False God of Rome Page 11

  ‘As I’ll ever be.’

  Magnus tensed himself; the lion crouched on Capella’s chest, sensing a threat. With a yell Magnus leapt forward, sword arm extended; the lion pounced straight at his head. Vespasian sprang to his feet and ran, aiming the tip of his spatha at the beast’s muscular neck as Magnus ducked under the outstretched paws, punching his sword blindly up at the mass of fur flying over him. The lion twisted around, swiping a paw at Magnus’ back as Vespasian jumped at it, thrusting his spatha into its mane; with an agonised roar the beast thrashed round at his new assailant in a blur of fleet motion, snapping his teeth at him, catching his tunic sleeve and bringing its hindleg up to claw its way bloodily down Vespasian’s left thigh. Magnus propelled himself upright, punching his shoulder into the beast’s soft underbelly to send its hindquarters up into the air and pushing its head forward and down. It crashed to the ground, dragging Vespasian with it by his sleeve; he landed on its right shoulder blade, his spatha still lodged in the neck. The lion twisted onto its back, throwing Vespasian off it as Magnus dived between the claw-tipped legs scrabbling in the air and thrust his sword into the midriff, rotating it as it sliced through muscle and gut and pushed it on up under the ribcage. With the unnatural strength of a desperate animal, the lion flashed a giant paw at Magnus’ chest; claws sliced through his skin. The blow knocked him away, leaving his sword still buried within the creature. Vespasian grabbed the sword, heaved his body up and fell on its hilt as the lion sank a claw into his shoulder. Screaming with agony, he pushed down with all his might and forced the point into the beating heart of the beast. He felt the lion’s claw in his shoulder tense as its heart exploded inside it; its thrashing hindlegs suddenly stiffened then went limp, and it fell back pulling Vespasian with it, the claw still lodged in his flesh.

  Magnus got painfully to his feet and stumbled over to him. ‘Hold still, sir,’ he said, and grasping the huge paw he prised it off Vespasian’s shoulder, tearing the claw out of the puncture.

  Vespasian felt dizzy with pain. ‘Fuck me, that was one savage beast,’ he said through gritted teeth.

  ‘But what a fight, eh?’ Magnus grinned, breathing heavily; blood oozed from four slashes running diagonally across his chest.

  ‘Worthy of the circus back home,’ Corvinus agreed, walking up to them. ‘You two have got balls of iron taking on that thing, I’ll give you that much.’

  ‘It didn’t give us much of a choice in the matter,’ Magnus muttered while helping Vespasian to his feet.

  ‘It didn’t give poor Capella any choice,’ Vespasian said, limping over to the twisted and bloodied form of the wild-beast master. ‘Get the column formed up again, Corvinus.’

  He knelt next to Capella and gently turned his head. His eyes slowly opened and focused on Vespasian; his breathing was light and irregular and his chest was shredded.

  ‘A delicious irony, wouldn’t you say?’ Capella wheezed; he essayed a thin smile as blood spilled from both corners of his mouth. ‘The beast master killed by the beast.’

  ‘You’re not dead yet,’ Vespasian replied as Magnus joined them.

  ‘I will be soon, I can’t feel my body. Now listen, Vespasian, I’m forced to trust you; you must ensure that my chest gets to my patron. He’s a freedman in the household of Claudius, the son of Antonia; his name is Narcissus.’

  Vespasian kept his face neutral. ‘I know of him,’ he said, not quite truthfully.

  ‘Then you may know that he’s a ruthless man and not to be crossed.’

  That had not been Vespasian’s experience of Narcissus but he could well imagine that Capella’s assessment of him was correct. ‘Most people who move in those circles are.’

  ‘It’s imperative that you get the chest to him without it coming to the notice of anyone else in the imperial family. That’s why I met his agent in Siwa, so as to smuggle it out of Egypt. Had it been put on a ship in Alexandria it would have been inspected by the customs officials, impounded and no doubt given to the prefect, Aulus Avilius Flaccus. He’s completely loyal to Tiberius and would have sent the chest to him, which is something that my patron would wish to avoid at all costs.’

  ‘Then what you’re asking of me is treason, isn’t it? What makes you think that I will agree?’

