‘Not that I recall.’
‘I was thinking perhaps of one that had had its wings clipped, one that might try to fly but could not.’
Cholon was clearly confused. ‘I saw no such creature.’
‘You were close to your master?’
Cholon wanted to say, ‘Closer than you know,’ but actually said, ‘Every waking moment, and I slept in the antechamber to his tent. The only time I was not, was because he sent me away. Why do you ask?’
Lucius waved an airy hand. ‘Nothing really, just something Aulus and I talked about many years ago. It was something we were told as children, and plainly the possibility exists that it was false.’
‘Might I ask what?’
Lucius was quite sharp. ‘If your late master declined to enlighten you, I think it only fitting that I should do the same.’
Cholon responded in kind, enjoying the new freedom that allowed him to address someone like Lucius as an equal. ‘When are you going to impeach Vegetius?’
‘You are sure he deserves it, Cholon?’
The Greek bridled. ‘He deserves to be tied into a sack with a dog and a snake and thrown into the Tiber, yet where is he? Sitting outside Rome with his legion waiting for the Senate to vote him a triumph.’
‘Trust me, Greek, the Senate will know how to do the right thing.’
‘Greetings, Lucius Falerius,’ said Vegetius Flaminus, his voice decidedly tremulous. ‘And welcome to the camp of the 10th Legion.’
The ex-governor was curious about the box that his visitor’s slave brought in but there was no way he could ask what it contained. He was hoping that Lucius had come to tell him he was about to support the motion to grant his triumph, which would guarantee acceptance, yet nothing in the censor’s demeanour hinted at such a thing. But then, Vegetius reminded himself, Lucius was not called Nerva for nothing. He was famous for his ability to mask his thoughts; he might be contemplating that, or a ritual disembowelling, you could never tell. That he had come out of Rome to see him in his legionary encampment, without lictors or escorts, was a positive sign.
‘I do what I must. Since successful generals are not permitted to enter the city without approval, I have to come to you, as I feel we need to speak.’
Vegetius indicated a table laden with fruit, bread, sweet delicacies and wine. ‘May I offer you refreshments?’
Lucius waved aside the offer, visibly disappointing his host who had put off nibbling at the spread so as not to disturb the careful arrangement. He was hungry and craved a glass of wine, but that was nothing new; to a man like him such desires were permanent. Lucius was thinking that Vegetius had got fatter since he had last seem him and he had, on the day he had been granted the governorship, been no slim creature. He had expanded especially in the jowls; the lips, red and wet, had always been unattractively thick.
‘I take it you captured much spoils from the rebellion?’
‘Cart loads. We stripped the living as well as the dead.’
You would, thought Lucius. You probably stripped every household in both provinces to make your triumph look more impressive. ‘Good. I would like to examine them if I may.’
The ‘why’ died on Vegetius’s fat lips. ‘As you wish. Do you need me to accompany you?’
‘No, Vegetius, I will be content with a man of lower rank to show me the carts. Meanwhile, you are obviously in need of food and drink, so you can indulge yourself while I am away.’
‘I can wait,’ Vegetius replied, unconvincingly.
‘Open that box I brought with me while I am absent, it may help to suppress your appetite. I will talk to you about what it contains when I return.’
Lucius was handed over to a slave, then to an old soldier who was responsible for the triumphal trophies. They were behind the Praetorium, rows and rows of carts laden with helmets, swords and shields, animal skins and tribal symbols, too many to examine individually. Fortunately the old man with him had helped to load them from the mess they were in when they first came into the camp.
‘Eagles? Don’t recall seein’ any, your honour, it not bein’ a symbol that the buggers use, beggin’ your pardon. They’re strong on wolves and bears, daresay ’cause they hunt and kill them, and I have seen the odd big-toothed fish, river sort, but not eagles.’
‘Who helped you load these?’
‘Praetorian guards, and a mighty moan I got from them for the order, they seeing it as beneath them.’
‘Fetch them.’
‘All of them, your honour? There be some on duty guarding the general.’
‘Vegetius is safe enough here in Italy, don’t you think?’
The old soldier would like to have replied that he was not sure, for he knew the man he served was a dab hand at making enemies, but that was not the kind of remark the likes of him made to Lucius Falerius so he did as he was asked. The soldiers came, all were questioned, and none could recall a single instance of an eagle. Finally satisfied, Lucius sent them back to their duties.
Vegetius, who had been reading the scrolls that lay in the chest, the private letters of Aulus Cornelius to Lucius Falerius, had nearly died of heart failure when his Praetorian Guards were removed, mystified when they came back and took up their posts. Then he had the thought that he was not much loved by his soldiers. Lucius did not need replacement sentinels on the Praetorian tent; some of his own soldiers would no doubt gladly take part in his arrest. That he was about to be arrested was obvious for everything he had ever done that could be misinterpreted was listed in Aulus’s letters, and, typical of the stuck-up snobbish bastard, he had seen it all in the worst possible light. Vegetius was not vain enough to believe that he was wholly innocent of the odd bit of self- serving, but that was what it was, the kind of little peculations that any provincial governor got up to. Not Aulus Cornelius of course; his predecessor had been so rich he had not indulged even in what was unquestionably his by right.
‘My, Vegetius,’ said Lucius, looking at the well-laden table. ‘You’ve not eaten a thing.’
Vegetius waved a scroll, his face red and his anger seemingly manufactured and insincere. ‘I am too busy reading these lies.’
‘Dismiss your slaves now, we need to speak alone.’ When they had been sent away, Lucius added, ‘Are they lies, Vegetius?’
‘Of course.’
‘So you did not lend out your soldiers’ pay for months and pocket the interest, you did not sell their services as labourers, you never took bribes from the frontier farmers and mine owners to provide security.’
‘I…’
‘Have a care, Vegetius. I am not a man to whom you can lightly tell a lie and I have not even mentioned two other possible things which raise questions. The excessive taxes which you pocketed from your office, and the fact that the treasury of Publius Trebonius, which we suspect was taken by the Illyrian rebels who killed him, and would surely have been with the forces you defeated, is missing.’
The fat red lips were wetted several times before a reply came. ‘I have done nothing of which I am ashamed.’
‘Then you have little knowledge of what the word means, I fear. You have taken gubernatorial rapacity to a height I have certainly never seen before, made yourself rich at the expense of your office and the state. You have deliberately left my oldest friend and the best soldier Rome had to die so that you could seek enough dead bodies to get you a triumph, and we are about to have a debate in the house to decide whether that wish should be granted.’
‘I deny everything in these letters.’
‘I think I need a glass of wine and I think I should pour you one.’ This he did, only to see it disappear down the man’s throat in one gulp. ‘Now what you are saying is this. That Aulus Cornelius Macedonicus, probably the most honest and upright man ever to put on a senatorial toga, has told lies, while you, a man known for the depth rather than the height of your standards, are telling the truth. I wonder how that will be received?’
‘I have friends who will support me.’
Lucius smiled, but it was the look of a fox who had just found its way into the chicken coop. ‘I too have
