Rome's Lost Son(14)
‘That is a very sensible decision; and you needn’t worry, I’m sure the Empress will agree to my proposal.’
‘Why, Pallas? If she distrusts me so much how can you manage to get her to agree to my benefit?’
Pallas cocked an eyebrow and gave a rare half-smile. ‘When she hears what I propose you do for Rome, she’ll be most enthusiastic. She will certainly support it because she will fully expect you to die.’
CHAPTER III
UNRECOGNISABLE IN A deep-hooded cloak, Vespasian walked in silence next to his uncle, escorted by four of Magnus’ crossroads brothers who had been sent to see them through Rome’s nocturnal streets. Even in the middle of the night the city teemed with activity as suppliers made their deliveries with carts and wagons banned from Rome’s thoroughfares and lanes during daylight hours and the people feasted on the generous handouts made by the Emperor in thanks for the defeat of his persistent enemy, Caratacus. However, the presence of so many people abroad at this time did not make the journey to Magnus’ tavern any safer; quite the contrary in a city where the vast majority lived a hand to mouth existence. Gangs of footpads roamed the streets hauling the unwary or the intoxicated into dark alleyways to relieve them of their property and sometimes of their lives. Those who bore witness to the muggings would, in general, prefer the safety of minding their own business to the mortal danger of coming to the aid of a stranger. Only the club-wielding Vigiles, Rome’s nocturnal fire-watchers and keepers of the peace, offered any assistance to those in trouble and then, often, at the price of the contents of the victim’s purse.
With four torch-bearing crossroads brothers, daggers and cudgels secreted under their cloaks, Vespasian felt safe as they made their way along the bustling Alta Semita bordered by three-or four-storey tenements to either side; thin light delineated an occasional upper window and gloom-filled alleys divided them, leading into a dark and completely lawless world between the more frequented thoroughfares. But it was not his present well-being that concerned Vespasian as he blocked out the drunken singing, the cries of the street vendors and carters, the rattle of iron-rimmed wheels, the bestial calls of beasts of burden and the countless other sounds that made sleep a rare commodity on Rome’s busier streets; it was what the future held for him.
‘If Agrippina expects me to be killed,’ he said eventually to Gaius, ‘doing whatever it is that Pallas suggests, then how would you explain the mark that I found on the sacrificial liver this morning?’
‘I can’t explain it and I certainly wouldn’t make it public,’ Gaius said after hearing the incident recounted.
‘I’m not stupid!’ Vespasian snapped more tersely than he had meant to. ‘But that mark implies that Mars has a destiny set for me that is somehow involved in the greater affairs of state. I’m no auger, but when I put together a clear reference to me on a sacrifice to Jupiter Optimus Maximus, made in the very heart of Rome by my hand as a consul of Rome, with the fact that the auspices at my naming ceremony were of such a sensitive nature that my mother forced everyone present to take an oath never to talk of them, then I begin to wonder what that destiny is, seeing as I’ve already achieved the consulship.’
‘Well, I wasn’t at your naming ceremony, so I can’t comment.’
‘If you had been you would be sworn against commenting anyway. But I’m beginning to have a suspicion that is so outrageous that I might as well discuss it with you.’
‘So that’s what you were brooding about all through dinner; I was thinking that you and Flavia had had another dispute over your differing attitudes to expenditure. Try me.’
Vespasian took a deep breath and hoped that the cause of his last few hours of contemplation would not provoke ridicule. ‘It was Sabinus who originally put it into my mind when Claudius came to Britannia. Claudius noticed that I had Marcus Antonius’ sword that had been given to me by the Lady Antonia; only Pallas and Caenis knew that it had been a gift from her, as they had brought me the sword after she had used it to open her veins. Claudius asked me how I got it because it was well known in the imperial family that his mother would only give it to the person that she thought would make the best emperor. I lied and told him that Caligula had given it to me. Pallas told me never to let the truth be known because, if Claudius found out, my life could be in danger. Sabinus witnessed the incident and asked me about it; I laughed it off saying that it was a simple gift and, besides, I didn’t have the blood of the Caesars. He then asked how long that bloodline would last.’