Rome's Sacred Flame Read online

  ‘It was merely a social visit,’ Natalis insisted, shrugging off Rufus’ question in a manner that did not fail to betray his unease standing before Nero with Centurion Sulpicius Asprus’ hand on his shoulder. He looked back to the Emperor who was still surrounded by his Germanic Bodyguards. ‘We discussed nothing of importance; we just enjoyed spending a few hours together, gossiping and the like.’

  Rufus nodded, seemingly satisfied. ‘That seems to tie in with what Scaevinus claims, Princeps; he said that they just passed the time in each other’s company. Nothing specific.’

  Nero was losing patience. ‘Then get them to say something specific, Rufus.’

  ‘Yes, Princeps.’ Rufus turned back to the detainee; for a moment the look of a man about to sign his own death warrant flickered in his eyes and Vespasian was finally convinced. ‘Give me an example of the gossip that passed between you yesterday.’

  Natalis made a show of trying to recollect. ‘The reopening of the Circus Maximus this afternoon.’

  Nero shook his head. ‘That’s not gossip; the whole of Rome will be talking about that. I want something that only you and Scaevinus would know, the subject that you discussed most.’

  Natalis swallowed and made another show of recalling, which was, Vespasian suspected, nothing more than a cover for a desperate calculation. ‘We talked about how quick and well the reconstruction of the granaries went and how it was good for my business.’

  It was a good bet, Vespasian conceded, with a slight feeling of disappointment.

  ‘Good,’ said Nero. ‘Take him out and bring Scaevinus back in.’

  Scaevinus looked about as he was led, by Tribune Subrius, back into the room, obviously hoping to see Natalis for the chance of some clue as to what to say.

  Nero nodded at Rufus to ask the question.

  The prefect cleared his throat as if trying to delay the moment a while longer. ‘Give us a specific example of what you discussed with Natalis yesterday; the subject that you discussed most.’

  Scaevinus frowned as if in thought. ‘The reopening of the Circus Maximus?’

  ‘Apart from the reopening of the Circus Maximus!’ Nero exploded, his complexion matching that of Scaevinus. ‘Answer!’

  The same look of recollection masking desperate calculation came over Scaevinus. He took a deep breath and ventured: ‘Natalis’ business?’

  ‘Yes, but what about his business?’ Nero snapped.

  ‘That it was going well?’

  ‘There you have it, Princeps,’ Rufus put in with a touch too much haste. ‘I think that they have confirmed each other’s alibis.’

  ‘Do you, prefect?’ Nero questioned. ‘Do you indeed? Then he should be able to answer this: Scaevinus, just why is Natalis’ business going so well at the moment? What’s the reason he gave you?’

  Panic caused Scaevinus’ whole face to twitch. He looked around desperately for an answer, but there was none.

  ‘Come on, it was only yesterday.’

  Scaevinus closed his eyes. ‘Because there is a good crop this year in Africa and Egypt?’

  ‘Wrong.’

  ‘Because the price has risen?’

  ‘Wrong and it hasn’t; I’ve fixed the price. You’re lying; you were planning my death yesterday, not discussing how the speedy rebuilding of the granaries was good for Natalis’ business.’

  ‘No, Princeps, no; it was the granaries.’

  ‘Too late. So who else is involved?’

  ‘No one, Princeps; there isn’t a plot.’

  ‘Really? We shall see. Prefect Sabinus, send for Blaesus at the Tullianum and tell him to bring his pet along with him and all his little toys; I think we should question these two gentlemen more closely.’

  It was not the tip of Centurion Sulpicius’ sword digging into his back but, rather, the sight of the hirsute Beauty and the instrument he clasped in a great fist that weakened Natalis’ resolve; the beast was obviously going to enjoy their time together and he had heard the dark rumours from the Tullianum as to its preferred diet.

  Beauty approached him, rumbling the contented growls of a beast happy in its work; Natalis fell to his knees and sobbed. ‘Gaius Calpurnius Piso was to take your place, Princeps; he was to wait at the Temple of Ceres whilst the deed was done.’

  ‘Good. And who else is involved?’

  ‘Seneca; he was to take no actual part in the assassination. He’s waiting at his villa just outside the city to come and give his support for Piso; it would have been vital.’

