False God of Rome (21 page)

‘Thank you, Magnus,’ Antonia said, looking at him with a glint in her eye that Vespasian knew was more than just an appreciation of his knowledge.

‘There is another way,’ Magnus offered, warming to the theme, ‘but that involves sticking a funnel up his—’

‘That will do, Magnus; I think we have a workable solution. That’ll be all – for now.’

‘Yes, domina,’ Magnus mumbled, leaving the room. Vespasian guessed that he would be unable to take advantage of the frenzied female slaves celebrating the Caprotinia that
evening.

‘Now, gentlemen,’ Antonia said as the door closed, ‘Poppaeus is dead, so how and where do we have this unfortunate occurrence discovered?’

‘If I may, domina?’ Pallas offered.

‘I was hoping you would, Pallas,’ Antonia said with a smile.

‘Poppaeus generally walks with a stick and considers it beneath his dignitas to go anywhere in Rome unless he is carried in a litter, in which he will undoubtedly arrive at Claudius’
house. We will need to get the body back in there and have the litter-bearers take him to the Forum where, I would suggest, the Senior Consul could waylay him and, pulling back the curtains,
discover to his consternation that the good man has sadly passed away.’

Asiaticus laughed. ‘A more public discovery would be hard to engineer. That’s very good and I will be only too happy to play my part.’

‘But how do we get the body back in the litter so it seems to the bearers that their master is alive and it’s him that gives them the order to go to the Forum?’ Vespasian
asked.

‘We will create the illusion that he is still alive.’

‘But how?’

‘Leave that to me, Vespasian; it won’t be as hard as you might think,’ Pallas assured him. ‘But I will need you to leave the chest here.’

‘Well, gentlemen, I think our business is concluded,’ Antonia said with an air of finality. ‘I thank you for your time. Consul, would you mind a private word?’

‘Of course, domina.’

‘Thank you. Vespasian and Corbulo, tomorrow morning Pallas and I will visit my drooling son and his odious freedman to make the arrangements and to inform them of the consequences of not
complying with my wishes; you will join us there at the second hour.’

‘With pleasure, domina,’ Vespasian replied, less than truthfully.

Leaving the room, followed by Corbulo, and stepping out into the walkway surrounding the torch-lit peristylium, Vespasian was disappointed that he had not even seen Caenis, who
was almost always at her mistress’s side. Contemplating this as they walked in silence around the colonnade, he had the sudden unpleasant realisation that, as Antonia’s secretary,
Caenis would have made a copy of Corvinus’ letter. She knew about Flavia before he had had a chance to explain it to her.

‘What did I tell you, sir?’ Magnus said, appearing out of the shadows. ‘She did have something fucking nasty planned for us: cold-blooded murder by the sounds of it.
Who’s the target – Poppaeus?’

‘Yes,’ Vespasian replied, more tersely than he had meant to.

‘Well, that makes it more palatable, I suppose, the revolting little shit.’

‘But you were wrong; she hadn’t already planned it. In fact, she was at a loss as to what to do. It was me who suggested murdering him.’

Magnus laughed. ‘Of course you did, sir, but only after she’d dismissed all other options as being unworkable or taking too long, I’ll warrant.’

‘It was the only possible course of action, man,’ Corbulo snapped. ‘I volunteered to do it and Vespasian said he’d help; she didn’t ask us to.’

‘Of course she didn’t, because it was the only possible course of action that she couldn’t suggest.’

‘What makes you think that?’ Vespasian asked.

‘Well, it stands to reason, don’t it?’ Magnus said, exasperated. ‘Antonia has never been at a loss as to what to do about a situation in her life; the trouble was that
she couldn’t just say in front of the Senior Consul: “I want Poppaeus murdered in a way that it looks like death from natural causes; and by the way, Vespasian and Corbulo, would you
set your honour aside and act like an eastern king’s eunuch chamberlain or some vengeful woman?” You would have both rightly refused and she couldn’t have blamed you for doing
so.’

Vespasian and Corbulo looked at each other and realised that this was probably not far from the truth.

Vespasian groaned. ‘But the fact that we suggested the idea made it possible for us to offer to do it and Antonia got what she wanted without being seen to ask two senators to murder
another.’

‘She does play well,’ Magnus observed cheerily.

‘You should know. Off you go and play with her and give her some bruises from me.’

‘She likes that, it’s what she wants; the rougher the better.’

‘Well, they don’t come much rougher than you. I’ll see you tomorrow, we’ve got a visit to make; come over to Gaius’ house at dawn.’

