The Imperial Banner (31 page)

‘I don’t see it. Like you said – he’s old. I doubt he has the energy for criminal intrigues. Probably more interested in getting his end away as many times as he can before he finally keels over.’

The procession of guests seemed endless. Some men came alone on horseback, their steeds swiftly removed by Scaurus’s slaves. Women, couples or groups used open carriages drawn by mules. Others emerged from litters carried by four or six slaves, and one elderly lady arrived in a luxurious carriage complete with miniature marble columns supporting a purple canopy.

A crowd was developing in front of the villa: guests watching other guests arrive. Scaurus threw up his hands in dismay and corralled them back inside the house. One of his servants alerted him to another carriage pulling up and he hurried back towards the street, lifting the folds of his cloak as he descended the steps once more.

‘This must be someone important,’ said Cassius.

Abascantius leaned forward as a tall, slender man stepped gracefully down to the ground before turning to lend his female companion a hand.

‘Our esteemed governor, no less. I give you Titus Fabius Gordio. The politician’s politician.’

‘How so?’

‘Not many men could manage to be governor before an occupation, during an occupation and after an occupation. He somehow managed to smooth the way with the Palmyrans and protect his consituents’ interests.’

‘An intelligent man, then.’

‘They don’t come much brighter. It’s said that he charmed Zenobia into no end of concessions, and that she politely bade him farewell as she fled the city. And he’s been able to hide the fact that he’s in love with his clerk from his wife for more than a decade. I’m not sure which is the more impressive achievement.’

Gordio accepted Scaurus’s low bow, then took his wife’s hand. The elegant couple ascended the steps, nodding to the other guests.

‘Could he be involved?’

‘Up until a few days ago I would have said no, but some new information has come to light.’

Abascantius was evidently reluctant to explain further.

‘But after surviving for so long,’ said Cassius, ‘what possible motive would he have to endanger the treaty?’

‘None I can think of. But what if he is being manipulated by others – with motives of their own?’

‘Blackmail?’

‘It’s all supposition at the moment.’ Abascantius sat back and let out a sigh. ‘Unless I have proof I daren’t make a single move against him. He’s close to Marcellinus, and we’ve crossed swords many times in the past.’

Abascantius nodded down at the street again. ‘Here’s number three.’

Next up the steps was a younger man in his thirties. He was alone, dressed modestly, with a pale green cloak over his tunic. He seemed somewhat out of place; bookish and reserved.

‘Looks pretty harmless.’

‘Procurator Gallio Novius Octobrianus.’

‘He’s done well to make procurator at his age. He survived the occupation too?’

‘Positively flourished. He’d just been appointed deputy procurator when the revolt began. If what I’ve been told is true, he was quick to exploit the situation to his advantage. The Palmyrans compiled a list of troublemakers – those who would not accede to their authority under any circumstances. I’ve heard it said more than once that Octobrianus helped them compile it. One of the first names on the list was that of Docillus: the previous procurator. Octobrianus’s immediate superior.’

‘How convenient.’

‘Quite. Many of the other men on that list didn’t get out in time, and they were either removed from their posts or killed. Docillus was lucky. He left a week before the city was taken. A day or two before me, as I recall.’

Cassius turned to Abascantius.

The agent nodded. ‘I was on the list too. Somewhere close to the top, I imagine.’

Cassius looked back at the villa. Octobrianus had disappeared inside.

‘He may still have connections to the Palmyrans, then?’

‘Possibly.’

‘But how can such a man still be in charge of the city’s finances? I understand the Emperor’s attitude – a fresh start and all that – but if it’s true Octobrianus deserves to hang.’

‘You’ll hear no argument from me. But the key word is
if
. I’ve heard about him and this list from three different sources; but none of them would speak openly of it, and there’s no other proof. He covered his tracks too well. Another survivor.’

‘Assuming for a moment that he’s still in league with them, who of the Palmyran leadership remains? Zenobia is on her way to Rome and her lackeys were all executed.’

‘True. And I’ve spent a good portion of the last few months dismantling their intelligence operation, but there may be individuals I don’t know about – back in Palmyra or even here.’

‘What would
they
gain from disrupting the treaty?’

