False God of Rome (23 page)

‘Excellent, my friend; and I will have a rope and a barrel full of water ready. May the gods look kindly upon our venture.’

The doorman let them out into the street.

As the door closed behind them Pallas surprised them all. ‘Fuck!’

They had left Corbulo at the foot of the Caelian Hill to make his way home and were now ascending the Palatine. Hundreds of people were making a slow progress up the hill
singing paeans to Apollo while holding polished bronze discs in the air symbolising the sun. Unable to push their way through the densely packed crowd, they were obliged to walk at the steady slow
pace of the three white oxen that led the procession.

‘There’s going to be a sacrifice to Apollo, Ziri,’ Magnus explained to his slave.

‘Apollo? What is?’ Ziri asked looking around nervously at the crush of people.

‘He’s the god of lots of things: truth, shepherds, colonisation, archery, all sorts…’ Magnus paused; Ziri’s blank face showed that his Latin was not coping with
his explanation. ‘Never mind. After the sacrifice there’re going to be gladiatorial games in the Taurus amphitheatre on the Campus Martius – we’ll go along, there should be
some good fights.’ Magnus looked at Vespasian. ‘You fancy it, sir?’

‘No thanks; once I’ve spoken with Antonia I’m going to the baths,’ Vespasian replied as they managed to leave the procession and turn onto Antonia’s street.
‘We haven’t been since Creta,’ he added, looking pointedly at Magnus.

‘Yeah, well, one more day ain’t going to make a difference then, is it? Besides, I’m looking forward to seeing how Ziri reacts to everyone having a good…well, you
know.’

Vespasian frowned. ‘Do you think he’s ready for that?’

‘I’m not sure that public masturbation every time a gladiator is killed is something that Romans should be overly proud of,’ Pallas remarked.

Magnus grinned. ‘Yeah, but it adds spice to it all, don’t it? Especially if you’ve got a nice young whore to help you along, if you take my meaning?’

‘Masturbation? What is?’ Ziri asked.

‘I’m afraid that you’re just about to find out, Ziri,’ Vespasian replied as they reached Antonia’s door.

Dismissing Magnus and Ziri with orders to be at Gaius’ house an hour before dawn, Vespasian followed Pallas indoors. After a brief wait Antonia appeared, accompanied by Caenis dressed in a
hooded cloak.

‘Is it set up?’ Antonia asked Pallas.

‘Yes, domina. But Herod Agrippa and his freedman, Eutyches, saw us there.’

Antonia’s face froze. ‘Herod! Of all people he’ll see the coincidence in Poppaeus’ death. I’ll need some time to think about how to deal with this. Who’s this
freedman?’

‘Herod was obliged to give him his freedom a couple of years ago so that he could sign for a loan on his behalf. I don’t know much else about him, just that Herod has treated him as
an idiot since he purchased him when he was a boy.’

‘Is he loyal?’

‘I doubt it. Who can be loyal to a man who has no loyalty to anyone but himself?’

‘Perhaps we could try and talk to him; he might be willing to expose a few little secrets.’

In a moment of clarity a thought came to Vespasian as he remembered Sabinus’ idea of how to expose a secret of Herod’s. ‘Domina, why not threaten to expose Herod as a grain
speculator? You could do it without endangering Claudius for selling it to him in the first place.’

‘How?’

‘By using my brother. As the grain aedile he has the right to impound Herod’s stockpile in Egypt in a time of shortage. I’m sure that Sabinus won’t look too closely at
where Herod bought it.’

She turned to Vespasian and smiled. ‘Leaving Herod the choice between losing all that money or keeping quiet about any suspicions that he might have about Macro’s property deal
collapsing. Very good; you’re learning, Vespasian. I shall start working on that immediately. Meanwhile, Caenis wants to go to the sacrifice at the Temple of Apollo; I know that it’s
very unusual to ask a member of the Senate to accompany one’s slave but I thought that this once you might be willing to make an exception.’

Vespasian looked at Caenis who smiled shyly at him. ‘It will be my pleasure, domina.’

‘Good. Pallas, come with me. We have work to do; send a message to Sabinus to come here as soon as he’s finished at the granaries.’ With a reassuring squeeze of Caenis’
arm she turned and left the room.

