Rome's Executioner (25 page)

‘At times I thought that we’d never make back, sir,’ Magnus said, joining him at the rail, ‘but that is definitely Ostia.’

‘Having never been here, I’ll just have to take your word for it,’ Vespasian replied, smiling at his friend and sharing his relief at finally getting home.

It had not been a straightforward journey, purely for the foreseen logistical problems of feeding so many men. The provisions that they found in the hold had only been sufficient for a few days and, although Rhaskos had been able to buy, with the gold in his strongbox, sacks of hardtack, chickpeas and dried pork at ports along the way they had been forced to stop for two or three days at a time to hunt sufficient game to keep the 350 or so men onboard from going too hungry. Their voyage, therefore, had taken almost thirty days from Cythera, much longer than intended but it had, at least, been without incident.

With the ship finally secured Rhaskos came pushing through the crowded deck. ‘So, my young friend, here’s where we say goodbye,’ the old trierarchus said, sweating profusely from the exertion of so much shouting at his crew. ‘Although how I shall get home I don’t know, as I’ve used up all the gold that the Queen gave me for the return trip.’

‘I’m sure that the gods will provide,’ Vespasian replied, instantly regretting his flippancy.

Thankfully it was lost on Rhaskos, who just nodded his head sagely. ‘Yes, you’re right; I’m sure they will.’

There was a stirring on the quayside and raucous shouting; a group of twenty armed men were shoving their way towards the bottom of the gangway. Although they were not in uniform they certainly had a military look; each was armed with a gladius. However, more worryingly, because of the fine quality of their tunics and the smartness of their appearance they had more than a whiff of the Praetorian Guard about them.

Thoughts of betrayal flooded into Vespasian’s mind and he glanced nervously at Magnus and Sabinus, who had joined him having heard the disturbance.

The soldiers reached the bottom of the gangway and their leader, a tall, wiry, auburn-haired man with a pinched face and pasty skin, motioned them to stop. From within their midst appeared a smartly dressed, bearded Greek.

‘Welcome home, masters,’ Pallas said, making his way up the steep ramp.

‘Pallas!’ Vespasian was astonished to see Antonia’s steward. ‘How did you know when we would arrive?’

‘I didn’t,’ Pallas replied, bowing low. ‘I have been waiting here for ten days now, ever since a messenger from Queen Tryphaena arrived, overland, telling the Lady Antonia that you had left Tomi towards the end of May. She sent me here to escort you and our mutual friend back to Rome.’

‘And I suppose that is our escort,’ Sabinus observed, looking suspiciously at the phalanx of men on the quay.

‘Yes, master. I will explain later, when there are fewer people listening.’ Pallas indicated the mass of crew and ex-slaves that had crowded around to see what was going on.

‘I look forward to it,’ Sabinus said uneasily.

‘Get back to work, all of you,’ Rhaskos suddenly shouted at his milling crew, ‘there’s nothing to see here.’

‘Ah, you must be the noble trierarchus,’ Pallas crooned, bowing towards Rhaskos as the crew started to thin out.

‘Rhaskos, sir,’ Rhaskos stammered, unused to being addressed in those terms.

‘Please, master, do not address me as “sir”, I am but a mere slave.’

Vespasian and Sabinus both smiled; there was nothing ‘mere’ about Pallas whatsoever.

Rhaskos looked confused. ‘I’m sorry, er …’

‘Please do not apologise to me. My name is Pallas, master.’

‘Pallas,’ Rhaskos spluttered, ‘indeed. Thank—’

Pallas raised an eyebrow; Rhaskos halted mid-flow. ‘The Lady Antonia wishes me to inform you, Trierachus Rhaskos, that you are to revictual your ship totally at her expense; I have delivered her promissory note to the port aedile guaranteeing full payment for anything that you require.’

‘May the gods be praised.’ Rhaskos raised his palms and faced to the sky. ‘Please give my thanks to the Lady, sir … er … Pallas. I am in her debt.’ He bowed, then, realising his mistake, quickly stopped himself and beat a hasty retreat, calling out his thanks for his good fortune to every god that he could think of, which were many.

Vespasian was sure that Pallas had been amused by the conversation but was unable to confirm it as the steward’s face remained, as always, absolutely neutral.

‘We should go, masters,’ Pallas said with just the faintest trace of urgency in his voice. ‘We will need to ride fast if we are to get to Rome before dusk.’

