who has only two days left in office,’ a clipped voice observed as Vespasian dismissed a supplicant with platitudes about looking into his appeal concerning his right to contest his father’s will.

  ‘Corbulo!’ Vespasian exclaimed, his expression turning from irritation to mild pleasure as he spied his old acquaintance watching him from beside the Rostrum. ‘I didn’t know that you were back in Rome.’

  ‘I’ve just got back today,’ Corbulo said, walking forward, looking down the long nose of his horse-like face at Vespasian and proffering his right arm for him to grasp. ‘I’m here to pay my respects to the Emperor and thank him for giving me Asia.’

  Vespasian took Corbulo’s arm, astounded. ‘But you’re the Governor of Germania Inferior.’

  ‘I was, Vespasian, was.’ Corbulo drew himself up and adjusted his face into a picture of aristocratic smugness as they continued progressing towards Claudius’ court. ‘But I did such a fine job of dealing with the Cherusci and Chauci trying to take advantage of our weakened state on the Germanic frontier. I killed thousands of the bearded barbarians and taught them that just because we’ve taken three legions away from the Rhenus and one from the Danuvius to subdue some fog-drenched island that no one is interested in, that’s no reason to stop paying tribute to Rome. The Emperor’s very pleased with me – or at least his freedmen are.’ Corbulo wrinkled his nose in patrician distaste. ‘I’ve been summoned back to Rome to be presented with Triumphal Regalia.’