though not before I helped myself to a couple of bagfuls to cover our travelling expenses, if you take my meaning?’
‘I think I do.’ Vespasian laughed, clapping his friend on the shoulder.
Asinius had started to speak again. ‘My duty here is done and I shall now resume my journey to my province. It has been an honour to bring you your Emperor’s reward. I am sure that General Poppaeus will wish to distribute it immediately, before he returns to Rome. Centurions, fall your men in here, on this field of victory, and they will all return to camp richer. Hail Caesar.’
As he moved to the edge of the rostrum, where Vespasian and Magnus waited to help him down, Poppaeus caught him by the arm and looked at him with an expression of unbridled hatred.
‘You will pay dearly for this,’ he hissed.
‘My dear Poppaeus,’ Asinius replied smugly, ‘whatever do you mean? I have the distinct impression that you are the one who is paying dearly.’
Walking back to the camp Asinius was in a fine mood. His lictors cleared the way through the thousands of troops hurrying to form up as fast as was possible on the corpse-strewn field into their centuries and cohorts, in order to receive the promised largesse. They cheered him as he passed and he waved back, all the while talking animatedly with Vespasian and Magnus.
‘Your man did a commendable job last night, Vespasian,’ he said, slapping Magnus on the back. ‘Not only getting the letters, but also stealing Poppaeus’ war chests; that was a coup that I hadn’t dreamt of. It made Poppaeus’ rout complete. I trust that he is not distributing the full contents of the chests?’
‘No, sir,’ Magnus replied. ‘A small percentage was deducted for expenses.’
‘Very good, you deserve it; I have to admit to helping myself to a few handfuls to distribute to my lictors.’
‘What of the letters, Asinius?’ Vespasian asked.
‘Magnus managed to get a half a dozen letters that implicate Poppaeus and Sejanus in this Thracian affair. I despatched Rhoemetalces with three of them before dawn, he should be well on his way to Philippopolis by now. From there Queen Tryphaena will send them to Antonia, who will add them to the growing collection of evidence that we shall lay before Tiberius when the time is right. I think that, in the meantime, the other three will prove to be enough of a deterrent to prevent Poppaeus and Sejanus from hauling me up in front of the Senate on treason charges.’ He patted a leather pouch that hung around neck.
‘What are you going to do with that priest, then?’
‘Oh, I think that I’m going to give him back to Poppaeus as a little going-away present,’ Asinius chuckled. ‘I reckon they deserve each other, don’t you?’
‘I think Poppaeus will judge that he’s too dangerous to keep alive.’
‘I do hope that you’re right.’
They had reached Asinius’ tent and he stopped to bid them goodbye.
‘I shall be leaving immediately. I have no wish to be here when Poppaeus returns and finds that his letters are missing, and much less to find myself as his travelling companion when he leaves later on today. If you take my advice, Vespasian, you should make yourself scarce until he’s gone and Pomponius is fully in command.’
‘I will, Asinius. May the gods go with you.’
‘If I believed in them I’m sure they would. Good luck and I’ll see you in Rome in four years or so.’ He gripped Vespasian’s forearms with both hands and then turned to Magnus.
‘Thank you, my friend, I owe you a debt that I shall not forget.’
‘I’ll come and see you in Rome when I need a favour.’
‘It will be my pleasure; until then, farewell.’
Keeping four of his lictors to guard his person, and leaving two to guard the entrance, Asinius dismissed the remaining five to prepare for their return journey, and went into his tent.
‘Well, you heard him,’ Vespasian said, heading off to his quarters. ‘Let’s get out of here for a day or two.’
‘Suits me fine.’
They had not gone ten paces when the clash of weapons and a scream stopped them in their tracks. They turned just in time to see the two guards rush into Asinius’ tent.
‘Fuck!’ Vespasian gasped, drawing his sword as the unmistakable sound of two bodies slumping to the ground came from within the tent. The other lictors had heard the commotion and were running back, swords drawn. With no thought of tactics Vespasian, Magnus and the five lictors crashed through the entrance of the tent.
