The Alexandrian Embassy Read online

  Vespasian closed his eyes and massaged his temples with a thumb and a middle finger. ‘There is nothing excellent, Uncle, about dining with a living deity who finds the dismembering of criminals amusing entertainment between courses.’

  ‘Then you shouldn’t have said it was amusing,’ Magnus observed.

  ‘Magnus, have you any idea what it’s like trying to please the Emperor just so as to stand a chance of still being alive at the end of the day? Sometimes I think that the only reason I’ve escaped his purges is because he doesn’t consider me rich enough to execute.’

  Gaius’ jowls wobbled in agreement. ‘Yes, poverty, or at least the appearance of it, can be a life-saving condition.’

  Vespasian scowled at his uncle, ordered his lictors to proceed to the Palatine and then turned back to Magnus as they started to move. ‘So, have Philo and his embassy escorted to the Palatine tomorrow just before the fifth hour. I’ll meet you there – if Caligula doesn’t confuse me with a criminal and I survive dinner, that is – and, hopefully, by then I’ll know where Caligula will receive them.’

  ‘I’ll be there,’ Magnus affirmed. ‘In the meantime, sir, I’ve got a favour to ask in return.’

  Vespasian looked wary but could not refuse his friend. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Well, as one of the Urban Praetors could you use your influence with the Urban Prefect to take some action over a highly illegal piece of equipment that would have recently come to his notice?’

  ‘What have you done, Magnus?’

  ‘Now that’s not fair, I ain’t done nothing. No, it’s Quintus Tullius Tatianus …’

  ‘He who can procure any weapon ever conceived and have it smuggled into the city?’

  ‘That’s the one,’ Magnus said, shaking his head. ‘You all seem to know about him. Well, I believe that he is just about to supply Sempronius, the leader of the West Viminal, with a Scorpion. I mean a bolt-shooter, not those nasty little things with a sting in their tail.’

  ‘That would be a very illegal transaction. When did the item arrive?’

  ‘Last night.’

  ‘Then I assume that the Urban Cohort centurion has already informed Lentullus, wouldn’t you say, Uncle?’

  ‘Undoubtedly, dear boy; unless he’s grown tired of his wife and children.’

  Magnus shook his head again. ‘Ain’t nothing secret?’

  ‘Not when it comes to a dangerous man like Tatianus,’ Vespasian said. ‘So what would you like me to get Lentullus to do?’

  ‘Well, I assume that now he knows about the Scorpion he will take steps to confiscate it?’

  ‘I’m sure he will.’

  ‘In which case could you ask him to do it at the third hour tomorrow morning?’

  ‘Why so precise?’

  ‘Let’s just say that I’ll be in conference with an interested party at that time and that type of information would be exactly the sort of thing that I could use to bring him down a bit.’

  Vespasian sighed. ‘So I’m supposed to get the Urban Prefect to enforce the law at a time that suits your criminal agenda, is that it?’

  ‘Well, if you put it like that then I suppose so, although there’s nothing criminal about it.’

  ‘I doubt that very much.’

  ‘And then, what happens to things like Scorpions when they’re impounded?’

  ‘That’s up to whoever is in charge of the raid.’

  ‘The centurion?’

  ‘No, a centurion will lead it but a magistrate will oversee the whole thing.’

  ‘An Urban Praetor, perhaps.’

  Vespasian raised his eyebrows. ‘It has been known. I’ll see what I can do. You just make sure that Philo’s there at the fifth hour.’

  ‘That I will, sir,’ Magnus said, taking his leave. ‘I wonder what the punishment is for being caught in possession of a Scorpion? Whatever it is it’ll give Sempronius quite a sting, if you take my meaning?’

  ‘There they go,’ Magnus said, looking down at a wagon being unloaded by torchlight in a narrow side street off the Vicus Patricius. ‘I knew the bastard would do it.’

  ‘Do what, Magnus?’ Sextus asked, pulling his cloak tighter around his shoulders as the temperature fell with the deepening of night.

  Magnus did not bother to answer his bovine brother as he felt sure that the short answer would prove too baffling and a longer explanation would be beyond his attention span. Instead he counted the number of components brought out from beneath the leather covering of the wagon until he was satisfied that it was indeed the Scorpion being delivered to the back door of the West Viminal Brotherhood’s headquarters.

