Masters of Rome (49 page)

Cleopatra giggled at the sight before turning her attention back to her companion and, with feline intensity, began licking the sticky juice from her skin.

‘Come on.' Vespasian moved forward. ‘These two will be perfect. Walk towards them as if we've an absolute right to be here.' He ambled into the orchard, with a roll to his gait, as if he had been in lengthy commune with Bacchus; Magnus and Sabinus followed, imitating his manner.

Beyond the orchard on the terrace the revellers had returned their concentration to the pursuit of blind ecstasy, as Messalina took to a tub of pounded grapes accompanied by two youths whilst Silius strutted back and forth penetrating, briefly, any orifice pointing in his direction.

Passing the unconscious body of Vettius, Vespasian paused, swaying slightly, and focused on Cleopatra and her very good friend just ten paces away; both were entirely in the thrall of one another's juice-stained breasts. Looking back at Magnus and
Sabinus, he nodded and walked forward at a slow pace so as not to attract undue attention. With just three paces to his quarry he pounced forward and, throwing his arms around both of the women, hauled them to the ground as they squealed with a mixture of fright and delight.

‘Shut them up and drag them away,' Vespasian hissed.

Magnus showed the women his knife; they went limp, sealed their lips and allowed themselves to be manhandled back to the lawn where Magnus' brethren waited. It took just a few moments for Cassandros and Tigran to secure their wrists behind their backs whilst Caeso gagged them.

‘Don't struggle, don't slow us down and you won't be hurt,' Vespasian promised, trying to ignore the well-shaped female forms sheened with a glaze of drying nectar.

‘Cleopatra! Calpurnia!' a voice called from behind them.

Vespasian turned to see the silhouetted figure of Vettius stumbling to his feet. ‘Quick! Go, Magnus. Sabinus, take that one.' He grabbed Cleopatra by the arm and led her off at a jog following Magnus and his lads.

‘Cleopatra! Calpurnia!'

Keeping low and moving as fast as he dared with the bound women, Vespasian passed behind the pedestal of the warrior committing suicide and then on to the dying Gaul.

‘Cleopatra! Calpurnia? Calpurnia? Hey!'

Vespasian glanced back to see Vettius at the edge of the apricot grove waving his arms; for a moment their eyes met and then the dying Gaul temporarily obscured him from view.

‘Hey! Come back!'

Vespasian sped on with Cleopatra by his side, struggling to keep her feet; in front of him Sabinus was having the same trouble with Calpurnia. With a second quick glance back, as they reached the pyramid, he saw Vettius emerge from the orchard and shout before turning and racing away back towards the festivities. ‘Shit! He'll raise the alarm. Magnus, we need to carry them.'

‘My pleasure. Tigran, take the other one,' Magnus said as he turned, lowered his shoulder and levered Cleopatra onto it. He
took a firm grip of a buttock and then sped off past the sphinx-like shrubbery.

Vespasian raced ahead, using his memory from the previous visits to navigate the quickest route down to the gates without using the serpentine path. Leaping over low, ornamental hedges, skirting pools and fountains, scattering deer and fowl, crunching across gravel paths and crashing through carefully laid out flowerbeds, they hurtled downhill through the different themed sections with a complete disregard for the beauty of the gardens. Behind them, the revelry had broken up and the sounds of pleasure and music had been replaced by the clamour of pursuit; calls and shouts rang through the night adding urgency to their flight.

Bursting through a wall of rhododendron bushes, Vespasian finally saw the exit, just thirty paces away, at the same time as the guards saw the cause of the commotion up the hill; with a quick glance to one another they heaved the grille-gates closed and turned the key in the lock as Vespasian came to a skidding halt on the gravel path. ‘Caeso! Get a ladder up the wall.'

Caeso ran on to a section of wall a little distance to the left of the gates; leaning the ladder against it, he climbed swiftly, peered over the top and then hastily ducked back down as a fist-sized stone flew over his head.

Looking through the gate, Vespasian could see only one of the guards, now armed with a sword. ‘Cassandros, take the other ladder to the right.'

As Cassandros moved off, the guard tracked him, leaving the gate unattended but locked firm. Sabinus crashed a foot against it but it barely shook.

