Masters of Rome (33 page)

CHAPTER XIII

‘I
T
'
S OUT OF
my hands,' Pallas repeated in a voice barely audible above the clatter of four sets of footsteps reverberating off the corridor's marble walls. ‘Whatever debt of gratitude I might owe you all as a family, I cannot influence Narcissus on this matter.' He stopped suddenly and turned to face Vespasian, Sabinus and Gaius, halting them too, and continued in a whisper: ‘Believe me, gentlemen, if there was any argument that I could put forward to keep you out of this, I would have made it this afternoon whilst Narcissus and I were discussing what to do after Messalina persuaded Claudius to order Asiaticus' arrest.'

Gaius was outraged. ‘You planned this with Narcissus!'

‘Keep your voice down,' Pallas hissed, looking up and down the corridor, ‘Narcissus has ears everywhere. Of course I did; our positions with the Emperor are at stake. We're nothing without him and if we lose his trust then Messalina would have us dead within a matter of hours. And what then, senator? Would you place the governance of Rome in the hands of that harpy?'

Sabinus thrust his face close to Pallas. ‘But forcing me to accuse an innocent man of a crime that I've committed is—'

‘Is what's going to keep you safe, Sabinus; that was my idea and it was the only way that I've been able to help you.'

‘Help me?'

‘Yes!' Pallas snapped. He paused to gather himself, having raised his voice, albeit in a forced whisper, for only the third time in Vespasian's recollection. He turned and continued down the corridor so that their conversation would again be masked by their footsteps. ‘Who do you think is behind all this?'

‘Messalina, of course,' Sabinus hissed dismissively.

‘Think, Sabinus. Yes, she wants Asiaticus dead because she covets his gardens and was preparing smaller false charges against him; but how did she manage to come up with just the right charge that would not only finish Asiaticus but also compromise Narcissus and me?'

Vespasian suddenly understood. ‘Callistus!'

‘Exactly. It must have been him who suggested to Messalina that she accuse Asiaticus of being the man behind the mask because he's the only other person who knows who it really was. He's sure that neither Narcissus nor I will try and save Asiaticus by naming Sabinus – for obvious reasons.' He paused as they went by a couple of slaves tending to the oil lamps; the slaves bowed as the group passed. ‘Then, once Claudius has been manoeuvred into executing or forcing his old friend to suicide, Callistus will go to the Emperor and tell him that he's found out that Asiaticus was innocent after all and both Narcissus and I knew it was Sabinus but said nothing. Claudius' remorse will then be our downfall.'

Gaius panted as he struggled to keep up with the pace of their walk and the conversation. ‘But surely you'll tell Claudius that Callistus was in on the cover-up too.'

‘He's gambling, and correctly too in my opinion, that Claudius will just think that we're trying to take Callistus down with us out of spite. After all, why would Callistus endanger himself by admitting such a thing to Claudius if he was a part of it?'

‘Then how can Callistus claim to have found this out?'

‘Does it matter? He can say anything he likes: that he overheard us talking about it or one of his agents did; even that he dreamt it. Before things got really bad between them, Narcissus and Messalina got rid of a mutual enemy by going to Claudius at different times saying that they had had a dream that this man was plotting to stab Claudius; the unfortunate man was executed the same day. Claudius sees conspiracies all around him and is always willing to believe whoever comes to him with news of treachery; witness his old friend Asiaticus fighting for his life tomorrow on trumped-up charges.'

‘So how will Narcissus forcing me to testify against Asiaticus make me safe?' Sabinus asked as they reached the more populated, grand atrium of the palace.

Vespasian gave a weary sigh. ‘Because, brother, if Narcissus brings you forward as a witness to corroborate Messalina's accusation then Callistus can't successfully claim after the fact that you were really the guilty man; if he tries to then he'd be walking into a trap. Narcissus can say to Claudius that if Callistus knew that you were guilty all along then why didn't he expose you at Asiaticus' hearing? He'll then remind Claudius privately that he had nothing to gain by seeing Asiaticus condemned; in fact, quite the reverse as he put himself in danger of Asiaticus exposing Poppaeus' murder, which is something that Callistus knows nothing about. Claudius will believe that reasoning and Callistus will be exposed as a liar even though for once he'll be telling the truth. It's perfect; but Narcissus will only take that course if, during the hearing, he sees that Claudius believes Suillius' accusations and thinks Asiaticus is guilty.