  ‘Money. Take the keys; they were around my neck so they should be close by. In the chest there’s some gold, not much, fifty aurei or so, what’s left of my travelling expenses.’

  ‘That’s not enough.’

  ‘My business isn’t done with cash. There’s also a bankers’ draft, payable to the bearer, for a quarter of a million denarii, drawn from Thales of Alexandria; it’s redeemable either with him for a five per cent fee or with the Cloelius brothers in the Forum Romanum for twenty per cent.’

  Magnus sucked in a breath through his teeth. ‘Either way that’s a lot of money, sir.’

  ‘Narcissus will consider it well spent if you make sure the other contents end up with him.’

  ‘And these other contents are?’ Vespasian asked, wondering what could be so valuable.

  ‘Land deeds. Over the last three years Narcissus has been buying up huge tracts of land in Egypt on behalf of Claudius.’

  ‘What’s wrong with that? His mother, Antonia, owns masses of land in Egypt.’

  ‘Yes, but she’s not a potential heir to the Purple.’ Capella’s voice was getting fainter; he was fading. ‘In a year with a good harvest the income from this land is enormous; Narcissus has made fortunes for his master.’

  ‘Fortunes with which he hopes to make him emperor?’

  Capella nodded weakly, his eyes closed. ‘Exactly, by buying the loyalty of the Praetorian Guard; Claudius must be the next Emperor.’

  ‘What about Caligula?’

  ‘Caligula will be the ruin of Rome.’

  ‘Caligula is my friend.’

  Capella’s eyes half opened in weak alarm. ‘Gods below, what have I done?’ he croaked; his breathing became more erratic. ‘Narcissus will have my family killed for this.’

  Capella took another faint breath, then, with a choke, died.

  ‘What are you going to do, sir?’ Magnus asked as Vespasian closed Capella’s eyes.

  ‘Find the keys to that chest.’ Vespasian got up with difficulty and started looking around; the gashes on his thigh stung and his shoulder throbbed.

  Magnus made no attempt to help him. ‘I mean with that chest.’

  ‘Take it to Antonia, of course, and let her decide what to do with it.’

  ‘I’ve got a much better idea. Why not just take the gold and the draft and then burn the rest of it? That way you’ll keep well clear of imperial politics. Last time you got involved I seem to remember nearly being thrown off a cliff.’

  ‘Found them,’ Vespasian said, bending down and picking up the missing keys. ‘I’m afraid it’s too late for that; I’m already involved. When Capella doesn’t show up in Rome with the land deeds, Narcissus will do some investigation; it won’t take long for his agents to find out that I rescued him from the Marmaridae but he died on the return journey. He will assume, rightly, that I have the deeds and, even though he’s in my debt, he’ll come after me to get them. If I’ve burned them, he won’t believe me and I’ll have nothing to use against him. So I’ve only got two options: give them to him immediately and incur Antonia’s wrath or give them to Antonia and incur Narcissus’ wrath.’

  ‘Antonia needn’t find out.’

  Vespasian looked at his friend with raised eyebrows. ‘You really think that would be possible?’

  ‘Well no, I suppose not; she’ll have a spy in Claudius’ household. In which case you’re right, Antonia’s your best bet.’

  ‘I think so, she’ll be able to protect me from Narcissus much better than he’d be able to protect me from her; and besides, if I went against her I would lose all contact with Caenis.’

  ‘That may not be such a bad thing, if you don’t mind me saying.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Well, with
Capella dead who’s going to have the job of looking after Flavia? You struck me as being rather keen to fill that particular vacancy, if you take my meaning?’

  Vespasian smiled. ‘Oh I do, but this is a rare stroke of luck; the money in that chest will help me to set up both of them.’

  Vespasian was becoming increasingly concerned as they approached Cyrene’s southern gate in the evening two days later; what had seemed from a distance to be just the normal discharge of fumes from the city’s bakeries, forges and cooking fires was now quite obviously thicker over the northeastern part of the city.

  ‘It looks like there’s a fire in the Jewish Quarter in the lower city,’ he said to Magnus, who was riding between him and Ziri.

  ‘Well, as long as it doesn’t spread to the bath house in the Governor’s Residence, I couldn’t give a fuck,’ Magnus replied, scratching his heavily bandaged chest, ‘I’ve got a whole desert to scrape off me.’