‘They could keep us pinned here for a while,' Magnus puffed, laying down his burden without any ceremony, ‘and I don't reckon that we've got anywhere near that amount of time.' He pointed up the hill; the fluorescence of massed torches moved through the gardens at speed but at an angle.

‘They're using the path; that gives us a bit of time,' Vespasian said as Cassandros ascended his ladder. With a cry the Greek fell back, clutching the left side of his face as a stone cracked off him.
A shout of triumph came from the other side of the wall. Sabinus gave the ironwork another resounding blow with the sole of his sandal with Tigran adding his weight to it.

‘This won't move,' Sabinus shouted, retreating as the first guard returned and grinned mirthlessly whilst pointing up the hill.

‘Now, Caeso!' Vespasian called, looking back to see the torchlight less than a hundred paces away.

The crossroads brother leapt up the ladder and with a fluid rolling motion hitched his legs over the summit of the wall and jumped down the other side. The guard reacted to the sound and raced back. Hollow impacts – fists on flesh – and then iron striking brick accompanied by the strained grunts and snorts of combat ensued as Cassandros picked himself up and Sabinus, Vespasian, Magnus and Tigran all lent every ounce of their strength to the gate; still it did not move. A cry of pain followed by the rattle of breath escaping a dying body added urgency to their endeavours; behind, the cries of pursuit were growing with every corner of the snaking path rounded.

Cassandros attempted a second ascent and again was forced back by another well-aimed stone as the first guard reappeared, blood smearing his sword arm, vicious pleasure on his face and menace in his eyes; he thrust his gore-slick blade through the gate forcing Vespasian and his companions to back off. ‘Reckon you're trapped,' he gloated, withdrawing his sword. ‘Should be interesting.' His eyes opened wide, his back arched and his body shuddered as he exhaled violently; his left hand reached out for the gate but never made it as his hair was pulled back and a knife exploded out of his mouth like a pointed iron tongue spitting blood. Sextus looked over the dying guard's shoulder; beyond, Marius drew up in the wagon with the horses attached.

‘The key's on his belt; unlock the gate, fast, Sextus,' Vespasian urged as Magnus and Cassandros ran back to retrieve the two women. Sextus grinned and then with surprising speed spun his huge frame, side-stepping a thrusting blade, and lashed out with a massive fist, planting it squarely in the second guard's face; the nose disintegrated into a pulped mush as the man arced
back, his legs flying up, and he dropped to the earth as if felled by a ballista shot.

Sextus retrieved the key hanging from the first guard's belt and inserted it in the lock; it held fast.

‘Turn it the other way,' Vespasian bellowed in exasperation, looking over his shoulder. Up the hill a posse of naked men came around the last corner of the path, less than fifty paces away. With a roar they burst into a sprint as Magnus and Cassandros made it back to the gate.

The lock clicked and the gates swung open. Vespasian and his companions piled through, the women rocking like sacks on Magnus' and Cassandros' shoulders; the wagon was open and they were thrown inside as Vespasian, Sabinus and Tigran unhitched the horses and swung themselves up, urging them forward. Magnus and Cassandros followed their erstwhile burdens into the wagon and Sextus jumped up next to Marius.

The wagon accelerated away leaving a score of naked men standing in the torchlight under the gates of the Gardens of Lucullus.

CHAPTER XX

‘W
HY WAS I
not warned of this in advance?' Narcissus' voice was hushed and it rasped in his throat giving it the sibilant quality of a snake about to strike. ‘Why am I woken in the middle of the night to be told that the Empress has married the new Suffect-Consul and there are two whores covered in coagulated grape juice who can testify to the Emperor that he is divorced and that his ex-wife is going to replace him with a man who wasn't even a senator this time two years ago?' His eyes ranged over Vespasian and Pallas, both seated opposite him. ‘Why – didn't – Flavia – warn me?' His fists crashed down onto the desk and the hollow thump echoed around the sparsely furnished, newly built room; scrolls and wax tablets jumped and an inkpot slopped a portion of its contents, rocking precariously before returning to the upright position.

