Blood Games (49 page)

"Certainly,” Vespasianus admitted easily. “Most have not been from patricians, though. The freedman Chylos has objected most strenuously, and since he has a vested interest in his fighters, I have asked the Praetorians to take time to investigate his gladiators. He was one himself, once, and fought his way to freedom. I have decided to make him a citizen of Rome, and that will make the investigation go more easily, I imagine. Titus suggested it."

"Have you had others protest?” It would be helpful to know who was dissatisfied, for once in their confidence, Justus could turn the knowledge gained to good use.

"Foreigners, mainly, and there is some difficulty there. If the slaves are owned by foreigners, the law is less clear. I have asked the Senate to give the matter their consideration. There are more than fifteen slaves owned by the Greek Hector of Epirus. That Daci, Franciscus, owns four of the slaves who were arrested. Shabiran of Cyrene owns ten or so of the slaves. In those cases, we must do things carefully. It would be a bad thing to free the slaves, but under the law, there must be demonstration that the slaves were acting either on their masters’ authority, in which case..."

"In which case,” Justus said with an ingratiating nod, “the masters may also be condemned and the matter is easily solved. If the masters are not shown to be acting against Rome, then you must prove that the slaves were acting under the orders of others, and that might be difficult.” He smiled sagely. “An awkward situation, Caesar, but I am certain that there is a way to deal with both the slaves and their masters. I can think of one way, but it would take time."

Vespasianus was immediately interested. He sat straighter and stared at Justus. “Go on."

"The masters you mention: none of them are part of a royal court, though it is true that Hector and the man Franciscus claim to have noble relations. That means that you need not deal with Emperors or other such men. All three men have dealings abroad with merchants. It is certain that some of those merchants also deal with men who are openly opposed to Rome. That could prove that the masters had association with enemies of Rome, and for that can be tried and condemned, and their slaves may be sent to the arena. It would take time to gather such information, but it is certain to exist."

"It's very astute,” Vespasianus said slowly. “I am no longer a persecutor of homeless foreigners, but the defender of Rome from insidious alien plots.” His face became closed, crafty, as he thought over the suggestion. “If we could produce such associates, it still might not be possible to prove that the foreigners themselves had dealings with the opponents of Rome."

"If the merchants and agents in question who were the link between the foreigners and the enemies of Rome were dead, there would be no way to prove that the connections did
not
exist.” This last was the gamble for Justus. If Vespasianus accepted this plan, he would have secured his position with the Emperor, for Vespasianus could never afford to turn away from him once he accepted this advice. Knowing that the Emperor had worked to condemn innocent men gave him a great deal of power. Justus sat back, hoping that none of his anxiety showed in his face.

"Dead,” the Emperor said quietly, his eyes fixed on some spot far beyond the grape arbor. “It would be dangerous."

"Is the other way less dangerous, Caesar?” His fear that Vespasianus would reject the idea lent fear to his voice, and this the Emperor chose to interpret as concern for himself.

"You're probably right, Justus. How long do you think it would take to get the information?” His attention was sharply on Justus now. “It would have to be done carefully."

"In six to eight months you should learn enough to put your plan into effect.” Justus was pleased at the deft way he made it sound as if the idea were Vespasianus’ instead of his own. “If you ask your son, as prefect of the Praetorians, to take on a clandestine search, there would be few who knew of it, and once the proper documents had been filed, the men who had done the investigating might meet with unfortunate accidents. You would not be exposed by anyone then, Caesar."

"Except you?” Vespasianus suggested gently, one brow raising.

"Surely, Caesar...” Justus said, aghast, half-rising to his feet. “I see. You fear that I do this for my own benefit, and you wish to entrap me. Very well. I have given Rome most of my years. I do not refuse to give her my life.” He stood now, quite straight.

