‘That’ll kill them like it did Drusilla.’
‘More than likely, but then he’s going to kill us all so what difference does it make? It’s got to the stage now that I just don’t care; I stay loyal to him to protect my family for as long as I can.’ Clemens looked at Vespasian with tired eyes. ‘I don’t know how much longer I can stomach it. I’ll see you at dinner.’ Handing the trident to Vespasian, Clemens walked back over to the queue to continue his distasteful task of supervising the mass rape of two of Germanicus’ children.
Vespasian looked at the trident and then at the blood stains on his toga as the urban poor continued to shuffle past. He threw the trident back into the impluvium in disgust and, contemplating the options open to him and his family, turned and made his way, with a heavy heart, towards his uncle’s house.
‘Don’t even think about it, dear boy,’ Gaius warned Vespasian, helping himself to another honey and almond cake, ‘it would be suicide.’
‘Not if we succeed, Uncle,’ Vespasian argued.
A cooling breeze blew through Gaius’ shaded courtyard garden providing some relief from the mid-afternoon heat. The fish pond heaved with lampreys enjoying their daytime feed.
‘Even if you could kill Caligula and manage to avoid being cut down by his extremely loyal German Bodyguards, you would be dead within two days.’
Vespasian threw another fish fillet into the pond. ‘Why?’
‘The next Emperor would see to it, of course. Granted, he would be very grateful to you for leaving the position vacant for him to fill but then he’d have to have you executed because it wouldn’t do for people to see that someone outside the imperial family can assassinate an emperor, however depraved, and live. It would be an invitation for anyone with a grievance to murder him, surely you can see that? And don’t go giving me any naive nonsense about restoring the Republic — the Praetorian Guard would never stand for that; the Emperor is their reason to exist.’
‘But something must be done, Uncle, before it’s too late.’
‘It’s already too late. There are too many people with vested interests in Caligula staying emperor. Only when he completely runs out of money and can’t pay them any more will they begin to look elsewhere; but I doubt that’ll ever happen because when his treasury is empty he’ll just start taking money from the rich.’
‘So what do you recommend?’
‘Two things: firstly, do not deposit that gold that you’ve brought back with you in a bank, because Caligula will hear of it. Keep it hidden here so that when he does start culling the wealthy you won’t be a target. Secondly, humour him, praise him, support him, worship him, laugh at his jokes, do whatever it takes to stay alive and wait for someone else to be foolish enough to try and kill an emperor.’
‘But what if everyone reasons the same way as you? He could remain emperor for years.’
‘Caligula’s bound to offend someone in such a way that their sense of honour will overrule their judgement, and then we just have to pray that they’re successful.’
‘Yes,’ Vespasian agreed gloomily, flicking another fillet into the pond and watching the feeding frenzy. ‘Just imagine what Caligula’s retribution would be like on the guilty and innocent alike if a plot against him failed.’
‘All the more reason to stay in his favour, dear boy. Take Livius Geminius, for example: he swore an oath that at Drusilla’s funeral he saw her spirit ascending into the heavens to commune with the gods. Complete rubbish, of course, but he was handsomely rewarded for it.’
The tinkling of the door bell floating through from the atrium interrupted them.
‘Ah, that’ll be Magnus and Ziri,’ Vespasian said, getting up. ‘They’ve, er…they’ve brought Flavia with them.’
Gaius looked at him quizzically. ‘Flavia? Is she some relation of yours, a cousin or something?’
‘She must be distantly related; but anyway, I intend to marry her.’
Gaius looked suitably pleased. ‘It’s about time you took that step, dear boy.’
‘Exactly; and with my father’s business keeping him away in Aventicum I need you to negotiate the marriage terms.’
‘I’d be delighted. What’s her father’s name and where does he live?’
‘North of Rome in Ferentium. Flavia’s travelling there tomorrow so she could take your letter to him; apparently you know him, his name is Marcus Flavius Liberalis.’
Gaius frowned. ‘I do know him, he was one of the clerks when I was a quaestor in Africa; he was having trouble proving he was a full citizen and not just the possessor of Latin Rights.’
Vespasian shrugged. ‘He’s certainly a full citizen now; he’s done well enough for himself to have been enrolled into the equestrian order recently.’
‘But what about Flavia? She was born before he sorted out his legal status — I remember her as a child.’
‘She claims full citizenship; I wouldn’t be marrying her otherwise.’
‘It would be as well to check, dear boy, you don’t want your offspring to have legal problems.’
‘Vespasian, my dear,’ Flavia said, walking with breathtaking elegance into the garden as if she owned it, ‘this must be your uncle. Won’t you please reintroduce us?’
‘There’s no need, Flavia,’ Gaius said, gently squeezing the fingers of her proffered right hand, ‘even though it was twenty years ago I remember you perfectly as a little girl of six or so. Did you stay in Africa long?’
‘My father left five years ago, but I stayed on; I was attached, shall we say.’
‘Indeed. Your father was having some trouble with his citizenship status while I was there, as I recall.’
Flavia looked blank. ‘If he was, he never told me about it.’
‘No, why should he have? You were only a child; besides it must be all right now, Vespasian tells me that he’s become an equestrian.’
‘Yes, and I hope that he will settle a large dowry on me so that Vespasian and I can enjoy the finer things in life.’
‘I’m sure he will and I’m equally sure that Vespasian will enjoy spending it on luxurious frivolities.’ Gaius raised a surreptitious, plucked eyebrow at his nephew.
Vespasian thought it best not to express his opinion on the subject and contemplated the fertile ground for many a marital disagreement in the future.
Flavia indicated that the men should be seated. ‘Shall we sit down and call for some wine?’
‘By all means,’ Gaius agreed, visibly surprised by Flavia’s virtual assumption of the role of hostess in his domain.
Vespasian helped Flavia to a chair. ‘I’m afraid that I must leave you, I have to dine with the Emperor.’
Flavia’s eyes widened with delight. ‘How exciting; should I come, do you think?’
‘It would be best to stay here, Flavia,’ Gaius assured her, ‘the Emperor’s liable to take fearful liberties with his female guests. You won’t have that problem with me, I can promise you that.’
Vespasian leant down and kissed her on the cheek. ‘I don’t know when I’ll be back so don’t wait up for me. Where’s Magnus?’
‘Oh, I left him and Ziri to help my maids put my bags into my room.’
‘And he didn’t object?’
‘Why should he? I asked him so nicely.’
Vespasian raised his eyebrows and turned to go to find Magnus, wondering whether his friend had been right about Flavia.
‘All I’m saying, sir,’ Magnus concluded as they reached the summit of the Palatine, ‘is that just because Flavia’s come back with you to Rome that’s not a reason for you to have to go through with the marriage. You’d be mad to — she’ll make your life a misery. Granted she showed good spirit in Alexandria, and yes, she would have formidable sons, but you should have seen her at the port once you’d gone; just because you’d been summoned by the Emperor she started ordering everyone around and shouting at people who weren’t even slaves. She’s using you, which is fair enough, but what are you going to get in return, eh? You can’t even bear the thought of buying and feeding just one slave; how are you going to feel when she demands that you purchase a whole household? You’re going to find yourself having blazing rows about how many hairdressers she has because a woman like that is going to want more than two, as sure as a new recruit wants to go home to his mother.’
‘Two?’
‘More than two.’