  Magnus eased the weight off his cramped buttocks, which had transferred most of their heat to the flat, tiled roof on which he and Sextus had been concealed for their three-hour vigil, and then ran his eye over the building that housed his bitter rivals. Unlike the South Quirinal, the West Viminal chose not to base themselves in the tavern built at the junction of the Vicus Patricius and the Carpenters’ Street, the road leading to Magnus’ territory, but, rather, in a four-storey building built around an inner courtyard some fifty paces from the crossroads. It was a wise decision, Magnus conceded: apart from the minor inconvenience of the crossroads’ lares altar not being a part of the building, it was far better situated than his own tavern as it only had one wall facing the main street, with the other three backing onto narrow side streets, in one of which the wagon was being unloaded. This meant that it was that much harder to attack as the narrow streets on three sides could be blocked to prevent access, leaving only the possibility of attacking through what would be a very well-defended front door. As he rued the ease with which his defences had been breached the previous night something stirred within Magnus’ scheming mind and he raised his gaze to the roof of the building, some ten feet higher than his position: it was, like the one that he was crouched on, flat. However, there was a structure built atop it, a structure that Magnus knew to be solid because it was where the West Viminal liked to keep their captives. ‘Unless one had a Scorpion,’ Magnus muttered to himself.

  ‘What’s that, brother?’ Sextus asked.

  Magnus smiled in the dark. ‘I meant, Sextus, that I’ve just seen a less lucrative but more satisfying use for a Scorpion.’

  ‘I didn’t think we had one any more on account of the money being nicked and such.’

  Magnus began to ease his way back, keeping low so that his silhouette would not rise above the parapet. ‘Never you mind, brother; you just kill who I tell you to and leave the thinking to me.’

  ‘Kill who you tell me to and leave the thinking to you,’ Sextus said, digesting the suggestion as he followed. ‘Right you are, Magnus. I’ve always found that to be the best course for me.’

  ‘Good lad, Sextus, good lad.’

  ‘You know my policy,’ Tatianus said, shrugging his shoulders and opening his arms as if he were helpless to change something of his own making. ‘If you don’t come with the money within a few hours of the item being on my premises then I sell it to the first one who does. And you were meant to come at the third hour yesterday, not today.’

  ‘But, Tatianus, you said to come today when I told you that I’d had the money stolen.’

  Tatianus bared his teeth in what would have been a smile had it not been so triumphant. ‘Yes, I did, didn’t I? However, I made no promise as to whether or not your Scorpion would still be here, did I? It’s just such a pity for you that you took it for granted that it would be; you’re evidently not very bright.’ Tatianus’ triumphant air wavered somewhat as Magnus leant back in his chair and entwined his fingers behind his head, serenity on his face and looking for all the world like a man who had just won a long-odds bet at the Circus Maximus on an unfancied chariot in a fixed race.

  ‘What do you think the Urban Prefect will do when his men, who are raiding Sempronius’ headquarters as we speak, find the Scorpion that you sold him yesterday?’

  Tatianus could not conceal his surprise. ‘How d
id you know?’

  ‘Because I planted that seed in your head, at the well, remember? I think it’s you that isn’t very bright; oh, but I said that yesterday too, didn’t I?’ Magnus stood, ready to take his leave. ‘Now, Sempronius is very implicated, but I can keep your name out of this or I can keep your name in it; it’ll be up to you.’

  Tatianus sneered. ‘How can you have any influence over the Urban Prefect?’

  ‘I think the River-god’s fire would get his attention, don’t you? Come and find me when you’ve decided and bring my deposit with you.’ He turned and made for the door.

  ‘Wait,’ Tatianus called, his voice higher through tension, ‘we can discuss this now, Magnus, my friend.’

  ‘Sorry, Tatianus,’ Magnus replied without turning back as he went through the door, ‘I don’t have the time just now; I’ve got to take a Jewish embassy before the Emperor.’ Leaving Tatianus with a baffled look on his face, Magnus grinned at the two henchmen in the corridor. ‘And a good day to you too, gentlemen.’

  ‘It’s an outrage!’ Philo declared as he walked between Vespasian and Magnus down the Palatine.

