‘Please, Claudius, there’s been enough blood shed tonight,’ said Agrippina, then she moved her head slightly so that she could kiss the palm of his hand. As Cato watched, he saw her tongue dart out and flick over the Emperor’s skin and Claudius gave a little shudder of pleasure.
‘You’re right, my love.’ He smiled, then looked up at the others gathered in the audience chamber. ‘The plot against me has been crushed. The ringleaders are dead. All that m-m-matters now is to start feeding the people of Rome again. Pallas, you can take charge of that.’
‘With pleasure, sire.’ Pallas bowed low.
Claudius turned to Narcissus. ‘You have done well, my friend. Once again you have defeated my enemies and I am in your d-debt. But the Empress is right. We must not lash out in a blind panic. The centurion was carrying out Pallas’s instructions. I am indeed fortunate to have two such devoted servants …’ He paused and looked at Cato and Macro. ‘I owe my thanks to you …’ His brow creased.
‘Cato, sir,’ Cato filled in. ‘Prefect Cato and Centurion Macro.’
‘Cato and Macro. Fine work. You shall be rewarded. It is thanks to you that R-rome can be fed once more.’ He rose from his throne and approached them with a grateful smile. Then he stopped at arm’s length and sniffed the air and grimaced. ‘Yes, well. Good j-job. Better go and, er, get yourselves bathed and find some fresh t-t-tunics.’
‘Yes, sire,’ Cato and Macro replied with a smart bow of their heads.
Claudius forced another smile before shuffling back out of range of the odour emanating from their filthy tunics. He took Agrippina’s hand again and beamed dotingly at her. ‘Come, my love. It has been an eventful night. We could b-b-both do with a rest, eh?’
The Empress raised her plucked eyebrows suggestively. Claudius led her towards the rear door of the audience chamber. Then he paused and looked back at the prisoners who had been standing silently, hoping that they might have been overlooked. ‘Oh, and have those men executed. Their heads are to be mounted next to their leaders’. See to it, Pallas.’
‘Yes, sire.’
Claudius turned back to his wife and continued towards the door with his awkward gait. Britannicus and Nero followed a short distance behind. The rest of the men in the chamber stood in silence until the Emperor and his family had left. Then they began to talk in muted tones. The Germans marched the prisoners away to their deaths while others removed the bodies of Geta and Sinius. Tigellinus turned to Cato and Macro with a smirk. ‘I hope for your sake that our paths don’t cross again.’
‘Don’t worry,’ Macro responded. ‘We’ll be quitting the Praetorians as soon as we can. Back to the proper army for us.’
‘Lucky you. Less pay, fewer prospects and the squalor of the frontier. I am positively consumed with envy.’
Macro grabbed the centurion’s tunic and pulled him close. ‘I know what you are,’ he said in a soft voice, dripping with menace. ‘You may have fooled the Emperor but we know the truth, Cato and me. If our paths do ever cross again, I swear I’ll kill you first and ask questions later.’
‘That would be rather pointless,’ Tigellinus observed as he reached up and pulled his tunic out of Macro’s fingers. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, I find your stench offensive.’ He backed away to a safe distance and took his place beside Pallas. The freedman could not help a triumphant grin as he faced Narcissus.
‘It’s not over,’ the imperial secretary said firmly. ‘You’ve won this round, but you won’t be able to fool the Emperor for ever.’
‘I won’t have to. How much longer do you suppose Claudius will live? Five years? Three? One?’ Pallas plucked at the hem of his tunic. ‘My boy is next in line to the purple. Britannicus is a spent force. Face it, you picked the wrong horse, Narcissus. I have Nero, I have his mother and the Emperor has given me the job of handing out the grain. I should think that makes me the most popular man in a starving city, don’t you? Meanwhile, what do you have? The Emperor’s gratitude, that’s what. How long do you think that’s going to work in your favour when Agrippina has her claws stuck into the old boy? Whatever your undoubted talents, I doubt that seducing a randy old man is among them.’ Pallas patted the imperial secretary on the shoulder. ‘Enjoy this moment, my old friend. There won’t be any more opportunities. You have my word on it. Come, Tigellinus.’ He beckoned to the centurion and headed towards the door of the chamber. ‘We must have a little talk about your future.’
