Rome's Executioner (29 page)

‘My dear Narcissus, that wouldn’t solve the problem as there is already a copy. Since you so kindly agreed to my secretary minuting our meeting she has just written down the contents of the letter word for word. I’ll be happy to give you a copy of the minutes but, as I’m sure you’ll understand, I must keep the original for my records.’

Vespasian suppressed a smile as Antonia’s elegant trap closed around the oily Greek and his shoulders sagged.

‘Most noble lady, who else knows of this?’

‘Just the people in this room; you were fortunate that Vespasian and Sabinus brought it to me and not to Sejanus or the Emperor, both of whom would have rewarded them handsomely.’

‘Indeed, domina, I owe them a debt of gratitude which I can assure you will be repaid if ever I am able,’ Narcissus agreed with a genuine note of sincerity. ‘However, until that time what would you have me do?’

Antonia smiled, knowing that she now had the Greek in her power. ‘Now that, my dear Narcissus, is a very good question. As you are no doubt aware I am working to counter Sejanus’ power and this letter would be all I need to show Tiberius to finally convince him that Sejanus is plotting to become Emperor. However, it also implicates my son and although it doesn’t mention whether they are planning to wait for Tiberius to die naturally or to hasten the matter along by murder, Tiberius may well choose to believe the latter. In which case Claudius would either be executed and his property seized, and you would become destitute; or Claudius, along with his entire household, would be banished to some rocky island in the middle of nowhere, and you would become irrelevant.’

Narcissus swallowed hard; the options were hardly appealing. ‘Illustrious lady, you wouldn’t risk the life of your own son to destroy Sejanus, would you?’

Antonia’s eyes narrowed. ‘Don’t tell me what I would or wouldn’t do, freedman. To tell you the truth, I’m so angered by Claudius’ stupidity that I’m almost minded to throw him to Tiberius’ mercy, or lack of it.’

‘Please accept my humblest apologies, domina,’ Narcissus spluttered, hastily rising to his feet and bowing low.

‘Sit down and stop fawning!’ Antonia barked.

Narcissus sat back down on his uncomfortable chair as quickly as he had got up; all traces of his imperious dignity had vanished.

‘Now, listen well to what I want you to do,’ Antonia said in a calmer voice. ‘I will not show the letter to the Emperor, even though it would get me what I want at the cost of no more than a useless son. In return for this I require you to go to your patron and persuade him to come to me with the names of all the other “people of calibre” that he wrote to and what their replies were. He should do it today before I change my mind; and make sure that he understands well that if he doesn’t I will forget that he’s my son.’

‘He will be here in a couple of hours, I promise you, domina.’

‘Good. The other thing I require you to do is kill Boter; I will not have him leading Claudius on any more ill-conceived attempts to make him Emperor and it is high time that he paid for the shame that he caused my family by cuckolding him.’

‘It will be done today, domina,’ Narcissus said with a malicious grin. ‘He has endangered me and my patron, whom I work hard to protect and keep safe.’

‘Not hard enough evidently,’ Antonia observed. ‘As to your personal plans for Claudius, if you still harbour any thoughts of him becoming Emperor, forget them. I intend to make sure that my grandson Gaius succeeds Tiberius. Unlike his uncle Claudius, he is young and sensible; the people love him because he is Germanicus’ son, and he will reign for far longer than Claudius has left to live.’

‘I assure you, my noble lady, that my plans for Claudius are only to keep him alive; as to what happens in the future, that is in the hands of the gods.’

‘Wrong, it is in my hands; and if I so much as suspect that you’re trying to alter my arrangements I’ll have you chained up with your testicles stuffed into your empty eye sockets and left to starve to death.’

‘That won’t be necessary, domina,’ Narcissus said, blanching at the image.

‘I hope not. You may go.’

‘Thank you, domina,’ Narcissus said, standing and bowing. He looked over to Vespasian and Sabinus. ‘Thank you again, gentlemen, for your discretion in this matter. If there is ever a service I can render you then please don’t hesitate to ask. Senator Pollo, goodday.’

Trying to muster as much dignity as possible, he left the room with Pallas in attendance. Caenis followed them out, giving Vespasian a sweet smile as she left.

‘I thoroughly enjoyed that, domina,’ Gaius boomed once the Greek was out of earshot. ‘I don’t think that I’ve ever seen such an odious man so satisfyingly dealt with.’

