M. Scott: The Art of War

‘With minimal bloodshed, then.’ Mucianus gave a merchant’s shrug. ‘Vitellius will have to relocate some of his legions before winter. Rome can’t sustain those numbers for long: the people will revolt against feeding so many mouths.’

‘He won’t send them far.’

‘He won’t, but then we don’t want him to. If you go to Egypt, you can threaten to choke off the grain supply to Rome. Shortages would be blamed on Vitellius and there would be riots. That’ll maintain pressure on him, whatever else is going on. I, meanwhile, will march at the head of as many men as Judaea can spare — I think probably five legions — while your son Titus’ — Mucianus flicked his long lashes at the boy, who had the grace to smile — ‘Titus will remain here with command of those legions left behind. He will prevent a renewed insurgency and then complete the defeat of Jerusalem when you are safely made emperor. Thus you and he will be kept safe from harm and guilt while the war is prosecuted, and you can return to Rome bringing peace with you when the war has burned itself out.’

‘And Pantera?’ I asked. All eyes turned to the head of the table. The man was not a soldier, but none the less… ‘What will you do?’

Pantera laid down his unused quill. He stretched out, languid as a cat on a bough. Only his eyes betrayed him, for they were not languid at all.

‘I will come with you to Alexandria and introduce you there to those who can help your cause. The fellowship of Isis, I think, will support you, and others whose loyalty is unshakable. After that, I will travel to Rome and work towards your ascent to the throne. To that end, I will bring to you the services of Seneca’s spy network. We will need spies local to Rome; men and women who are so embedded in the fabric of society that their presence is taken for granted. We need freedmen, tradesmen, whores, taverners, ostlers, equestrians, senators and their women, all pulling in the same direction, all united by trust. Seneca created such a network and there is nothing in the empire to match it.’

I ran my tongue around my teeth, found a fragment of fish, and chewed on it until the salt burst on my tongue.

‘Seneca is dead,’ I said. ‘He set himself against Nero and paid with his life.’

‘His legacy lives on.’

‘Under your command?’

‘Under his successor, the new spymaster, known as the Poet. We have discussed your cause and the network will support it.’

‘Really? And you only thought to tell me now?’ I chose temporarily to forget that he had only arrived in the night, and had found himself in the middle of an assassination attempt.

I paced the floor; it helps me think. ‘Why? Why are you doing this? You’ve been pushing me towards outright treason since you first brought back the Eagle of the Twelfth. Why?’

‘Seneca’s final request, his order, if you like, to those of us who served him, was that we find a man worthy of the empire and set him on the throne. In our opinion, you are that man.’

‘The only worthwhile man in the entire empire?’ Disbelief must have shown on my face. ‘You can’t be that desperate!’

Pantera said nothing, only blinked in a way that, beyond all reason, reminded me of my dream, and so of Caenis.

I turned on my heel. ‘Come with me.’

Titus and Mucianus rose, but I waved them back, and poked Pantera with the heel of one hand. ‘Only you.’

I needed to be alone and we couldn’t go out the front; half the army was waiting there. So I pushed through the back flap of the tent into the small space outside where the night guards squatted to relieve themselves.

Pantera followed me and, with care, he and I negotiated a path to the centre, holding our breaths against the stink.

Above, a solitary hawk rode the winds, or perhaps it was a carrion bird, come to feed on the two dead men; at sixty, my sight is not what it once was.

I watched it a moment, seeking calm, and then looked again at the waiting spy. I had no idea, really, who this man was. I didn’t even know if he was a Roman citizen. But I knew what he could do. I learned a long time ago that men are best judged by their actions.

‘What did we lose?’ I asked. ‘What was the assassin about to reveal that was so dangerous to our enemies that Albinius had to expose himself to kill him? What did he say that made you heat the irons?’

‘He said, “They hate you. They will see everything you care for destroyed.”’

‘Everything you care for? You? Not me?’ That made the hair stand proud on my neck, I can tell you. I said, ‘I thought you were secret? I mean, obviously people know you exist, but I was given to understand that nobody outside a select few knew you were a spy.’

Pantera’s gaze was lost on some distant horizon. ‘It’s possible that Nero kept notes and they have been found.’

‘Nero?’ No one shed tears when that one died; maybe we should have done, seeing the mess it left us with. ‘What did he know?’

‘Too much. He was one of Seneca’s proteges; he always knew more than was safe. I’ll learn how much more when I get back to Rome.’

‘You still plan to return?’

‘If I stay away, Lucius and Vitellius have won before we start.’ Pantera’s smile was dry, no humour in it, no sudden vivacity. ‘With or without me, the legions will put you on the throne. You don’t need me, but I may be able to smooth the way. With your permission, I would like to try.’

He talked as if it were a given that we would launch this war. His eyes came to rest on my face, full of surmise.

I said, ‘I have one condition.’

‘Name it.’

I dragged the ring from my finger, the only one I ever wore. I have it back now. It looks cheap, it is cheap; gold and silver mixed, with the emblem of the oak branch on it. It looks like nothing, but everyone who knows me, knows it.

I held it out to him. ‘See my family safe. I cannot bring them out of Rome: to endeavour to do so would make them immediate targets. And in any case, they won’t leave.’

That was true. I have never had the authority over my family that I have over my men. Pantera knew that, I think.

‘So do this for me. Go straight to Rome and act in my stead to see them safe. Sabinus, my brother, is prefect of the city. We have never had an easy relationship; he’s a politician and I am a soldier and he will hate this, whatever he says, but he is my brother, and I would not have him hurt by my recklessness. Domitian, my second son, is only eighteen and a quiet boy, not made for war. He lives with Caenis, freedwoman of Antonia, and she is… if you know anything about me, you know what she is.’

Softly, ‘I know.’

‘Then know this: Lucius must not be allowed to kill these three out of hatred of me, for if I am emperor and any one of them has come to harm, all the power in the world will not repair their loss. Do you understand?’

He looked me squarely in the eye. ‘I do.’

‘Do you accept?’

‘I do. I will protect these three with my life. And I will make sure that Seneca’s network of local spies in Rome and its immediate provinces smooths your path to the-’

‘No! Listen to me! Do you know what it means to love?’

It was the dream that drove me, and the sense of things sliding out of control. I gripped Pantera’s arms, high, by the shoulders.

We were face to face, an arm’s length apart. I could see the detail in his face, lose myself in the turbulent oceans of his eyes.

The emperor Tiberius once famously said that taking rule of the empire was like grasping a wolf by its ears; dangerous beyond comprehension, but impossible safely to let go.

Here, now, in the foul latrine space behind my own command tent, I found that I had grasped a leopard by the shoulders and I was not at all sure of the consequences.