Only Narcissus, Cato and Macro remained in the chamber. The imperial secretary stood and stared at the Emperor’s throne with a bitter, weary expression. Macro tugged his friend’s arm and spoke softly. ‘Come on, we’re done here. It’s over.’
‘Over?’ Cato shook his head. ‘How can you say that?’
‘The people will get their grain. The Emperor’s survived an assassination attempt. We’re still alive.’ Macro shrugged. ‘That’s as good a result as you can hope for in my book. Now, I could use a bath, a drink and some sleep. So could you. Let’s go, lad.’
‘Go? Go where? Back to the camp? Isn’t that going to be difficult now that our cover story has been exposed?’
‘Where else can we go? We don’t have any home outside of the barracks, Cato.’
Cato thought a moment, and nodded. Now that the plot had been foiled, they should be safe enough at the camp under their real names. For a few days at least, until some better arrangement could be made. Cato took one last look at the dejected imperial secretary. There was still one matter to be resolved.
‘Narcissus … We’ll talk later.’
‘Yes,’ Narcissus replied vaguely. Then he turned to face Cato with a calculating look. ‘Talk about what?’
‘The Liberators,’ Cato replied deliberately. ‘That, and your promise to find us postings back to the army, with confirmation of my promotion.’
‘I see. Yes.’ Narcissus nodded slowly. ‘We’ll speak later then.’
CHAPTER THIRTY
‘Lurco and Vitellius were not particularly grateful when I gave orders for their release,’ said Narcissus, smiling faintly. ‘Vitellius swore that he would have his revenge on you two, apparently.’
‘Then perhaps you shouldn’t have bothered with Vitellius,’ Macro responded without a trace of humour. ‘It would have been better if you had arranged for him to be dropped into a nice deep well. I doubt he’d have been missed by many people. Come to that, if you want the job done, you only have to ask.’
‘I’ll bear it in mind,’ Narcissus replied. ‘Were it not for the fact that Vitellius hates Pallas even more than me, I might be tempted to take you up on your offer. As it is, he may yet be of some use to me. Frankly, I need every ally I can get at present.’
Cato briefly wondered if the imperial secretary was looking for sympathy. It had been five days since the attempt on the Emperor’s life. Claudius had spent most of the time with his young wife and left his subordinates to run his affairs. While Pallas had taken charge of distributing the grain supply, Tribune Burrus had been appointed prefect of the Praetorian Guard. The other prefect was pensioned off and there were no plans to replace him. Henceforth, there would be one commander of the Praetorians, with all the dangers that entailed. The Empress had seen to it that Centurion Tigellinus was promoted to replace Burrus. It was clear to Cato that the balance of power had shifted from Narcissus to Pallas and his associates.
Narcissus had been silent for a moment, as if awaiting a response to his predicament. When none came he frowned slightly and leant forward, resting his elbows on his desk, and arched his fingers together as he regarded the two officers sitting in front of him.
‘As you will recall, the Emperor promised you a reward for your services in uncovering the Liberators’ plot. Given that Agrippina is busy wrapping Claudius round her little finger, it would be best to claim that reward now, before she entices him into changing his mind. Rome is likely to become as dangerous a place for you as it is for me in the days to come.’
‘I doubt that,’ Macro comm
ented. ‘We’re not party to the games you and Pallas are playing.’
‘Oh, but you are. Very much so. You and Cato came close to exposing Pallas and Agrippina’s plot. Tigellinus was lucky to escape with his life. I doubt that they will be very forgiving as far as you two are concerned. In which case it would be wise to remove you both from Rome and find you safer employment. Pallas’s star is rising, and at present I find it hard to believe that Nero will not succeed Claudius. In which case, Britannicus is a lost cause. There is not much I can do to save him now. Indeed, I may not be able to do much to save myself, but I’ll do what I can for you. It is the very least that you deserve after all that you have done in the service of your Emperor.’