Vespasian took a step towards Caenis. ‘Caenis, I…’

She moved away. ‘Not here, my love, let’s walk.’

‘My mistress has explained,’ Caenis said through gritted teeth, bringing both clenched fists down hard onto her thighs. ‘I know now that we can never marry,
but I’d never heard of that law until my mistress told me about it just before she gave me Corvinus’ letter to copy. I didn’t understand why she was telling me that at the time,
it just came from nowhere and hurt me deeply. I’d been dreaming of marrying you, my love; then I find out that I can’t and moments later I understood why Antonia told me then: to
prepare me for the news that you were after another woman.’

‘It’s my duty to have sons,’ Vespasian replied rather lamely.

‘Duty! I know it’s your duty,’ Caenis exploded, causing people all around them in the street to turn their heads. ‘But what about me? Us? Where is our love in all
this?’

‘First and foremost, Caenis, as it will always be,’ Vespasian replied, keeping his voice hushed, aware of the amusement that the perceived lovers’ tiff was causing around
them.

‘So while you have a family with this other woman you just expect me to move aside, waiting for the odd morsel of comfort that you have time to cast my way on the rare occasions that you
manage to free yourself from your duty to your family and to Rome? Meanwhile, I’m left to burn with jealousy knowing that my lover, my best friend, is being given something, by someone he
claims not to love as much as me, that I am forbidden by law to give him, something that I so desperately want to give him: children.’ Caenis stopped and squared up to him. ‘How can I
do that, my love? How can you expect so much from me?’ she asked in a gentle, quavering voice.

‘But Flavia has disappeared, I won’t find her again.’

‘You’ll find another; it’s only a matter of time.’

Vespasian looked into her pleading eyes, rimmed with tears, and felt a knot of raw emotion gnawing at his bowels. Caenis was right, that was exactly what he had expected of her; yet he had never
thought of it in those terms. In all of his planning of his future domestic arrangements he had made the assumption that Caenis would make room for his future wife and that both women would submit
to the arrangement; he could see now that he had been deluded. He had, whether consciously or not, considered Caenis’ feelings only in relation to her social status – that of a slave
soon to be freed. He saw her for the first time as his equal; now they were just a man and a woman deeply in love with one another.

‘We’re trapped, aren’t we, my love?’ he whispered, oblivious now to the crowds of people passing them on either side. Caenis was all he could see.

She took both his hands in hers. ‘Yes, Vespasian, we are, unless I forgo the children that my body is screaming at me to give you, or you give up the position and career that your dignitas
demands of you.’

‘What do we do?’

She smiled weakly, lowering her eyes. ‘For now all I can suggest is that we walk to the sacrifice.’

The crowd outside the Temple of Apollo was as large as it had been on that momentous day when Sejanus had fallen, almost four years previously. Vespasian and Caenis made their
way to the front – his senatorial toga being sufficient to clear a path through the people – remembering the parts that they had played in that tumultuous event and its build-up. They
talked as if they were simply on a pleasant outing together and managed to put to one side their emotional turmoil. Both were aware that it was merely a postponement of the decision they would soon
have to take; until then, however, they were happy to seek refuge in easy companionship.

As they arrived at the steps to the temple Vespasian looked at Caenis: he had never loved her so much. She felt his gaze and surreptitiously grasped his hand, sending a shiver throughout his
body.

‘We are not unmindful of Apollo who shoots from afar.’ The melodious voice of the presiding priest broke into their private world.

Behind the priest, in front of the closed temple doors, the three white bulls, adorned with golden ribbons, stood patiently under the portico, their halters held by youths with their faces
painted gold. Two more priests stood either side of him with a fold of their togas over their heads. Arranged at regular intervals along the top step were three large copper basins. Musicians to
either side flanked the sacrificial party.

‘Father Apollo, I pray to you, all-seeing guardian god, be gracious to Rome and protect Her. Be ever vigilant and warn Her Emperor what subjects of his or strangers conspire against him;
whatever treacherous plots there may be, keep him alert and prepared. Protect us and keep us safe always.’

With a clash of cymbals the temple doors opened, revealing the statue of the god garlanded with flowers and lit with a golden light by torches reflecting off highly polished bronze discs.