  Vespasian felt his injured shoulder; it still throbbed incessantly and had started to ooze yellow pus. ‘You’re right, I’m not going to do anything either until I’ve had this cleaned and cauterised. I’ll send for Marcius Festus, the prefect of the auxiliary cohort, when I get back; whatever it is that’s burning I’m sure he’s got his men dealing with it.’

  They clattered through the gate, strangely devoid of beggars, and headed towards the Governor’s Residence at the heart of the city. Behind them the column dissolved as the exhausted people went their separate ways knowing that they could expect no more help from Rome. The lucky few had homes within the city but the rest would have to rely on the charity of kin, friends or strangers to take them to their final destinations.

  As the last of the ex-captives disappeared down side streets the lack of anyone else abroad became apparent to Vespasian. ‘Corvinus,’ he called back to the cavalry prefect behind him, ‘does this look normal to you?’

  ‘No, and look at the windows, most of them are shuttered.’

  ‘Perhaps there’re some games going on,’ Magnus suggested. ‘There is an amphitheatre here, isn’t there?’

  ‘Yes, but even then there would be a few people around, those who couldn’t get in or the squeamish.’

  ‘I hate the squeamish.’

  Upon reaching the Forum they found it deserted too. Vespasian eased himself down from his horse in front of the Governor’s Residence and looked at Corvinus and the small body of surviving auxiliaries. ‘Prefect, you and your men are dismissed, thank them for me.’

  ‘What’s left of them,’ Corvinus replied sourly, ‘and I doubt that your thanks will recompense them for their lost comrades or the hardships that they have faced on this ill-considered mission that you led them on.’

  ‘Take the camels and sell them and use the money to raise replacements,’ Vespasian offered, ignoring the jibe.

  ‘Very well.’

  ‘You are welcome to spend the night here and dine with me before you return to Barca.’

  ‘Thank you, quaestor, but I prefer to choose my own dinner companions.’ Corvinus turned his mount. ‘You’ll be hearing from me one day, Vespasian,’ he said menacingly as he kicked his horse and cantered away; his men followed with the camels.

  ‘You were right,’ Magnus observed, ‘he really doesn’t like you.’

  ‘Sod him,’ Vespasian said, mounting the steps. ‘I held out the olive branch to him and he didn’t take it. If he wants to be my enemy let him.’

  ‘Let’s hope that you don’t come to regret that.’

  ‘Quaestor, thank the gods that you’re back,’ Quintillius, the quaestor’s clerk, said rushing over to Vespasian as he entered the atrium.

  ‘What’s going on, Quintillius?’

  ‘The Jews have been fighting among themselves for the last three days; there have been hundreds of deaths all over the city.’

  ‘Where are Marcius Festus and his auxiliaries?’

  ‘He’s managed to contain the fighting now, just to the Jewish Quarter.’

  ‘Have him come here to report to me and get the doctor to attend to my wounds.’

  ‘We’ve managed to put most of the fires out but there are a couple still burning in the area controlled by the rioters,’ Festus reported, holding an oil lamp for the doctor to see better in the fading light. ‘There’re a couple of thousand of them but we’ve bottled them up into eight streets in the Jewish Quarter; they’ve built barricades, which I plan to storm at dawn tomorrow.’

  ‘So you’ve no idea what started the violence?’ Vespasian asked Festus through gritted teeth as the doctor swabbed out his shoulder wound with vinegar.

  Festus shook his head; in his late thirties he was a career soldier who had worked his way up from the ranks. ‘No, quaestor, not for certain but it seemed to start in the lower city’s agora. There’s been a young man preaching there regularly and more and more people have been coming to hear him. I’ve watched him a few times but he never says anything against Caesar or Rome so I’ve ignored it as you ordered.’

  ‘What does he preach?’

  ‘I don’t know; stuff about their Jewish god. I’ve heard him say “redemption at the End of Days” a few times but I don’t really pay much attention; he always has a young woman with two children with him but she never says anything.’

  ‘Ah yes, I remember seeing him a couple of days before I left for Siwa; do you know who he is?’ Vespasian grimaced as the doctor began applying stitches to his shoulder.

  ‘All I know is that he arrived on a Judaean trading ship just over a month ago.’

  ‘What sort of trader?’

  ‘Tin, according to the port aedile’s records.’

