Rome's Lost Son(108)

Flavia wiped her eyes on his damp tunic, leaving black smudges of kohl, and attempted a smile. ‘Little Domitilla is as all small girls should be: mischievous and dutiful in equal measure. She’ll just want to hold your hand all the time. Domitian may notice you but only if you give him something; but make sure it’s just for him as he’s a three year old with no concept of sharing. It’s Titus, though, who’s going to be so pleased to see you; for the last year when he gave up all hope of you being alive he … well, he wasn’t good. Britannicus was a great comfort to him and he spent most of the time with him at the palace; he’s there now, I’ll send him a message telling him to come here.’

‘Tell him that I’ll be at my uncle’s house.’

Flavia kissed him on the mouth, biting his bottom lip. ‘Are you going to stay here tonight?’

‘I’ll be back later, my dear; but I need to have a long conversation with him before I do anything.’ He smiled down at Flavia. ‘But I don’t have to go for an hour or so, not until Magnus has arrived.’ Returning the kiss with a suggestion of more passionate ones to come, Vespasian led his wife by the hand towards their bedroom.

‘I’ve sent a message to my mate Lucius at the Greens’ stables telling him that you’re back,’ Magnus said matter-of-factly, as if it was the most natural thing to do.

‘Oh yes?’ Vespasian kept his voice disinterested as they walked the couple of hundred paces to Gaius’ house at the commencement of the fifth hour of the day.

‘Yeah, I thought he should know that his patron was back so that he didn’t miss the salutio tomorrow morning.’

‘That was very thoughtful of you, Magnus; although it was unnecessary as my clients have been attending my uncle whilst I’ve been away.’

Magnus looked sidelong at Vespasian, grunted and then walked on in silence. ‘There was hardly enough room in the stables behind your house,’ he suddenly blurted out after a few more paces. ‘Not for all five of them anyway, the slaves told me.’

Vespasian was well aware of this as he had visited the stables when the stallions had arrived, once he had finished attending to Flavia. ‘I’m sure they’ll be fine in there. If it is a bit cramped I could always move a couple into my uncle’s stables, or Caenis’ for that matter.’

Magnus gave another sidelong glance, this time more nervous. Vespasian pretended that he had not noticed it as they arrived at Gaius’ front door. He gave it a loud knock; the viewing slat slipped back, followed a moment later by the door being opened by a youth of outstanding beauty with long blond hair and a very short tunic.

Having never seen this young slave of Gaius’ before, Vespasian named himself and sent the lad off to fetch his master. ‘Uncle Gaius must be doing rather well for himself if he can afford something that good-looking,’ Vespasian mused as they followed the door-boy through the vestibule and on into the atrium.

‘He’s always had a good eye for a boy,’ Magnus affirmed, watching the retreating boy’s buttocks move beneath the tunic that only occasionally concealed their entirety. ‘Just as well Hormus isn’t in his household otherwise he’d have to be sharing them.’

The boy knocked on Gaius’ study door, then opened it and announced Vespasian’s arrival.

‘Dear boy,’ Gaius boomed, waddling out from his study and into the atrium, ‘I’m so pleased to see you; we had all but given up hope.’ He turned to the door-boy. ‘Tell the cook that there’ll be two more guests for lunch; and have wine and honeyed cakes brought out to the garden.’

‘Two more guests, Uncle?’ Vespasian said as he subjected himself to Gaius’ flabby embrace. ‘Who else is here?’

‘Just me,’ Pallas said, walking out from Gaius’ study. ‘When I heard that you’d arrived in Rome I guessed that this would be the first place you would come, despite my brother writing to me to say that he’d given you my message.’

‘I confess that I’m very pleased to see you alive, Vespasian,’ Pallas said once the four of them were seated in the last remaining patch of shade in the courtyard garden.

‘I don’t suppose Agrippina shares your enthusiasm,’ Vespasian replied, still angered by Pallas’ presence, which prevented him from gaining an advance insight from his uncle into the state of Rome’s politics; neither the gentle patter of the fountain in Gaius’ lamprey pond nor the sound of birdsong floating on the warm air did anything to soothe him.

Pallas helped himself to a cake. ‘She has yet to hear the news; but I doubt she will care one way or the other as she feels, at the moment, that her position is absolutely secure.’