you obviously are now unable to keep that promise I shall forgo completing the set and return them to you.’ He handed the daggers to Macro, who smiled with genuine amusement.
‘It seems that my need is greater than yours; I appreciate the consideration, Vespasian, most thoughtful.’ All trace of humour suddenly left his face and his eyes bored into Vespasian’s. ‘Let me tell you why you never received the third; it was for one reason alone: Caligula. He knew that I wanted you dead but, as a part of the deal in which I ensured that he became emperor and in return I became prefect of Egypt, I had to swear to keep you alive just because he likes you.’
‘Why?’
‘I asked him that and he told me that it goes back to the night that you rescued Caenis from Livilla. The two guards in the tunnel had been killed out of his view; but then, to get the key to release her, you had her start screaming to attract the attention of the guard on the stairs. As he came through the door you stabbed him in the throat; you were the first person whom Caligula ever saw kill a man outside of the arena and he’s always respected you for that.’
Vespasian digested this for a few moments, playing the scene back in his mind. ‘I was; but why is that so important to him?’
‘Because nothing happened to you for doing so and he realised that one could kill with impunity; it was a joyful moment for him.’
Vespasian’s eyes widened in horror, thinking of the blood that Caligula had caused to be spilled since. ‘I started him on his path?’
Macro shook his head, slowly smiling without his eyes. ‘He would have found it with or without you; it just means that you are the lucky one who will never suffer at his hands. I swore to him that I would forgo my vengeance and I kept that oath. Now he rewards me by throwing it back in my face and sending you, of all people, to order my death; I suppose that’s his idea of a joke.’
‘Perhaps it is, or perhaps I’m just here because this was my idea. I knew what you were planning to do in Egypt, the Lady Antonia had worked it out, and I assumed that even though she removed Poppaeus you would have found some other source of finance to help you become emperor of the East.’
‘Poppaeus died naturally, everybody knows that.’
‘No, Macro, he was murdered; I should know, I helped to do it.’
Macro looked at Vespasian appraisingly. ‘You are more dangerous than I thought; perhaps I should have broken my oath and had you killed. But you’re right, I did find another source of money but it’s of no use now that my life is over.’
‘If you want some privacy I suggest that you go to the master’s cabin,’ Vespasian said, bringing the conversation to a close.
‘For that, at least, I thank you.’ Macro handed one of the daggers to Ennia. ‘Come, my dear, I have eternity to beg for your forgiveness.’
‘There’s nothing to forgive, Quintus,’ Ennia replied, taking Macro’s arm as they walked up the gangplank to their deaths.
Vespasian watched them go and then, after brushing off the master’s vehement complaints that he had been deprived of two fare-paying passengers, he turned to Macro’s escort of equites. ‘Once they have carried out the Emperor’s command take them for burial, but do it here immediately, not in Rome.’
‘We had better check that they have indeed gone through with it,’ Clemens said quietly as the equites nodded their sombre agreement.
‘I suppose so,’ Vespasian replied, feeling a strange lack of desire to see Macro’s corpse. The way that Macro and Ennia had accepted their fate with a dignity worthy of any Roman had impressed him and, despite the fact that Macro would have revelled in Vespasian’s death, he felt reluctant to intrude on that of his old enemy.
They made their way to the master’s cabin at the stern of the ship and looked down through the hatchway. Below in the dim light Macro and Ennia lay slumped together on the floor, each with their left arm around the other and with their right hands still clutching the daggers that they had forced into each other’s hearts.
‘That was one of the few sensible decisions that Caligula has made,’ Clemens observed, staring at the couple entwined in death.
‘Yes,’ Vespasian agreed, turning to go. ‘We’d better be getting back to Rome to see what madness he has planned next.’
The madness, as it turned out, had a very practical function to Caligula’s way of thinking. Feeling the need to commune on a daily basis with his brother Jupiter but not wishing always to be soiling himself by mixing with mere mortals, he decided to commission a huge wooden viaduct, five hundred paces long, which would connect his palace on the Palatine with the Temple of Jupiter on the Capitoline. This, he reasoned, would enable him to travel as a god should: high above the heads of the masses that he had come down to earth to rule.
The people watched in wonder over the following months as the monstrosity snaked its way between the two hills, scarring its skyline and disrupting trade and business as the resources of Rome were poured into the divine Emperor’s latest whim. Oblivious to the inconvenience that he was causing, Caligula carried on his programme of compulsory fun for everyone. Every day there was either racing or gladiatorial shows, wild-beast hunts, plays or, of course, exhibitions of Drusilla, which were becoming more extravagant, not only in the amount of participants but also in their duration, inventiveness and abuse.
For his part, Vespasian had managed to keep a low profile since Macro’s death. Holding no magistracy now in the city, he was able to remain uninvolved with the organisation of Caligula’s extravaganzas other than attending them and feigning pleasure as he watched the treasury’s already depleted coffers being swiftly cleared. His life revolved around Caenis and meetings of the Senate, which would slavishly agree to all Caligula’s demands. He very rarely saw the Emperor in private and, apart from the occasional dinner at the palace, which he now dreaded as Caligula had taken to having criminals executed between courses for the amusement of his guests, he was able to live a quiet, unnoticed life.
On the morning of the viaduct’s completion the whole city turned out to watch Caligula progress, with divine dignity dressed as Jupiter and brandishing a thunderbolt, along its length.
Vespasian watched with Gaius and the rest of the senators from the Senate House steps as Caligula completed the journey and entered the most sacred temple in Rome to commune with his fellow god. After a short while he reappeared and announced to the vast crowd, via heralds, that Jupiter had conceded that he was now his equal.
‘Furthermore,’ the herald nearest the Senate House declaimed, reading Caligula’s words from a scroll, ‘I declare my sister, Drusilla, to be divine and I will show you proof of her divinity in the Forum Theatre.’
This announcement caused a near stampede as those in the mob closest to the theatre rushed to get the best seats.
‘If I have to watch him tupping Drusilla again I think I’ll go into voluntary exile,’ Vespasian commented under his breath to Gaius.
‘I think that we’re excused today,’ Gaius replied equally sotto voce. ‘Caligula has another demand that he wants us to pass as soon as possible. Now he’s finished his viaduct he’s come up with a new way to waste money, so we’ll have to forgo the pleasure of Drusilla’s howls of ecstasy.’
‘We’ll probably still hear them from inside,’ Vespasian observed, turning to enter the building.
‘I’m sure you’re right, dear boy,’ Gaius replied. ‘She has such stamina, hasn’t she?’
Vespasian’s fears were proved correct and the solemn opening prayers and taking of the auspices before the meeting could be declared open were conducted to the accompaniment of Drusilla’s voice, rising to a crescendo of pleasure, as the Senior Consul, Marcus Aquila Iulianus, declared the day auspicious for the Senate to sit.
‘The motion before the House today,’ he announced once they were all seated, ‘is to provide the finance for our divine Emperor to build two two-hundred-and-thirty-foot-long pleasure ships on Lake Nemorensis for him and his divine sister to relax in and to enable them to converse more easily with nymphs of the lake.’
This was greeted with sage nodding of heads and murmurs of agreement as if it were perfectly reasonable to want to have closer contact with water nymphs. As the debate proceeded with Drusilla’s baying voice, punctuated by roars from the spectators, floating in from the theatre outside, Vespasian speculated that if just one of their number broke ranks and failed to keep a straight face, then the whole Senate would collapse to the floor in paroxysms of uncontrollable laughter. The image obliged Vespasian to suppress a snigger behind his hand and, as the Senior Consul listed the Emperor’s requirements for the vessels — hot and cold running water, a suite of baths,
