‘You are a Christus follower, Lupergos?’ It was a provocative question. An admission of guilt could be a death sentence. The other man’s nostrils flared. Valerius saw his muscles tense and readied himself for the assault that threatened to come, but eventually Lupergos nodded. Valerius relaxed, but his expression didn’t change. It had seemed likely, and made sense, because Olivia had worshipped the Judaean mystic since her encounter with his disciple Petrus two years earlier. ‘Well, I don’t care about that. What I care about is Olivia and my land, and if you take liberties with my sister or my property I’ll pull your guts out through your arse and make you watch as I feed them to my pigs. Do we understand each other?’
The colour in Lupergos’s cheeks flared and his breath came quick and hard as he considered his response. ‘She said you saved her life. Is that true?’
Valerius nodded, remembering the battle in Poppaea’s burning mansion above the Bay of Neapolis.
‘Then I’ll give you that, just this once. Do we understand each other?’
Valerius looked into the hard eyes and grinned. ‘You know about the land. What do you know about killing people?’
The answer, it turned out, was not much.
Valerius took him towards the estate’s entrance and explained what he wanted. ‘Not one watcher, but two, one either side of the gate, with some kind of signalling system back to the villa. Keep it simple. And defenders. How many? How well armed?’ As they walked along the track towards the house he pointed to the low hills and told Lupergos about fields of fire. ‘It will be up to you whether to fight or run, but you must create the conditions to fight and win. Three concealed enclosures – forts – with enough room for ten men in each. Archers.’
‘But where will I find archers?’
‘The slaves. They are young enough and strong enough. They must learn to fight for what is theirs as well as ours. I will send a man to teach them how to use a bow and wield a sword.’
There was much more and Lupergos accepted it without question. The stocks of food and water in the caves and gullies. The valuables that must be left unconcealed to encourage the invaders to take just enough and go. The escape routes and rallying points in case everything went wrong.
But as they reached the house, Lupergos could no longer conceal his curiosity. ‘But why now? I know you are a soldier, but …’
‘I don’t know why, Lupergos, just as I don’t know why I know it will rain tonight, but it will. All I know is that somewhere out there the wolf is waiting and if I’m not here to protect what is mine, then you must.’
The Etruscan nodded thoughtfully and walked off to his quarters. Olivia was waiting for Valerius by the villa’s front door. She took his arm as they entered. ‘He is a good man, Valerius.’
He smiled without looking at her. ‘Then that is enough for me.’
Before they parted, she took his left hand in both of hers and placed something in his palm.
When he looked down he saw it was the tiny gold amulet in the shape of a boar, the symbol of the Twentieth legion, that he’d placed round her neck when he had believed she was dying three years earlier. He had brought the necklace back from Britannia, where it had been crafted for Maeve, the Trinovante girl he had loved, and lost to Boudicca. Fortuna had favoured Olivia since she’d worn it, but it brought to mind the Caesar token Domitia had handed him that now shared an Emperor’s grave. He tried to return it, but she only smiled.
‘I think your need is greater than mine.’
Valerius and Serpentius took the road to Rome as the worst heat of the afternoon sun faded the following day. When they reached the first of the roadside tombs that lined the Via Salaria outside the city walls they were met by a galloping messenger. The man reined in and Serpentius was about to thrust his horse between the threat and Valerius when he produced a seal that identified him as one of Tigellinus’s servants.
‘How did you find us?’ Valerius demanded.
‘My lord has eyes in many places.’ The young rider grinned. ‘But it helped that when I asked at the house they said you had set off to visit your estate. There is only one road.’
‘Well?’ Valerius raised an eyebrow.
The messenger bowed in the saddle. ‘My master did not commit this news to paper because he felt it was important enough for you to wish to hear it at the first opportunity.’ He took in a breath and recited the words he had learned by rote. ‘Last night, Nymphidius Sabinus, who holds the joint prefectship of the Praetorian Guard, denounced Servius Sulpicius Galba before his men as a traitor and a false Caesar and declared that with their support he intended to don the purple himself. In their outrage at this betrayal, the loyal soldiers of the Guard turned upon Sabinus and struck him down. Nymphidius Sabinus is dead.’