In less than an hour they were on the move. Having said their goodbyes to Rhaskos, Drenis and Gaidres, they transferred Rhoteces, hissing and hooded, to a covered wagon that waited for them, along with their horses, a short distance from the crowded harbour. Artebudz, who was on his way north to his mountainous home in the province of Noricum, had come with them and he and Magnus rode in the wagon, guarding the priest.

‘They are Praetorians, as you suspected, masters,’ Pallas informed Vespasian and Sabinus as they rode through the gates of Ostia at a quick trot. ‘However, they’re Praetorian Cavalry; their decurion, Marcus Arrecinus Clemens—’

‘Clemens?’ Vespasian interrupted. ‘I’ve heard that name before; he was with Macro and Hasdro when they were following me up the Via Aurelia. Macro sent Clemens north with half of his cavalry to block the road, whilst he took the rest to look for me in Cosa.’

‘Yes, he is loyal to our new friend, Macro,’ Pallas confirmed. ‘He also happens to be a client of my mistress’s son Claudius.’

‘How did that come about?’ Vespasian was intrigued.

‘I believe he is a man who enjoys gambling at the circus on the team with the longest odds.’

‘There’s a difference between betting on an outsider as compared with a no-hoper,’ Sabinus pointed out.

‘I wouldn’t say that Claudius is a no-hoper,’ Pallus replied with a slight rise of his eyebrows. ‘His mother would, as would the Emperor and Sejanus, but that’s why he is still in the race. He may seem stupid because he stutters, drools and limps, because he has a tendency to say the most inappropriate things in public and makes pathetic jokes under the misapprehension that he’s one of the finest wits of our age; but underneath he’s an ambitious, power-hungry viper and not to be trusted. He’s also very intelligent, if somewhat chaotic, and has written extensively on a wide variety of subjects. Some of his work is, I’m told, quite edifying.’

Vespasian was intrigued. ‘Would you bet on him, Pallas?’

Pallas looked at Vespasian shrewdly. ‘The disadvantage about gambling at the circus is that you can only place a bet before the race starts; to my mind that is the worst time to put your money down. I prefer to lay a bet after the final turn when you have a much clearer idea as to who will be the eventual winner. That system has two advantages: you are more likely to win and you’ll have been parted from your money for a shorter time.’

‘So Clemens has got a long wait before he sees any return to his outlay, then?’ Sabinus chuckled.

‘Perhaps, but like any sensible long-odds gambler he has hedged his bet with a little flutter on Caligula; he escorts him when he goes out at night incognito, gets him out of any embarrassing scrapes that he may fall into and clears up his mess – which is sometimes considerable.’

‘I’m sure it is,’ Vespasian agreed, thinking of his friend’s voracious sexual appetite. ‘So Clemens is one to watch, is he?’

‘Oh yes, and I’m sure that he will make himself very useful to you both.’

‘What makes you think that?’ Sabinus asked.

‘Because you are in the Lady Antonia’s favour and he is a kinsman of yours. A very distant one, but nevertheless the link is there. Your father’s mother and Clemens’ grandmother shared the same grandfather and I’m sure that he will make much of it.’

‘He doesn’t look much like a kinsman of ours,’ Sabinus observed, eyeing with suspicion the thin-faced decurion riding just ahead of them. ‘He’s an ugly bugger, that’s for sure.’

‘I tend to find it best not to judge people on their looks, master,’ Pallas said, bringing the subject to a close.

Vespasian rode on in silence. The tingle of anticipation that had been growing in his stomach since they had sighted the Italian coast was now a churning and he was finding it increasingly hard to concentrate on anything other than Caenis. After more than four years he would see her again tonight; at least he hoped that he would. Surely she would be with Antonia? But would he get to talk with her, a chance to be alone with her, to touch and hold her? None of these questions could he answer; he would just have to wait and see – and the knowledge that he was not in control of the situation was driving him to distraction. He tried to put his mind to other matters – his parents, the estates, his uncle Gaius, the island of Capreae whose rocky coastline they had sailed past the previous day – but it would not settle. It just kept on coming back to the most urgent subject: Caenis. He felt blood rushing to his groin as the image of her stepping out of her tunic in the lamplight flitted across his inner eye and he was forced to make an adjustment to his dress.

‘Thinking about your romantic reunion with the mules at home, brother?’ Sabinus drawled, noticing his unfortunate predicament.

‘Piss off, Sabinus,’ Vespasian snapped, hugely embarrassed in more ways than one.

