Rome's Executioner (42 page)

They collected their towels and walked across the huge, echoing, domed atrium of the Baths of Agrippa, built fifty years previously by Augustus’ right-hand man, outside the city walls on the Campus Martius. It was full of men, young and old, exercising, relaxing, conversing or having their bodies scraped and plucked within its circular confines, under the staring eyes of the lifelike painted statues that resided in semi-circular or rectangular niches embedded in its curved, glaze-tiled walls. The most famous of these, Paetus had told Vespasian upon their first visit there together, the
Apoxyomenos
by Lysippos of Sikyon – a four-hundred-year-old, beautifully proportioned image of a naked athlete removing the oil from his right arm with a strigil – had so enamoured Tiberius, ten years earlier, that he had it removed to his bedroom, leaving a copy in its place. He had been shamed into returning the original by chants of ‘Return to us our
Apoxyomenos
’ during a bad-tempered demonstration as he visited the theatre a few days later.

The noise in the atrium was deafening, amplified by the circular construction and the dome above: grunts of exertion from wrestlers cheered on by enthusiastic onlookers; laughter at a well-told, pithy joke; exaggerated but good-humoured howls of pain as men had their underarm-, chest-, leg- or groinhair plucked by expert tweezers-wielding slaves; shouts of vendors selling food and drink; the pummelling and slapping of teams of masseurs toning the bodies of their masters: the citizens of Rome.

‘So the end result is that no one knows any more whether to cultivate Sejanus or avoid him,’ Paetus told them as they passed through a high door into a quieter, more relaxing square room lit by shafts of sunlight flooding in through windows high up in its frescoed walls. Here men dozed on couches or had a less frantic massage, having been through the bathing stages from the warm tepidarium, on to the hot caldarium, followed by the even hotter laconicum and rounded off with a plunge into the cold waters of the frigidarium.

‘Perhaps that’s what Tiberius wants: confusion, so as to isolate Sejanus without provoking him into rebellion because he too is unsure whether or not he remains in the Emperor’s favour,’ Vespasian suggested, wondering whether the bewildered old man was capable still of such a strategy.

Another set of doors took them out into the warm, mid-afternoon October sun, to a huge bathing pool – eighty paces long and forty wide – surrounded by a colonnaded walkway lined with stone benches crowded with men chatting, gossiping and rumour-mongering. On the far side of the pool, beyond the colonnade, rose the Temple of Neptune, built by Agrippa in thanks for his great victories at sea, firstly against Sextus Pompeius and then at Actium; however, this grand building was dwarfed by the dome of its neighbour towering over it: Agrippa’s Pantheon.

‘You saw him, brother,’ Sabinus said dismissively, ‘he wasn’t capable of two relevant consecutive thoughts. He’s lost his soul and his spirit is searching for it in the darkest parts of his mind.’

A large splash, like a ballista shot hitting the sea, as a particularly chubby citizen jumped into the pool with his arms around his knees, covered them in droplets of cool water.

‘Oaf!’ Paetus shouted at the submerged miscreant. ‘I do think that they should raise the price of admission here; perhaps the standards of behaviour might go up with it.’ He jumped into the pool in the same fashion, right next to the man just as he resurfaced and covered him with water as he drew breath, leaving him choking and spluttering; Vespasian and Sabinus jumped in after Paetus, compounding the fat man’s misery.

‘Well, whether it’s a planned strategy,’ Paetus said shaking the water from his thick brown hair, ‘or whether it’s the result of Tiberius’ inability to think logically, or whether it’s a pleasant mixture of the both, it’s got Sejanus rattled and the Senate terrified, not knowing whom to back in order to stay alive.’ He struck out with an attempted breast-stoke towards the far side of the pool, weaving his way through the bobbing citizenry; Vespasian and Sabinus followed, equally as unproficient in their swimming abilities.

‘What about you?’ Vespasian asked Paetus as they hauled themselves out to sit on the edge with their feet dangling in the refreshing water. ‘Whom are you backing?’

‘That’s the beauty of my position at the moment,’ Paetus replied with a grin. ‘As one of the urban quaestors I just carry out the city’s law business; I’m so junior that no one cares about what I think so long as I perform my duties.’

