Vespasian’s sympathy evaporated as the Greek contemplated buying his life with those of hundreds of others. ‘I thought you gave them into Caenis’ care to keep them from Pallas and Agrippina?’
‘I did, just so as I could use them at a time such as now. So you see, Vespasian, market forces are still at work. Will you help me?’
Vespasian thought about it for a few moments. ‘What do you have on Paelignus and Corvinus?’
Narcissus looked at him conspiratorially. ‘Ah, I see; a fair price. Not much on Corvinus but enough on Paelignus to see him dead. When his father died last year, he left half his estate to Claudius; a sensible precaution as you know. However, Paelignus falsified how much the estate was worth so that Claudius received less than a quarter of what he should have. It’s in my records.’
‘Good. I’ll extract that record before Caenis and I burn the rest.’
Narcissus blanched in terror. ‘Burn them? But what about me?’
‘Narcissus, do you think for one moment that I would be party to Agrippina having the hold of life and death over more than half of the men of importance in the city? It’s going to be bad enough without that over the next few years; I’ll not add to the murder. And you were wrong about her, by the way. It was Tryphaena behind the embassy, which was why Pallas knew nothing about it.’
‘How do you know that Pallas knew nothing?’
‘Because he was as curious as you were about what I found out in the East.’
‘You were working for him all along?’
‘I took the commission from both of you but I was working solely for myself; it just so happens that it was more to my advantage to share my findings upon my return with him than with you.’
‘You treacherous bastard!’
‘I learnt from the best, Narcissus.’
A loud voice cut through their exchange. ‘Tiberius Claudius Narcissus!’
Vespasian turned towards the direction of the shout to see Burrus stomping through the gate accompanied by a Praetorian centurion holding a sack. Narcissus recoiled as if he had been punched.
Burrus stopped in front of the litter. ‘Get out!’
‘I am a Roman citizen and have the right to appeal to Caesar.’
‘He knows that and he told me to tell you that you are more than welcome to exercise that right and he will be very happy to commute the sentence from decapitation to death by wild beasts; it’s up to you.’ Burrus drew his sword. ‘Centurion!’
The Praetorian centurion dipped his hand into the sack and pulled out a severed head by its ear.
‘Your erstwhile colleague decided not to exercise his right to appeal,’ Burrus informed Narcissus as he stared in horror at the bloodless face of Callistus. ‘If it’s any consolation, Nero did express regret at being able to write as he signed your death sentence.’
Narcissus stiffened; it was as if he had found a new strength in his helplessness. ‘So the most I can hope for is a clean death.’ He stepped out of the litter, calmly accepting his fate.
‘We’ll burn them thoroughly, Narcissus,’ Vespasian assured him.
‘You’re right; it will be for the best. If I were a betting man, my money would be on you to survive, Vespasian. And who knows to where a long life might lead.’ He walked forward and knelt before Burrus, extending his neck. ‘There is nothing else to say, my life is at an end.’
It was swift and clean. The sword caught the sun as it was raised and flashed when Burrus sliced it down. With a communal intake of breath from the crowd and a brief grunt from Narcissus, it cut though skin, flesh and bone, in a shock of blood, the edge so honed that Burrus’ arm hardly juddered as the blade swept Narcissus’ head from his shoulders to roll to the feet of the four Praetorians lounging against the tomb. The body stayed kneeling, rigid, for a few moments, disgorging its contents in great spurts as the heart pumped on, weakening with each contraction. The thigh muscles soon gave out and the husk of what had once been the most powerful man in the Empire slumped forward, dead at the entrance to the city that had given him, an ex-slave, his freedom, wealth, influence and, now, bloody execution.
‘Take him away!’ Burrus ordered the four Praetorians.
Vespasian stared at Narcissus’ face as his head was picked up; his eyes were still open. He remembered how the Greek had forced Sabinus to execute Clemens, his own brother-in-law, as part of the bargain that would spare his life; he smiled at the neatness of the retribution and then, as the head was carried away, his eyes rested on the tomb that had, up until now, been obscured by the Praetorians. He stared at it for a few moments and then broke into a laugh.