‘I asked Clemens to send a rider ahead to warn my mistress that we would arrive this evening,’ Pallas said, picking up on the problem and guessing its cause. ‘I’m sure there will be a dinner awaiting you and I will make sure that every member of the household fulfils their normal roles.’

Happy in the knowledge that he would at least see Caenis that evening, Vespasian smiled awkwardly at Pallas, whose expression, as ever, remained neutral, as if he had said nothing at all of import. Sabinus gave a wry chuckle.

It was almost dusk as the column clattered up the Palatine Hill. The culture shock that Vespasian had felt at being back in a city so packed with people was wearing off as the crowds thinned out and the houses grew, quite literally, more palatial.

Antonia’s seal had been sufficient to get them and the wagon through the Porta Ostiensis without any questions from the Urban Cohort soldiers on guard – wheeled vehicles not normally being allowed in the city during the day. It had then taken them almost a half-hour to fight their way through the crowds of the Aventine, around the Circus Maximus and finally to the foot of the Palatine. But now their journey was over.

Clemens thumped on the gate to the stable yard at the rear of Antonia’s villa; it opened after a short delay.

‘We’re being observed,’ Pallas remarked as they rode into the yard.

Vespasian glanced back up the street to see a couple of figures lurking in the shadows of a cypress tree overhanging a wall, fifty paces away. ‘Sejanus’ men?’ he asked.

‘More than likely,’ Pallas said, dismounting, ‘but they won’t be able to tell him any more than that a group of men arrived escorting a carriage.’

‘Welcome, gentleman,’ came a strong, familiar, female voice. Antonia descended the steps from the main house and walked elegantly towards Vespasian and Sabinus. Although in her midsixties she was still beautiful in a way that could not just be ascribed to expensive beauty treatments and the best coiffure and gowns that money could buy. She smiled radiantly at the brothers. ‘I cannot begin to express my gratitude at what you have achieved for our cause.’ She took Sabinus’ hand and pressed it warmly. He bowed his head and muttered something inaudible.

Antonia turned to Vespasian and took his hand in both of hers. ‘I see that four years in the army has been the making of you, Vespasian,’ she said, lowering her voice so that only he could hear. ‘You look to be a man in perfect physical condition; I hope that your mind has grown in conjunction with your body because in the next few months it will be politics that’ll be our main concern, not fighting.’

Vespasian reddened slightly. That so powerful a woman should come out to greet them rather than awaiting them in the cool of her study was humbling, and a great honour. ‘I hope that I’ll be up to the tasks ahead, domina,’ he managed to say, bracing himself to once again be swept into the sea of political intrigue in which he knew the highest strata of Roman society wallowed.

He was saved from any more searching questions by the arrival of Magnus and Artebudz dragging the cringing Rhoteces from the carriage. They threw him to the ground in front of Antonia.

‘So this is the creature that’s forced us to go to so much effort bringing him to Rome.’ She looked with distaste at the filthy priest who, shaking with fear, tried to touch her feet in supplication. Magnus kicked his manacled hands away.

‘Thank you, Magnus.’

‘My pleasure, domina,’ Magnus said with a grin. ‘He’s had the fight taken out of him since we landed at Ostia; he’d always thought that his gods would prevent him being brought to Rome but now he’s here he’s been muttering nonstop about them deserting him. Mind you, with one look at him, who would blame them, if you take …’ Magnus ground to a halt, realising that he was far too lowly to be expressing his unsolicited opinions to Antonia, no matter what his previous relationship with her may have been.

Antonia cast him a mildly disapproving look, which to Vespasian’s eye had the hint of desire in it. He could not help but wonder again what form their couplings must have taken having been indiscreetly told by Caligula that Antonia had indulged her passion for boxers fresh from a fight; Magnus had fought in front of her more that a few times.

Magnus bowed. ‘Forgive me, domina,’ he said contritely.

Vespasian suppressed a smile; one question had been answered: his friend had not been the dominant partner.

‘Pallas, secure the prisoner away,’ Antonia ordered, getting back to the matter in hand. ‘Feed him just enough to keep up his strength but no more; we don’t want him thinking that he’s a guest.’

Pallas bowed to his mistress and with Artebudz’s help hauled the writhing priest away.

‘Now, gentlemen,’ Antonia said, wrinkling her nose and turning back to Vespasian and Sabinus, ‘I think that, for all our sakes, you should avail yourselves of my bath house before we dine. I will see you later when you are refreshed. Magnus, you may join them. Show them the way.’