an approving glance in Antonia’s direction. ‘The army will be his problem, but he has already started to deal with it.’
‘How?’ Vespasian asked.
‘Who was behind Tacfarinas’ revolt last year, providing him with the tens of thousands of freshly minted denarii that were found in his treasury? Whose agents encouraged the rebellion in Thracia against our client king Rhoemetalces, which is still going on at this very moment? Why did the Parthian envoys sent to Rome this year have a secret meeting with Sejanus after they had concluded their business with the Emperor and the Senate? Trouble on the frontiers keeps the army busy. The more trouble there is the busier they’ll be; busy enough perhaps not to notice what’s going on in Rome. You can bet on a few incursions across the Rhine and the Danubius this year, maybe Parthia will start sniffing around Armenia again; and I wouldn’t be surprised if an invasion of Britain soon becomes the Emperor’s policy – that would keep at least four legions occupied whilst Sejanus tightens his grip on power. Then, when Tiberius dies, the all-powerful Sejanus will be in prime position to be regent for one of the young imperial grandsons who will probably succeed to the purple.’
‘And once he’s regent, with the Praetorians behind him, he’ll be able to get tribunician powers and become untouchable,’ Gaius said smiling grimly. ‘That is clever, very, very clever. You have to admire the man.’
‘Oh, I do,’ Asinius asserted, ‘and, more importantly, I respect him. This is a man who takes the long view. He has patience to match his cunning and subtlety to match his ruthlessness. He is a formidable adversary and, for the good of Rome, he must be destroyed. The problem is that we don’t yet have any hard evidence against him; we need time to collect it. This is where Antonia and I think that you could be of use.’
‘Without evidence Tiberius will not listen to me, he thinks that I am just pursuing a vendetta against Sejanus because I believe that he was responsible for my son’s death.’
Gaius tilted his head in acknowledgement. Asinius went to pour himself some more wine but found the mixing bowl empty. Antonia looked towards Pallas, standing quietly in the corner. ‘Pallas, some more wine, if you would.’
Pallas bowed his head and disappeared through the curtain. An instant later there was a shout and the smash of a jar breaking on the floor. Vespasian and Sabinus leapt to their feet immediately and rushed through to the serving room where they found Pallas, in the half-light, wrestling with a figure on the floor. Grabbing the man from behind, Sabinus tore him off the Greek and pushed him face down onto the floor. Putting his knee into the small of the man’s back, he quickly yanked his head back by his hair and slammed his face down on to the stone floor. The captive’s nose and jaw shattered on impact; he let out a brief cry and lay still.
‘Who is he?’ Antonia demanded as she arrived in the doorway.
‘I don’t know,’ Pallas gasped, winded, ‘it’s too dark.’
‘Bring him in here, then.’ She pulled the curtain back. Sabinus and Vespasian dragged the man by his feet, leaving behind a pool of blood peppered with broken teeth. Back in the lamplight of Antonia’s room they rolled him over.
‘I don’t know him,’ Antonia said, ‘but I don’t think even his mother would recognise him looking like that.’
His bloodied face was indeed a mess: his nose was flattened to one side; his swollen lips had shards of broken teeth embedded in them; and his slack jaw hung at peculiar angle.
‘Pallas! Pallas, come here at once.’
‘Yes, mistress, sorry,’ the Greek groaned from the doorway. He hobbled into the room and looked down at his assailant.
‘Well, who is he?’ Asinius insisted.
‘It’s Eumenes, the doorkeeper.’
‘One of my slaves!’ Antonia was outraged. ‘How long since I bought him?’
‘Less than a year, mistress; he started as a house slave. He and his brother had been down on their luck so they left their native Creta and came here to sell themselves into slavery. I imagine they hoped to one day earn their freedom and citizenship. I admired his enterprise and promoted him to the door about three months ago. I am so sorry, mistress, he has probably been passing on lists of your guests to whomever he reports to.’
‘Well, we won’t worry about that now. How long was he listening for?’
‘Not long, mistress. I checked behind the door and curtain regularly.’
‘Well, let’s find out what he heard and who he spies for.’
CHAPTER X
By the time he regained consciousness Eumenes had been strapped naked on to a table in the serving room. He groaned loudly but stopped abruptly as the pain from his shattered jaw magnified with any movement. He felt a hand close around his scrotum and opened his eyes in fright. Through the mist of blood he saw his owner leaning over him.
‘Now, you treacherous little pile of filth,’ Antonia hissed through clenched teeth, ‘you are going to tell me why you were spying on me.’ She squeezed his testicles with all her strength, drawing out a long shriek from her victim; it caused the five men around her to grimace in unconscious sympathy.
Vespasian watched Antonia in shocked disbelief as she continuously tightened and then eased her fist; there was no pleasure on her face, only cold determination. She was not to be crossed. She finally released her grip and the noise subsided. Blood outlined her fingernails and she reached for a cloth. She looked down at the heaving chest of her slave.
‘Well, Pallas,’ she said grimly, ‘he doesn’t want to do it the easy way, let’s see if he prefers the hard way.’
Pallas nodded to his mistress and with a pair of tongs picked out a red-hot piece of charcoal from a brazier. He showed it to the terrified doorkeeper, who turned his head away. Pallas looked at his mistress.
‘Do it,’ she ordered.
Vespasian smelt burning flesh as the charcoal sizzled its way through the skin of the man’s thigh into the muscle below. His howls echoed around the house.
‘Leave it there and put another on.’
Pallas did as he was told, this time dropping it on his belly; the doorkeeper writhed and wailed but still refused to talk.
‘And another,’ Antonia shouted, getting more frustrated by the moment.
Vespasian remembered the crucified boy. How easy it was to inflict pain on a person with no rights. He looked around the room at the others; Sabinus had a wild grin on his face but Asinius and Gaius were intent and grim. Both realised that their lives could depend on breaking this slave.
As a coal ate through his right nipple Eumenes passed out. Silence filled the room. They stared at the twisted, smoking body and wondered in amazement what loyalty or terror beyond these walls could induce him to endure such agony.
‘Brush off the coals and bring him round,’ Antonia said with resolve in her voice. ‘We’ll see if he prefers his flesh to be cut instead of burnt.’
Pallas threw a bucket of water over him, causing steam to rise from the roasting wounds.
‘We must be careful not to overdo it,’ Gaius said anxiously. ‘We don’t want him dying on us.’
‘Do you think that I’ve never had a slave tortured before?’ Antonia snapped.
‘My apologies, domina.’
Another two buckets of water brought the wretched man round. He started to moan.
‘Show him the knife,’ Antonia said slowly.
Pallas unsheathed a long thin blade, curved and sharp as a razor, and held it in front of Eumenes’ eyes. They widened in horror as the sleek instrument reflected the glow of the brazier on to his face.
‘Believe me, you will talk,’ Antonia said in a quiet, menacing voice. ‘It’s just up to you how many ears, fingers and balls you have left when you do.’
‘I can’t,’ he whispered.
‘Why not?’
