The Furies of Rome (20 page)

Down the beast went in a mad flurry of beating horse-limbs, cannoning into its neighbour to bring it down, with disastrous consequences for the final two and sending Nero spinning from the disintegrating chariot, reins still wrapped about his waist. As the whole wreck skidded along the sand, quickly losing momentum, it became clear to Vespasian what he had to do, for he could not afford to pass Nero and be declared the winner. Grabbing the safety-knife from his belt, he steered his team straight at what was left of the chariot as if he himself was having severe difficulty in making the turn at such speed. As his bays attempted to leap the wreckage, Vespasian cut the reins and jumped to his right just as the wheels of his chariot hit the first of the debris and were catapulted up into the air. He crashed to the ground, belly down and arms outstretched with his chin ploughing an agonising furrow in the sand as his team cleared the floundering Arabs and, dragging broken shafts and flapping canvas behind them, pelted off in terror up the straight. With his eyes tight shut, Vespasian felt himself grind to a halt; the bestial snorts and shrieks of terrified horses was all he could hear. After a few moments he opened his eyes and his vision was filled with one object just a hands’ breadth away: a foot; Nero’s foot. He stared at it for a few moments and then, with a shock, realised that it was not moving. He heaved himself up, dirt clinging to his sweat-slimed tunic and skin and clogging his mouth and nostrils as senators jumped down from the stands and raced across the track towards their prone Emperor. The reins were still wrapped about Nero’s waist but, fortunately, the Arabs were in no state to bolt and drag their driver to a red-raw death. He stumbled over to Nero as Caratacus and Burrus arrived and knelt down next to his head.

Nero’s eyes flickered open and focused on Vespasian; he raised himself up, shaking the sand from his sunset hair and beard. He looked at Vespasian less than favourably as he rested an arm on Burrus’ shoulder. ‘You should get rid of that team; I’ve never driven one so lacking in unity and discipline. I find it extraordinary that they win any races in the Circus Maximus; no wonder I always beat you, as I would have done again today had you not crashed into me.’

‘Indeed, Princeps; but you did, nonetheless, win again today and with the inferior team, such is your skill.’

‘I did?’ Nero’s face brightened fractionally.

‘Of course, you were in the lead when I crashed into you; therefore at the moment the race ended you were winning.’ Vespasian swallowed hard and forced himself to carry on through gritted teeth. ‘I shall get the twelve thousand I owe you from the Cloelius Brothers immediately.’

Burrus whispered a few words in Nero’s ear.

Nero’s mood seemed to change again, this time for the worse. ‘Yes, do that, Vespasian, and bring it up to the palace where we shall discuss whether you deliberately collided with me in order to cause harm to my person.’

Burrus smiled at Vespasian with cold pleasure as he turned and helped the limping Emperor from the track.

‘Yes, Princeps,’ Vespasian said to Nero’s back.

‘That doesn’t sound good,’ Caratacus observed.

‘I know,’ Vespasian muttered, looking behind him to where his Arabs were being led away, all seemingly none the worse for their ordeal. ‘Especially as I did collide with him intentionally.’

Caratacus nodded. ‘And everybody saw that you did and will bear witness to the fact.’

Vespasian rubbed his chin; it was badly grazed and ingrained with sand. ‘But they also saw that I hit him after he had gone over, in order that he should still win.’

‘Do you think that will make any difference if Nero decides it was otherwise?’

Vespasian spat a curse as he felt the joy of the chase being replaced, again, by the fear.

‘Twelve thousand denarii immediately?’ Tertius Cloelius came as near to showing any sign of humour as he had ever done in his life; short, portly, bald and with sallow skin he was a creature of arithmetic and fact. ‘We don’t keep a sum like that just hanging around; you have to give us advance notice, fill in a request form, sign it, have it counter-signed and approved and then stamped with mine or one of my brothers’ seals.’ He held up his chunky signet ring to emphasise the point. His younger brother, Quadratus, nodded sagely as he listened to his brother’s description of correct banking procedure, with a vague smile on his face as if he were relaxing to sublime music. ‘It all takes time, you know.’

‘That’s as may be, Tertius,’ Vespasian said as calmly as he could manage in the circumstances, ‘but I
do
need it now as my life might well depend on it, seeing as I owe that amount to the Emperor himself and he is expecting it this afternoon.’