Vespasian held Narcissus' malignant glare, staying still and straight-backed in his chair. Upon arrival at the new port soon after midnight he had been warned by Pallas of Narcissus' likely reaction, and knew how to counter it. In fact, he was going to enjoy doing so now that he saw the normally unruffled imperial secretary in such a state of agitation. ‘She didn't have time to because she didn't know; no one in Messalina's circle knew apart from her and Silius. You only know now because of Flavia; she heard about the wedding this afternoon and came to me. There wasn't any time to come down here and ask for instructions so I just did what I thought best and seized two people who could bear witness to the fact. If it wasn't for Flavia, Narcissus, you wouldn't have heard about this until the Emperor walked into the Senate at midday tomorrow to find himself without a wife and with a serious rival. Because of Flavia, you've got a little time to take action.'

This time Narcissus' palms slammed down. ‘I don't want a
little
time; I want fair warning!'

Pallas leant forward, his face betraying a rare emotion: urgent worry, which Vespasian knew to be false. ‘Dear colleague, this is getting us nowhere. We must react to the situation we have rather than regret what we don't have.'

Narcissus took in a great gulp of air and shook his head; his weighty earrings rocked on his lobes catching the lamplight and his be-ringed hands combed through his hair, pulling back his head.

‘Vespasian has done the best that he could do in the circumstances,' Pallas continued once he had regained Narcissus' attention. ‘He's left his brother, who's loyal to us, in Rome to forestall any attempt to convene the Senate earlier than planned tomorrow and he's brought two witnesses, both of whom, by chance, the Emperor knows, having made use of their services himself on a regular basis. We can use them to persuade Claudius, finally, of Messalina's debauchery and get him to order her execution.'

‘But what if the Senate and the Guard take her side? She's married to a consul!'

‘So it would seem; but is she really?'

Claudius gibbered to himself, wringing his hands and drooling copious amounts of saliva down his chin and onto his night-robe as he sat on the edge of his bed looking at the two naked whores kneeling before him; each grasped a shaking, imperial leg in supplication.

‘We did not know, Princeps,' Calpurnia pleaded, ‘she told us that you had divorced her.'

Claudius looked up at Narcissus. ‘D-d-d-did I d-divorce her?'

‘Of course not, Princeps; although I have hinted many times that you should.'

‘Hinted?' Claudius' legs jerked, kicking away the supplicants. ‘Why should you hint such a thing when my Messalina is a perfect wife?'

Narcissus cleared his throat. ‘As you know, there have been rumours—'

‘Rumours? But none of them were true; M-M-Messalina told me so herself.'

Vespasian felt Pallas' hand touch his elbow; he stepped forward. ‘But this is not a rumour, Princeps; I saw the nuptial feast and these women witnessed the marriage as they have already sworn to you. Look at them, naked and sticky with the juice of Bacchus; they have told you what the feast was like. I saw Messalina copulate with Silius and then declare that she was Gaia to his Gaius.'

Claudius shook his head, trailing mucus from his nose. ‘I must see her face before I believe this; I promised that to my little bird.'

‘No, Princeps,' Narcissus urged, ‘she would gull you again as she has all of us for so many years. It is your duty to act and it is ours to keep you safe.' He brandished a scroll at the Emperor. ‘You must order her execution.'

Claudius' hands twisted around each other, entangling the fingers. ‘But I can't order the death of the mother of my children.'

‘You must, Claudius! Don't you understand? Is it so difficult to comprehend the danger that you're in? That all of us are in. Messalina is going to attempt to set herself and her new husband up as regents for Britannicus and that leaves no place for you; you are a dead man in her plans. Whatever happens now your children will lose one parent.' Narcissus walked up close to the Emperor, closer than deference to his position should allow. ‘Tell me, Claudius, do you want to deprive them of a mother or a father? Because if it's the latter you might just as well fall on your sword now and we'll all follow your example. Or you can start acting like an emperor and order the execution of someone who threatens your position. Which is it to be?'

Claudius seemed not to notice the lack of respect his freedman was showing him but, instead, took his hand and, looking up into Narcissus' face, burst into fits of ragged, choking sobs; tears now ran from his eyes as freely as the mucus from his nostrils and the saliva from his mouth. Narcissus released the Emperor's hand and stepped back, his face working hard to
conceal the disgust that Vespasian knew he must feel at such a pathetic sight.

‘I, I, I …' Claudius began and then trailed off. ‘I just want to be emperor.' His voice was barely audible. He looked with pleading eyes at his chief freedman. ‘Am I still emperor, Narcissus?'