cheered.
‘That’s enough,’ Caligula shouted; he turned to Vespasian as the noise died down and looked suddenly surprised. ‘What are you still doing here? Go on, get on with it.’
‘Yes, Princeps.’
‘What about an afternoon’s racing, Caesar?’ a voice from the crowd called out as Vespasian and Clemens turned to leave.
‘What an excellent idea,’ Caligula replied enthusiastically. ‘I shall summon the racing factions to the circus immediately, the racing will start in two hours and we shall see my new horse, Incitatus, race for the first time, so make sure that you bet on the Greens in the first race.’
Vespasian looked at Clemens as they tried to battle their way through the horde of people surging across the Forum to get the best seats in the Circus Maximus. ‘Now he’s going to spend even more money on a day’s racing because of a whim. After what we’ve seen today, Clemens, how’s your loyalty?’
‘Under strain,’ Clemens admitted.
Gulls quarrelled with each other as they soared overhead on a warm breeze blowing in from the gently swelling sea; it thrummed stays and sheets and caused the timbers of the large assortment of bobbing trading ships, straining on their moorings at busy stone quays and wooden jetties, to groan and creak.
Vespasian and Clemens sat on a couple of barrels eating a meal of dried fruit and meat in the shade of a flapping awning. Neither spoke, both being busy with their own thoughts. A few paces away a tubby merchant inspected his newly arrived cargo of Egyptian enamelled-glass bowls and drinking vessels that had been recently offloaded from the large trader due to sail back to Egypt, with Macro aboard, later that day. Evidently unhappy about the state of some of his shipment, the merchant began a tirade of abuse at the ship’s master that was met with a great deal of shrugging and waving of hands until the port aedile arrived to adjudicate. Just behind the arguing group the business of reprovisioning the vessel and loading the freight destined for Egypt carried on apace; a quick turnaround being vital to maximise the profits from the voyage. In the low-margin business of merchant shipping, time, as ever, was money and a prolonged stay in Ostia with its high port tax would not be something that the ship’s owner would thank the master for upon his return to Alexandria.
‘I’m amazed that anything made of glass can survive a voyage from Egypt, no matter how much straw it’s packed in,’ Clemens observed, breaking the long silence. Taking a generous swig at a goatskin of well-watered wine, he passed it to Vespasian.
‘It does look to be very delicate,’ Vespasian agreed, looking at the chipped ewer with a colourful depiction of Dionysus enamelled on its side that the merchant was showing the aedile as evidence of his case.
The arrival of the decurion of the Praetorian cavalry turma that had accompanied them to Ostia put an end to their idle chatter and their meal.
‘Macro’s carriage has just entered the town gates, prefect,’ the young man reported with a salute.
‘Thank you, decurion,’ Clemens replied, getting to his feet. ‘Have your men seal off this quay once it gets here.’
With another salute the decurion turned on his heels and made his way back to his turma, which was stationed out of sight behind the warehouses at the end of the quay.
Vespasian stood and adjusted his toga; the contents of the bag that he had retrieved from his room clinked in its fold as he withdrew Caligula’s warrant. ‘I hope Caligula isn’t playing a nasty joke on us and this contains orders for Macro to execute the bearers,’ he said with a grin.
Clemens scowled. ‘That’s not funny.’
‘No, sorry,’ Vespasian apologised, realising that it was exactly the sort of thing that Caligula would find hilarious.
Macro’s carriage rumbled into view at the far end of the quay preceded not by lictors, as he was only of equestrian rank, but by ten fellow members of his order in recognition that one of the most powerful posts in the Empire was open only to them and not to the Senate. The equites cleared the way along the crowded quay forcing a few of the unfortunate dock slaves — some laden with goods — to overbalance into the fetid water. Cries of indignation from the owners of the lost merchandise were met with uncaring looks as the cortege cleaved its way to the waiting trader. Behind them the Praetorian turma appeared and sealed off their retreat.
Clemens smiled coldly and stepped forward as the carriage door opened and the bull-like frame of Quintus Naevius Cordus Sutorius Macro appeared followed by the voluptuous figure of his wife, Ennia.
‘Clemens, how good of you to come and see me off,’ Macro said upon seeing his successor. ‘If, for any reason, you ever feel that you need a change of, how should I put it, commitment, then men like you would be welcomed by me in the East.’ He proffered his forearm; Clemens did not take it.
‘Going to the East wouldn’t change my commitment to Rome; how could it?’
‘Things change, Clemens, all things change,’ Macro replied, still holding out his arm and staring meaningfully into Clemens’ eyes.
‘Indeed they do, prefect,’ Vespasian agreed, appearing from behind the aedile’s group who had now stopped their argument to listen to the conversation.
‘You! What are you doing here?’ Macro drawled.
Vespasian held out the warrant. ‘I’ve come to give you an order from your Emperor and also to present you with a gift.’
Macro stared at it; uncertainty clouded his face; his eyes flicked up to Vespasian’s. ‘Why does the Emperor feel it necessary to give me new orders?’
‘You’ll have to read it for yourself, Macro.’
Macro took the scroll and, breaking the imperial seal, unrolled it; after a few moments his face paled. ‘I see,’ he said without looking up. ‘And what if I refuse this order?’
‘Then I will have a turma of my cavalry escort you back to Rome so that you can explain to the Emperor in person why you decided to disobey him,’ Clemens said, pointing towards the waiting troopers.
Macro turned and saw that his escape was blocked. He gave a wry smile. ‘It would seem that you have the better of me. I won’t give you the pleasure of watching me humiliate myself by jumping into the water and swimming away; I will do as the Emperor commands.’ He turned to his wife who waited a respectful distance away by the carriage. ‘Ennia, your ex-lover has ordered us to take our lives.’
‘That comes as no surprise to me, husband,’ she said, walking forward to join Macro. ‘I knew when he went back on his oath to me that he would also renege on his promise to you; you were never destined to see Egypt.’
Vespasian got his first close look at the woman whom Caligula had sworn to make his empress; she was indeed beautiful. Greek by birth, the daughter of Tiberius’ astrologer, Thrasyllus, she had the fair skin and clear blue eyes of the more ancient part of her race; her blonde hair, partly covered by a saffron palla, was arranged Roman style: piled high on her head in intricate weaves and secured with jewelled pins. There was no distress on her face, just a world-weary resignation as she took her husband’s hand.
‘I have failed you, Quintus,’ she said, ‘I could not keep him ensnared in my bed for long enough, forgive me.’
‘There is nothing to forgive, Ennia; you did all that a loyal wife could.’
‘And you would have rewarded that loyalty with a betrayal.’
Macro looked shocked. ‘You knew?’
‘Of course I knew. You could never have achieved your ultimate ambition with me still alive; that was obvious.’
‘Then why…?’
‘Because I love you, Quintus, and I wanted to help. What crime has he charged us with?’
‘You, with adultery with him; me, with pandering you to him.’
Ennia snorted. ‘Is that all he could be bothered to come up with after everything that you’ve planned, adultery with him? What irony.’
Macro turned back to Vespasian. ‘You said that you also have a gift for me, senator, but I’m struggling to see what would be of use with my life now over.’
Vespasian brought out a leather bag from the fold of his toga, opened it and pulled out two daggers. ‘These are both yours, Macro. This one you left in my leg on the Aemilian Bridge twelve years ago and the other one you dropped in the Lady Antonia’s house; you told me to keep it and promised to give me a third to make up the set. As