‘Well, that is no concern of mine.’

‘Is either Primus or Secundus here? Perhaps I could talk with them.’

‘Both my elder brothers are away on business at the moment; and, anyway, they would say exactly the same as me, as would Quintus and Sextus who are busy upstairs.’

Again Quadratus nodded in agreement with Tertius’ assessment; none of the Cloelius Brothers would ever go against banking protocol.

‘Very well,’ Vespasian said, getting to his feet and remembering what Caenis had told him. ‘I have more than one banker in Rome; I shall try elsewhere and they can be the recipients of a very interesting piece of news. Good day, gentlemen.’ He walked to the door.

‘What news?’ Tertius asked quickly.

Vespasian turned back to face Tertius. ‘Beneficial news that you will now not know until long after one of your competitors does and so therefore you will find yourself at a severe disadvantage.’

‘You’ve been with the Emperor, haven’t you?’

Vespasian inclined his head in acknowledgement. ‘And Caratacus.’

Tertius shared a fleeting look with his brother. ‘It’s Britannia, isn’t it? Are we in or out?’

‘That request form for the twelve thousand, Tertius?’

Tertius waved a dismissive hand; there was just one exception to the Cloelius Brothers’ insistence that banking procedure be adhered to: when it got in the way of making more money or, potentially and worse, losing it. ‘I’m sure that this one time the formalities can be dispensed with.’ He clapped his hands and a clerk appeared in the door. ‘Send down to our deposit for twelve thousand denarii immediately. I want the amount here within the hour.’

With a look of confusion the clerk nodded and scuttled away.

‘So, senator,’ Tertius almost purred, ‘in or out.’

‘Out.’

The brothers both looked startled.

‘Surely not?’ Quadratus whispered.

‘Caratacus has been approached about being a client king after the legions begin withdrawing next year.’

‘Next year?’

‘That’s what he said.’

Tertius looked with alarm at his brother. ‘We need to get messages to our agents in Londinium to call in all our loans before this becomes common knowledge and financial chaos ensues as every other Londinium banker tries to do the same thing.’

Vespasian arrived, with the money loaded in boxes on a handcart, at the imperial residence accompanied by a heavily armed escort provided by the very grateful Cloelius Brothers. It had taken less than an hour to procure the cash; an hour during which Tertius and Quadratus had spent frantically dictating letters and making travel arrangements as they had both decided to journey to the province to make personally sure that they secured their considerable investment there before the news became public.

Giving orders for his escort to wait with the cart outside, Vespasian climbed the steps and submitted himself to the now routine search of anyone who wished to enter the complex.

‘I’ve been looking for you,’ Caenis said as he walked into the cavernous atrium.

‘Have you been charged with taking receipt of my money?’

‘No, my love; although I’ve heard about that. I hear that Nero is furious with you and has begun to exaggerate the incident.’

‘That doesn’t surprise me; he already had a new interpretation of events moments after he regained consciousness; Burrus seemed to be re-remembering for him as a spiteful piece of revenge for our blackmailing him. Have you come to warn me?’

‘No; to fetch you. I’ve been charged with taking receipt of someone else’s money and he wants you to come with me and he points out that, with Nero fuming, it might be as well for you to get out of Rome for a while.’

‘But I’ll need Nero’s permission so I have to face him.’

‘Don’t worry; Seneca’s had that attended to some time ago in preparation.’

‘In preparation for what?’

‘He’s sending us to Britannia; me because I know his business and can represent him; you because you know the province. Now that it seems definite that Nero is withdrawing, Seneca is desperate to call in all of his loans; forty million in total; the largest of which is five million sesterces made to Prasutagus, the King of the Iceni.’

CHAPTER X

‘W
ITH THE GOVERNOR
away dealing with the druids on Mona, I am the man to ask,’ Catus Decianus, the middle-aged procurator of Britannia, informed Vespasian, Sabinus and Caenis in the most unpleasant, smug manner. ‘And then, of course, there would be some form of recompense for my trouble in taking the time to consider the case.’ Plump, soft and pale, with a curled coiffure that was unmanly, he languished in his well-cushioned chair with an air of indolence enveloping him; he did not even bother to meet the eyes of the people he was addressing, seated on the other side of his desk. Behind him, through a window, could be seen the sturdy frame of the bridge across the Tamesis, the reason why Londinium had grown out of nothing and become so important in the seventeen years since the invasion.

