Blood Games (Saint-Germain #3)

Blood Games (Saint-Germain #3) Page 31

BEHIND HIS easygoing facade, the Emperor had an astute and crafty mind. His many years of uncertain fortune had given him a curious tolerance in some matters and complete inflexibility in others. Justus knew enough to be wary of this, and adapted his mood to that of his august host.

"The building on the new circus is going well?" he asked, solicitous of Vespasianus' pet project.

The Emperor stopped to pull a handful of grapes from those that trailed over the arbor. "Not as fast as I would like, but well. These Jews know how to build, I'll say that for them, but they don't like to have Roman collars." He sank onto a bench and began to eat the grapes.

Justus would have liked to emulate him, but knew that this would not serve his purpose with Vespasianus. He remained standing, hands clasped behind his back. "All Rome talks about the new circus. When do you think it will be ready?"

Vespasianus took a moment to swallow his grapes. "Five years is what the architects tell me, but I know something about that breed. Seven years at the least. Perhaps more." He gave a wry smile. "My son Titus is as fond of the project as I am, and if there are problems, he can finish it."

"Caesar!" Justus said, shocked. "You must not say that. It's because there has been so much imperial strife that you think that way. Consider Augustus' reign..."

"Augustus did not come to the purple so late in life. I am almost sixty-two. What I start, I intend that my sons and their sons shall finish. The Julian House did well enough, but I intend that the Flavian House will last longer." He said this flatly, with the calm of long ambition.

"Admirable," Justus responded promptly. "Rome needs a leader and a house that will endure, for only with that kind of continuity will the empire survive." He risked taking a more personable stance with Vespasianus. "When I had the pleasure to speak with your son Domitianus, we talked of this. You did well to have him put at the head of the Praetorian Guard."

"And as well to remove him and make Titus their prefect," said the Emperor as he reached for another bunch of grapes. The air was warm, almost sultry, and the soft drone of bees filled the arbor like a cat's purr.

"Didn't Domitianus object?" Justus wondered aloud. He had seen wounded pride in the young man then, and this would only make it worse, he was certain.

"Domi objects to everything," the Emperor responded, and paused to spit grape pips at the vines. "He complains that he lives in Titus' shadow, but he is a younger son. He's there to ensure the line, not to head it." From the tone of his voice, this was not a thing that Vespasianus cared to discuss.

At last Justus sat on the bench opposite the Emperor. "You have indicated that you are going to make some changes in the government. I thought that was what you wanted to discuss with me."

"Naturally. You have been most helpful to my...cause. I think it would be pleasant to have time alone with each Senator, but this is impossible, and I am more inclined to speak with those who supported me than with those who stood in opposition to my claim." His narrow, shrewd eyes flicked over Justus. "You aided me very nearly from the first. I've often wondered why."

Justus considered telling the truth, and decided on a modified form. "There's always been the question of wheat shipments, of course, and that put you in a powerful position. Yet, had there been a strong Emperor here, the wheat would have been shipped if it took soldiers to do it. So it was apparent that the men who wore the purple did not know how to manage their great office, while you, in Egypt, did. My first interest is for the benefit of Rome, which must mean a strong Caesar. Your actions showed that you are such a one, and despite your background, are of the mettle of the born patrician. Your father, I believe, was of equestrian rank and a tax collector, wasn't he?"

"He was," Vespasianus answered without embarrassment. "If it hadn't been for Claudius' freedman Narcissus, I wouldn't have been able to advance as I've done. There's no disgrace in admitting that." He finished the grapes and cast the stems aside. "I like your reasons for supporting me. It indicates you have sense, which is sadly lacking in Rome."

"I've thought so often," Justus agreed, nodding sagely. "I have had reason to think so, more than you know." He allowed himself to wear a distant, sad expression. "Never mind that. What is it you'd like to talk about."

"In a moment," Vespasianus said, intrigued by this turn in Justus, as he was meant to be. "What did you mean by that?"

"By what, Caesar?" he said with forced lightness.

"By that remark, that you have reason to think that there is little sense in Rome?" He wiped his fingers on the edge of the loose talaris he wore. This long-sleeved, ankle-length tunica was of thinnest Egyptian cotton and only the purple band, the augustus clavus, distinguished his rank. "Well?"

"It is merely a personal consideration, Caesar. It's not appropriate to talk about it here with you." He let his voice drop and he would not meet Vespasianus' bright eyes.

"Merely personal, you say? Personal fortunes can topple an empire, Justus. Tell me what troubles you." He made himself more comfortable on the marble bench, putting his feet up and crossing them at the ankles. "It's part of the Emperor's duty to be concerned for the lives of his people."

Again Justus hesitated, then said with a great show of reluctance, "You know I have a young wife?"

