Rome's Lost Son(12)

Britannicus did not quail. ‘The legitimate heir to the Purple apologises to no one. You should support your own blood, the pure blood of the Julio-Claudians, against that tainted by the Domitii. I say Caratacus should die.’ He glared at his rival who was now catching tears on his fingertips and displaying them to the crowd.

Claudius held out his fist as if adjudicating at a gladiatorial fight and kept his thumb pressed close to it in imitation of a sheathed sword. ‘C-C-Caratacus shall live! As shall his retinue.’

Burrus looked to the Empress; she glared at Britannicus and then nodded with a triumphant smile. The Praetorian prefect turned to his cohorts. ‘All hail the Emperor’s mercy!’

The roar of nine thousand voices rose to the sky, once again sending aloft the crows in fluttering spirals. The other captives fell to their knees at the foot of Claudius’ dais and reached up with their hands to touch his feet as Caratacus strode forward and bowed first to the Emperor and then to the Empress and her son, who had now risen to his feet and taken a pose with one hand on his heart and slowly shaking his head while staring into the middle distance as if attempting to summon the words with which to describe such a majestic act of mercy.

Caratacus then presented his chains to Burrus.

‘There is a very canny man,’ Gaius observed in Vespasian’s ear as Caratacus’ manacles were unlocked to renewed cheering from the Guard.

‘And there is a very unhappy boy and a very frightened tutor,’ Vespasian said, watching Sosibius usher Britannicus back towards Titus and the rest of the youths. ‘I wonder if he’ll dare to beat him one last time before he finds himself looking for a new position.’

Sosibius glanced at Agrippina in terror and Britannicus looked over his shoulder at Claudius with undisguised hatred, as the Father of the House launched into the first of many sycophantic, senatorial speeches praising the mercy of the man who had executed more of their number and the equestrian class than had his predecessor, Caligula.

The sun was well past its zenith when Claudius, having exhausted the supply of snacks brought to him at regular intervals during the long succession of speeches, grew tired of being lauded on an empty stomach and called for his litter.

Vespasian brought proceedings to a close by proposing a full debate in the Senate the following day to vote his colleague in the consulship a double-life-sized bronze statue in the Temple of Concordia in praise of his magnanimity and his ability to bring concord to all peoples.

Suitably flattered, the Emperor left, having been helped into his litter by the latest addition to the equestrian class; Caratacus was also now the proud owner of a villa on the Esquiline Hill that had belonged to a senator who had forfeited his property having been falsely accused of treason by Agrippina and executed.

‘I think you did very well out of that, dear boy,’ Gaius observed as they watched the Empress give one final venomous glare in Britannicus’ direction and then leave with Nero laying his head on her breast as the curtains of the litter were drawn. ‘The Senate will vote for Claudius’ statue and he’ll thank you for it when you step down in three days.’

‘He may thank me but he won’t reward me, Uncle.’

‘He might reward you,’ a voice said from just behind them. ‘In fact, he had plans to do so.’ Vespasian and Gaius both felt a hand on their shoulder and turned to see Pallas; the Greek inclined his head. ‘And in a way that you would, perhaps, have expected.’

‘I’d expect to be given a province, and not a senatorial province but an imperial one with legions and the chance of some military glory; just as my brother has.’

‘That is what you deserve but unfortunately—’

‘Unfortunately I seem to have incurred the Empress’s displeasure,’ Vespasian interrupted, ‘because my son is friends with her son’s rival.’

‘It does seem a little unreasonable, I’ll admit, if you phrase it in those terms; however, there’s more to it than that, much more. Walk with me, gentlemen.’ Pallas guided them back towards the gates; Vespasian’s lictors fell in behind, unable to precede him as they did not know where they were headed. ‘Obviously we are talking in confidence as only old and trusted friends can?’

Vespasian glanced at his uncle, feeling a twinge of guilt. ‘Of course, Pallas.’

‘Then you’ll spare me a denial when I say that I know that you have both agreed to meet with Narcissus tonight somewhere in secret.’

Vespasian met Pallas’ eye and inclined his head while Gaius blustered something about coercion. All around horns rang out, centurions bellowed and men stamped feet and crashed weapons in unison as the Praetorian Guard turned to march, cohort by cohort, back into their camp to the voluble admiration of the watching women.