  ‘It’s the Emperor’s will,’ Vespasian reminded him.

  Philo gestured to the members of his embassy following behind, escorted by Tigran and a few of the brothers. ‘But we’ve been waiting for months to present our case to him; we’ve paid the right bribes, but nothing, no. And then Isodorus arrives with an embassy from the Greek citizens of Alexandria and gets to see the Emperor within two days. Two days, I tell you; and what’s more he gets to see the Emperor at the same time as us, denying me the advantage of putting our case first, which would be only just as we are the injured party and have also undoubtedly laid out much more in bribes.’

  Magnus, by now, was unsurprised that Philo was the injured party; he was more than tempted to add to his injuries himself, but refrained from mentioning it.

  ‘I’m afraid there’s nothing to be done, Philo,’ Vespasian said, exasperation barely concealed in his voice. ‘It’s the Emperor’s idea of saving on his valuable time to see you both together before he sets off for Germania. From his point of view it makes perfect sense.’

  ‘But Isodorus is a villain of the very lowest stock; even Magnus would look down on him.’

  ‘He must be rough,’ Magnus opined, shaking his head and sucking air through his teeth in disbelief.

  ‘He is and it’s an outrage that he gets treated with the same dignity as me. Me! The brother of the Alabarch of the Alexandrian Jews; a literary figure of great renown having to share an audience with the Emperor of Rome along with a common criminal, a murderer, a … a …’ Such was his outrage that words failed Philo at this point.

  ‘A man of lower birth than even me?’ Magnus suggested helpfully.

  ‘Exactly! And to make matters worse we are not even being received at the palace as a personage of my rank would expect. No! We are being taken instead to the Gardens of Maecenas – why is that?’

  ‘Again, I’m afraid that it’s the Emperor saving on his time,’ Vespasian informed him. ‘He has decided to do some improvements to the gardens and the villa within them and so will see you as he goes around the house and the grounds.’

  ‘So I will acquaint the Emperor with the injustices perpetrated on the Jewish citizens of Alexandria whilst he does some interior decorating and consults with his gardener?’

  ‘Something like that.’

  ‘It’s an outrage!’

  The Gardens of Maecenas were richly laid out, as would be expected of that cultured intimate of Augustus who had risen to power by providing the first Emperor with canny political advice. He had been Augustus’ brains as Agrippa had been his muscle, and his reward was great wealth. It showed in the beauty of the terraced gardens that he had created on the Esquiline Hill, along the Servian Wall between the Esquiline and Viminal Gates. However, that had been almost fifty years before and since his death little had been done to maintain the villa in their midst. Not even Philo could argue that the place was not in need of refurbishment as they waited on one side of the atrium whose frescoes had seen better days. On the other side stood a collection of hard-looking men, bearded and garbed in the Greek fashion and murmuring amongst themselves whilst casting threatening glares across to the Jews.

  ‘And this is too miserable for words!’ Caligula’s voice, loud and pitched quite high, preceded him and all in the atrium turned towards the tablinum whence it came. ‘The frescoes are scenes from the Aeneid, ghastly! I want to be portrayed in congress with my fellow gods and goddesses.’

  ‘Yes, Divine Gaius,’ a small, balding Greek said, making a note on a wax tablet whilst scuttling behind the Emperor as he emerged, on spindly legs, into the atrium. ‘What sort of congress?’

  ‘I leave that to you, Callistus; whatever seems appropriate with each god. You can imagine that there is a world of difference between congress with Venus and then Neptune.’ Caligula stopped, his sallow face lit up with inspiration. ‘Of course! Depict the victory that I’ll have over Neptune later in the year after I’ve subdued the Germanic tribes. I intend to lead my legions into the Northern Sea and thrash him there and then carry on to conquer Britannia.’

  ‘Very good, Divine Gaius,’ Callistus said as if Caligula had just announced that he was to take a longer bath than usual.

  ‘Ah! The god haters.’ Caligula’s eyes alighted on the Alexandrian embassy.

  Philo immediately prostrated himself; his fellows followed. ‘Hail Gaius Caesar Augustus.’

  Caligula frowned and cocked his head as if he feared that he had not heard correctly. ‘You see,’ he said, looking at Vespasian and Magnus and gesturing with an outstretched arm at the Jews who were now getting back to their feet. ‘Not one mention of my divinity.’

