has been such a long time that words may fail us whereas caresses will tell you all you need to know about how I feel; how I will always feel.’
Vespasian gazed at her, his heart thumping within him. There she stood, the woman he had dreamt of for so long, naked; her tender, ivory skin glowed in the soft lamplight that caused her thick black hair to shine with a reddish sheen as it fell in ringlets to her slender shoulders. She smiled at him and shook her head slowly as if unable to believe the reality that her eyes, wide and blue and glistening with unformed tears of joy, were showing her.
Vespasian grasped her hands, linking his fingers through hers, whilst forcing himself not to squeeze too hard and cause her pain. ‘Caenis, I can’t tell you how much I’ve dreamt of this moment, how much I’ve…’
‘Quiet, my love,’ she said, pulling her hands from his and resting them on his shoulders. ‘I can’t tell you either; that’s why we shouldn’t rely on words.’ She pushed him gently down on to his back. ‘Lie still and let me finish massaging you, I’m getting to know your body again.’ She bent over him and kissed him full on the lips; he savoured the touch and the taste of her. As their tongues found each other she lifted herself on to the bench and straddled his waist. Pulling away from the kiss she started to rub his broad shoulders, then worked her way down over the well-formed muscles of his chest; all the while gazing at him with love and disbelief. Vespasian gazed back with equal emotions as she continued the massage on to the happiest of endings.
Vespasian found dinner that evening a very pleasant affair, augmented, as it was, by the frisson of stolen glances with a radiant Caenis as she served her mistress. He spent the evening with a smile on his face as he tucked in, with the gusto of a sexually satisfied man, to the various courses laid in front of him. The food, as expected, had been of the highest quality, as had the wine, and the conversation far more convivial and relaxed than the last time Vespasian had dined with Antonia in the same room. Four years of dining with Queen Tryphaena and her high-ranking Roman guests had taught him the art of dinner-table conversation; it was an art in which he feared he would never excel, because of his rural upbringing, but he had, at least, gained a sufficient proficiency in it for the dining table no longer to seem daunting. He was able to relax and contribute to the conversation, not because he felt that he ought to, and hence come out with the first thoughts that entered his head, but because he had something relevant and interesting to say. The presence of Gaius Caligula made for a welcome reunion, adding to Vespasian’s general sense of wellbeing. His young friend was in fine spirits despite — or perhaps, because of — his mother’s and eldest brother’s banishments the previous year. His other brother, Drusus, had recently joined them in exile in Sejanus’ bid to neutralise all Tiberius’ potential heirs one by one.
To Vespasian’s surprise, apart from himself, Caligula, Sabinus and Gaius, Clemens had also been invited and had proved to be very good company; he had a pithy wit and the ability to lead the conversation without seeming to dominate it. He also managed to flirt with Antonia without being inappropriate or too earnest, so that his compliments were taken not seriously but as homage paid to a beautiful woman by a young man many years her junior.
Over the course of the evening Vespasian came to understand that Clemens was actually there in an official capacity: he was Caligula’s gaoler. Since Drusus’ arrest Tiberius had ordered Caligula to be kept under constant guard, poisoned as he was by Sejanus’ constant whisperings in his ear concerning the loyalty of his immediate family. Macro, who still enjoyed Sejanus’ trust, had managed to appoint Clemens to guard him and therein lay their hope, as Antonia explained once the slaves had been dismissed and Pallas had taken up his place by the door.
‘My information from Macro, a strange but necessary bedfellow as you will all no doubt agree, is that the Emperor does not intend to harm my young Gaius,’ she said, looking affectionately at her grandson reclining on the couch beside her and ruffling his hair.
‘Do stop doing that, Grandmother,’ Caligula protested with a mock-grimace. ‘When I become Emperor my first decree will be to forbid the ruffling of a man’s hair by any woman that he hasn’t paid for.’
‘In which case I would give the Lady Antonia a talent of silver just to ruffle my hair,’ Clemens shouted through the goodhumoured laughter.
