Robert Fabbri - Rome’s Fallen Eagle

Vespasian put his hand to his forehead. ‘I saw him! It was as we came out of the alley, Uncle; a man was hobbling away. That must have been Sabinus. I decided to go in the other direction because he was armed.’

‘It’s as well that you did,’ Pallas said. ‘Had you met there and taken him home he would be sitting in a cell by now. Now that Narcissus knows it was Sabinus, he’s had your house, Gaius, and Sabinus’ house on the Aventine as well as Caenis’ house searched this morning during the ceremony.’

‘He’s done what? How dare he!’ Gaius exploded.

Vespasian wondered anxiously how Flavia and Caenis would have reacted to having their privacy violated; he was not looking forward to having to give either of them an explanation.

‘Times have changed, Gaius,’ Pallas said quietly. ‘Narcissus dares because he has the power to do so and also because he must; there is more than just a man’s life at stake here. We cannot allow Herod Agrippa to gain Claudius’ unwavering trust. Since Caligula gave him his kingdom three years ago he has started to repair the defences of Jerusalem, making it one of the most formidable cities in the East. He has sworn to Claudius that it is to defend Rome’s interests against the Parthians; Claudius believes him and has reconfirmed him in his kingdom. But we all know that Jerusalem’s defences look west as well as east and we all know, too, what the Jews think about Roman rule. If Judaea rebels then the flames of that revolt could spread throughout the East, fanned by the Parthians who are hungry to have access to Our Sea again, denied to them since Alexander’s time. We have to undermine Claudius’ trust in Herod Agrippa so that eventually we can topple him. We can’t begin to do that if he tells him that we are sheltering one of Caligula’s killers.’

Vespasian could see the logic of it, however distasteful. ‘So what can we do, then, Pallas?’

‘Firstly you need to move Sabinus from where I guess he’s hiding, at Magnus’ Crossroads Brotherhood’s tavern. It won’t be long until Narcissus remembers your family’s relationship with him; I’ve done nothing to remind him of that fact. You should take him to your house, Gaius; it should be safe there now that it’s been searched. The only hope we have of Narcissus sparing Sabinus is if it is never known that he took part in the assassination.’

‘But what about Herod Agrippa?’ Gaius asked.

‘He can be dealt with; I can assure you of that. Fortunately we can rely upon Herod Agrippa preferring power over revenge.’

Vespasian pulled his teeth over his lower lip. ‘At least we only have Narcissus to convince; he does, after all, owe me at least one favour.’

‘I know, and he also owes Sabinus; a fact that I reminded him of this morning.’

‘Thank you for that at least, my friend,’ Vespasian said with genuine feeling.

Pallas shrugged. ‘It’s not the only way in which I have been able to help. During our discussions, over the last month or so, on how best to secure our patron’s position, your names have both come up; Sabinus could still be of use to us. But first Narcissus has to be manoeuvred into a position whereby he feels that he can spare him.’

‘You mean that Sabinus could buy his life with a favour?’

‘We shall see. I’ve made an appointment at the second hour tomorrow for you to see Narcissus. I think that you should surprise him by taking Sabinus along too.’

The sun was beginning to set and their long shadows preceded Vespasian and Gaius as they walked east along the crowded, tenement-lined Alta Semita towards its junction with the Vicus Longus on the southern slope of the Quirinal. Here, at the apex of the junction, stood a three-storey building that Vespasian had passed many times but had never entered: Magnus’ Crossroads Brotherhood’s tavern. It was used as the base from where the South Quirinal Crossroads Brotherhood, of which Magnus was the leader, ran their business of protection for the local traders and residents. It also housed the shrine to the Crossroads lares whose worship was the Brotherhood’s main responsibility and the original reason for their existence.

The plain wooden tables and benches outside were empty apart from two hard-looking men whose job, Vespasian guessed, was to waylay travellers who looked wealthy enough to afford the protection of the Brotherhood as they passed through their territory; just as his family had been waylaid upon their arrival in Rome, over fifteen years ago, when he had been a lad of sixteen.

With a nod to the two men, he and Gaius stepped through the low door into the fug of the noisy parlour. The talking instantly died down and all eyes turned to them.

‘Venus’ pert arse! I never thought I’d see a couple of senators walk through that door, and both ex-praetors no less,’ Magnus exclaimed with a grin, getting up from a table in the corner. His companion, an old man with a saggy throat and gnarled hands, stared with milky, sightless eyes in the rough direction of the new arrivals. Magnus put a hand on his shoulder. ‘Have you ever seen a senator in here before, Servius?’

Servius shook his head. ‘No, and nor will I ever.’

‘Yeah, too right, brother.’ Magnus slapped Servius on the back and walked over to Vespasian and Gaius. ‘Follow me.’

The floor was sticky with spilt wine and their red, senatorial shoes clung to it as they walked. A low, quizzical muttering accompanied their progress through the room.

‘We need to move him, Magnus,’ Vespasian said as they passed through the door next to the amphora-lined bar at the far end of the room.

‘What, now?’

‘As soon as it’s completely dark.’

‘He ain’t that sprightly at the moment.’

‘I’m sure, but Narcissus knows he’s wounded somewhere in Rome, so it won’t be long until you have a visit. Who else knows he’s here?’

Magnus started to climb an uneven wooden staircase. ‘Only Servius, my second in command, Ziri, and then Sextus and Marius; they were on guard last night when Sabinus crawled in.’

‘Good, they can help us move him. Is there a back way out?’

Magnus looked over his shoulder and scowled at his friend, humorously.

‘Sorry, silly question.’

‘There are three, actually,’ Magnus informed him, leading them down a dark corridor. At the end he opened a low door. ‘Welcome to what I call home, gentlemen,’ he said, stepping inside.

Vespasian and Gaius followed him into a dimly lit room, no more than ten feet square, with a table and two chairs on one side and, on the other, a low bed. Sabinus lay in it, asleep; his face was pale, even in the low light. Ziri, Magnus’ slave, sat on one of the chairs.

‘How is he, Ziri?’ Magnus asked.

‘He’s improving, master,’ the wiry, brown-skinned Marmarides replied, indicating to an empty bowl on the table. ‘Look, he ate all that pork earlier.’

Sabinus stirred, woken by the talking. He opened his eyes and groaned as he saw his brother and uncle standing behind Magnus. ‘You shouldn’t have come.’

‘No, you idiot, you shouldn’t have come!’ Vespasian exploded, the tension of the last few hours welling up from deep inside him. ‘What the fuck do you think you were doing? You were safe in Pannonia, and Clementina and the kids were with our parents, why didn’t you just let it be and allow others to commit suicide?’

Sabinus closed his eyes. ‘Look, Vespasian, if you’ve come here just to shout at me for avenging my honour then you can piss off. I kept you out of it; I purposely came in secret so that you would not have felt obliged by our blood-tie to aid me.’

‘I realise that and I’m grateful; but I feel obliged by our blood-tie to tell you that you’re nothing but a horse’s arse and unless you’re fucking lucky you’ll be nothing but a dead horse’s arse.’