Sword of Rome(45)
‘There’s a rumour in the market that they’ve got some kind of problem up north. That wouldn’t have anything to do with our trip, would it?’
‘Would it make a difference if it did?’
Serpentius grinned. ‘I suppose not. Even with Fabiana’s company, life has been a little dull lately. It’s time we were out of the stink of the city and back on the road.’
Valerius returned his companion’s grin. Fabiana was the pretty slave girl who looked after the house and he’d never even suspected. It seemed the Spaniard had added discretion to his already wide range of talents. How many years had it been? Seven? Eight? He tried to remember the day Serpentius had tried to kill him on the packed sand of the gladiator training ground, but, except for a snarling face filled with murderous intent, it was a blur of sweat and pain. The lines on the face still looked as if they had been hacked out with a knife, though they were deeper now. Grey stubble on the cheeks, but still the same fire in the dark eyes. Still the same old Serpentius; thin as a stockman’s whip and just as tough, quicker than the striking snake he was named for and twice as dangerous. Old? He realized he had no idea what age the Spaniard might be. He had saved Serpentius from certain death in the arena by recruiting him for a mission that, ironically, had almost killed them both. In turn, the former gladiator had pledged to serve him and a bond existed between them as strong as any blood oath.
‘What else have you heard?’
‘It sounds as if our friend Otho is finished.’
Valerius was startled enough to stop in the middle of the street. ‘What makes you say that?’
The Spaniard shrugged. ‘Seems he’d been telling everyone who’ll listen that the Emperor would make him his heir and used the fact to borrow money. Lots of money. Now that Galba has named Piso they’re all calling in their loans. You’ve seen what he’s like. Never leaving his room. That panicky look in his eyes? And what about all the coming and going? They’re not all debt collectors.’
‘He still has friends.’
‘Not friends with that kind of money.’ Serpentius laughed. ‘No, he’s either planning to run or …’
‘Or?’
Serpentius turned to meet his gaze. ‘Either you run or you fight.’
‘Then let’s hope he runs. You’re right, it is time we were out of the stink of the city.’
When they reached the Palatine, Valerius was surprised to be escorted once more to the receiving room, where he found Galba and his three advisers huddled in discussion. As he waited for his presence to be acknowledged the voices became increasingly heated. He heard the name Onomastus and it froze him to the core. Onomastus was Otho’s freedman and the kind of slimy, double-dealing Greek who gave his compatriots a bad name.
‘You must act, before his influence is any more powerful.’ The speaker was Cornelius Laco and he was more agitated than Valerius had ever seen him.
‘I disagree,’ Vinius interrupted. ‘We do not have enough evidence. Give them more rope and they will strangle themselves with it.’
‘Evidence?’ the Praetorian commander demanded. ‘He is the Emperor, he does not need evidence, all he needs is suspicion. Just give the word and I will clear out that rat’s nest in—’
‘No.’ Galba’s grating voice stopped him in mid-sentence. ‘Titus is right. Justice and strength. We will wait, gather evidence, and when the time is right we will strike.’
Laco turned away with a sigh that might have contained the sentiment ‘old fool’, but Valerius didn’t have time to dwell on the implications of what he’d heard, because finally Galba noticed him.
The Emperor called him forward, but before he could speak Laco burst out: ‘Why don’t you ask him? He’s probably one of the bastards.’ In the frozen silence that followed, Valerius waited for the question that would either make him a liar or condemn Otho to the axe.
Eventually, the Emperor shook his head, and when he spoke his voice was almost kindly. ‘This young man has enough burdens without adding another. I am afraid your mission must be delayed again, Verrens. There are suggestions of new developments on the Germania frontier. It has become more complex than I first envisaged. I must think on it for a while longer. See Laco after the sacrifice tomorrow and we will discuss it.’
As Valerius turned his back the bickering resumed. Again, he heard the name Onomastus. What did they know that Gaius Valerius Verrens did not? And what kind of deadly game was Marcus Salvius Otho playing?
XVIII
Of all the glories of Rome, Valerius had long ago decided the Temple of Apollo was the most perfect. When Augustus dreamed of having a shrine on the Palatine to rival the Temple of Jupiter on the Capitoline he insisted on a construction on a similar scale. The result was a multi-columned masterpiece of creamy Etrurian marble flanked by an avenue of pillars and surrounded by a hundred statues depicting the fifty daughters of Danaus and their unfortunate husbands. In front of the temple stood an enormous statue of the god, the only one in Rome which rivalled the great colossus in Nero’s Golden House. On the roof a pair of gilded chariots of the sun were drawn by eight golden steeds. A magnificent arch, dedicated by the temple’s founder to his father, formed the gateway, and martial scenes carved from ivory and plated with precious metals decorated the double doors.