"Certainly. Her father and brothers were part of one of the conspiracies against Nero, weren't they? The sons went to the galleys or arena or some such, and the father was executed, I believe. The mother is living away from Rome, and there is one daughter other than your wife, somewhere in Gallia, if I remember correctly. I have not been idle since I came to Rome, Justus. I don't want any of those conspirators deciding that they would like to replace me." He looked at Justus. "What is it, man?"

"As I have said, she is young." He made a dismissing gesture. "It is nothing, Caesar. Let us talk about your plans, or the heat or the number of ships in the harbor at Ostia, but not, I must ask you, about my wife." He folded his arms and looked resigned, inwardly satisfied that now Vespasianus would begin an investigation and would learn precisely what Justus wanted him to learn. "I must admit," he said in another voice, "that I didn't understand why you had those arena slaves arrested last month. When I heard of it, I was quite shocked."

Vespasianus studied Justus for a bit before he spoke. "It seemed to be a wise thing to do," he said rather stiffly. "There are a great many skillful fighters who speak several languages in the arena. They have ways of passing messages. I know that some of my own men received news through gladiators and charioteers. I also know that there are a few of the great patrician houses that are not pleased to have the son of a tax collector elevated above them. They cannot suborn the legions, since the legions must remain outside of Rome. I know that the Thunder-Clap Legion has been discontented for some time. Well, those opponents of mine can find a ready-made army in their arena slaves. Most of Rome knows them and worships them. I would not like to fight an army of those killers. Fifty gladiators and fifty charioteers to carry them, a few essedarii to pull a square to pieces and half a dozen retriarii to net the stragglers, they'd be the most powerful, most destructive fighting force that Rome has ever faced. Add to it that most of them have foreign associations, and they would bring Rome to her knees in a matter of months." His face had grown hard and he leaned forward, hands closing to fists as he spoke. "You may think that this is a useless and unpopular precaution, but I assure you it is necessary. It's important that all the Roman nobles understand that I intend to remain on the throne, and that my son and his sons will follow after me. I won't allow anything to change that. They're anxious to put me to the test, I know, but this time I will move to thwart them before they can act against me. It's the only sensible thing I can do, short of open accusations against men of ancient and distinguished families. I don't intend to have another year of four Caesars."

"But surely some of those men object? Arena slaves are valuable and they're a major investment for some of the-"

"Would you sacrifice a dozen slaves in order to remove yourself from the ranks of suspected traitors?" He chuckled and it was not a pleasant sound. "Most of those distinguished Romans are rushing about to make sure their slaves are among those condemned, proving the masters are innocent of any wrongdoing. It's a master's right to punish a disloyal or rebellious slave." He waved at a bee that had come too close to his face.

"But what about the law forbidding slave abuse? Can't the condemned slaves sue their masters?" Justus was aware that the old law of Divus Julius would not be valid in these circumstances, but there might be those in the Senate who would want to test the interpretation.

"That," Vespasianus said with a smile of real satisfaction, "is possible, but what would be their defense? They can claim that the slaves were not rebelling, but how could it be proven? An arena fighter, Justus, is trained to kill. He is in the arena to defend his life in combat. That means that he's worth any four soldiers in any legion, most of the time. There are few men in the legions would be willing to go up against rebellious gladiators and charioteers. Opinion is with me, I think." He gave half a smile.

"I hope you're right," Justus said carefully. "If not, there will be a great outcry against you." He made his features sympathetic and gave the Emperor a searching look. "Have you had objections yet?"

"Certainly," Vespasianus admitted easily. "Most have not been from patricians, though. The freedman Chylos has objected most strenuously, and since he has a vested interest in his fighters, I have asked the Praetorians to take time to investigate his gladiators. He was one himself, once, and fought his way to freedom. I have decided to make him a citizen of Rome, and that will make the investigation go more easily, I imagine. Titus suggested it."

"Have you had others protest?" It would be helpful to know who was dissatisfied, for once in their confidence, Justus could turn the knowledge gained to good use.

"Foreigners, mainly, and there is some difficulty there. If the slaves are owned by foreigners, the law is less clear. I have asked the Senate to give the matter their consideration. There are more than fifteen slaves owned by the Greek Hector of Epirus. That Daci, Franciscus, owns four of the slaves who were arrested. Shabiran of Cyrene owns ten or so of the slaves. In those cases, we must do things carefully. It would be a bad thing to free the slaves, but under the law, there must be demonstration that the slaves were acting either on their masters' authority, in which case..."

"In which case," Justus said with an ingratiating nod, "the masters may also be condemned and the matter is easily solved. If the masters are not shown to be acting against Rome, then you must prove that the slaves were acting under the orders of others, and that might be difficult." He smiled sagely. "An awkward situation, Caesar, but I am certain that there is a way to deal with both the slaves and their masters. I can think of one way, but it would take time."

Vespasianus was immediately interested. He sat straighter and stared at Justus. "Go on."

