Narcissus we must find it. The Praetorian Guard won’t be able to hold back the mob for long. Only that grain can save the Emperor now.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
The next day, once the spectators’ attention was fixed on the renewal of the fighting on the lake, the Emperor discreetly departed, accompanied by only the Empress, Nero and Britannicus. Most of his retinue remained in the pavilion to cover his absence. Tribune Burrus left the First Century of his cohort behind to guard the pavilion and to add to the deception. The rest of his men formed a column behind the empty prisoner pens and took a little-used path between the foothills before joining the main road leading to Rome. They reached the city gate early in the afternoon and saw at once the measures being put in place by Prefect Geta. The men of the urban cohorts who usually stood guard over the gate and collected the tolls had been sent to patrol the streets and their places were taken by Praetorians.
Inside the city wall the streets were quiet and almost deserted since most of the inhabitants of Rome were enjoying the entertainment at the Albine Lake. Sections of men from the urban cohorts occupied the main crossroads. As the column crossed the Forum and approached the imperial palace, Cato noted that the doors to the temples were closed and wooden barricades comprised of sharpened stakes had been placed about the entrances. Behind the barricades stood more men from the Guard. Similar defences had been erected to protect the palace gates. Once the imperial family and its escort had been safely escorted inside, the gates of the palace were closed behind them and the locking bar was heaved into its receiver brackets for good measure.
‘Place looks like a fortress,’ Macro said quietly as he looked round at the preparations being made for the defence of the palace complex. Wagons had been positioned behind the wall either side of the gate and covered over with planks to provide a fighting step. Stocks of javelins lay in bundles on the ground beneath the wagons.
Cato shrugged. ‘Maybe, but the Praetorians can’t hope to cover every way in. The walls are easy enough to climb over in many places. It’s just a show of force. The prefect’s hoping to intimidate the common people when they return from the lake.’
‘They’ll behave, once they see soldiers everywhere,’ Macro replied confidently.
‘You think so?’
‘Of course. They’d be mad to go up against the Praetorians and the urban cohorts. They’d be slaughtered.’
‘But they will be mad. Hunger will drive them to it, and they will have nothing to lose. In any case, the Praetorians will also be without food soon. They’ll be weakened, and perhaps even tempted to make common cause with the mob.’ Cato lowered his voice. ‘When that happens, the people who control the grain will become the real power in Rome.’
He looked around at the preparations to defend the palace, and saw more guardsmen higher up the Palatine Hill, posted on the balconies and the garden terraces. The sight provoked an unsettling thought.
‘This may look like a fortress, but it could equally be used as a prison, or a trap.’
Macro turned to him. ‘What do you mean?’
‘The imperial family are surrounded by Prefect Geta’s troops. The senate house has been sealed up and I’ll bet there will be a curfew imposed on the streets until the crisis is resolved, one way or another. Anything could happen to the Emperor and his family and Geta would be able to tell the outside world whatever story he liked. And once that hidden grain is released to the mob, they’d be grateful to whoever saved them from starvation. By the time Geta lifts the curfew, Rome might well have a new emperor, or no emperor at all.’
Macro thought for a moment before he responded. ‘You’re jumping at shadows again, lad. This is happening because the grain convoy from Sicilia was lost in that storm. The Liberators can’t have foreseen that.’
‘No, but they are prepared to take advantage of the opportunity it presents to them. Trust me, Macro, if they intend to strike, they’ll do it soon. Very soon.’
Cato looked over to where Tribune Burrus was conferring with his officers. Beyond them Prefect Geta appeared from a small entrance beneath the wide flight of stairs that ascended to the lofty portico of the palace’s main entrance. Burrus and the others stood to attention as they became aware of his approach. Geta issued a rapid series of commands and then returned to the palace as the group split up. Tigellinus strode across the courtyard to his century and called for their attention.
‘Men, the prefect says there will be trouble on the streets of the capital in the coming days. The riot we saw earlier was merely a taste of what we can expect. The food supply in the city is all but exhausted. There is barely enough left in the palace to feed us on half rations for more than two days. From tonight, rations will be cut to a third.’
There was a groan from some of the men, and a handful of angry mutters before Tigellinus snatched a deep breath and roared at his men, ‘Silence in the bloody ranks! I don’t like to go short any more than you do, but we have orders to carry out, and our duty is to protect the Emperor. The Sixth Century will take up position in the imperial accommodation suite. Apart from those barbarian thugs of the German bodyguard, we are the last line of defence.’ He paused to let his words sink in. ‘You will be vigilant. You will carry out your orders without question. Without question, gentlemen. This is an uncertain time, a dangerous time. When it is over, the only thing that will matter to us is that we did our duty. Optio Fuscius will take you to your stations. The cohort will be relieved at dawn. That is all.’
Tigellinus handed a set of waxed tablets to his optio and stood aside as Fuscius stepped forward and puffed out his chest to give the order. ‘Sixth Century, follow me!’
As the guardsman marched past their centurion, Tigellinus briefly fell into step alongside Cato and Macro. ‘Be ready to act on my order. Whatever that order may be. Is that clear?’
‘Yes, sir,’ Cato muttered, and Tigellinus stepped away from the column and watched the rest of his men file past.
The optio led the way up the wide stairs and through the main entrance into the palace. There was evidence of the prefect’s preparations on all sides: checkpoints at the entrance to every audience chamber and banqueting suite, and at the doors to the slave and servants’ quarters. Some entrances had been closed off and the doors barricaded by heavy items of furniture. The imperial accommodation was at the highest point of the Palatine Hill, overlooking the Forum. It comprised a range of sleeping chambers, studies and terraced gardens. There was one entrance to the suite from within the palace but a determined man could scale the walls from below and Fuscius positioned men to guard against such a threat. The optio consulted the waxed tablets that Tigellinus had handed him and pointed to Macro.
‘Calidus! You and Capito here, on the balcony outside the Emperor’s study.’
Macro nodded and he and Cato climbed the steps up on to the colonnaded balcony. Fuscius waved the rest of the men on to the largest of the terraced gardens. As they marched off, Macro turned to Cato.
‘What was Tigellinus’s little pep talk all about? The only thing that matters is that we obey orders.’ Macro puffed his cheeks. ‘Looks like you might be right about what’s going on. The Emperor’s in danger.’
At that moment there were footsteps inside the study and Macro and Cato quickly stood to attention, backs against the pillars on either side of the door leading from the balcony into the study. Out of the corner of his eye, Cato saw Claudius limp over to his desk and sit down on a padded stool. Two of his German bodyguards silently took their places on either side and a short distance behind their master. In front of the desk stood Prefect Geta, Narcissus and Pallas, together with Agrippina. Narcissus glanced towards the men guarding the access from the balcony and for an instant there was a look of surprise in his thin features, before he forced his face to assume its customary neutral expression.
Claudius flicked a finger at Geta. ‘Make your r-report, Prefect.’
‘Sire, I have six cohorts in the palace precinct. Three on duty until the morrow and three resting. The other cohorts have taken control of the city gates, the Forum and the senate house. I have ordered that the senate’s proceedings be halted until the crisis has passed.’
‘Oh?’ Claudius looked at him sharply. ‘In whose name did you give such an order?’
‘Yours, sire. You were still on your way back to the city at the time. I thought it best to act at once rather