‘Very gallant, my dear Clemens,’ Antonia replied. She was glowing, though not, Vespasian suspected, solely from the compliment or the effect of the wine. ‘However, that would only be possible if my grandson survives to take what is rightfully his. As I was saying, Tiberius does not intend to harm my grandson but he does intend to keep him under close observation and the rumour is, according to Macro, that he will invite Gaius to join him on Capreae in the near future. When he does, Macro will ensure that Clemens goes with him as the commander of his guard. With Gaius and Clemens both on the island we will have our chance to smuggle the priest across.’
There was a general murmur of agreement that was broken by one voice of dissension.
‘Domina,’ Sabinus said carefully, ‘I don’t mean to cause offence, but how do we know that we can trust Clemens? He is, after all, Macro’s man.’
Clemens was about to answer the charge himself when Antonia raised her hand. ‘I think that your uncle had best explain that, Sabinus.’
‘My pleasure, domina,’ Gaius said, a little too loudly; he had been thoroughly enjoying Antonia’s wine. ‘Apart from the normal inducements — money, favour and promotion to Praetorian tribune when Macro is made the prefect — there is only one thing that can guarantee loyalty and that is family.’
‘I know that he’s a kinsman of ours from our father’s side,’ Sabinus said dismissively, ‘but so distant as to not make much of a difference. Please don’t take offence, Clemens, I just need to be sure.’
‘None taken, cousin,’ Clemens replied cheerfully, taking a sip of wine. ‘I totally understand your concerns. That’s why I made the offer.’
‘What offer?’
‘Allow me?’ Gaius cut in slightly more abruptly than necessary.
Clemens raised his cup and nodded graciously.
‘The problem is that he doesn’t have close enough family ties,’ Gaius continued, ‘wouldn’t you agree, Sabinus?’
‘Yes, I would.’
‘So we need to make those ties closer, wouldn’t you say?’
‘Yes, but how?’
‘By your marrying Arrecina Clementina, his only sister.’
Sabinus’ mouth opened and closed as he struggled to say something. ‘I’ve got no wish to be married yet,’ he eventually managed to splutter. Vespasian stifled a snigger.
‘My dear boy, don’t be so silly; every man wants to get married,’ Gaius laughed. ‘With a few exceptions, of course,’ he added, holding his hand to his ample chest. ‘Besides, it’s perfect because firstly: it’s a marriage within the larger family. Secondly: she is of equestrian rank. Thirdly: it secures us an important ally. And finally: your parents are very keen on the idea; in fact your father wrote to tell me that it was now his wish that you marry her and he has given me permission to negotiate the terms on his behalf as he cannot come himself to Rome.’
Sabinus swallowed; he knew what that meant.
‘As for me,’ Clemens chipped in, ‘it would be an honour to have my sister marry someone with such good prospects, provided we succeed with our plan, of course; and if we don’t we’ll in all probability be dead so it won’t matter. As for my sister, she’ll do what I say as our father is dead and she is mine to dispose of as I please; and it pleases me to give her to you.’
‘I am very honoured,’ Sabinus said evenly, not forgetting his manners and not wishing to offend Clemens by making light of his very generous offer.
‘You’ll be more than honoured when you see her, Sabinus,’ Antonia said huskily, ‘she’s beautiful.’
Sabinus glanced at Clemens whose narrow face and pallid skin did not inspire him with any confidence in the veracity of that assertion.
‘Pallas, show the lady in,’ Antonia ordered.
Pallas bowed and slipped out of the door.
‘I hope you don’t mind, Sabinus,’ Antonia said, smiling, ‘but I took the liberty of sending my litter for Clementina whilst we were eating. She is fully aware that she has come to meet her future husband.’
Vespasian was enjoying watching the net tighten around his brother whilst at the same time being relieved that it was not he in that predicament. For the first time in his life he was glad of being the younger sibling.
The door opened and Pallas ushered in a young girl, no more than fifteen years of age; she was clad in a saffron stola with a turquoise palla draped around her. She stood before the company, lifted the palla from her hair and then slowly raised her head.