Vespasian leant forward in his chair and pointed an accusatory finger, sporting his senatorial ring, at Decianus. ‘Now listen to me, you—’ He stopped mid-flow as Caenis squeezed his arm.

‘I think what Senator Vespasian was going to emphasise, procurator,’ Caenis said with a sweet smile and a honeyed tone, ‘was that we don’t need permission to travel to the lands of the Iceni as we have imperial letters of transit to go wherever we wish in pursuit of Seneca’s business. We were just dropping in to ask permission of the Governor out of courtesy and, seeing as we have been shown none in return, we shall now leave.’ She got up and smiled again. ‘It’s been such a pleasure meeting you, procurator; unfortunately our business is such that we simply do not have the time to accept that kind invitation to stay for a few days and recuperate in comfortable accommodation that you would surely have extended us. We shall, however, be staying a couple of nights here anyway as we have an appointment to meet with Seneca’s financial agent in Londinium at the third hour tomorrow; I’ll have your steward show us to our suite. We won’t bother you for dinner either tonight or tomorrow but, rather, we’ll have it served in our rooms.’ With that, she turned on her heel and walked swiftly to the door, leaving Decianus with his mouth hanging slack and looking as if he had just been slapped.

Vespasian and Sabinus shared a quick look before following Caenis without saying goodbye.

‘But you must have my permission!’ Decianus blurted as they reached the door.

‘Why?’ Sabinus asked over his shoulder as he stepped out into the corridor.

‘Because I’m in charge.’

‘How lovely for you.’

‘What a vile man,’ Caenis observed as a slave closed the door behind them.

‘He won’t bother us now,’ Sabinus said, grinning broadly at Caenis. ‘You should have seen him as he watched you go; his face was as red as a spanked arse.’

‘Yes, but it hasn’t helped us in that it would have been nice to have the cooperation of the authorities in the province.’

‘We’ll enlist the goodwill of the city administration of Camulodunum when we get there in a couple of days,’ Vespasian suggested as they continued along the corridor in the direction of the atrium where Magnus, Hormus and Caenis’ two slave girls awaited along with Castor and Pollux. ‘I’m sure if we’re nice to the Urban prefect there he’ll give us what we want. After all, a military escort to add a bit of lustre to our arrival at Venta Icenorum is not much to ask.’

It all came flooding back to Vespasian as he looked out of the window, the following morning, over a town swathed in a thick, damp fog. The bridge across the Tamesis and the river itself were lost somewhere within the miasma and Vespasian remembered just how much he hated the climate of this northern isle, which seemed, to his eyes, to vary little from one season to the next. But the changes to Londinium itself were far more marked than those to the weather: it was now a thriving port, more important even than the provincial capital of Camulodunum; here goods could be dispersed all over the province because of the bridge. So it was, then, that Londinium had become the natural place for merchants to set up business and with them had come the bankers. But the town had grown so quickly over the last thirteen years since Vespasian had last seen it, ever expanding north, west and east, with the thought only of profitable commerce and not costly defence and so, therefore, it was still an open town.

Vespasian shook his head at the results of greed. ‘Fifty thousand people living, in a province that’s barely pacified, in a town filled with goods and money with no walls to protect them is foolhardy to say the least.’ He turned back to Caenis, still lying in the bed piled with blankets. ‘The sooner we finish our business and we can get back to Rome the better, as far as I’m concerned; just the view out of the window, or lack of it, is a very strong argument for never having invaded and the lack of defences is an even stronger one for not staying.’

Caenis opened an eye. ‘Come back to bed and keep warm; then perhaps you’ll stop moaning. Our appointment with Seneca’s agent isn’t for another couple of hours; I’m sure we can amuse each other until then.’

