‘Yes, Nuncle, he is; but then I wouldn’t have my friend any more.’ Caligula’s voice had risen slightly.
The pressure on Vespasian’s head suddenly increased.
‘But I’m your friend,’ Tiberius abruptly shouted.
‘Yes, Nuncle, you are; but you’re my friend here. Vespasian is my friend in Rome; you don’t go to Rome so I need a friend when I’m there.’
Tiberius released his grip. Vespasian had to stop himself from rubbing his throbbing head.
‘But what happens if I come back to Rome?’ Tiberius asked, still staring at Vespasian.
‘If you do I won’t need another friend in Rome, Nuncle, and you can push your fingers into his brain then.’
‘In Rome then,’ Tiberius said, suddenly cheerily as if a difficult matter had been finally settled by the simplest and most obvious of solutions.
Vespasian breathed a sigh of relief as Tiberius turned his attention to the other members of his party; he felt that he at least was safe for the time being. Caligula nodded towards him surreptitiously from the doorway, confirming his belief. Next to Caligula stood a very pretty youth in his mid teens; his hair had been decorated with flowers and his white tunic was embroidered with gold thread around the hem and sleeve. Behind him, between Fulvius and Rufinus, Clemens stood stock-still with his hand on his sword hilt, looking even more pallid than usual.
‘What about these, my sweet? What are they?’ Tiberius cast his eyes slowly over Sabinus, Corbulo, Magnus and then Pallas. ‘Not more fishermen?’
‘Of course not, Nuncle, you don’t allow fishermen here any more,’ Caligula replied, choosing his words carefully. ‘These men have come with my friend with that important news that Thrasyllus predicted would arrive. One has a letter from Antonia to you.’
‘They’re not intruders then, come to destroy my peace of mind?’
‘It’s to help your peace of mind that they have come, Nuncle.’
Tiberius stared at Pallas for a while; nobody moved. ‘I know you,’ he said eventually, pointing his finger at the Greek. ‘You’re Antonia’s steward. Your name is Pallas, isn’t it?’
‘I am honoured that you should even recognise me let alone know my name, Princeps,’ Pallas replied, bowing. Even with the life-or-death tension in the air he still remained outwardly calm and composed; Vespasian was sweating freely despite the coolness of the morning.
‘She would have given you the letter; give it to me.’
Pallas reached down into his bag; Tiberius jumped back. Realising his mistake, Pallas quickly removed his hand from the bag and tipped it upside down so that the contents fell to the floor with a clatter. It was the first time that Vespasian had seen the smooth Greek flustered and he found himself enjoying the sight.
Pallas picked up the scroll and offered it to Tiberius; the Emperor looked at it closely and then, evidently satisfied that it would do him no harm, took it.
‘My mistress has sent her seal ring, Princeps,’ Pallas said, holding up his hand, which was visibly shaking, ‘to show you that the letter is genuine.’
Tiberius dismissed it with a wave. ‘You’re proof enough of that,’ he said plainly, looking at the scroll and feeling its weight in the palm of his hand. His voice had become less detached as though the presence of a letter from his sister-in-law had helped to draw him out of the dark world in his head into which he had evidently deeply sunk. He looked at Sabinus as if seeing him for the first time. ‘And you are?’ he asked with almost genuine interest.
‘Titus Flavius Sabinus, Princeps,’ Sabinus replied hastily.
‘Ah yes, tribune with the Ninth Hispana,’ Tiberius said without pausing to think, ‘served with distinction in Africa against Tacfarinas’ rebellion; a good man according to the reports I read.’
‘Thank you, Princeps,’ Sabinus spluttered, stunned, as they all were, by the Emperor’s sudden lucidity.
‘You will all stay here under Clemens’ guard whilst I read this letter; Vitellius will keep you company.’ Tiberius indicated the pretty youth. ‘He has certain talents. Come, my sweet; let’s see what your grandmother has been up to.’
Tiberius swept out of the room; Caligula raised his eyebrows at Vespasian and followed.
When the sound of the Emperor’s footsteps in the corridor had disappeared Vespasian and his companions all sank back down on to their buckets in exhausted relief.
They sat in silence for a long while, all contemplating how close to death they just had come. A loud moaning from the corner of the room brought them out of their reverie; Rhoteces had fully woken up.
‘Do something about him would you, please, Pallas?’ Vespasian said irritably; he hated the sound of the priest just as much as everything else about him.
‘I’m afraid we have to keep him conscious for now, master,’ Pallas replied, his composure returned. ‘He may be questioned soon.’
Although that thought cheered Vespasian the increasing noise that the priest was making grated on his already taut nerves. ‘Fucking shut up,’ he shouted to no effect.
‘Would you like me to soothe you, Vespasian?’ Vitellius asked, walking over to him and laying a soft hand on his shoulder.
‘What?’ Vespasian exclaimed, looking up aghast at the youth. ‘No!’ He angrily brushed Vitellius’ hand away.
‘You’re disgusting. Have you no sense of honour, boy?’ Sabinus spat. ‘You’re a son of the Vitellii, an old and noble family; what are you doing prostituting yourself like a harbour whore?’
‘If I don’t then I’ll die,’ Vitellius replied simply. ‘You’ve seen what he’s like.’
‘And you’d rather live in shame as his catamite than die like a man?’
‘To me that seems to be preferable; shame doesn’t matter to me. I’ve given up my honour and pride in order to live, just as my father did when he gave me to Tiberius in return for his life. This way, one day, I’ll have my revenge upon all those who have abused me, or if they’re dead then upon their families.’ Vitellius looked at Sabinus with steel in his eyes.
Sabinus returned his look in full measure. ‘I wouldn’t suck another man’s cock if my life depended on it, you degenerate.’
‘I hope that one day your life will depend on it; then we’ll see what you’ll choose, Titus Flavius Sabinus.’ Vitellius turned on his heel and walked out of the room.
‘Whore boy!’ Sabinus shouted after him.
‘This place does weird things to people,’ Magnus commented as the door slammed.
‘It’s not the place,’ Pallas said, standing over Rhoteces and showing him a knife, which quietened him down, ‘it’s the power. Absolute power will reduce anyone who holds it to a state of depravity if they are weak-willed or morally flawed.’
‘Then may the gods help us if Caligula becomes Emperor,’ Corbulo said, shaking his head. ‘I can’t believe that I’m helping that eventuality to come about. Perhaps we should return to the Republic where two men shared that power for one year only.’
‘It’s too late for that,’ Vespasian asserted. ‘The wealth of the Empire is concentrated in too few hands; the days of the citizen soldier who fights alongside his neighbour to defend their small plots of land are long gone.’
‘What’s that got to do with it?’ Sabinus asked dismissively. ‘Every man in the legions is a citizen.’
‘Yes, but now it’s upside down: instead of fighting to defend his land in order to return to it after a summer of campaigning, the common legionary is fighting to gain some land after his twenty-five years’ service.’
‘What difference does that make? The army is still the army no matter what the motivation of the common legionary is.’
‘We’ve already seen what a difference it makes during the years of civil wars, from the time that Gaius Marius made the army professional until Augustus created the Empire. Do you want those days to come again?’
‘No, of course not,’ Sabinus conceded grudgingly: he didn’t like being bested by his brother, no matter how much the logic of his argument rang true. ‘So what do you suggest, brother, seeing as you seem to have been thinking about it?’
‘I have been thinking about it a lot actually; all the way down the Via Appia from Rome.’
‘Enlighten us with your wisdom then.’
‘I believe that there is a straight choice: either the Empire is ruled and held together firmly by one man; or it