Cato shook his head. ‘Spare us the sanctimonious air of self-sacrifice, Narcissus. If you want to keep us safe then it’s only because you think you might have cause to use Macro and me again one day. That being the case, we’ll take our reward, and on our terms.’
‘Your terms?’ Narcissus’s eyebrows rose. ‘And what terms would those be?’
‘You will see to it that my promotion to the rank of prefect is confirmed, and you will provide us both with commands worthy of our ranks. We’ve earned it, over and over, and we will have what is due to us,’ Cato concluded firmly.
The imperial secretary stared at Cato. ‘You have a pretty high and mighty opinion of yourself. What makes you think I will bow to your demands?’
‘It is in our mutual interest,’ Cato responded. ‘While you still have some influence over the Emperor, Macro and I can profit from it.’
‘And what’s in it for me?’
Cato regarded the man coldly for a moment before he replied. ‘If you give us what we want then Macro and I will keep quiet about your attempt to have Nero murdered.’
Macro stirred and looked at his friend in surprise, but kept his silence as he waited for Cato to explain.
‘I don’t know what you are talking about,’ Narcissus responded flatly. ‘I suggest you withdraw your groundless accusation.’
‘Groundless?’ Cato chuckled. ‘I don’t think so. I had it from the mouth of Cestius, before he died. You paid him to kill Nero.’
‘I did no such thing.’
‘He took his orders from Septimus who answers directly to you. It comes to the same thing.’
‘I’m afraid not. Cestius is dead. You have no evidence.’
‘Not unless we can persuade Septimus to confirm what Cestius told us. Not just about the attempt to kill Nero, but also about other tasks he performed for you.’
‘What tasks would those be?’
Cato stared at the imperial secretary. ‘Those associated with the threat posed by the Liberators for several years now.’
Narcissus met Cato’s eyes without betraying his thoughts in the smallest degree. ‘Go on.’
‘Very well.’ Cato nodded, gathering his suspicions and conclusions together. ‘Let’s talk about the Liberators. They’ve been a thorn in Claudius’s side ever since he became Emperor. More precisely, ever since you began to wield power behind the scenes.’
‘Most interesting. So what?’
‘There have always been conspiracies against emperors. But never anything as enduring and as secretive as the Liberators. Which is odd, given how they have failed to achieve much, until recently.’ Cato paused. ‘I’ve given it a lot of thought in the last few days. It occurs to me that if the Liberators didn’t exist, then it might be a good idea to invent them.’
Macro frowned. ‘What are you talking about? How can that be a good idea?’
Cato turned to his friend. ‘Think about it. There are plenty of people who would happily see the back of the emperors. They might even consider hatching their own plots against Claudius. But what if there was a secret organisation dedicated to his downfall? Not so secret that no one ever heard of them, of course. Wouldn’t they attract the attention of almost every aspiring assassin? Far better to join other like-minded people than go it alone.’
Macro pursed his lips. ‘I suppose.’
‘Then what could be more logical than to use the Liberators as a front to draw out those who harbour a grudge against Claudius? It’s just the kind of scheme that a man tasked with running the Emperor’s spy network might come up with, don’t you think?’
Macro shook his head. ‘That’s a step too far. Even for Narcissus. That would be playing with fire.’
‘Yes, it would be risky, but while it worked it would provide an invaluable means of identifying traitors, and then arranging for their quiet disposal, or recruitment as double agents.’
Narcissus sat back in his chair. ‘All very interesting, but you have no proof that any such scheme ever existed.’
‘Of course not. That’s how it would have to work. The Liberators would need a high degree of autonomy if they were to believe that their conspiracy was real. Only there was something that you didn’t anticipate.’ Cato shook his head slightly. ‘You didn’t think that the organisation might take on a life of its own. You lost control of them, didn’t you?’
Narcissus did not respond, and there was a tense silence until Narcissus cleared his throat.
‘As I said, you have no proof to back up your wild speculations.’
‘I will have, once Septimus is interrogated. He was your middle man. He shared everything that you knew about the Liberators. He was more than a middle man, he is your right-hand man.’