‘Stop right there or he gets hurt, nastily,’ Hasdro shouted. He had his sword across Asinius’ throat and, with his left hand pressing hard down on his head with a vice-like grip, forced the proconsul to his knees. His three Praetorian companions stood in front of him, amongst the bodies of the lictors, warily pointing their swords at Vespasian and his comrades, two paces away. Behind him was Poppaeus’ secretary, Kratos, holding three letters. Slumped in the corner was the semi-conscious Rhoemetalces.
‘This is an interesting situation,’ Vespasian said, breathing hard. ‘We outnumber you, so how do you imagine you’ll get out alive?’
‘I’d say that it’s quite straightforward.’ Hasdro’s black eyes gleamed malevolently and a smile played on the corner of his mouth. ‘The proconsul gives us what we want, then, in return for his life, you let us go.’
‘Don’t let them-’ A fist to the side of his face silenced Asinius.
‘One more word and I’ll have your nose off,’ Hasdro spat, shaking his bruised hand. He tugged at the leather bag around Asinius’ neck, snapping the strap, and threw it at Kratos. ‘Check them,’ he growled.
Kratos quickly pulled the letters out of the sack and flicked through them. ‘They’re all here,’ he confirmed, adding them to the three that he had already retrieved from Rhoemetalces.
‘Burn them all, so that idiot master of yours doesn’t lose them again.’
Kratos threw the letters on to the brazier.
‘Save them,’ Asinius shouted as they burst into flames. He thrust his throat forward on to the edge of Hasdro’s sword and forced it along its length. Blood sprayed across the room as the blade sliced through the soft flesh. Hasdro looked with horror at the quivering body of his now useless hostage as it fell, gurgling, at his blood- drenched feet.
‘Now!’ Vespasian cried lurching forward. He crashed into the nearest Praetorian, grabbed his right wrist and forced his sword into the air. With a lightning thrust he pushed his blade up into the vitals of the startled man and, feeling hot blood squirt down his arm, twisted it through his bowels. The Praetorian doubled up, pushing Vespasian on to his back. The shriek of pain, so close to his ear, almost deafened Vespasian as he fought to withdraw his entangled sword. Magnus flew past him and hurled himself on to Hasdro, who slipped in Asinius’ blood. The pair crashed to the ground, grappling and wrestling with each other, their swords useless at such close quarters. Behind them the lictors descended on to the last two Praetorians, who went down under a welter of stabs and thrusts that continued even after their lives had been expunged.
Vespasian managed to kick himself out from under his howling victim, leaving his sword lodged in his lacerated abdomen. In the corner of his eye he caught the blur of Kratos darting for the exit.
‘Get him alive!’ he barked at the lictors as he retrieved a discarded sword. He stepped up behind Hasdro, who now sat astride Magnus closing his huge hands around the struggling boxer’s throat. Vespasian drew his sword arm back. Magnus’ eyes focused briefly on the movement. Hasdro turned, the look on his face showing that he knew what to expect. With a powerful, clean sweep Vespasian cleaved his head from his shoulders, sending it spinning through the air in a spray of blood. His severed long black hair slithered down his back. His torso fell on to Magnus, disgorging its contents from its open neck onto his face.
‘Was that necessary?’ Magnus spluttered, heaving the corpse aside. ‘I was just about to turn him.’
‘Better safe than sorry, I thought,’ Vespasian replied, amazed at what he had just done. ‘It seemed from where I was standing that you were having a little difficulty.’ He held out his hand to help up his friend, who looked like he had been the victim of a particularly grisly sacrifice.
Vespasian looked down at Asinius, who lay motionless, his eyes staring lifelessly at the brazier in which the precious letters were now no more than charred fragments.
‘Shit!’ he exclaimed as he realised how devastating their loss was. He looked over to Rhoemetalces who was sitting bolt upright in the corner, staring at Hasdro’s severed head.