‘They may simply want the flag back; it gives them great power over the Persians as a bargaining tool. And in the long term, an alliance between the great powers on either side of them does little to advance their cause. The ultimate aim? Quite possibly the re-establishment of Palmyran rule. Look, I’d love to see that little shit Octobrianus on the end of a rope, believe me, but there’s nothing definitive on him yet.’ Abascantius shrugged, then gestured to the villa. ‘You must also realise it’s my job to know all their dirty little secrets. One can start to feel rather paranoid – that everyone is hiding something. But these are ambitious people. What was it Aristophanes said?
Under every rock lies a politician?
’

‘Sir, I apologise if I’m speaking out of turn, but shouldn’t the Emperor just get rid of these men? It seems to me they’re all guilty of collaboration.’

Abascantius pointed at him. ‘You are speaking out of turn, Corbulo, but I shall answer that in the interests of opening your eyes to a few political realities. You call them collaborators. But isn’t every Roman who stayed here, to a lesser or greater degree? Should we have them all driven from the city? Don’t forget the Palmyrans held sway here long before they decided to annex the province. People had to make choices; consider their families, their futures. And it’s not as if Zenobia had them raping and pillaging. One might even argue that she wished only to rule the Empire, not to eradicate it. Was she so different to any other usurper?’ Abascantius shifted in the chair. ‘In any case, despite what people may think, the Service doesn’t act solely on rumour and guesswork. We look for proof; and we must investigate every possible alternative.’ He turned back to the window. ‘Ah, there she is.’

‘Who?’

‘Your escort.’

‘My escort? Where?’

‘Wait a moment, here’s number four. Quarto – the magistrate. See him there – the big fellow.’

‘Big’ was an understatement; the magistrate made Abascantius look svelte. He was a tall, broad-shouldered, bearded man, with a huge gut that wobbled beneath his tunic as he walked. His cloak was trimmed with silver thread, and he was holding a ceremonial version of the club his sergeants carried.

‘What do you know of him?’ Cassius asked.

‘A crooked thug.’

‘And a suspect?’

‘Again, possible but unlikely. He’s new to the city. Marcellinus appointed him three months ago. No genius, but he’s sly; and a good choice to keep the commoners in order.’

‘But if he’s crooked, surely we can’t ignore him entirely?’

‘He’s crooked in the sense that all magistrates are. Skims what he can from the market taxes, helps his friends get contracts. But he’s served in three different cities without much criticism and he was a legionary for a decade before that.’

Quarto and Scaurus had just embraced, and the host sent the magistrate into the house with an affectionate slap on the back.

‘Look at them. Like old friends. I’m told they’ve already forged a mutually beneficial relationship.’

‘You’re not giving Quarto much attention then?’

‘Not at the moment. But he could be obstructive. I’ve already had a couple of unpleasant encounters with him. Typical ex-legionary: hates the Service more than most. I may have to dig up some dirt on him just to keep him out of my way.’

Cassius reflected on what he’d seen: the men Marcellinus trusted to govern Antioch and arguably the four most powerful men in Syria.

‘So,’ he said, ‘a general, a governor, a procurator and a magistrate.’

‘And one of them a traitor to Rome,’ replied Abascantius, standing up.

‘Or one of their staff.’ Cassius got to his feet too. ‘Or a wife, or a mistress or a slave. By now, any number of people could know about the flag and the treasure.’

‘In theory. But Marcellinus swore them to secrecy – not something to take lightly, given his reputation. If one of them broke their oath, they must have had a damn good reason to do it.’

Cassius glanced down at the villa. ‘What exactly do you want me to do, sir?’

‘First, nothing to draw attention to yourself. If asked, say you are a member of the governor’s staff but no more.’

‘Gordio knows I’m here?’

‘Of course not. Technically, I should notify him but he has as little to do with me as he can. Try not to think of the Service as part of the army, or even part of the provincial administration. We stand alone, outside all that. It’s what makes us unique.’

Abascantius took hold of Cassius’s shoulder and turned him towards the window.

‘Now listen. You are to watch those four, especially Gordio and Octobrianus. Look at their behaviour: who they’re talking to, who they’re avoiding; how much they drink; whether they look nervous or relaxed; whether they stay or whether they go home early. Your escort will be there to help you.’