Vespasian smiled at Paetus, they had become friends during the last few months of working together – as a triumvir capitalis, Vespasian worked directly for the urban quaestors – and they had come to enjoy their regular baths together in the afternoon after the business of the day had been completed. Since becoming a quaestor and entering the Senate, Paetus had taken pleasure in providing Vespasian with all the news and gossip that surrounded it – and then, a few days later, he would with great glee confirm the veracity of some and the utter unreliability of all the rest. Their conversations had provided Vespasian with a diversion from the nagging fear that had haunted him since his return from Capreae, seven months previously. Although Antonia and Caligula had both confirmed the opposite, he could not stop worrying that they had been identified by one of Sejanus’ men and a painful question-and-answer session would eventually ensue. Antonia had also told him, on one of his few and pleasurable visits to her house, that the knowledge of a deputation of unknown origin reaching the Emperor but the lack of information concerning what had been discussed had only added to Sejanus’ unease. She was also confident that Tiberius’ vacillations were, in part, intentional and that the killer blow would be delivered soon.

Paetus, for his part, had never questioned Vespasian as to what had happened to him after leaving Thracia or where he had gone for fifteen days back in March. Vespasian judged that it was because his friend sensibly felt it safer, in this climate of fear and unease, to know as little as possible about the plots and schemes of the powerful.

Having completed all the stages of the baths, Vespasian, Sabinus and Paetus, with tingling skin and lightness of foot, descended the steps in front of the Baths of Agrippa into the graceful gardens that surrounded it: one of the few public oases of calm in an otherwise bustling and thronged city.

‘How’s your young daughter doing, Sabinus?’ Paetus asked as they walked lazily past the small temple dedicated to Eventus Bonus and on through the gardens, enjoying the scent of lavender on the cool breeze. Sabinus had taken to joining them more and more often since the birth of Flavia back in May.

‘She mewls incessantly,’ Sabinus complained. ‘Clementina is thinking of changing her wet nurse.’

‘Yes, I can remember that problem with my boy Lucius,’ Paetus replied sympathetically. ‘Never could understand how the womenfolk tolerated it, but it seemed to keep them occupied, which at least was something to be grateful for.’

‘Well, I’m finding it difficult to tolerate, that’s for sure; I’m hardly getting any sleep. Clementina insists that the child sleeps close by her, and because our house is so small I can’t move her to a bedroom far enough away from mine so as not to hear the noise unless she goes into the slaves’ quarters, which she has flatly refused to do and I’m too soft-hearted to insist.’

‘Get a bigger house,’ Paetus suggested, in the manner of a man who did not have to worry about money.

‘I’ve got the biggest one that I can afford at the moment,’ Sabinus replied gloomily. ‘And having failed this year, yet again, to get elected as a quaestor I’m forced to wait until next year when I surely will be elected and be able to use the position to bulk up my finances.’

‘Quite so; but until then you’re stuck, eh? Unless you would consider a loan,’ Paetus offered. ‘I wouldn’t miss a hundred thousand or so for a couple of years; I wouldn’t charge you much interest, say ten per cent for the duration of the loan.’

‘That would be most kind, Paetus.’

Vespasian was shocked by the proposal. ‘Sabinus, you can’t!’

‘Why not?’

‘Well, for a start senators aren’t allowed to participate in banking and I’d say that charging interest on a loan breaks that rule.’

Paetus guffawed. ‘Vespasian, old chap, I don’t know of one senator who’s taken any notice of that since Marcus Crassus’ excesses; he had almost everyone in the Senate in debt to him at one time or the other and his rates of interest were exorbitant. Besides, this is just a private agreement between friends.’

‘What happens if you can’t repay it?’

‘You let me worry about that,’ Sabinus said tersely, ‘it’s nothing to do with you. As Paetus said: it’s a private agreement. If the idea of taking a loan offends your miserly scruples then fine, don’t ever take one out; I, on the other hand, have no problem with it. I intend to live comfortably and at the moment that means taking advantage of Paetus’ kind offer, which I accept with thanks.’

‘Live comfortably, yes, but live within your means. How will you be able to sleep at night knowing that you owe so much money?’

‘I’ll worry about that when I can’t hear Flavia mewling.’

They walked in silence through the Gate of Fontus, in the shadow of the Capitoline Hill with the Temple of Juno towering on the Arx above them; here Vespasian bid a sullen farewell to his brother and Paetus, leaving them to go on to Paetus’ house on the Esquiline Hill to draw up the agreement.

Walking quickly up the Quirinal to dissipate his anger he reached Gaius’ house soon after. Upon entering the atrium he found his uncle sitting by the impluvium eating sweet pastries.

