making the document legal.
‘Follow me,’ Pallas said to Vespasian and Corbulo, leading them out into the atrium.
‘That’s our business concluded,’ Vespasian heard Poppaeus say, ‘I’ll bid you good day.’
‘There’s another matter that I would like to discuss with you, concerning the upcoming elections,’ Claudius replied with remarkable fluency. ‘It’ll take no longer than a cup of wine.’
There was a pause; Vespasian heard the sound of wine being poured and the jug set back down on the table.
‘Alone,’ Claudius insisted.
‘Very well, but be quick. Kosmas, take the chest and wait for me outside.’
‘A cup of wine in my study perhaps, my dear Kosmas?’ Narcissus purred.
Pallas, Vespasian and Corbulo stood waiting by the far end of the
‘It will be an honour to offer the proconsul our greetings as he leaves,’ Pallas replied as Narcissus led Kosmas away with barely a glance towards the waiting group.
Pallas moved forward as the footsteps retreated. Vespasian followed with Corbulo; his mouth was dry and his stomach knotted. From the far end of the atrium they heard the door to Narcissus’ study open and then shut.
‘Whatever happens, don’t let him cry out and don’t bruise him,’ Pallas whispered as they stepped into the garden.
Corbulo leapt forward and had one hand over Poppaeus’ mouth and the other under his arm before the old man was aware of a threat from behind him. Vespasian stooped down to grab his ankles and they lifted him from his chair, knocking the table; Pallas caught the wine jug just before it toppled off.
‘This way,’ Claudius said, rising quickly to his unsteady feet and leading them to a door at the rear of the garden.
They manhandled their struggling captive into the room; Pallas closed the door behind them. Magnus and Ziri stood in one corner by a full barrel of water; a rope on a pulley hung from a hook in the ceiling in front of a blazing fire that provided the only light in the room. The air was fuggy and the windows shuttered. They immediately began to sweat.
‘What is the meaning of this outrage, Claudius?’ Poppaeus demanded as he was dumped unceremoniously onto the floor.
‘This is what happens to people who try to make a fool out of me.’
‘Then you have a long list to deal with,’ Poppaeus spat contemptuously, rising to his feet and looking around. ‘Corbulo!’ he exclaimed as his weak eyes got used to the gloom; then his gaze rested on Vespasian. ‘And you, I know you; you’re Asinius’ protege who disappeared after that bloodbath in his tent. Vespasian, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, Poppaeus.’
‘This is about more than just buying land deeds off an idiot-’ A sharp slap cracked across his face.
‘Don’t mark him, master,’ Pallas shouted, grabbing Claudius’ wrist to prevent the reverse swipe.
‘I will not tolerate being called an idiot,’ Claudius fumed, struggling to release his hand.
Poppaeus wiped a drop of blood from his lip, ignoring Claudius’ outburst. ‘What can I offer you, gentlemen? Or is this personal and beyond money?’
‘It’s way beyond money, Poppaeus,’ Corbulo replied. ‘You tried to have us killed along with two cohorts of your recruits in the most dishonourable manner.’
Poppaeus smiled; a drip of sweat rolled down his reddened cheek. ‘So that has come back to haunt me, has it? I don’t suppose telling you that it wasn’t personal and that what we were doing was for the greater good would make any difference?’
‘How can that have been for the greater good?’ Vespasian exploded.
‘Because, young man, Rome must have strong, clear government. If you accept that we can never go back to the pure Republic without risking civil war every generation then we must have an emperor. But just look at what we have now; Rome needs to rid herself of this remote, mad Emperor and his ridiculous family. Who’s going to be emperor after Tiberius? Him?’ Poppaeus asked, not even bothering to look at Claudius.
‘You were supporting my claim at one time,’ Claudius insisted.
‘Only because you would have been the easiest heir to get rid of and replace with Sejanus.’
‘But now he’s dead you’re supporting Caligula so that Macro can use his wife to buy Egypt, take over the East and split the Empire in two; how is that strong, clear government?’ Vespasian demanded.
Poppaeus stared at him for a few moments. ‘I can only imagine that an intellect far greater than yours has seen through what we had planned. I detect Antonia behind this; if that is so then I am dead, no matter how much I try to convince you that I was right. So if I am to be murdered I shall act with dignity, if only to shame you; although I’m curious to know how you plan to get my body away from here when there are so many witnesses.’
‘Tell me first why splitting the Empire would be good for Rome.’
‘Do you really think that it would remain divided? Of course not. Whoever holds Egypt holds Rome. Caligula and Ennia would have been dead within months and Macro would have been emperor with my daughter, Poppaea Sabina, as his empress at the cost to him of merely a wife.’
‘And a new dynasty would have been founded,’ Claudius pointed out with a sneer.
Poppaeus shook his head. ‘No, that was the beauty of it. Had Sejanus succeeded then that would have become a problem, but with Macro it would have been different: he has no children and my daughter cannot have any more after the complications she had giving birth to the young Poppaea. There would be no male heir so Macro would have to choose the best man for the job and adopt him as his son, thereby creating a precedent that I hoped would last for the benefit of Rome. That’s why I agreed to help him although he was my enemy. Yes, I admit that I wanted the honour for my family to be able to boast an empress, but more than that I wanted to free ourselves from this hereditary Kingship in all but name; we rid ourselves of the Kings five hundred years ago and now we have them again and it doesn’t work. However, if Antonia is determined to keep her family in power despite its obvious unsuitability I want no part of it, so let’s get this over with.’ Poppaeus removed his toga and knelt on the floor. ‘Give me the sword and I’ll die like a Roman should.’
‘It’s not going to be done like that,’ Vespasian said quietly, feeling a huge sympathy for his old enemy’s views; if Rome was to be ruled in honour by an emperor, was it not best to select a suitable man rather than leave it to the vagaries of blood? He had expressed the same sentiments to Sabinus, Corbulo and Pallas in Tiberius’ unfinished bedroom on Capreae as they had waited for the crazed old Emperor to read Antonia’s letter damning Sejanus.
‘How is it to be done, then?’ Poppaeus asked, looking up.
‘We are to drown you, sir,’ Pallas informed him.
‘I see, I wondered what that barrel was for. You’re going to try and make it look like a natural death. Well, I suppose that suits Antonia’s purposes better. So be it.’ He got to his feet and walked over to the barrel. Magnus and Ziri moved away to give him room. ‘I would appreciate it if you’d allow me the courtesy to do this myself; I think we would all feel a lot better that way. If I need help towards the end use one hand lightly; you won’t need force, my strength is gone.’ He plunged his head under the water and held the sides of the barrel firmly; the muscles under the loose, pale flesh on his forearms tautened with the strain of keeping his head submerged. A sudden reflex as his lungs filled with water caused his body to convulse and his head sprang back. Choking and spluttering, Poppaeus forced it back under. Corbulo cast a regretful look at Vespasian and walked over to the barrel. Another spasm from the dying man brought his head back out of the water again, his eyes bulged and his mouth was drawn back in a bare-toothed, silent scream; water spewed from his convulsing lungs. With a monumental effort of will he plunged back under; Corbulo rested his right hand on his head. Poppaeus’ feet started to kick and his arms flailed but he remained submerged. His thrashing limbs gradually lost their force until, apart from the odd twitch as the nervous system shut down, they became still.
Poppaeus was dead.
There was silence in the room as they stared at the lifeless body slumped over the barrel. Corbulo withdrew his hand.
‘Fuck me, that took some guts,’ Magnus mumbled eventually, breaking the spell.
‘He was a dis-dis-gusting traitor who planned to usurp power from its rightful place,’ Claudius affirmed. ‘He