"The masters you mention: none of them are part of a royal court, though it is true that Hector and the man Franciscus claim to have noble relations. That means that you need not deal with Emperors or other such men. All three men have dealings abroad with merchants. It is certain that some of those merchants also deal with men who are openly opposed to Rome. That could prove that the masters had association with enemies of Rome, and for that can be tried and condemned, and their slaves may be sent to the arena. It would take time to gather such information, but it is certain to exist."

"It's very astute," Vespasianus said slowly. "I am no longer a persecutor of homeless foreigners, but the defender of Rome from insidious alien plots." His face became closed, crafty, as he thought over the suggestion. "If we could produce such associates, it still might not be possible to prove that the foreigners themselves had dealings with the opponents of Rome."

"If the merchants and agents in question who were the link between the foreigners and the enemies of Rome were dead, there would be no way to prove that the connections did not exist." This last was the gamble for Justus. If Vespasianus accepted this plan, he would have secured his position with the Emperor, for Vespasianus could never afford to turn away from him once he accepted this advice. Knowing that the Emperor had worked to condemn innocent men gave him a great deal of power. Justus sat back, hoping that none of his anxiety showed in his face.

"Dead," the Emperor said quietly, his eyes fixed on some spot far beyond the grape arbor. "It would be dangerous."

"Is the other way less dangerous, Caesar?" His fear that Vespasianus would reject the idea lent fear to his voice, and this the Emperor chose to interpret as concern for himself.

"You're probably right, Justus. How long do you think it would take to get the information?" His attention was sharply on Justus now. "It would have to be done carefully."

"In six to eight months you should learn enough to put your plan into effect." Justus was pleased at the deft way he made it sound as if the idea were Vespasianus' instead of his own. "If you ask your son, as prefect of the Praetorians, to take on a clandestine search, there would be few who knew of it, and once the proper documents had been filed, the men who had done the investigating might meet with unfortunate accidents. You would not be exposed by anyone then, Caesar."

"Except you?" Vespasianus suggested gently, one brow raising.

"Surely, Caesar..." Justus said, aghast, half-rising to his feet. "I see. You fear that I do this for my own benefit, and you wish to entrap me. Very well. I have given Rome most of my years. I do not refuse to give her my life." He stood now, quite straight.

Again Vespasianus made his unpleasant chuckle. "Sit down, Justus. For the sake of Apollo's arrows. Sit down." He waited until Justus had resumed his place on the bench, his back quite stiff, his face averted. "You need not make this display for me. I realize you have a desire for power. How could you be of the Silius House and not do so? There is nothing wrong in the desire for power, so long as it is not abused. Now, if you wished to wear the purple, there would be trouble between us, but I can see by all that you've done for me that this is not the case. If you will be content to be given distinction and to become part of my private council, then we may deal very well together. I would like to put your plan into effect, but I am sure you can see that if you don't accept my offer I must refuse what is really a most ingenious solution to this foreign-masters problem. You are a clever man, Justus, and you have survived in the Senate for many years. I need your advice and instruction and, it may surprise you to learn, I need your help." He had put his elbows on his knees and leaned forward. "Think about it, Justus. You can be very near me, second only to my sons. I need a man like you. You will have a great deal of power. If you wish to enrich yourself, I don't object so long as you are not too obviously greedy about it."

"Caesar..." Justus began, alarmed that Vespasianus had deduced so much of his intent. "You are correct in assuming I want power. I have seen the power of Rome frittered away and rent in pieces for too long. I am a rich man already, and I don't want to seize lands and goods for myself, but if I am to advise you, then I do want some compensation."

"What would that be?" Vespasianus asked, plainly skeptical of this avowal.

"Earlier you asked me about my wife," Justus said. "You know that she and I live apart. I have not sufficient proof yet, but I know that she has had many lovers and that her adulteries are common gossip among my slaves. When I have evidence enough to divorce her, would you consent to my marrying one of your nieces?"

"Need it be an heiress?" Vespasianus started to smile now. "If you are so eager to ally yourself with the Flavian House, would you be willing to accept a girl with little dowry?"

"I have said I am a rich man. The alliance is more important to me than money. If you care to investigate, you will find that I gave a settlement to my wife's family when we married. It turns out that I used my money unwisely," he added in what he hoped was a hollow tone. He cleared his throat. "You have said that you intend the Flavian House to wear the purple for many generations. If that is the case, I want the Silian House to share in that glory. I have no children alive, as you know, but if you have a niece who is marriageable, and if she is fertile, then I will have as much interest in the Flavian House as you have."

"You mean that your children would stand in line to the throne?" Vespasianus studied Justus' face and nodded once. "Very well. I will ask among my family. If there is a niece or cousin who will fit your requirements, I will inform you. I am willing to make her children provisional heirs after those of my sons, if that will please you?"