Caenis bowed her head at the sight and started to mutter a private prayer as the bulls were led forward to stand one in front of each basin. Three acolytes walked out of the temple; one carried
a golden urn, another a flat golden plate, and the third a tray holding three sacrificial knives. A heavy mallet hung from each one’s belt.

The presiding priest took three small flat salt cakes from the plate and crumbled one on each of the beasts’ heads. A second priest followed behind him pouring a libation over the crumbs.
The third priest retrieved the knives and distributed them to his fellows. The acolytes took up position, one next to each of the animals; they unhooked their mallets and held them ready.

‘Turn to us now, Mighty Archer, we pray that finally now, Apollo, You will come to our aid. Father, hold Your hands over us and our Emperor. If You approve of what we do, then stir
strength into us and into him who is of the utmost importance for the success of our city’s venture. Father Apollo, deign to accept this gift.’

The three mallets cracked in unison onto the wide foreheads of the bulls, stunning them but not downing them. Three knives then flashed simultaneously up through the air, piercing the dazed
animals’ throats. With ever increasing surges of blood they sliced through the loose flesh severing arteries and windpipes. The beasts’ hearts pumped on and the blood surges turned into
constant streams, quickly filling the bowls beneath them before spilling over to flow in three separate rivulets down the steps. The two outside streams gradually converged into the central one as
they followed the contour of the marble – more worn in the middle from long usage – down towards Vespasian and Caenis.

As the first of the great beasts crashed onto the stone floor the rivulet arrived at Vespasian and Caenis’ feet. It split in two as it traced the groove around the irregular paving stone
upon which they stood. They both watched as the two streams rejoined each other, surrounding the stone, leaving them standing on a little island in a river of blood.

Caenis looked up at Vespasian. ‘I prayed that Apollo would give me a sign to guide my decision and he has,’ she said, pointing to the ground. ‘The blood of his sacrifice has
encircled us showing me that we should always be together. I cannot argue with the will of Apollo. You must do what your duty requires of you. I will always be yours, whatever happens.’

Vespasian was desperate to kiss her but propriety forbade a senator to commit such an act in public. Caenis sensed his desire and whispered in his ear: ‘My mistress told me to be back by
dawn; take me to your bed, my love.’

V
ESPASIAN WAS WOKEN
well before dawn the following morning by an insistent rapping on his bedroom door.

‘Yes?’ he called out dozily.

‘It’s time, master,’ a young voice replied in a thick German accent.

Vespasian grunted and slipped an arm around Caenis’ warm body. She stirred as he nuzzled the back of her neck.

‘Is it morning, my love?’ she asked, turning towards him.

‘I’m afraid so.’ He kissed her softly and held her close so that their bodies moulded into one another.

The relief that he felt at Caenis’ decision was overwhelming; he had stared into the abyss of life without her and it had terrified him.

The sudden realisation that he could not just expect her to fit in with his plans had come as a shock; but what had been even more startling was the insight that he had had into his own
priorities. Had it come to a decision between his love for Caenis and his duty to Rome, together with the advancement of his family – a duty that no man could in honour repudiate – he
would have been obliged to let Caenis slip away, despite the misery to which he would have condemned them both. He lay, staring into the dark, holding her tight and thanked Apollo that he had not
been forced to make that choice. He would offer a sacrifice in gratitude to the god once this day was done.

After a few more stolen moments they finally dragged themselves out of bed, dressed and walked into the atrium to find Magnus talking with Gaius. Ziri stood by the door gawping at Gaius’
homoerotic artwork that dominated every angle of the room.

‘Good morning, dear boy, and to you, Caenis,’ Gaius said, ‘I hope you both got some sleep, eventually.’

Vespasian grinned as Caenis blushed. ‘Thank you, Uncle. Morning, Magnus.’

‘Morning, sir; Caenis. We’d best be off if we’ve got to go to Antonia’s first.’

A knock on the door interrupted them and Sabinus entered. ‘Uncle, I need your help,’ he said without any greetings. ‘I’m going to see Antonia now and I’d like you
to come with me.’

‘Whatever for?’

‘Because there is something that I didn’t tell you.’

‘Go on.’

Sabinus looked nervously at Caenis.

‘I won’t repeat anything that I hear in this house, Sabinus; you can trust me.’