  ‘Tin? Is the ship still here?’

  ‘No, the records show that it left the day after the violence started.’

  ‘Right, we’d better crush this outrage tomorrow and then find that preacher. If he’s the cause of all this, I’ll send him to the Governor to have him nailed up. Quintillius!’

  ‘Yes, quaestor?’ the clerk said, bustling in through the door.

  ‘A Jew by the name of Yosef will be asking for an interview; I need to see him as soon as he arrives.’

  ‘Yes, quaestor.’

  ‘And find out where that woman who came to see me, Flavia Domitilla, is staying; I would like her to come to dinner tomorrow, once this Jewish problem has been resolved.’

  ‘Yes, quaestor. Will that be all?’

  Vespasian flinched as the doctor began cleaning the gashes on his thigh; he waved a hand, the clerk bowed and retreated.

  ‘Thank you, Festus, you’ve done well, return to your men; I’ll come down at first light to assess the situation before you storm the barricades. Have the Jewish elders arrested and brought there to explain their people’s behaviour; I want to know if there’s any reason to show these rioters mercy.’

  Vespasian strode through the atrium in uniform before dawn the following morning eager to quash the riot, as he was keen to turn a clear mind to the seduction of Flavia Domitilla that evening.

  Magnus was waiting for him, sitting on the edge of one of the clerks’ vacant desks. ‘Good morning, sir, how are you feeling?’

  ‘Much the same as you, I expect: stiff,’ he replied, rubbing his heavily strapped thigh. ‘But at least my shoulder’s stopped throbbing. What are you doing up? You don’t have to come.’

  ‘And miss out on a nice bit of street fighting? Bollocks; I was in the Urban Cohorts, if you remember? We used to love it when the racing factions rucked with each other after the races. They were the only fights we’d get; great fun they were, unless we had to lay into the Greens, in which case I’d ease off a bit, if you take my meaning?’

  ‘Well, there won’t be any Greens among this lot.’

  ‘Right, I’ll imagine that they’re all Reds then, the bastards.’

  ‘Quaestor,’ Quintillius said, coming through the main door, ‘that man Yosef is among the petitioners waiting outside.’

  ‘Good. Did you find Flavia Domitilla?’
<
br />   ‘No, quaestor, there wasn’t enough time last night but I’ll send some more men out as soon as it’s light.’

  ‘Do that.’ Vespasian stepped out into the cool pre-dawn air.

  The crowd of petitioners immediately started waving scrolls in his face and calling out the requests and boons that they desired of him.

  ‘Wait here until I return,’ he shouted, brushing away the supplicating hands, ‘I’ll deal with you then.’ He spotted Yosef at the back of the crowd and pointed at him. ‘Yosef, walk with me.’

  ‘Yes, quaestor.’ Yosef broke off from the crowd and fell in next to Vespasian as he descended the steps to the Forum. Magnus shoved away the last couple of persistent supplicants.

  ‘Did this man to whom you were giving passage to Apollonia have a young woman with two children accompanying him?’

  ‘There was a woman with two children on the ship but she wasn’t accompanying Shimon; she was making her own journey to southern Gaul to escape the persecution she faced in Judaea at the hands of the priests.’

  ‘Well, she seems to be accompanying this Shimon now; she’s been with him while he preaches his insurrection.’

  ‘Shimon wouldn’t preach insurrection.’

  ‘No? Then explain to me why the Jewish Quarter of this city is in uproar.’

  ‘That’s not Shimon’s doing; he preaches peace, as do I. We follow the true teachings of my kinsman, Yeshua.’

  ‘Was he the man who you said was crucified?’

  ‘Yes, quaestor. He was a good man who believed that we Jews should have love and compassion for one another because the End of Days is close at hand and only the righteous will be saved on that Day of Judgement.’

  ‘Saved from what?’ Vespasian asked as they left the Forum; debris from the last three days of fighting littered the ground.

  ‘Eternal death; they will live forever, along with the resurrected righteous, in the earthly paradise under God’s law that will follow the End of Days.’

  ‘And this just applies to the Jews?’

  ‘Any man can convert, provided he follows God’s law as set down in the five books of the Torah and accepts circumcision.’

  ‘What’s that?’ Magnus asked as he stepped over a smashed market stall.