Narcissus smiled. ‘As it happens, he is even more than that, Cato. Septimus is my son. Do you really think he would betray me? That’s why I placed him in that position. I can rely on him, at least.’
‘Your son?’ Cato was taken by surprise. Then he nodded. ‘That makes sense. But even a son might sell his father out, with the right … persuasion. I wouldn’t count on Septimus holding his tongue.’
‘Then you should not rely on him being taken alive for interrogation. Either he would take his own life, or it could be arranged for another to do the deed for him.’
Cato felt his stomach turn in disgust. ‘You wouldn’t do that.’
‘I would. Do you think a man from my background could achieve what I have without abandoning every principle save that of self-interest? Well?’
For a moment Cato’s composed mask slipped as he muttered, ‘By the gods, you are a monster …’
Narcissus shook his head. ‘I am the servant of the Emperor, tasked with keeping him on the throne at any price. That is all.’
There was a brief silence before the imperial servant continued. ‘I know that you may despise me for what I am about to say.’
‘No,’ Macro interjected. ‘We despise you already.’
Narcissus shot him an icy look. ‘Be that as it may, you have to understand the stakes before you condemn me. I am all that stands between the order of the Empire and chaos. That is the nature of my world. There is no room for all those fine values that you soldiers think are so important.’ His lips lifted in a sneer. ‘I think you’d better go back to the army. Your sense of morality is too dangerous to you here in Rome, and it threatens all that I stand for …’
Cato closed his eyes and fought down the bile that filled his guts. When he opened them again he refused to meet Narcissus’s gaze and turned instead to Macro. ‘I think I felt cleaner when I was standing up to my neck in shit back in the Great Sewer. He’s right, Macro. We should get out of here. Get out of Rome. Get back to the army.’
His friend nodded, rising to his feet. ‘Like I always said. Let’s go.’
Cato stood up, then looked at Narcissus for the last time. ‘You’ll see to it that we get our commands. Do that and we’ll not speak of what we know. Not to anyone.’
‘That is the deal,’ Narcissus agreed. ‘And since you wish for it so fervently, I shall be delighted to have you sent back to … Britannia. I’m sure the natives will be delighted at the prospect of your return.’
‘Suits me,’ Cato replied, then with a quick look at Macro he turned and led the way out of the imperial secr
etary’s office, feeling sick to the core of his being. Both men were silent until they had left the palace behind them and emerged into the crowded thoroughfare of the Sacred Way, the route that ran through the heart of Rome.
‘Do you think he will keep his side of the bargain?’ asked Macro.
‘He will. It serves his ends to get us far from here as soon as possible. After that, he’ll have no time to spare us any attention. He’ll be too busy dealing with Pallas.’ Cato thought for a moment. ‘I doubt he’ll survive for long. I think he’s finally met his match.’
‘Then good riddance.’
Cato looked at his friend and laughed humourlessly. ‘Narcissus falls, Pallas rises and all is as before. That’s how it will be.’
‘So? By then we shall be far away. Back where we belong.’
‘Britannia?’
‘Why not? That’s where the fighting is best at the moment.’ Macro clapped his hands together at the prospect. ‘Think on it, lad. Battles to be won, booty to be had as far from that slimy reptile Narcissus as possible. And we still have that small fortune Sinius gave us. What could be better?’
Cato stopped and stared at his friend. ‘You intend to keep that?’
‘Why not? You can’t say that I’ve not earned it. You too.’
Cato thought for a moment. ‘If anyone found out we had kept the silver, then we’d be in deep trouble.’
‘Who’s alive to tell the tale?’ Macro smiled. ‘Sinius is dead, so is Geta.’
‘What about Tigellinus?’
‘He might know something about it. But if he says anything, it’ll only prove that he knew more about the Liberators than he’s said so far. He’ll keep his mouth shut.’ Macro looked at Cato pleadingly. ‘Come on, lad. After all that we’ve been through, it’s only fair. It’s not as if Claudius is going to miss a handful of coins.’
‘Handful?’ Cato wrestled with the idea for a moment, before the spectre of Narcissus and his devious machinations appeared in his mind’s eye. He nodded. ‘Why not?’
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