‘Good thinking but it won’t work with the Suffect Consuls that we have this half of the year. Decimus Valerius Asiaticus is Antonia’s man, he used to look after her interests in Narbonese Gaul. He owes everything to her, not least his being the first Consul of Gallic origin. Antonia would hear of it within the hour. His junior, Aulus Gabinius Secundus, is a talentless, vicious man who would use the information to cause as much trouble as he could for everyone involved. I’m afraid that I can see only one course of action for you to take and that is to steer the middle ground.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘You can’t do your duty to the Senate until it next meets in three days’ time, after the close of the festival of Apollo, so in the meantime I suggest that you fulfil your obligation to Antonia. Show her the land deeds and explain the predicament that you find yourself in, emphasising of course that your loyalty to her was the reason why you brought it to her first, and ask her if you should take it to the Senate. You never know, she might surprise you.’
‘What if she doesn’t?’
‘Then, my dear boy, at least you would have some sort of defence if the worst should come to the worst; you could truthfully say in court that Antonia told you not to take it to the Senate.’
‘But how could I prove that?’
‘Ask Antonia for a formal meeting; then you’ll get a copy of the minutes.’
‘But she could still deny it.’
‘Not if you take a witness. Unfortunately I won’t do and nor would Sabinus; a court won’t believe that we’re not just supporting your case through family loyalty.’
‘Who, then?’
‘I would have thought that that’s quite obvious: your old comrade from the Fourth Scythica, Corbulo. I know that he’s in Rome at the moment as he’s trying to get elected as a praetor for next year; he’s desperate to come above Sabinus in the poll. His father told me a long time ago that he feels that his family is obliged to us for you saving his son’s life in Thracia; I’ll call in the favour immediately.’
‘I can’t say that I’m too happy to be doing this, Vespasian,’ Gnaeus Domitius Corbulo told Vespasian as they approached Antonia’s house on the Palatine. ‘Especially if you won’t tell me what it’s about.’ He pointed over his shoulder vaguely at Magnus who was flanked by two of his crossroads brothers, Marius and Sextus; Ziri brought up the rear. ‘I can only assume that it’s something to do with what’s in the chest that your man’s carrying.’
‘That’ll be Magnus, Corbulo,’ Magnus said lightly, ‘remember? You sat in my shit and I sat in yours in that cart all the way across Thracia, nine years ago, after we’d been captured by some very nasty tribesmen.’
Corbulo wrinkled his nose at the memory of the journey and subsequent near escape from the Thracians, but refused to acknowledge that he could recollect the name of someone so beneath him after such a long time.
‘Pompous arsehole,’ Magnus muttered, but not entirely to himself.
Corbulo held his chin in the air disdaining to hear the comment. Vespasian shot Magnus a withering look over his shoulder; Magnus shrugged and smiled innocently.
‘Believe me, Corbulo, it’s best if you don’t know what it’s about unless you have to,’ Vespasian said, trying to get back onto the subject. ‘You’re right that it’s to do with what’s in the chest. I plan to show the contents to the Lady Antonia and then we’ll discuss what to do about them in your presence. That way you won’t be put in any danger because you won’t know what we’re talking about; I just need you to witness what she asks me to do about it so that you could back me up in court if it came to it.’
Corbulo looked down his long nose at him. ‘You’re way out of your league, Vespasian. However, I’ll do this to repay the debt that my father insists that I owe you, but that’s it — the slate is clean afterwards.’
‘Let us both pray that there
Vespasian mounted the steps as the sun slipped behind the Aventine Hill throwing Rome into shadow. He rapped on the door; the viewing slot snapped back and two eyes appeared. ‘Titus Flavius Vespasianus and Gnaeus Domitius Corbulo request an interview with the Lady Antonia.’
The slot closed and the door opened immediately; the doorman let Vespasian and Corbulo into the vestibule, leaving Magnus, Ziri and the brothers outside with the chest. As they walked through into the imposing and exquisitely furnished atrium a familiar voice came from across its vast length.
‘Masters Vespasian and Corbulo, how good to see you again,’ Pallas, Antonia’s Greek steward, said in his faultless Latin. ‘I trust that the natives of Creta and Cyrenaica weren’t too tiresome.’
‘They were as belligerent as one would expect, Pallas; and it’s very good to see you again too,’ Vespasian replied with a smile.
Corbulo grunted his acknowledgement.
‘You are too kind, masters; I am honoured that you should be pleased to see me, a mere freedman.’
‘There’s nothing mere about…freedman, did you say?’
Pallas pulled his right hand from behind his back and placed a
‘My congratulations, Pallas.’ Vespasian proffered his forearm to the Greek for the first time in their acquaintance.
Pallas clasped it in a firm grip. ‘Thank you, Vespasian. I will always remember with gratitude the respect, far beyond that due to my servile rank, that you, your brother and uncle have showed me in the past.’
Corbulo muttered a perfunctory felicitation to which Pallas responded with a slight inclination of his head.
‘Now, gentlemen, I will see if the Lady Antonia is able to receive you.’
‘We would like a formal meeting, if that would be convenient, Pallas?’ Vespasian requested, somewhat nervously. ‘What I have to discuss with her is of a very delicate nature for all concerned. Magnus and some of his brothers are outside with an item that I must bring to the Lady’s attention.’
Pallas raised an eyebrow but otherwise his face remained neutral. ‘I see.’ He clapped his hands twice. ‘Felix!’
A Greek appeared from the far end of the room and walked with self-assured poise towards them. Vespasian looked at him curiously; apart from a deep suntan he was the exact image of Pallas when he had first met him nine years previously.
‘Felix, there are some men outside, see them round to the stable yard and get them some refreshment. They should wait there until they are summoned.’
‘Yes, Pallas,’ Felix replied, heading to the front door.
‘Follow me, gentlemen.’ Pallas walked off towards Antonia’s formal reception room.
‘Is he your brother, Pallas?’ Vespasian enquired.
‘I cannot deny it.’
‘How long has he been in Antonia’s household?’
‘He arrived here just recently, but the Lady Antonia has owned him for most of his life. He was the steward of her household in Egypt and she’s brought him here to take over my position, once I’ve trained him up in the etiquette of Rome.’
‘What are you going to be doing, then?’
‘I’m afraid that that’s between the Lady and me, Vespasian,’ Pallas said as they entered the beautiful high- ceilinged reception room, littered with expensive but tasteful furniture and sculptures from all over the Empire. He gestured to Vespasian and Corbulo to sit. ‘Wait here, gentlemen, I will send you some wine while I relay your request to my Lady.’
Night had fallen and the room was now ablaze with scores of oil lamps; their fumes hung in the air veiling the ceiling, depriving it of their light.
Vespasian and Corbulo had waited for more than an hour, the wine jug and two cups on the low table between them stood empty. However, the time had passed reasonably quickly as Corbulo brought him up to date with the machinations of the various factions in Rome, slanted, of course, from his own conservative, aristocratic perspective.
‘I find the presence of that oily little New Man, Poppaeus Sabinus, back in Rome an affront to my honour,’ Corbulo was saying. ‘It was bad enough that Antonia wouldn’t let me implicate him in Sejanus’ plot and thereby have my revenge on him for trying to get me killed in Thracia…’