‘And where is she?’

‘See there – the second carriage from the steps.’

Cassius could see only a fine head of hair, kept in place by a silver diadem.

‘Lady Antonia. She’s been most useful to me over the years. Charges a lot for her services but she’s never let me down yet.’

The carriage arrived at the steps and Lady Antonia stepped down. She was shapely and elegant but Cassius then saw her face. She was old – forty at least! He did a poor job of hiding his disappointment.

Abascantius chuckled. ‘Typical youth – underestimates the value of an experienced woman.’

‘Don’t tell me we’re to masquerade as a couple? I’ll be the laughing stock.’

‘Actually you wouldn’t be the youngest man ever to take her arm but no, you’re her nephew, newly arrived to take up your post. You can agree the details between you. Hurry now – she has your ticket.’

Cassius turned to leave.

‘Ah, wait a moment.’ Abascantius reached into his belt and retrieved a pin shaped like a bow. ‘Wear this on your toga. She will know you by it.’

Cassius had seen his share of luxurious villas: scores in Cyzicus and his native Ravenna, even a few in Rome; but nothing could have prepared him for the House of the Dolphins.

Just beyond the main entrance was a reception room of immense dimensions and brazen splendour. The walls were faced with pink Egyptian granite, giving the whole chamber a faint red glow. The guests – three hundred at least – moved between life-sized statues cast in bronze and silver. Running along the floor from each wall to the centre of the room were paths made by immaculately rendered mosaics; mostly fish or other sea creatures. Where the paths met in the centre of the room was a high plinth, and upon it a spectacular white marble bust of Aphrodite, leaning down to touch a leaping dolphin.

Lady Antonia nudged Cassius and pointed at the tray being proffered to him by a servant. On the tray were glasses of wine. Antonia was already holding one.

‘Good for your nerves.’

Cassius took a glass and shrugged. ‘What nerves?’

Antonia smiled. She had met him outside with a convincing ‘Hello, nephew,’ before grabbing his arm and hurrying up the steps. They were the last guests to enter and the doors had just been closed behind them.

‘Come.’

Antonia led him along one of the mosaic paths. Whatever her ancestry, it certainly wasn’t Syrian. Her skin was as light as Cassius’s, and her hair a kind of dark blonde. At five and a quarter feet she was what he considered to be the perfect height for a woman. She wore dark kohl around her eyes; and the blackness brought out a green just a shade darker than the emeralds embedded in the bronze viper circling her upper right arm. She was wearing a long, flowing stola, with a vibrant purple border at the neck. Remarkably slim for her age, she was also blessed with high breasts and a pert behind.

Cassius imagined she would have been quite lovely in her youth. It was a pity she was about the same age as his mother.

Antonia stopped next to the statue of Aphrodite, taking up one of the few free spaces in the room. She had a placid half-smile fixed on her face, and scanned the room as she spoke.

‘Abascantius is becoming more inventive with his choice of operatives. You look every inch the fine young gentleman.’

‘Is it beyond the realms of possibility that I am one?’

Antonia sipped at her drink and looked him up and down. ‘Fine – certainly. Young – obviously. But a gentleman? In the employ of that toad? Unlikely.’

Cassius chose not to point out that she was also ‘in the employ of that toad’. ‘Then I shall do my best to convince you.’

‘I look forward to it. Just let me do most of the talking. Starting now.’

‘What—’

‘Antonia, my darling!’

Cassius turned round to see a very overweight man waddling towards them, flanked by two fresh-faced servants.

‘Festus, I’ve not seen you in an age.’

Antonia smiled as Festus kissed her hand. His gaze shifted to Cassius.

‘And who is this striking young fellow?’

‘May I present Cassius Corbulo. He has just arrived to join the governor’s staff.’

‘A pleasure. Hey you, over here!’

Festus intercepted a slave walking past with a tray. Upon it were several bowls of nuts and fruit. Festus took one full of almonds and offered it to Cassius and Antonia.

‘Apparently they stop you getting drunk. My brother swears by them.’

The shrill tones of trumpets sounded from the other side of the room. The guests quietened as the quartet launched into a triumphal fanfare more suited to an imperial parade than a dinner party.