Justus was delighted, but he dared not show how well these concessions fitted with his plans. Vespasianus had two sons, and there were no legitimate heirs yet. If there were never to be, and if neither Titus nor Domitianus lived to reign, then it would be his children, the children of Cornelius Justus Silius, who would wear the purple. He kept his silence as if considering the matter carefully. "I want to accept. It would please me very much to accept. But before I can, there must be a way to deal with my wife. She may be more suited to the lupanar than to my house, but I have only her taunts and the whispers of my slaves to tell me that, and slaves can give no testimony. Let me search further to see if there is a way to settle the matter with Olivia, and then let me speak to you again."

Vespasianus rose. "Excellent. I see that we appreciate each other." He clapped a hand to Justus' shoulder. "I will await your word then, but I will make inquiries about a niece. That might spur you to deal more directly with your wife. If she demands a payment to leave you, why, take it, man, and be free of her."

Justus sighed heavily. "I have made that offer already, but she has refused. She says she will not give me the satisfaction of being rid of her."

The Emperor blotted a line of sweat from his forehead. "It might be worthwhile to approach her again, now that you know it would be profitable to be rid of her?" He let the suggestion hang between them on the grape-scented air.

"I'll make an attempt. It is a shame to disgrace her." He knew that he must not appear to be too anxious to rid himself of his wife, even one that was a harlot, for there were certain matters that a Roman husband should tolerate. If he showed himself too eager to be rid of Olivia, he sensed that Vespasianus would not be willing to make concessions to him once he found a suitable bride.

"It is her disgrace, Justus, not yours." He patted him once on the arm. "I'll expect you to come to the palace in three days and we can talk again." He turned away and headed off down the mosaic path toward the west wing of the Golden House.

Justus looked after him, for the first time letting himself smile.

A LETTER TO THE EMPEROR TITUS FLAVIUS VESPASIANUS FROM HERCULES ENNIUS PEREGRINIAN, TRIBUNE OF THE MARS' FAVORITES LEGION, STATIONED AT AMISUS IN PONTUS.

To the Emperor Vespasianus and the Senate in Rome, hail:

A difficult situation has arisen here, and one that may seem comical to you, but must still be regarded as the serious threat it actually is. There is a man here claiming to be the Emperor Nero. He says that the announcement of his death was a lie, that he did not kill himself but escaped from Rome before the traitors at his court could assassinate him. He claims that he went to Greece, where he had won so much honor and was remembered with love, and there he remained until the rise of Vespasianus, when he knew he would have to get farther away from the large Roman garrisons. So now he is here, anxious to gather his faithful subjects around him and return to Rome and displace those who have assumed the purple illegally.

You know how much the people loved Nero, and their love for him has grown, not diminished in the five years since his death. Where he was a hero before, he is now almost a god. The people here follow him eagerly, Romans and Amisians alike. There are those of our legion, though it shames me to say it, who follow this impostor and praise him, call "Ave!" to him as they did to Nero. Many of them never saw the Emperor, and few of them had any close association with him, but, as you know, at one time I did. That, good Emperor and Senators, is why I am out here at the back of the world in Pontus instead of making useful friends in Rome. I trust you will remember this when this matter is concluded. I, as I have said, knew the Emperor slightly, and I tell you that this man who claims to be Nero has something of the look of him. His hair is light brown instead of the blond of Nero's, but that's a minor matter. He is not as tall and he is not as skillful with the lyre as Nero was, and does not know all the songs and epics that Nero used to sing. His accent in Greek, furthermore, is that of Moesia, and not the cultured Athenian that Nero spoke. Yet for those who never knew him, the match is close enough.

Be warned, Vespasianus, this man is a real danger. He is intelligent and cunning. He wants to ascend the throne. He already wears the augustus clavus on his garments as if it were his right, and none have denied him the privilege. Think of that, as you decide what to do. You may think that an impostor is no concern to you, but that would be a grave mistake. If the legions in the east were to support this man's claim, it could go badly with the Flavian House. I remind you that the legions raised Galba, Otho and Vitellius, and it was the legions in Egypt who won for Vespasianus; the legions and wheat. It may seem impossible that this man is a menace, yet I tell you he is. Every day he gathers strength, and there is little we can do to lessen it without the assistance of Rome. Make an example of this man, or you will have more false Neros rising, reminding the people of the Emperor they loved, and whose death led to so much misery for Rome.

Send me your orders as quickly as possible. I realize that winter is nearly upon us, and there will be few ships coming here before spring, but it is necessary that we hear from you at the earliest moment. Each day's procrastination is one more day for him to gather men about him. The need is urgent, Vespasianus and Senators. The danger is real.

This by my own hand on the twenty-fourth day of October in the 823rd Year of the City, from the garrison of Mars' Favorites in Amisus.

Hercules Ennius Peregrinian

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