‘Yes, I suppose I’ll be finished here by then. Missing the fucking Caprotinia, though. Goodnight, sir. Ziri’s staying with me but the lads will see you back.’

‘How do you tolerate him, Vespasian?’ Corbulo asked as Magnus went back to await Antonia’s pleasure.

‘The same way that I tolerate you, Corbulo: I like him.’

Outside the night air was cool, clear and still. A three-quarter moon hung low over the city; its watery light reflected off the marble walls and columns of the larger temples
and public buildings, picking them out from the darker brickwork and terracotta roofs of the older or more humble constructions. Here and there columns of smoke from bakeries or forges rose
vertically towards the heavens, paling and thinning as they gradually diffused into the atmosphere. The peaceful sight contrasted sharply with the noise of the relentless drunken hubbub, rising
from the Subura, of the urban poor enjoying the last hours of the slave women’s festival. The grating of iron-shod wheels and the sharp clatter of the horses’ hoofs of the trade wagons,
making their nightly deliveries to the city’s factories and shops, added to their din.

With Marius and Sextus leading, Vespasian and Corbulo walked quickly down from the Palatine, saying little to one another and never meeting the other’s eye. If there was ever a case of the
ends justifying the means this was it, Vespasian mused, as Corbulo said a sombre goodnight at the foot of the Caelian and quickly headed up the hill, refusing the offer of company.

As they skirted the western end of the Subura the chaos of the festivities became increasingly apparent. Drunken gangs singing bawdy songs at the tops of their voices roamed the streets,
fighting and whoring. The comatose bodies of the more excessive drinkers lay in pools of their own vomit and urine where they had fallen and public copulation and other lesser sexual acts were rife
in every doorway and up each alley.

‘The city’s really enjoying itself tonight,’ Marius commented regretfully as they passed a slave girl being attended to at either end by two rough-looking freedmen swigging
from wineskins as they took their pleasure.

‘Yeah, but we deserve it,’ Sextus replied, ‘what with all the new hardships and such at the moment.’

‘What new hardships?’ Vespasian asked.

‘Well, the grain shortage of course, sir, don’t you know?’

‘Yeah,’ Marius confirmed. ‘The grain dole was cut in half a month ago and a lot of people are finding it hard to get by.’

‘But that’s only because the first grain fleet went down. As soon as the next one comes in things will get back to normal,’ Vespasian reassured them.

‘I wouldn’t be so sure, sir,’ Marius replied, as they started to climb up the Quirinal. ‘The shortages started long before we heard about the grain fleet. My cousin works
down at the granaries and he’s never seen them so low. He said that it started getting bad at the end of last summer, when there seemed to be a little less grain arriving with each fleet.
They’ve been keeping it secret, but he’s heard talk about speculators.’

Sextus spat on the ground. ‘It’s always the fucking same, isn’t it? The poor suffer while a few rich bastards make more money out of their misery. Fucking senators, begging
your pardon that is, sir.’

‘It’s hardly likely to be senators,’ Vespasian said, thinking uneasily about what Corbulo had told him about Pomponius. ‘By law they can’t involve themselves with
trade.’

‘Yeah, but that doesn’t stop them,’ Marius pointed out.

‘I’m sure you’re right in some cases, Marius.’

‘I know I am. My cousin told me that one of the two surviving ships from the grain fleet had its cargo unloaded into a private warehouse and the grain aedile can’t find out where it
is or who it belongs to so that it can be impounded.’

‘My brother’s the grain aedile; I’ll ask him why he can’t find it.’

‘Because it’s well hidden, that’s why; only a senator would want to keep that a secret.’

‘But a senator would be foolish to involve himself in grain speculation; the Emperor would have his head and property if he so much as suspected it.’

‘The Emperor? What’s he to us? He hasn’t been seen in Rome for nearly ten years. Stuck out there on his island he might just as well have been thrown into the Tiber; and
it’s not just me who says that.’

‘I’d be careful who you repeat that to; that’s treason.’

‘Well, I don’t know about that, sir, but what is for sure is there ain’t enough grain to last the city another month and nobody’s meant to know about it and, while the
Emperor’s doing fuck all about the situation, someone is trying to make a huge profit from it.’

They had arrived at Gaius’ house and Vespasian dismissed the two crossroads brothers with a denarius apiece for their trouble. The attractive new, dark-skinned door-youth let him in with a
sleepy countenance and then snuggled back down into his bedding-roll in the vestibule.

