They paced forward warily, senses tuned to detect the slightest sign of movement or sound in the trees on either side of the path. The voices of Burrus’s men rang out across the garden and then Cato saw a party of soldiers appear at the far end of the path. He took a breath and called out.
‘Geta! You’re trapped. There’s nowhere to run. Give yourself up!’
There was no response from close at hand, but the soldiers at the far end of the path began to trot towards Cato. Suddenly, not twenty feet ahead, there was a deep groan and a body slumped out of the shadows and fell across the path, a sword clattering dully to the ground beside the man.
‘What are you doing?’ Geta’s voice rose up in alarm only to be cut off abruptly. There was a rustling between the trees behind the body and then a stifled cry.
‘Shit.’ Macro started forward. ‘The bastards are doing themselves in.’
Cato ran after him. Before they could reach the body, a figure stepped out on to the path, sword in hand, and faced Macro and Cato. As he stepped away from the tree, Cato saw who it was.
‘Tigellinus.’
They halted, a safe distance beyond sword’s length, and raised their weapons, ready to fight if the centurion chose to resist. Behind him the soldiers approached at the run.
‘You three!’ a voice called out. ‘Drop your swords!’
Tigellinus glanced briefly over his shoulder before he tossed his weapon on to the path. The Praetorians slowed to a stop and their leader carefully stooped to pick up Tigellinus’s sword before he gestured towards Cato and Macro. ‘You too!’
‘What?’ Macro growled. ‘We’re on the same side, man! We’re the ones who sent for Burrus.’
‘We’ll see soon enough,’ the Praetorian replied. ‘Now drop those swords, before me and my lads make you.’
Macro took a step towards them.
‘Do as he says,’ Cato intervened, throwing his weapon at the feet of the soldiers.
Macro hesitated a moment, then shrugged and followed suit.
Once the weapons had been collected and the Praetorians had surrounded Cato, Macro and Tigellinus, the leader of the soldiers prodded the body on the path with his boot and then squinted into the shadows where a second corpse lay.
‘What’s going on here, then?’
Tigellinus cleared his throat. ‘You address me as “sir” when you speak to me, Centurion Tigellinus, commander of the Sixth Century, Third Cohort.’
‘Bollocks,’ Macro spat. ‘You’re nothing but a bloody traitor, like your two friends here.’
‘Friends?’ Tigellinus responded in a surprised tone. ‘I think you are mistaken. I saw these men running from the Emperor’s study. I chased after them and caught up with them here. There was a fight, and I slew them by my own hand.’
Macro was dumbfounded and took a moment to speak. ‘That’s a bloody lie! It was me and Cato who were chasing ‘em, and you too, you traitor!’
‘I haven’t the slightest idea what you are talking about,’ Tigellinus said smoothly.
‘Right, that’s enough!’ the leader of the Praetorians snapped. ‘Shut your mouths, all three of you. Tribune Burrus will soon have the truth out of you, make no mistake.’ He detailed four of his men to pick up the bodies before turning back to his prisoners. ‘Let’s go!’
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Emperor Claudius eased himself down on to the padded throne in the small audience chamber he used for his routine business. Through the arched windows running along one of the walls the first glimmer of the coming dawn illuminated the city’s skyline and the first bird calls of the day carried into the palace. Neither the pink tinge in the sky nor the light-hearted chorus of the sparrows touched the hearts or minds of those gathered in the chamber.
The room was lined with German bodyguards hastily summoned from their quarters where Prefect Geta had confined them a few hours before. The bodies of the prefect and Centurion Sinius lay in the centre of the room. Sinius had a wound to his throat while Geta had been stabbed in the heart. The surviving members of their party stood behind the bodies, their hands bound in front of them, their expressions fearful. Centurion Tigellinus stood a small distance apart, flanked by two of the Germans. Cato and Macro, still in their soiled tunics, were also under guard. The Empress, Nero and Britannicus sat on stools to one side of the Emperor’s throne and on the other side were the Emperor’s closest advisers, Narcissus and Pallas, together with Tribune Burrus.
Claudius’s gaze slowly travelled round the occupants of the chamber and Cato could see that he was still badly shaken by the attempt on his life. A small nick in his cheek had bled unchecked for a while and a streak of dried blood ran down his jowl and had stained a small patch at the top of his white tunic. He leant forward, resting his elbow on his knee as his fingers nervously stroked his jaw. At length he eased himself back and cleared his throat.
‘By the gods, someone is going to p-pay for this.’ He thrust his finger at the two corpses. ‘That is the f-f-fate of anyone connected with this conspiracy. I want their heads mounted in the Forum for all to see. I want their f- families sent into exile. Their sympathisers will be sent to the lions in the ar-arena.’ He swallowed and coughed as he choked on his rage. The coughing continued for a moment, and his head twitched violently as he struggled to regain control. At length the fit passed and he glowered at the bodies in silence, until the silence became unbearable. Narcissus bit his lip and then took a quiet step forward to draw his master’s attention.
‘Sire? Perhaps it would be best to begin with Tribune Burrus’s report,’ Narcissus suggested.
Claudius thought a moment and then nodded. ‘Yes … Yes. Good. Well, Tribune? Explain yourself. Keep it to the p-point.’
All eyes were on Burrus as he strode forward and faced the Emperor directly. As usual he was immaculately turned out and his crested helmet was tucked under his arm. He bowed his head curtly before he began.
‘I called the men out as soon as Optio Fuscius told me what was going on, sire. I took the first available section and gathered more men as we made for the imperial suite. By the time we got to your study the traitors had fled, so I sent the men out to search the gardens. That’s where they found the bodies, and those three.’ He indicated Tigellinus, Cato and Macro. ‘They were making all sorts of claims so I ordered that they be held under guard while I made sure that you and your family were safe, sire, and that there was no sign of any further traitors hiding in the gardens or in the imperial suite. As soon as I discovered Prefect Geta’s part in the plot I gave instructions for his orders to be revoked. The Germans were sent for and the rest of the Praetorians assigned to guard the palace were recalled from outside and repositioned to protect the imperial palace and prevent anyone from entering or leaving without your permission. That’s when I received your summons to come here, sire,’ Burrus concluded with a brief nod.
Claudius nodded and pursed his lips. He pointed to Cato and Macro. ‘And you two? What’s your st-story? I seem to recognise you. Have I seen you before?’
‘Yes, sire,’ Cato answered. ‘During the campaign in Britannia, and here in the palace some years before. And we were there, at your side, when the imperial party was attacked in the Forum. And when the dam collapsed below the Albine Lake.’
‘Oh?’ Claudius narrowed his eyes. ‘I see you wear the tunics of Praetorians, but you look like beggars from the F-f-f-forum. What was your part in the night’s events, eh? Are you part of the conspiracy?’
‘No, sire. Centurion Macro and I led the party that saved you in your study.’
‘Did you now? … Centurion Macro, you say? And who are you then, young man?’
‘Prefect Cato, sir. Before that, a centurion in the Second Legion.’
‘But you wear the tunic of the Praetorians, like those t-traitors lying there on the floor. Burrus, are these two yours?’
‘Yes, sire.’ Burrus frowned. ‘They joined the Guard several weeks ago. Promoted from the legions. At least that was their story. They went by the names of Capito and Calidus. Now they claim to be Prefect Cato and Centurion Macro.’