  ‘Indeed not, Divine Gaius,’ Vespasian replied as Magnus mumbled his discontent at the omission.

  ‘Indeed not, Vespasian; and Magnus, isn’t it? Would you deny that I am a god, Magnus?’

  ‘How could I, Divine Gaius? You saved my life.’

  ‘There you have it: I can both give life and take life. Which one shall it be with yours, I wonder?’ Caligula walked up to Philo and peered at him as if he were looking at a strange and puzzling phenomenon for the first time. ‘You are god haters inasmuch as you don’t think that I’m a god; I, who am already confessed to be a god by every nation but am refused that appellation by you.’ He then raised his hands to the heavens. ‘One fucking god! Are you mad?’

  The Greek embassy broke into applause at this performance and began showering Caligula with divine honorifics, much to his obvious delight.

  As the Emperor bathed in the godly flattery, the evident leader of the Greeks stepped forward and bowed deeply, his expression oozing subservience. ‘Divine master, you will hate with just vehemence these men that you see before you and all their fellow countrymen if you are made aware of their dissatisfaction and disloyalty to yourself.’ The Greek’s tone was honeyed and his gestures flowery and as he spoke he smirked. ‘When all other men were offering up sacrifices of thanksgiving for your safety, these men alone refused to offer any sacrifice at all. And when I say “these men” I mean also the rest of the Jews.’

  ‘My Lord Gaius! Princeps!’ Philo cried. ‘We are falsely—’ Caligula cut him off with a sharp gesture and then pointed to the floor. ‘Callistus, the mosaic is far too pastoral. Have it re-laid with a more martial theme: me vanquishing the Germans would do it. Vespasian, come with me.’ He looked back at Philo. ‘Continue your whingeing!’ With that he hurried off along an airy corridor with high windows, running off the atrium, with Callistus and Vespasian accompanying him and Magnus in close attendance.

  ‘We are falsely accused, Princeps,’ Philo called out as he and his embassy, now bereft of any semblance of dignity, scurried after their Emperor with the Greek delegation in hot pursuit. ‘We did sacrifice, many times. We didn’t even take the flesh home for our tables as is our custom but, rather, committed the victims
entire to the flames as burnt offerings.’

  Caligula turned into a high-ceilinged room, bare apart from a few faded upholstered couches and a couple of statues, one of Augustus, the other, Agrippa. One look at the second statue caused Caligula to shriek: ‘Get rid of it! And have the place scoured for any more likenesses of that … that …’

  ‘He doesn’t like to be reminded of his grandfather,’ Vespasian whispered to Magnus. ‘He came from an unknown family.’

  ‘And, Callistus, have my statue replace it but make sure that it’s bigger than Augustus. The room needs to be lavishly furnished in the …’ Caligula stopped mid-sentence and looked back at the door in which Philo stood with the bobbing heads of Jews and Greeks alike trying to see over his shoulders. ‘How many?’

  Philo looked puzzled. ‘How many what, Princeps?’

  ‘How many times have you sacrificed?’

  ‘Three, Lord Gaius: once on your accession, once when you recovered from your illness, and a third time, recently, in hope of your victory over the Germans.’

  ‘Greek style, Callistus,’ Caligula said, barrelling towards the door and causing Philo and all those jammed within it to retreat in disarray. Callistus, Vespasian and Magnus followed him through, further disordering the two delegations. ‘Grant that all this is true,’ Caligula said, waving a pointed finger in the air as he disappeared on down the corridor, ‘and that you did sacrifice, you sacrificed to another god and not to me.’

  ‘But we sacrificed on your behalf, Princeps,’ Philo called from within the throng barging each other to keep pace with the Emperor.

  ‘What good is that to me?’ Caligula stopped suddenly and swung round, causing both delegations, now hopelessly mixed together, to halt as if they had slammed into an invisible wall. ‘You sacrifice to me, not for my sake!’ He spun away and the Greek delegation cheered a point well made whilst Philo and the rest of the Jews looked downcast and rubbed their beards.

  ‘They’d have done better staying home in Alexandria,’ Magnus observed as he and Vespasian followed Caligula into the next room.