Again Vespasianus made his unpleasant chuckle. “Sit down, Justus. For the sake of Apollo's arrows. Sit down.” He waited until Justus had resumed his place on the bench, his back quite stiff, his face averted. “You need not make this display for me. I realize you have a desire for power. How could you be of the Silius House and not do so? There is nothing wrong in the desire for power, so long as it is not abused. Now, if you wished to wear the purple, there would be trouble between us, but I can see by all that you've done for me that this is not the case. If you will be content to be given distinction and to become part of my private council, then we may deal very well together. I would like to put your plan into effect, but I am sure you can see that if you don't accept my offer I must refuse what is really a most ingenious solution to this foreign-masters problem. You are a clever man, Justus, and you have survived in the Senate for many years. I need your advice and instruction and, it may surprise you to learn, I need your help.” He had put his elbows on his knees and leaned forward. “Think about it, Justus. You can be very near me, second only to my sons. I need a man like you. You will have a great deal of power. If you wish to enrich yourself, I don't object so long as you are not too obviously greedy about it."

"Caesar...” Justus began, alarmed that Vespasianus had deduced so much of his intent. “You are correct in assuming I want power. I have seen the power of Rome frittered away and rent in pieces for too long. I am a rich man already, and I don't want to seize lands and goods for myself, but if I am to advise you, then I do want some compensation."

"What would that be?” Vespasianus asked, plainly skeptical of this avowal.

"Earlier you asked me about my wife,” Justus said. “You know that she and I live apart. I have not sufficient proof yet, but I know that she has had many lovers and that her adulteries are common gossip among my slaves. When I have evidence enough to divorce her, would you consent to my marrying one of your nieces?"

"Need it be an heiress?” Vespasianus started to smile now. “If you are so eager to ally yourself with the Flavian House, would you be willing to accept a girl with little dowry?"

"I have said I am a rich man. The alliance is more important to me than money. If you care to investigate, you will find that I gave a settlement to my wife's family when we married. It turns out that I used my money unwisely,” he added in what he hoped was a hollow tone. He cleared his throat. “You have said that you intend the Flavian House to wear the purple for many generations. If that is the case, I want the Silian House to share in that glory. I have no children alive, as you know, but if you have a niece who is marriageable, and if she is fertile, then I will have as much interest in the Flavian House as you have."

"You mean that your children would stand in line to the throne?” Vespasianus studied Justus’ face and nodded once. “Very well. I will ask among my family. If there is a niece or cousin who will fit your requirements, I will inform you. I am willing to make her children provisional heirs after those of my sons, if that will please you?"

Justus was delighted, but he dared not show how well these concessions fitted with his plans. Vespasianus had two sons, and there were no legitimate heirs yet. If there were never to be, and if neither Titus nor Domitianus lived to reign, then it would be his children, the children of Cornelius Justus Silius, who would wear the purple. He kept his silence as if considering the matter carefully. “I want to accept. It would please me very much to accept. But before I can, there must be a way to deal with my wife. She may be more suited to the lupanar than to my house, but I have only her taunts and the whispers of my slaves to tell me that, and slaves can give no testimony. Let me search further to see if there is a way to settle the matter with Olivia, and then let me speak to you again."

Vespasianus rose. “Excellent. I see that we appreciate each other.” He clapped a hand to Justus’ shoulder. “I will await your word then, but I will make inquiries about a niece. That might spur you to deal more directly with your wife. If she demands a payment to leave you, why, take it, man, and be free of her."

Justus sighed heavily. “I have made that offer already, but she has refused. She says she will not give me the satisfaction of being rid of her."

The Emperor blotted a line of sweat from his forehead. “It might be worthwhile to approach her again, now that you know it would be profitable to be rid of her?” He let the suggestion hang between them on the grape-scented air.

"I'll make an attempt. It is a shame to disgrace her.” He knew that he must not appear to be too anxious to rid himself of his wife, even one that was a harlot, for there were certain matters that a Roman husband should tolerate. If he showed himself too eager to be rid of Olivia, he sensed that Vespasianus would not be willing to make concessions to him once he found a suitable bride.