‘Yes, it was enjoyable,’ Antonia agreed. ‘Well, I only hope that he has the sense to keep Claudius under control; not that he will be in any doubt about the precariousness of his position after I’ve talked to him later.’

‘What’ll you do with the names that he gives you, domina?’ Vespasian asked.

‘They’ll be my sport once I’ve got rid of Sejanus. I’ll feed them to Tiberius one by one and enjoy watching him tear them apart.’

With the interview over Antonia dismissed them and a short while later, having retrieved Artebudz and a tired-looking Magnus, they stepped out into the heat of a July morning to walk back to Gaius’ house on the Quirinal. Vespasian planned to spend the night there before travelling to Aquae Cutillae to see his parents and spend the time, whilst waiting for Caligula and Clemens to be transferred to Capreae, working on the estate. He was also keen to visit his grandmother Tertulla’s estate at Cosa, which, true to her word, she had left solely to him in her will, much to Sabinus’ chagrin.

‘So, dear boy, you’re planning a farming holiday,’ Gaius said, having been acquainted with Vespasian’s plans as they walked down to the Via Sacra. ‘How quaint!’

‘A mule-humping holiday more like,’ Sabinus chipped in, unable to resist any opportunity to goad his brother.

‘You could come too, Sabinus,’ Vespasian said with a grin. ‘It always helps to have someone holding the head end, and just think of all that kissing you could get whilst you’re at it.’

‘A very kind offer, brother, but I’m staying in Rome. I’ve got a lot to do if I’m to be elected as one of the quaestors for next year; there’re a lot of senators’ arses to lick. And besides, I’ll soon have something much prettier to kiss than even your most favoured mule.’

They turned left on to the Via Sacra heading towards the Forum Romanum. The crowds thickened as they drew nearer to the heart of the city but Magnus cleared a way for them whilst all the time giving Artebudz a guided tour. The mountain-dweller was in awe at the sheer scale of the buildings and the amount of people surrounding them and he gazed around with wide eyes and his mouth open unable to take in anything that Magnus was saying. His only experience of a city had been Philippopolis, which, while it was far older than Rome, was tiny by comparison.

Although Vespasian had been in Rome only briefly, four years earlier, he had become accustomed to its magnitude; he felt very comfortable compared to the ex-slave from Noricum. As they crossed the Forum Romanum with its open-air law courts and bustling street traders selling their goods to the crowds of spectators he felt very much a part of it. The awe that he had felt when he had first seen the scale of Rome from a hill on the Via Salaria, and the excitement that he had experienced as he had entered her for the first time through the Porta Collina, had relaxed into an easy habitude; he had the perception, now he was back, that this was his city. He knew that he would always consider his parents’ estate at Aquae Cutillae and Tertulla’s estate at Cosa his true homes, but they would be places that he would visit to relax; Rome would be where he would live.

They passed the House of the Vestals, went on past the Curia Hostilia, where the Senate met, then turned right and entered Caesar’s Forum. Here the business was not legal but civic; the aediles, the urban praetor and city prefect could be approached and petitioned in the shadow of a huge equestrian statue of the dictator riding Bucephalus, Alexander’s horse, as if he still had an influence over the workings of the city.

Passing by the statue they crossed into the Forum of Augustus, which was used as an overflow court from the Forum Romanum; with the recent upsurge in treason trials it too was very busy with lawyers, jurists and spectators, all sweating freely under the hot July sun.

Leaving Augustus’ Forum behind them, they started to climb up the Quirinal Hill and felt the air freshen as a light breeze blew down from its summit.

‘I’ll see you home, gentlemen,’ Magnus said, ‘and then take Artebudz down to the crossroads tavern. He’s going to be staying with me and the lads for a few days before he leaves.’

‘Thank you, Magnus,’ Gaius replied. ‘I expect your crossroads brotherhood has been missing your leadership, there’ll be quite a party tonight to welcome you back.’

‘Yeah, and I’ll be paying. The lads have kept my share of the takings whilst I’ve been away, so they’ll expect me to be generous with the wine and whores.’

‘I’m surprised that you can even contemplate having a whore after all the demands made upon your services last night,’ Vespasian observed.

Magnus looked embarrassed. ‘Very funny, sir. I’ll thank you not to mention it again; I’m feeling slightly dirty and used. I’ll certainly be having younger flesh tonight; the younger the better.’

