Tigellinus spluttered. ‘Put your faith in that blustering pig and the Great Fire of Rome will seem like a flickering candle compared to the inferno the gods will wish on this city.’
‘Then help me, and Galba will hear of your heroics.’ Even chained to the wall with the drooling Egyptian eight paces away, Valerius struggled to disguise the contempt in his voice. A million Romans had lived in fear because of this man’s tyranny. Thousands of innocents had died horribly because he had pandered to the whims of a gilded man-boy driven mad by omnipotence. Of all the men in the Emperor’s inner circle Lucius Annaeus Seneca alone might have curbed Nero’s excesses. By engineering the philosopher’s death Offonius Tigellinus had condemned Rome to years of terror and ultimately brought her to the brink of civil war. Now, it seemed, he was the only man who could save her.
‘What would you have me do?’ The words were accompanied by a shudder of distaste. ‘He is insane, you know. He wanted to open the cages of the arena and fill the streets with wild beasts. To poison the entire Senate. Only the voice of reason stayed him.’ A faint light shone in the depths of Tigellinus’s dark eyes and Valerius wondered how many of these outrageous claims were true. The Praetorian paced the room, each time he approached the cell drawing a soft mew of anticipation from the Egyptian. ‘When I urged him to bring the African legions to Rome, he refused, because he mistrusts Mucianus and he fears Vespasian. Now he has sent the Fourteenth to hold the mountains and recruited a scratch legion of marines from Ostia to hold the city against attack. Marines? Does he think Galba is going to sail up the Tiber?’
‘Perhaps you should not have killed Corbulo?’
Despite the softness of Valerius’s voice, Tigellinus recognized the threat contained in the words. ‘That was not my doing. I would have saved him if I could, but the Emperor insisted. Even at the last he could not be swayed.’
‘Why?
Tigellinus blinked. ‘Why?’
‘Why did he have to die?’ Valerius saw emotions chase one another across the pale face as the Praetorian sought some avenue that would not condemn him.
‘Fear and envy,’ he said eventually. ‘The Emperor looked at Corbulo and saw the better man. He feared his strength and was envious of his popularity. When Corbulo overstepped his imperium by invading Parthia, Nero’s anger grew beyond control.’ The knowing glint in Valerius’s eyes forced a change of direction. ‘And the plotting, of course,’ Tigellinus hurried on, the words tumbling over each other. ‘His son-in-law stood against that very wall and implicated him in conspiracy with Piso and his scum. By then he had condemned half of Rome, but his naming of Corbulo could not be ignored.’
‘He was Nero’s most loyal general. He would never have betrayed him.’
‘Yes.’ Tigellinus’s voice took on a terminal weariness. ‘But when has loyalty ever been enough to save a man?’ A long moment passed as they stared at each other, the silence broken only by the animal-like snuffling in the background and the soft sputter of the glowing coals. ‘I ask again: what would you have me do?’
Valerius smiled at the incongruity of a man in chains dictating to a man with a sword in his hand. ‘Let it be known among the Guard that Nero is planning to escape to Alexandria. There is no dishonour in abandoning an Emperor who himself abandons his people.’ He saw the Praetorian’s startled glance. ‘Yes, it is true, Tigellinus. It seems that more than one rat is preparing to leave the sinking ship. But can you convince them?’
‘And if I do?’
‘You have your life, your estate and whatever plunder you have managed to lay your bloodstained hands on.’
Tigellinus ignored the insult. ‘Your word on it?’
Valerius nodded. ‘On my honour, though it makes me sick to the stomach to say it.’
‘And Galba? Will he pay what they ask?’
‘Senator Galba will know of your part in the peaceful handover of power. You have his freedman here?’ Tigellinus darted a guilty glance at the doorway. ‘Then I hope he is not too damaged, because we will send him with the glad news, and the message that Offonius Tigellinus alone is responsible for his salvation.’
Tigellinus came forward and used the edge of his sword to cut Valerius free. As Valerius rubbed the stump of his right wrist, the Praetorian prefect went to the table and retrieved the walnut fist with its leather socket from a cloth sack which had sat among the hooks and the knives. It was only then that Valerius truly believed he might leave the chamber alive.
Valerius used his teeth to tighten the leather ties and Tigellinus made one last suggestion. ‘You must still meet Nymphidius. He is much less a danger on the top of his dungheap than if you try to keep him out of the farmyard. Let him think he is in control. Let him offer the tribute and accept the acclaim. His arrogance will take care of the rest.’