‘This is a complete list of all the loans made by me on Seneca’s behalf in the last six years,’ Manius Galla, financial agent to one of the most powerful men in the Empire, said with a deal of pride, taking a scroll from a cylindrical bookcase and handing it to Caenis. A ruggedly handsome, well-built man in his mid-thirties, Galla looked as if he should be in uniform, leading soldiery rather than engaging in money-lending to cash-strapped provincials. ‘Names, amounts, interest rates, commencement dates and due dates.’ The newly constructed forum, through the open window behind him, was teaming with traders of all sorts and their customers; at its northern end towered wooden scaffolding encasing the rising walls of the town’s new amphitheatre.

Caenis scanned through the list, her eyes taking in the information at an impressive rate, as the cries and whiplashes of the overseers supervising slaves hauling stone blocks up the amphitheatre’s scaffolding rose above the calls of the seagulls circling above the traders shouting their wares. ‘So, eighteen loans are still outstanding including Prasutagus’, which is by far the largest.’ She passed the scroll to Vespasian. ‘What did Prasutagus want the money for?’

‘It wasn’t just coinage but bullion as well. He said the money was to build up the Iceni’s main town, Venta Icenorum, and the bullion was to strike his own coinage as the Iceni are technically an independent client kingdom. Since they rose against Publius Scapula when he tried to disarm them, they have been allowed a great degree of autonomy, basically because fighting the Silures and other tribes in the west makes it important for us to have if not overtly friendly then neutral tribes in the east. They still use our coinage as well as their own.’

‘So we’ll be asking Prasutagus to dismantle his people’s currency when we call in the loan.’

Galla could not but agree. ‘That’ll effectively be what would happen, which would place a great strain on their economy and could well make for a very volatile situation.’

‘Did Scapula succeed in disarming them?’ Vespasian asked, passing the scroll onto Sabinus.

Galla sucked the air through his teeth. ‘Yes and no. They agreed to destroy their war chariots and melt down their swords as the price of their independence; but how thorough they were at doing that has never been verified and the rumours are that all they actually did was disassemble the chariots and hide the parts and their swords in their thatched roofs. Then, of course, they still retain their spears and bows for hunting.’

Sabinus placed the scroll back on the desk. ‘So, what you are saying is that if they were upset the whole Iceni tribe could be fully armed and ready for rebellion in a matter of days.’

‘It would take them half a month or so to muster their strength in one place, but, essentially, yes.’

‘Then we had better handle this very carefully,’ Vespasian said.

‘It would be best not to handle it at all,’ Galla observed. ‘Leave things as they are and just keep taking the interest; he does pay it regularly.’

Caenis shook her head. ‘We can’t do that as Seneca has decided that he wants to call every loan in the province back in.’

Galla looked at her, astounded. ‘He can’t be serious.’

‘He is.’

Galla’s eyes widened. ‘Gods below; we’re going to abandon Britannia.’

‘You keep that to yourself, Galla; the fewer people who know about it the better for our business as we don’t want to cause a stampede of creditors.’

‘Indeed, Antonia Caenis; but I shall start to make my own arrangements, discreetly of course.’

‘Of course. In the meantime you’re to call in all the loans that you can; we’ll deal with the four loans in Camulodunum as we pass on our way up to see Prasutagus.’

‘As you wish.’ Galla looked down the list. ‘Most of these shouldn’t be a problem; a million or so sesterces should be easy to refinance.’ He looked up nervously. ‘The news hasn’t got out yet, has it?’

‘Not yet, that’s why speed is of the essence. A couple of the Cloelius Brothers are only a few days behind us; I think that once they start trying to claw back their money then it will become obvious what’s happening and that’s when the economy will start to crumble.’

‘I don’t have long then.’

‘No one does.’

‘What about Cartimandua up in the north? You do realise that calling in her loan could have a similar effect on the Brigantes and push them into rebellion?’

‘But Suetonius is up there with the Fourteenth dealing with Mona,’ Vespasian pointed out, ‘so he could be on hand very quickly. Which legion is nearest the Iceni at the moment?’

‘The Ninth Hispana, based just to the northwest of their lands at Lindum Colonia.’

‘Ah! That’s my son-in-law’s legion. I can write to Cerialis privately and tell him to be on a high state of alert. Could you have the letter delivered for me, Galla?’

‘Of course.’

‘I’d be grateful for the details of the four Camulodunum loans,’ Caenis said. ‘Would you be good enough to furnish me with the details?’

