‘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.’
A short while later the three of them were sitting, sweating profusely, in the small, brightly lit, white marble-walled caldarium. Male slaves were rubbing sweet-perfumed oil into their skin and then scraping it off with strigils, slowly removing the ingrained grime of travel.
Neither Vespasian nor Sabinus had bothered to ask Magnus how he had come to be so familiar with the whereabouts of Antonia’s bath house; his embarrassed countenance and inability to look either of them in the eye as he led them unerringly through the maze of corridors were sufficient enough to gain all the amusement they needed from the situation.
Travel weariness had caught up with them in the baking temperature of the caldarium and they eased into a delightful semi-consciousness as their bodies were expertly cleansed.
A booming voice from the doorway abruptly brought them back from the somnolent world into which they had slipped.
‘My dear boys, how lovely to have you back.’
Gaius Vespasius Pollo, their uncle, burst into the room completely naked. His bulbous body wobbled furiously as he waddled the short distance across the mosaic floor. Vespasian and Sabinus stood up and were subjected to his all-enveloping, enthusiastic embraces. Magnus, much to his relief, had to endure no more than a hearty grasp of his forearm.
‘Antonia told me that I would find you here,’ Gaius exclaimed, slapping an arm around each of the brothers’ shoulders and sitting them back down on the hot stone bench. ‘My, my, you look well, Vespasian, what a fine figure the army has given you; much like my own in my younger, more vigorous days. And you, Magnus, how I’ve missed your services these past four years — which reminds me: Antonia asked me to send you to her, she wished to see you before she had dinner; she didn’t say why.’
Magnus grimaced. ‘I suppose I’d better be going then,’ he mumbled, picking up his linen towel and making as dignified an exit as possible.
As the door closed behind Magnus the brothers burst out laughing.
Gaius looked at them, bemused. ‘What’s so amusing, dear boys?’
Vespasian managed to get his mirth under control and indicated subtly to the slaves hovering around them. ‘We’ll fill you in later, Uncle; in the meantime tell us your news.’
Gaius was delighted to ramble on for a good while about his recent achievements, which if not inconsiderable were at least inconsequential.
By the time he had finished they had moved into the tepidarium. Vespasian lay face down on a pleasantly warm leather couch having just enjoyed a good, almost violent, pummelling at the expert hands of one of Antonia’s masseurs. He was vaguely aware of Sabinus and Gaius leaving and being told that he would be called shortly before dinner was served as he fell into a blissful sleep.
Oil being drizzled on to his back and then two thumbs gently working the muscles around his shoulder blades caused him to stir and grunt with pleasure. He lay still with his eyes shut as he submitted himself to the soothing massage, which was far more tranquil than the kneading and pounding that he had received earlier. The hands worked their way down his spine, easing the muscles and drawing from him long groans of relaxed contentment. As they passed the small of his back they moved on to his buttocks and caressed them with a tenderness that was unusual in a massage. He half opened one eye; his heart leapt.
‘Caenis!’ he exclaimed, turning and sitting up all in one swift motion.
‘Shh, my love,’ she softly said, pressing a slender forefinger to his mouth, ‘lie back down and let me finish. It
