troops.
‘The second man also comes home, but he is covered in gold and glory; he receives triumphal ornaments from a grateful Emperor and the suspicion of all those who surround him. No quiet semiretirement for him; oh, no, the Emperor wants all potential threats to his power kept close, so they can be observed, controlled.’ Gaius paused and looked again at his nephew. ‘Now, my boy, do you still wish to be the second man?’
‘Yes, Uncle,’ Vespasian replied, ‘because at least he has the satisfaction of knowing that he did everything that could possibly do to serve Rome and further his family’s honour.’
‘Where as I have not?’
‘What?’
‘Oh, Vespasian, didn’t you guess? I am the first man,’ Gaius cried, clapping him on the shoulder. ‘No, no, don’t feel bad; I made my choice as you must make yours. I chose anonymity, which, incidentally, is the reason why I kept my provincial accent. The patrician elite look down on it and therefore don’t see you as so much of a threat.’ He looked his nephew in the eye. ‘This evening you will meet one of the most powerful women in Rome; if you impress her she may use her considerable influence to set you off on a dangerous path. I want you to be aware of the consequences of coming to her attention and being in her debt; the powerful do not play lightly with us lesser mortals.’
The time could not pass fast enough for Vespasian as he contemplated seeing Caenis later; or slow enough, as he remembered the intimidating prospect of making conversation with Antonia. Caenis had not looked at him again during the racing, until a brief glance as she left with her mistress at midday. This had been enough to prevent him from concentrating on the spectacle for the rest of the day, which had passed in a blur of noise, speed and dust.
The allotted hour eventually came. Titus and Vespasia saw them off.
‘Remember to only speak when spoken to,’ she reminded them. ‘A quiet, polite guest is far more likely to be invited back than a garrulous, overbearing one.’
Gaius led the brothers down the Quirinal and up to the exclusive slopes of the Palatine. The houses here were bigger than any Vespasian had ever seen; some were two storeys high and had long marble stairways leading up to grand entrances secured by gilded doors. Each house was set in its own area of tree-lined garden, spacing them out far more than on the Quirinal and giving the area an almost park-like feel to it in the late-afternoon sun.
Gaius stopped at a huge single-storey house that, although tall and grand in style, was less ostentatious than the rest. Its windowless walls were painted a plain white, and it lacked the extravagant entrance and any extraneous decoration.
Gaius knocked. The viewing slot in the door scraped open and two dark eyes briefly surveyed them. A very healthy-looking young doorkeeper immediately opened the door to let them in without a word. They stepped into a high, wide atrium where a dark-haired, well-built, bearded man in his late twenties, dressed in a light blue Greek tunic, was waiting.
‘Good day to you, masters,’ he said, bowing low.
‘And to you, Pallas,’ Gaius replied, who was always impressed by the young steward’s manners.
‘You will be dining imminently; be so good as to follow me.’
He led them through the atrium; its spacious interior had a polished pink and white marble floor and was decorated with elegant statues and busts of both painted marble and bronze. Expensive-looking items of furniture stood against the walls and by the central pool; carved wooden couches with ivory inlays were set around marble tables standing on golden lion’s paws or griffin legs. Wide corridors led off the atrium on either side, leading to formal reception rooms, a library and a suite of private baths.
They passed out into a chill, cloistered garden whose carefully manicured bushes and shrubs, which had been neatly tended over the winter, waited for the spring to encourage them to blossom into a feast of colour. At the far end Pallas knocked on shiny black-lacquered panelled door.
‘Enter,’ a commanding female voice called from within.
Pallas opened the door and respectfully addressed his mistress: ‘ Domina, the Senator Gaius Vespasius Pollo and his nephews, Titus Flavius Sabinus and Titus Flavius Vespasianus.’
‘Gaius, how good of you to come.’ The Lady Antonia walked forward to take his hand. Close up she was far more beautiful than Vespasian had expected for a woman of sixty. Her dark-auburn hair was dressed high on her head in intricate weaves held in place by jewelled pins. Her skin was still smooth with only a few wrinkles around her sparkling green eyes. She wore very little make-up; her high cheekbones, strong chin and full lips needed no augmentation.
‘We are honoured to be invited, domina,’ Gaius replied, bowing his head. Antonia turned her attention towards the two brothers; Sabinus held her gaze.
‘Welcome, Sabinus; my brother-in-law the Emperor tells me that you acquitted yourself with distinction in the recent war in Africa.’ She smiled at him as he visibly glowed with pride. ‘You must have indeed performed well to have come to the Emperor’s attention.’
‘I am honoured that he even knows my name,’ Sabinus replied, ‘let alone that he should speak well of me.’
‘Credit where it is due is one of his guiding principles. He needs to keep an eye out for outstanding young officers. How else will he know whom to promote to command the legions that keep our Empire safe?’
‘Indeed, domina,’ Gaius said, ‘the Emperor is very assiduous in reading all despatches from the legionary legates. Sabinus does honour to our family to have been mentioned.’
Antonia turned to Vespasian. ‘So this is the lad who startles my maid,’ she said, looking at him with mock severity. Vespasian stared at the mosaic floor, unable to think of anything sensible to say. Antonia covered his embarrassment by gently lifting his chin with a slender hand. ‘Don’t worry, Vespasian, I’m not cross; I expect a good-looking young man such as you will cause quite a few young girls’ hearts to flutter in his time.’
Vespasian smiled at her; he had never before been told that he was good-looking. ‘Thank you, domina,’ he managed to get out.
‘Come and make yourselves comfortable whilst we wait for our other dinner companion to arrive.’
She ushered them into the room. It was dominated by an enormous bay window that to Vespasian’s amazement was glazed. The late-afternoon sun flooded through the near transparent glass, held in place by a lattice frame, beyond which a strangely distorted view of the gardens was visible. Three couches, upholstered in light tan leather and with gracefully curved walnut-wood headboards, stood on spindled bronze legs in the bay. The low table, around which they were set, was also made of walnut polished so brightly that it reflected the sun up on to the frescoed ceiling. At the far end of the room stood a large oak desk draped with maroon cloth and covered in scrolls of paperwork. On the floor next to it, in front of a pastoral fresco, was a strong box made of copper- decorated iron with sturdy-looking locks at each end.
Antonia clapped her hands; from behind a curtain to their left appeared three slave girls who waited as the men undraped their togas, then took them away for safe keeping.
There was another knock on the door.
‘Enter,’ Antonia called again.
Pallas walked in. ‘Domina, the Consul, Marcus Asinius Agrippa.’
‘Consul, you do me great honour,’ Antonia said as the surprisingly short and balding figure of Asinius stepped into the room.
‘As you do me,’ Asinius replied. His quick, dark eyes flashed around the other guests; his reaction showed that everyone that he had expected was present. ‘Senator, you are well, I trust?’
‘Thank you, Consul, never better,’ Gaius replied. ‘May I present my nephews Sabinus and Vespasian?’
‘I am pleased to make your acquaintances.’ Asinius acknowledged the brothers with a nod of the head whilst handing his toga to a waiting slave girl.
‘Gentlemen, let us recline and eat,’ Antonia said, moving over to the central couch. ‘Consul, you and Gaius on this side of me,’ she indicated to the more prestigious right-hand couch, ‘and the two young men to my left.’
Pallas pulled back the curtain and the slave girls appeared again to remove the guests’ sandals and wash their feet. They replaced the sandals with the slippers that each man had brought with him and then, once the diners had settled on the couches, spread a large white napkin in front of each of them.
The girls left with the sandals, passing a group of five more slaves bearing knives, spoons, plates and drinking