Vespasian walked through the silent house, contemplating his first day back in Rome; it had not gone as he had wished. He had not seen Caenis and had a good suspicion that he knew why. And, just
as worrying for him, he was now involved again with Antonia’s schemes and was once more being drawn into a world where political necessity was the sole arbiter of men’s actions. But
what heightened his sense of unease, as he entered his room and slipped off his toga and tunic, was the issue of the grain shortage. He had seen the same thing happen while he had been in
Cyrenaica, but he now knew that was due to Herod Agrippa buying the grain destined for that province for his own ends. Now it seemed that the same thing had been happening here in Rome.

He got into bed and stared at the whitewashed ceiling of his small room. Perhaps it was just down to no more than the sinking of the grain fleet or a few men’s selfishness; but one thing
that he did know for sure was that if someone wanted to destabilise the regime in Rome for their own ends, the way to do it was through the bellies of the poor.

V
ESPASIAN ROSE JUST
before dawn the following morning. Walking through to the atrium he was surprised to find his brother
Sabinus sitting with Gaius, by a small fire in the hearth, sharing a breakfast of bread, olives, garlic and well-watered wine, waited on by Aenor.

‘So the young quaestor returns from his province,’ Sabinus drawled, ‘and manages to bring with him a chest full of trouble.’

‘Piss off, Sabinus,’ Vespasian snapped, handing his folded toga to Aenor and sitting while his uncle filled a cup for him.

‘And it’s lovely to see you again too, brother. Did you enjoy the camels?’

‘I’ve just been explaining to Sabinus the predicament that you find yourself in,’ Gaius said quickly and unnecessarily, but in an attempt to head off an argument. The siblings
had never got on; although in recent years Sabinus had started to show more respect for his younger brother, he nevertheless still enjoyed goading him, especially after a long period of absence.
‘Come and have some breakfast and tell us what Antonia said.’

‘Murder?’ Gaius exclaimed, having heard Vespasian’s detailed account of his meeting with Antonia. ‘That is not a pretty word.’

‘It’s a woman’s weapon, I know, Uncle,’ Vespasian said shamefacedly, ‘but we could see no other way.’

‘I think that you were right to suggest it,’ Sabinus said, surprising Vespasian, ‘it’s the quickest and cleanest way to solve the problem, however effeminate.’

Vespasian ignored the jibe. ‘And Corbulo and I get our revenge on Poppaeus.’

‘Which is also satisfying,’ Sabinus agreed, ‘because it means that we keep a promise that I made on both our behalves to Pomponius Labeo.’

‘What promise?’

‘He sent for me on the day he opened his veins knowing that we owed him a large debt for sheltering our parents from Sejanus on his estate in Aventicum. To repay it, he made me promise
that we would take vengeance on Poppaeus.’

‘Well, I’m glad that I can be of service,’ Vespasian said with more than a hint of sarcasm.

‘Oh, you are. In fact, you’ve provided two services – you’ve just shown me how I can get even with Herod.’

‘What have you got against him?’

‘He humiliated me publicly in Judaea in an intolerable manner. I can’t let it pass. Now, I’m the aedile supervising the grain distribution in the city this year and I can tell
you in confidence that the price is rising because we’re down to the emergency level at the granaries.’

‘Yes, I heard.’

‘What?’ Sabinus was shocked. ‘That’s meant to be a secret.’

‘It is: only you, me, Magnus’ crossroads brothers and their friends and relations know about it.’

‘Very funny,’ Sabinus snorted.

‘What about the grain from the second ship, why can’t you find that to distribute?’

‘How did you know about that?’

‘It’s another well-kept secret.’

‘And what other confidences have the brethren been sharing with you? That I’ve been bribed not to find it, I suppose.’

‘I should hope not, dear boy, that would be a capital offence,’ Gaius exclaimed, taking a calming slug of wine.

‘I’m not that stupid, Uncle. Anyway, the first African grain fleet is due any day and then things should start slowly getting back to normal. However, due to the shortages the price
we have to pay is almost a fifth up on last year and is still rising and won’t stabilise for a while yet. So anyone caught hoarding grain like our friend Herod is doing will suffer harsh
consequences. I’m going to write anonymously to the Alabarch and tell him how Herod has used the money he lent him in illegal grain speculation. I’ll advise him to inform the prefect,
Flaccus, before I do, implicating him in the deal as well. Flaccus is completely loyal to Tiberius so is bound to investigate the allegations. He’ll find the stockpiled grain, report it and
who owns it to Tiberius, and down goes Herod.’