"It is her disgrace, Justus, not yours.” He patted him once on the arm. “I'll expect you to come to the palace in three days and we can talk again.” He turned away and headed off down the mosaic path toward the west wing of the Golden House.

Justus looked after him, for the first time letting himself smile.

A LETTER TO THE EMPEROR TITUS FLAVIUS VESPASIANUS FROM HERCULES ENNIUS PEREGRINIAN, TRIBUNE OF THE MARS’ FAVORITES LEGION, STATIONED AT AMISUS IN PONTUS.

To the Emperor Vespasianus and the Senate in Rome, hail:

A difficult situation has arisen here, and one that may seem comical to you, but must still be regarded as the serious threat it actually is. There is a man here claiming to be the Emperor Nero. He says that the announcement of his death was a lie, that he did not kill himself but escaped from Rome before the traitors at his court could assassinate him. He claims that he went to Greece, where he had won so much honor and was remembered with love, and there he remained until the rise of Vespasianus, when he knew he would have to get farther away from the large Roman garrisons. So now he is here, anxious to gather his faithful subjects around him and return to Rome and displace those who have assumed the purple illegally.

You know how much the people loved Nero, and their love for him has grown, not diminished in the five years since his death. Where he was a hero before, he is now almost a god. The people here follow him eagerly, Romans and Amisians alike. There are those of our legion, though it shames me to say it, who follow this impostor and praise him, call “Ave!” to him as they did to Nero. Many of them never saw the Emperor, and few of them had any close association with him, but, as you know, at one time I did. That, good Emperor and Senators, is why I am out here at the back of the world in Pontus instead of making useful friends in Rome. I trust you will remember this when this matter is concluded. I, as I have said, knew the Emperor slightly, and I tell you that this man who claims to be Nero has something of the look of him. His hair is light brown instead of the blond of Nero's, but that's a minor matter. He is not as tall and he is not as skillful with the lyre as Nero was, and does not know all the songs and epics that Nero used to sing. His accent in Greek, furthermore, is that of Moesia, and not the cultured Athenian that Nero spoke. Yet for those who never knew him, the match is close enough.

Be warned, Vespasianus, this man is a real danger. He is intelligent and cunning. He wants to ascend the throne. He already wears the augustus clavus on his garments as if it were his right, and none have denied him the privilege. Think of that, as you decide what to do. You may think that an impostor is no concern to you, but that would be a grave mistake. If the legions in the east were to support this man's claim, it could go badly with the Flavian House. I remind you that the legions raised Galba, Otho and Vitellius, and it was the legions in Egypt who won for Vespasianus; the legions and wheat. It may seem impossible that this man is a menace, yet I tell you he is. Every day he gathers strength, and there is little we can do to lessen it without the assistance of Rome. Make an example of this man, or you will have more false Neros rising, reminding the people of the Emperor they loved, and whose death led to so much misery for Rome.

Send me your orders as quickly as possible. I realize that winter is nearly upon us, and there will be few ships coming here before spring, but it is necessary that we hear from you at the earliest moment. Each day's procrastination is one more day for him to gather men about him. The need is urgent, Vespasianus and Senators. The danger is real.

This by my own hand on the twenty-fourth day of October in the 823rd Year of the City, from the garrison of Mars’ Favorites in Amisus.

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THERE WAS scattered applause as Saint-Germain finished playing and stood back from the tall Egyptian harp. He nodded his acknowledgment to the gathering, right hand touched to his breast in the Egyptian manner. The harp, his manner, his jewelry and clothes, the songs he sang, everything about him was Egyptian tonight.

His host called for more wine to be poured, then called across the dining room to Saint-Germain, “Wonderful! I've never heard anything like it, not even in Egypt!"

"If you will pardon me, Titus,” Saint-Germain said wryly to the Emperor's older son, “there are many things Romans never hear in Egypt."

"So it would seem.” He drank deeply from his golden cup. “Do one more for us, please. We love to hear you.” This was not quite an imperial command, but from the look on Titus’ handsome face, he did not want to be refused.