‘Ah, there you are, dear boy,’ Gaius boomed, spraying crumbs all over his lap. ‘Have you heard the news?’

‘No, Uncle, I’ve been at the baths.’

‘Then I’m surprised that you haven’t heard; it’s finally happened, Tiberius has gone really mad.’ Gaius wiped his moist lips with a napkin. ‘He’s asked the Senate to meet at dawn tomorrow at the Temple of Apollo. I think that I’ll feign an illness.’

‘Why, Uncle?’

‘Because, dear boy, I don’t want to be seen opposing a motion that I cannot in all conscience vote for; the rumour is that Tiberius has written to ask the Senate to confirm tribunician power upon Sejanus.’

An hour later, Vespasian and Gaius had just been called to dinner when there was a knock on the front door. After a quick look through the viewing slot the attractive new doorkeeper opened up; into the vestibule stepped Pallas and, much to Vespasian’s surprise and delight, Caenis.

‘Pallas, what brings you here at the dinner hour?’ Gaius exclaimed, as always happy to see Antonia’s steward but slightly nervous lest it should mean that she required a difficult favour. ‘And in such beautiful company,’ he added, casting a sidelong, knowing look at Vespasian.

‘Good evening, masters,’ Pallas replied bowing, ‘we’re here, as you may well guess, on our mistress’s business.’

‘Then we shall discuss it over dinner,’ Gaius replied, keen not to be parted for too long from his repast.

‘Would that be appropriate, master?’

‘Pallas, my friend, you know as well as I that now you’ve passed the age of thirty Antonia will reward you with your freedom sooner rather than later. When that day comes I have no doubt that you will become a man of considerable influence and it’ll be I who will be honoured by your presence at my table; so dine with me this evening as a friend and let us forget our relative status.’

‘In that case, master, it would be an honour that I shan’t forget,’ Pallas replied sincerely.

‘And I’m sure that Vespasian could make room on his couch for you, my dear,’ Gaius said, smiling at Caenis.

A vision of Caligula and his sisters flashed across Vespasian’s mind; he banished it immediately.

‘Thank you, master,’ Caenis replied sweetly, ‘although I’m sure that it’ll be a bit of a tight squeeze.’

Gaius roared with laughter. ‘Oh, very good, my dear, but shouldn’t that have been Vespasian’s line?’

‘Only if he was thinking what I was thinking.’

Vespasian reddened and looked lovingly at Caenis: she really was perfect.

‘So, my friend,’ Gaius boomed, full of good cheer as the pretty slave boy Aenor filled his cup yet again, ‘what is it that Antonia requires of me?’

The meal had been cleared away and fruit and sweet wine had been laid out on the table. Vespasian had eaten his fill and felt a sense of wellbeing steal over him. The hairs on his arm stood erect as it brushed against Caenis next to him and he was unable to resist subtly running his hand down her back. She smiled at him and popped a grape into her mouth.

‘There are two things, master,’ Pallas replied, sipping his wine rather than quaffing it in the manner of his host. ‘Firstly: tomorrow the Senate meets at the Temple of Apollo on the Palatine; she naturally assumes that you will be present.’ Pallas looked meaningfully at Gaius’ now half-empty cup.

Gaius looked at his cup regretfully and put it down. ‘At dawn, yes, I’ll be there if she wishes, although I was planning on absenting myself through sickness.’

‘She does indeed wish you to be there. She also wishes that Vespasian wait outside the temple in his official capacity.’

‘But I’m due to be in the Forum,’ Vespasian objected. ‘There are three trials for treason to be held tomorrow, I may have some unpleasant duties to perform.’

‘They will be suspended first thing in the morning. Antonia wants you near the Senate; Caenis will be with you.’

‘Why?’

‘All in good time; but seeing as Caenis will be accompanying you Antonia feels that it would be more convenient if she spends the night here. She hopes that it won’t be too much of a problem.’

‘I could always sleep on this couch,’ Caenis said innocently.

Vespasian smiled at her, stroking her beautiful thick hair.

‘Good,’ Pallas continued, turning back to Gaius. ‘The second thing she requires is that you make notes.’

‘Notes? She can read the transcripts of the Senate’s meetings and the results of the votes any time she wants, surely?’

‘It’s not what will be said that interests her, she already knows that; it’s where senators sit and how long for.’