‘If, on the other hand, Claudius is sceptical then Narcissus will expose you; but he was lying when he said that would put him in danger, and Pallas was being disingenuous, to say the least, for not refuting that claim.' He cast a sidelong glance at the Greek; a brief flicker in his eye told him that he had hit the mark. ‘Narcissus will say that Gaius came to him with the information; when he heard that Asiaticus was being falsely accused he couldn't stand by and let him be found guilty for Sabinus' crime that has brought shame on the family.'

Gaius looked at his nephew in alarm. ‘He can't make me say that.'

‘Of course he can and you know it; it'll be that or a trumped-up charge that will force your suicide. And you, Sabinus, will have no option but to admit to it.'

‘Bollocks I will.'

‘You will, brother, because you'll be given the choice between committing suicide and your family keeping your property if you admit to the deed; or, if you deny it, execution and Clementina and the children becoming destitute. You know
which one you'll choose; you'll have to admit to it and Messalina will have some explaining to do to her husband for bringing false charges against his old friend. So whatever happens, Narcissus is going to score a victory against one of his enemies. You almost have to admire him.'

Pallas gave a rare half-smile. ‘I can see you understand well how things are, Vespasian.'

‘I'm afraid that I've seen enough of your lives to know how sordid they really are, old friend.'

‘We have no choice now that we've risen so far and attracted so much envy; it's that or death.'

‘If it comes to me facing death, Pallas,' Sabinus muttered, ‘then I could still tell Claudius about the deal I had with you and your colleagues.'

Pallas shook his head. ‘I don't think that you'll want to do that.'

‘What would I have to lose?'

‘Nothing more than you would already, but Clementina and the children would also be joining you in the afterlife.'

Sabinus rounded on Pallas, grabbing the neck of his tunic. ‘You wouldn't do that.'

Pallas gripped Sabinus' fist and pulled it away. ‘
I
might not, Sabinus, but then again I might. However, you can be sure that Narcissus would without a thought, given the choice between his life and theirs.'

‘You scheming little cunts!'

Gaius pulled his nephew back. ‘That is not helpful, Sabinus.'

‘Helpful? I could be dead this time tomorrow.'

‘But you might not be and if you're still breathing then Narcissus will never be able to hold Caligula's assassination over you again; you'll be free of it.'

Sabinus rubbed his temples, breathing deeply. ‘This is no way to live.'

‘Then leave Rome and go back to the estates.'

‘And do what, Uncle, wait and see whether next year's wine is better than this year's? No, I have to be in Rome.'

‘Then this is how you live. Come, I'll walk you home to the Aventine. Vespasian, I assume that you'll stay here.'

‘I will, Uncle; nothing that Flavia can do or say could be worse than the last half an hour.'

‘I think you're right. Goodnight, Pallas; we appreciate your suggestion of the second course of action.'

Pallas inclined his head a fraction. ‘I'm truly sorry that it's got so out of hand, Gaius, for old friendship's sake.'

‘But has it really? I can't remember a time that wasn't fraught with danger.' Gaius led Sabinus off across the atrium with his hand on his shoulder.

‘Could you show me to Flavia's apartment, Pallas?' Vespasian requested, watching them go. ‘I've no idea where it is.'

Pallas remained silent for a few moments, lost in his own thoughts, before turning away. ‘That will be one of the more pleasant tasks that I've performed today.'

Vespasian was alarmed to see two Praetorian Guardsmen on duty outside the door that Pallas led him to on the first floor of the palace. ‘What are they doing here?'

‘There's no need to be concerned,' Pallas assured him, switching to Greek; he signalled the guards to move aside. ‘They're to keep intruders out, not to imprison people within.' He knocked on the lacquered door, black with rectangular golden inlays.

Vespasian frowned, eying the two men suspiciously as they stared, unblinking, over his shoulders. A viewing slot opened and Pallas gave a quick order; the door opened.