‘My pleasure. Although there is another loan there which does not appear on my list as it was done privately by Seneca back in Rome.’

Caenis was interested. ‘Oh yes?’

‘Yes, the Urban prefect of Camulodunum owes Seneca half a million sesterces; I only know because he makes his interest payments to me. He should be able to help you with the other loans there seeing as he acts as Seneca’s agent in that town.’

‘Well, we were going to see him anyway so we can wash two tunics in the same tub. What’s the man’s name?’

‘Julius Paelignus.’

Vespasian sat up as if he had been stung. ‘Paelignus?’ he exclaimed, recalling the hunchbacked procurator of Cappadocia who had betrayed him to the Parthians, causing his two-year incarceration; the man he had sworn to kill. ‘I wondered where he’d got to. I can see that I’m going to enjoy this trip much more than I thought I would.’

And Vespasian was not disappointed; the shriek of fearful recognition that Paelignus emitted when he barged, unannounced, knocking the doorkeeper aside, into the prefect’s office in Camulodunum the following day warmed his heart.

‘Y-y-y-you!’ Paelignus stammered, dropping the wax tablet that he had been reading. ‘What are you doing in my town?’

Vespasian gave his friendliest smile. ‘I thought that I’d just drop in on an old friend, Paelignus; it’s been such a long time.’ He pointed to Paelignus’ maimed hand; two fingers were missing. ‘Remind me how you lost them.’

Paelignus looked at his hand in confusion. ‘I … er … it was fighting the Parthians in Armenia.’

‘Liar! You know perfectly well it’s from when Magnus had to encourage you to divulge my whereabouts. And where was I, Paelignus? Can you at least remember that?’

‘You were … er … you were …’ He trailed off, evidently unwilling to say where Vespasian had been.

‘I was rotting in a cell in Parthia; that’s where I was, Paelignus. Can you remember that now?’

With a feeble inclination of the head, Paelignus indicated that he could.

‘And it was only through the loyalty of Magnus and my then slave, Hormus, that I managed to get out; otherwise I would still be there. A thing of filth and no consequence. Is that what you’d prefer, Paelignus, rather than me standing here now?’

Paelignus miserably shook his head, keeping his eyes averted.

‘So, what to do, eh?’ Vespasian mused.

‘You’ve already had your revenge by giving that document to Seneca and ruining me.’

Vespasian threw his head back and laughed; he had supplied Seneca with the evidence, gained from Narcissus’ private papers, that Paelignus had falsified his father’s will, valuing his estate at far less than its true worth and thereby cheating the Emperor, who was named as co-heir, out of a considerable amount of money. ‘That was nothing; that was just me warming up. Now, Paelignus, I’ll tell you what we’re going to do. I’m here with Seneca’s secretary, Antonia Caenis, and my brother, Sabinus, to call in Seneca’s loans from four people in Camulodunum and also from you.’

‘Me?’ Paelignus squawked, meeting Vespasian’s gaze for the first time. ‘You can’t call in my loan with him.’

‘Caenis has been asked to call in all Seneca’s loans in Britannia.’

‘But he gave me my loan in Rome.’

‘And now you’re in Britannia.’

‘But I’m his agent here; he would have written to tell me about it.’

‘But he sent us instead. I’m very sorry if you think we’re misunderstanding our instructions, but they seem clear enough to us.’ Vespasian turned to the door. ‘Caenis!’

Caenis entered and, without asking permission, sat down opposite Paelignus and unrolled a scroll. ‘So, Julius Paelignus, we believe that you owe an outstanding half a million sesterces to Seneca. As he has charged me with collecting all money owing to him in Britannia I’m serving notice that we will expect to receive the full sum on return from our journey to the lands of the Iceni, which should be at the beginning of next month.’

Paelignus stared open-mouthed at her. ‘You can’t do this, I’m the Urban prefect of Camulodunum; you can’t make me pay.’

‘Seneca is your creditor and he wishes to call in the loan.’

‘Besides,’ Vespasian said jovially, ‘as Urban prefect I expect you can put a good squeeze on the locals and raise the money very quickly. Or perhaps you could take out a loan with one of the local bankers to help you with the cash.’