  Nero’s face was grim satisfaction. ‘I see; Seneca? Well, that is very convenient. But just you four alone would not have been enough. What you say now may have a bearing on the severity of your punishment. So name names and tell me just how was it going to be achieved?’

  ‘There were a few of us,’ Scaevinus admitted, eyeing Beauty whose impatient rumbles indicated that he had not given up hope of playing with his toys; Tribune Subrius held him firm so that he could not retreat from the beast. ‘It was to be done this afternoon upon your arrival at the circus. The consul designate, Plautius Lateranus, was to fall as a supplicant at your knees, begging for financial assistance, and, as if by mistake, fall onto you, pushing you over and pinning you down.’ He hung his head. ‘I was then to stab you first.’

  ‘First?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then who?’

  ‘All those around you with the courage to strike through your Germanic Bodyguards.’

  Nero blinked rapidly as he took in the implication of this statement. ‘The closest people to me, apart from my Germans, as I come to the circus are always Praetorian centurions and tribunes.’

  Scaevinus did not answer but his silence was eloquent; Rufus’ right hand clenched.

  ‘What are the names of these officers?’

  Scaevinus shook his head. ‘We don’t know, Princeps; it was organised by intermediaries.’

  Rufus’ hand unclenched.

  Nero’s voice rose in pitch. ‘Who were they?’

  ‘They were only known to Plautius Lateranus.’

  Nero turned in panic to his two Praetorian prefects. ‘Rufus, find out who was meant to be escorting me this afternoon and question them, thoroughly. Thoroughly! Do you understand?’

  ‘Yes, Princeps.’

  ‘And have Nerva bring Plautius Lateranus here.’

  As Rufus turned to go Centurion Sulpicius touched the hilt of his sword and flicked his eyes towards Nero; Rufus shook his head and marched out.

  Nero missed the exchange in his consternation. ‘Tigellinus, tell Piso and Seneca that I expect them to be dead soon.’

  ‘Don’t you want to question them?’

  ‘No, the longer they stay alive the more of a rallying point they will be for dissent. They must die now; Rufus will dig out all the other names.’ Nero struck an exhausted pose, his head in his hands at an angle, the first bit of melodrama that he had allowed himself in the crisis. ‘Honest Rufus; he will get them. Now go, speed them to their deaths.’ His head came up and his eyes opened wide; his fingers touched his forehead as if a thought had occurred to him. ‘No, wait; I want you here with me.’ His gaze turned to the Flavian brothers. ‘You two; you go and tell them, and if they refuse then they know what they can expect.’

  Vespasian and Sabinus hurried down a half-painted corridor; Rufus’ footsteps echoed up ahead.

  ‘Why do you want to talk with him?’ Sabinus asked.

  ‘I’ve got a couple of scores to settle,’ Vespasian replied as they turned a corner to see Rufus not too far distant. ‘Prefect! Prefect, a word with you before you leave.’

  Rufus turned to see who was addressing him. ‘What do you want, Vespasian?’

  ‘Just a quiet chat.’

  ‘I’m in a hurry.’

  ‘No you’re not.’

  That seemed to stun Rufus and he recoiled. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Just that: you are not in a hurry and we both know why.’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re t
alking about.’ Rufus turned and carried on walking.

  Vespasian kept at his shoulder, his voice low. ‘Who would be in a hurry to unmask fellow conspirators?’

  Rufus remained silent.

  ‘I know, Rufus; Caenis worked it out last night and I’ve been watching you this morning. She said that there had to be one of the Praetorian prefects involved and it had to be you and, because of your reputation, Nero would put you in charge of the investigation. Now you’ve got to investigate the people with whom you conspired. That will be tricky but not impossible if you convince them that their lives are forfeit anyway, but if they don’t expose you then the conspiracy can live on and Nero will die. Am I not right?’

  Still Rufus said nothing.

  ‘Now, it strikes me that I can either tell Nero what a fool he is to trust you, not using that term, naturally, or ...’

  Vespasian waited; it was not for more than ten paces.

  ‘What do you want from me?’

  ‘Just two names.’

  ‘Two names? To do what?’