‘I'll leave you, my friend.' Pallas held out his arm; Vespasian grasped it. ‘I'll do whatever I can to ensure a good outcome for your family tomorrow. If it looks as if I'm doing otherwise just trust me because, as you are well aware, things are seldom as they seem.'

Vespasian released his grip, shaking his head; a rueful half-smile bent his lips as he held Pallas' eye. ‘I don't know how you keep up with all these machinations.'

‘The day I don't will be my last; until then I enjoy the wealth and luxury that power and position bring whilst trying to ignore the third gift of those two fickle bitches.'

‘Fear?'

For the first time in their acquaintance Pallas let his mask slip; his eyes half closed and he sighed. ‘Constant.' As quickly as it had disappeared the mask was redeployed; Pallas nodded a goodnight and walked away.

Vespasian turned to the open door, paused to compose himself and then walked through to meet the family that he had not seen for six years.

A gasp escaped Vespasian's lips as he entered Flavia's apartment and looked around.

‘Master, you are welcome,' a middle-aged, brown-skinned slave in a well-cut tunic of fine, sky-blue linen said, bowing low. ‘My mistress heard of your arrival in the palace this evening and awaits you in the
triclinium
. My name is Cleon, I am the steward here; please follow me at your convenience.'

Vespasian barely heard the slave's words as he took in the room around him. He was standing in an atrium, forty paces long by twenty wide, complete with an
impluvium
beneath a rectangular opening to the night sky in the ceiling above it; at its centre stood a bronze fountain depicting Venus holding a jar on her shoulder from which water cascaded into the white-lily-strewn pool below. But it was not the fact that he was standing in an atrium that should have been, by rights, on the ground floor of a villa and not in an apartment on the first floor that had made him gasp; it was the sheer luxuriousness of the décor. Low, marble tables on gilded legs of animal design, around which were neatly placed couches and chairs of polished wood of differing origins, all sumptuously cushioned or upholstered, surrounded the central pool. Ornaments stood on the reflective marble so that there seemed to be twice their number: silver and bronze statuettes, bowls of coloured glass containing freshly cut rose blooms, vases worked of stone or glazed earthenware, painted with geometrical designs or depictions of gods and heroes; Vespasian's eyes took them all in and his brain swiftly calculated their approximate worth. Around the walls, busts of great men from times gone by were placed in niches on marble pedestals
and in each corner stood a life-size, or larger, statue, painted in flesh tones and with eyes that followed the beholder around the room. But it was not just all this that made Vespasian stare openmouthed, as the slave waited in the doorway at the far end for him to follow; it was the frescos, and one in particular: Mother Isis, resplendent in her blue robe, looking down on lines of her worshippers, dressed in contrasting vibrant colours, as her priest performed a sacrifice over the fire on her altar, bedecked with chains of holly and surrounded by waterfowl. Each figure, whether human or animal, was of such exquisite craftsmanship that Vespasian knew that it was the work of one of the finest schools of artists in Rome. He also knew that Isis was Flavia's guardian goddess and he shuddered as he realised that this fresco would not have been here when she had first moved in; she had commissioned it – at what cost?

He swallowed, adjusted his toga and, hoping against hope that the fresco was the only luxury in the room that he had paid for, followed Cleon through the door and into the triclinium.

‘Husband,' Flavia purred as he entered the room, adjusting her position on the couch so as to flaunt the full, round shapeliness of her body beneath her stola of deep red linen. ‘I have prayed to Mother Isis for this moment every day since we parted.' Gracefully she placed her feet onto the mosaic floor and stood up, causing her breasts to sway enticingly and Vespasian's scrotum to tighten. Erect, she sashayed across the room to him, her neck straight and her head held high as if the elaborately tall coiffure crowning it was difficult to balance; dark ringlets fell down either side of her face highlighting the natural milkiness of her skin. Her dusky eyes glistened as they fixed on him, and her lips, painted an intimate shade of pink, parted invitingly. Dangling earrings swung gently from her lobes, a bejewelled necklace at her throat glinted and rings flashed on her fingers as she raised her hands and tenderly cupped Vespasian's face; her perfume, musky and heart-quickening, enshrouded him as she pulled him towards her and into a fiery kiss that completed his full-blooded arousal onto which she pressed her belly.