‘Let’s hope they won’t be feeling dirty and used in the morning.’

‘They’ll at least have been paid for what they do; I’ve always felt that money is a great cleanser.’

Vespasian laughed. ‘Well, I’m sure Antonia would be more than happy to give you a good wash when you see her next.’

Their arrival at Gaius’ house ended the banter suddenly; the door was open and there was no sign of the ancient doorkeeper.

Gaius ran in.

Pulling his dagger from its sheath, Vespasian leapt after him.

‘Get the swords,’ Sabinus shouted as he disappeared through the door.

Magnus and Artebudz rummaged about in the kit bags as they followed the brothers inside.

In the atrium Vespasian found Gaius cradling the body of one of his beautiful, fair-haired, German slave boys. The ancient doorkeeper lay in a pool of blood next to him, his throat slit. Two more of Gaius’ young slaves lay dead by the pool.

‘My dear boy, Arminius, my dear, dear boy,’ Gaius wept, stroking the youth’s blood-matted hair.

A scream rang out from the direction of the courtyard garden.

‘Uncle, whoever’s done this is still here,’ Vespasian said, taking the proffered sword from Magnus. ‘Stay here, we’ll get them.’

‘And sit and wait while my boys are butchered? Bollocks I will.’ With surprising speed he ran to his study, one of the rooms to the left of the atrium, and reappeared a moment later with a sword. ‘Magnus and Artebudz, check each of the rooms off the atrium; we don’t want anyone behind us. And lock the front door.’

A long wail of agony came from the garden. Gaius looked grimly at the brothers, turned and walked at speed in its direction. The brothers followed at run in order to overtake him.

Vespasian and Sabinus burst through the doors of the
tablinum
into the warmth of the garden. Two men held a struggling youth over the fishpond in the centre whilst a third held a squirming lamprey to his face. The water in the pond heaved with scores of lampreys gorging themselves on another writhing boy; his arms and legs thrashed as the snake-like fish used their teeth to cut through the skin in search of blood. The boy lifted his mouth above the surface to gasp for breath and let out another agonised scream; the twisting lampreys attached to his head and face made him look like Medusa.

The brothers flung themselves towards the three men who promptly dropped their captive into the pond. Before they could retrieve their weapons Vespasian and Sabinus were upon them. With a savage thrust to the belly and then a sharp rip upwards Vespasian disembowelled the first; the second went down to a clean jab to the throat from Sabinus. The third man ran to the other side of the garden.

‘I want him alive,’ Gaius roared as he pulled the boy from the pond. He had managed to get him out quickly enough for him to have only suffered a few bites; most of the lampreys were busy devouring the body of his now dead companion.

Magnus and Artebudz appeared at the door from the tablinum. ‘We found two more of the bastards hiding in the
triclinium
,’ Magnus said, ‘but they won’t be bothering us.’

‘Stay there, lads,’ Sabinus shouted over the screaming of the gutted man, ‘we’ve got the cunt cornered.’

The third man, realising that he was trapped, weaponless, and could expect no quarter, ran with a roar straight for Magnus. With impeccable timing Magnus slammed his fist into the man’s stomach, immediately bringing his knee up into his face as he doubled up and then, as his head ricocheted back with blood spurting from a flattened nose, Magnus cracked his fist down on to the back of his skull. He collapsed into an unconscious heap.

Leaving the rescued boy sitting on the ground, more shocked than damaged, Gaius walked over to the gutted man, who was now moaning as he tried feebly to stuff his colon back in.

‘Who sent you?’ Gaius asked menacingly.

Knowing that he was going to die, the man shook his head. Gaius reached down and grabbed a handful of intestines and pulled. The scream that the man let out as his innards unravelled was excruciating.

‘Who sent you?’ Gaius asked again.

Still the man would not say.

‘Throw him in the pond. Let’s see how he likes being eaten from the inside out,’ Gaius ordered.

Vespasian looked at Sabinus, who shrugged. They picked him up by the arms and legs; guts trailed down to the ground like slimy creepers.

‘Last chance,’ Gaius said. There was no reply; he had passed out.

With a splash, the brothers tossed him in. The water seethed again as the lampreys, maddened by blood, swarmed around him, burying themselves in the gaping wound in his belly.

‘Let’s see if we have more luck with the other one,’ Gaius said, picking up a small fishing net. He dipped it into the writhing pond and scooped out a couple of lampreys. ‘Bring him round.’