  ‘Two names to be a part of the conspiracy; implicate them and you buy my silence.’

  Rufus glanced at Vespasian; his look was of contempt but he nodded his agreement nevertheless. ‘Who?’

  ‘Catus Decianus and Marcus Valerius Messalla Corvinus.’

  Sabinus looked in astonishment at his brother as Rufus stalked off. ‘He really is part of it.’

  ‘Of course,’ Vespasian replied with a grin. ‘Caenis is very good at political analysis. I expect she’ll be having her own private little chat with our honest prefect. Perhaps you would want to add a couple of names to the list?’

  ‘No, I’m fine at the moment; Epaphroditus and Tigellinus would be the only people that I would add and neither of those would be believable.’

  Vespasian shrugged and carried on walking. ‘As you will. I think that once we’ve seen Piso and Seneca we should report to Nero and then see if we can’t do our uncle’s favourite trick of being inconspicuous for a while.’

  ‘You can try, but as prefect of Rome I rather think that the next few days are going to be rather busy for me.’

  Gaius Calpurnius Piso greeted Vespasian and Sabinus as they stepped into his atrium; it was as if he had been waiting for visitors. ‘Prefect, senator, welcome to my house; although I can guess why you’re here. The arrests of Scaevinus and Natalis have not gone unnoticed and I’m under no illusions that they have not been made to talk.’

  ‘Nero knows,’ Vespasian said, ‘and he’s about to turn Rome upside down to find all the conspirators.’

  ‘Then why isn’t he hauling me in for questioning?’

  ‘He wants you to take your life immediately so you don’t become a focus point. Faenius Rufus has been charged with exposing the rest of the conspiracy.’

  ‘Rufus? Well, he’s honest and people will believe his findings, I suppose.’ Piso gave nothing away; Vespasian admired him for it. ‘You know that when Scaevinus and Natalis were taken in, people urged me to go to the rostra and declare myself, but I refused.’

  ‘Why?’ Vespasian asked.

  ‘Because with Nero still alive it would have meant a conflict and many lives would have been lost. It was only with him dead that I could have succeeded.’

  ‘A noble thought.’

  ‘Of course; this whole thing was about noble action against ignoble tyranny. Do you have any other ... er, calls to make?’

  ‘Just Seneca.’

  ‘Ahh! So he has lost his battle with his former charge. So Nero adds tutor to the list of murdered brother, mother and wife; he’s running out of people close to him to kill. Poppaea better watch her step; or, better still, his other spouse, the vile Doryphorus. Ah well, I leave a sad world. There’s no need to wait for me, gentlemen; it will be done quickly as I have no wish to tarry.’

  ‘You should have joined us, not exposed us, Sabinus.’ Seneca’s voice was calm but Vespasian could feel a rage boiling within him as they sat in his tablinum after the four-mile journey from Rome; they had not been offered refreshment. Seneca’s will was on the table before him. ‘With you, we would have had Rome and we could have acted much earlier, before the fire, even.’

  Sabinus was unrepentant. ‘I promised to act in conjunction with my brother; together as a family.’

  ‘Along with that, er, cowardly, yes, cowardly is exactly the right word, that cowardly uncle of yours who has single-handedly pushed back the boundaries of timidity and raised the inability to have an opinion to an art form.’

  ‘But he’s still alive,’ Vespasian pointed out.

  Seneca scoffed, waving his hand. ‘Alive with no honour.’

  ‘And no opinions. You, on the other hand, had many opinions as to how we should live our lives; great opinions, worthy ones worth contemplating and acting upon. Which you didn’t, did you? No, you wrote of one code but lived by a completely different one: a code ruled by money. It was you withdrawing your loans to the Britannic chieftains, when you thought that Nero was going to pull out from the province, who sparked Boudicca’s revolt. You single-handedly caused the deaths of one hundred and sixty thousand people. You raised the calculation of compound interest to an art form. So don’t give our family lessons on moral fibre, Seneca.’ Vespasian got up from his seat. ‘I wish you well in your final hour. I hope you face it with the same fortitude as Piso.’

  ‘Piso!’ Seneca’s laugh was grim. ‘Poor Piso. He would have been dead today whatever happened.’

  ‘How so?’ the brothers asked in unison.

  ‘Could you really see Piso as emperor? Do you think the legions on the Rhenus or the Danuvius or out in the East would have accepted him and sworn the oath of allegiance to him? What had he to recommend himself to the people other than an impeccable ancestry? Well, so do many of the Governors of provinces with legions based in them; your friend Corbulo being a good case in point. He was just used to attract other people to the cause. Once Nero was dead, Piso was to be taken to the Praetorian camp but before he could be hailed as emperor a Praetorian centurion was to murder him. Tigellinus would also have perished.’

  Vespasian’s eyes opened in disbelief. ‘You’re not waiting here to support Piso; you’re waiting here to supplant him.’

  Seneca’s countenance was full of regret. ‘And so the Empire would have fallen into my hands. I could afford it; Piso couldn’t and didn’t even realise that he had to purchase it in the first place. I’ve all my personal fortune ready to buy the legions and the Governors. It was all organised. It would have cost me everything I own but what a rich prize it would have been.’

  ‘So this was what it was all about: not saving Rome from a madman but, rather, you becoming emperor.’

  ‘And what a good one I would have made. An ... inspiration, yes, I think I may use that word; an inspiration to all my subjects.’

  ‘An inspiration for extreme greed, more like.’ In disgust, Vespasian turned on his heel and left the greatest thinker and greatest usurer of the age to die.

  Rome was a city of fear as the two brothers returned in the late afternoon; not even the cheers of the quarter of a million spectators in the Circus Maximus, ringing out around the city, could mask the unease in the wealthier neighbourhoods, as in each street they passed along suspects from the senatorial and equestrian classes were being hauled away towards the Golden House.

  ‘Rufus has been busy,’ Vespasian observed as they saw Afranius Quintianus being escorted from his house on the Caelian Hill by four Urban Cohort soldiers commanded by the praetor, Nerva. ‘No doubt suspects are giving up the names of others to Nerva in the hope that it will save their lives.’

  Sabinus’ face darkened as, in the distance, yet another conspirator was being led away. ‘Do you really think that we’ve done the right thing? Shouldn’t we have been a part of the conspiracy? Nero would be dead by now because, had we been in the plot, we wouldn’t have taken Milichus to him.’

  Vespasian shrugged. ‘But remember that had we joined
the conspiracy we would’ve negotiated our rewards with Piso; we didn’t know that Seneca was going to hijack it. Seneca wouldn’t have been obliged to us in any way so you may or may not have remained the prefect of Rome and I may or may not have got a province with legions. So, with hindsight, we definitely did the right thing because, had we not exposed it, Piso would now be dead, as would be Tigellinus, and Seneca would be emperor with the backing of the Praetorian Guard gained for him by Faenius Rufus. We would, at best if we had not been a part of the plot, be supplicants or, at worst had we joined the conspiracy, be emperor-killers whom the new Emperor would be wise to make an example of just so people don’t get the idea that one can assassinate an emperor and live. Remember what happened to Caligula’s assassins?’

  ‘Apart from me, that is.’

  ‘Yes, but that was because it was never publicly known that you took part and we only just managed to do that.’

  ‘Just is good enough, brother.’

  ‘Indeed. And don’t feel guilty about all these people being rounded up; Seneca would have made it a priority to do the same as soon as he got into power. They were doomed whatever happened, which is another very good reason never to join a plot against the Emperor.’

  The cavernous atrium of the Golden House echoed with the sound of military hobnailed sandals as Guardsmen marched suspects in and then on to a place of confinement. Vespasian and Sabinus waited, next to one of the towering, white-marble columns, for Epaphroditus to send one of his messengers to escort them to the Emperor. It was with surprise that Vespasian saw Caenis coming towards them, skirting around a roped-off area where craftsmen worked on the mosaic floor that was nearing completion.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ Vespasian asked as she drew close.

  ‘I came for a little chat with Faenius Rufus,’ Caenis said, keeping her voice low. ‘I noticed that you had a similar conversation; Decianus and Corvinus were both brought in a little while ago, protesting their innocence to all who cared to listen, which was nobody.’

  ‘That’s gratifying.’