Simon Scarrow - Praetorian

‘It’s safe to speak now. Everyone’s concentrating on the action.’

Macro glanced round Cato to look into the imperial box. No more than thirty feet away the Empress had resumed her seat and was staring down into the arena, her face composed. The man who had been groping her was not in view. Macro quietly related what he had seen.

‘Are you sure they saw you clearly?’ asked Cato.

‘Well enough to recognise me if they saw me again.’

‘Shit.’ Cato frowned. ‘That’s not helpful.’

‘Well, pardon me,’ Macro growled.

Cato scratched his chin as he tried to think through the implications. If Agrippina had already taken a lover from among the Emperor’s retinue then she was playing a dangerous game indeed. Unless she was using the man to further some other purpose. But what? And did it have any connection with the conspiracy that Narcissus was attempting to uncover and defeat?

As Cato sat in contemplation, Macro saw Narcissus approach the Emperor and bend down close to his ear. Claudius listened and then turned in his seat and looked up at Narcissus in concern. There was a brief conversation before the Emperor nodded and waved him towards Prefect Geta. Moments later, guardsmen hurried out of the pavilion to carry messages to the officers in the arena. Many of the Praetorians close to the imperial box were watching curiously as Tribune Burrus stood up and cupped his hands to his mouth. ‘Sixth Century! Form up outside the arena at once!’

Lurco quickly rose from his bench and beckoned to Tigellinus and then hurried across to the entrance. His men began to follow.

‘What do you think this is all about?’ asked Macro. ‘Is it to do with what I saw?’

‘We’ll know soon enough.’

As they descended the stairs, Cato took a last look into the box. The Emperor and his family had already left their seats, and Narcissus and some others went after them. The rest of the guests remained where they were, trying to look unflustered as the fight continued in the arena.

The men of the Sixth Century gathered around Lurco, while a short distance away the litter slaves were on their feet, ready to take up their burdens the moment the order was given. As Macro, Cato and the last of the men came out of the arena, the centurion called out loudly so that he could be heard over the noise from the arena.

‘The Emperor is returning to the palace. He has just received a report that a food riot has broken out in the Forum. The urban cohorts have the matter in hand but the Emperor wants to take command of the situation in person. Prefect Geta has decided to reinforce the Emperor’s bodyguard with the Sixth Century. This is not ceremonial. Our orders are to protect the Emperor, his family and advisers at all costs. If anyone tries to block our path we’re authorised to use whatever force is needed to get the litters through.’ Lurco paused to draw breath. ‘Fetch your weapons and armour from barracks. Then get back here ready to march. At the double!’

A thick pall of smoke from the direction of the Forum billowed into the afternoon sky as the column of litters and soldiers made their way down the Viminal Hill towards the centre of the city. Even though news of the riot had spread through the streets, many people were still going about their business and hurried out of the way of Centurion Lurco and the two sections leading the party. The Germans closed ranks around the litters carrying the Emperor, the Empress and the two boys. The rest of the Sixth Century filled in the gaps between the remaining litters and brought up the rear.

Cato, Macro and fourteen other men were under the command of Tigellinus as they marched behind a litter shared by Narcissus and two other advisers, including the man Macro had seen with Agrippina. They were marching four abreast, with Fuscius to Macro’s right and a surly youth beyond him. After a quick look to make certain that the optio was facing forward, Macro spoke softly to Fuscius.

‘See the men in the litter directly ahead of us?’

‘Yes.’

‘I recognise Narcissus, but who are the others?’

‘The one opposite him, the one with the good looks, is Pallas. One of those bloody freedmen the Emperor insists on surrounding himself with. The other one’s Seneca, Nero’s tutor and adviser.’

‘I see.’ Macro glanced to his left at Cato and cocked an eyebrow before realising that it was pointless beneath his helmet. ‘Pallas, eh? I wonder what he’s up to?’

‘Up to?’ Fuscius turned his head to Macro. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Nothing.’

Before they could say another word, Tigellinus glared over his shoulder. ‘Silence in the ranks! Keep your bloody mouths shut and your eyes and ears open!’

They progressed in silence and as they drew closer to the Forum the street ahead of them began to empty. A few small groups of anxious-looking civilians hurried by, squeezing past the column with barely a comment or look of surprise as they glimpsed the imperial litter with its barbarian escort. The roar of the mob was clearly audible now, and soon they could discern distinct shouts of anger and even a shrill scream of terror. The smoke was dense and acrid. Wafts reached the column as it entered the square where Cato and Macro had been involved in the brawl a few nights earlier. Cato looked over towards the inn and saw its owner closing the shutters of a window that looked out on to the public fountain, before scurrying inside and closing the doors. A thin and frail-looking woman sat on the edge of the fountain nursing a crying infant with bulging eyes and skeletal arms. She watched the soldiers and litters passing by for a moment before struggling to her feet and limping across to them, holding her free hand out.

‘Spare a sestertius for me baby?’ Her voice was weak and strained. ‘For the love of Jupiter, spare a coin. We ain’t fed for days, sir.’ She made to intercept Tigellinus but the optio turned on her with a snarl.

‘Clear off, you slut! Take your brat with you. Before I use this!’ He brandished his optio’s staff at the woman and she cowered back with a screech of terror.

Macro gritted his teeth in contempt for the optio and muttered, ‘Glad to see that our optio’s got the guts to stand up to a half-starved woman.’

‘Shhh!’ Cato warned him.

They left the square and continued down the road. A short distance further on, the column came across the first body. An overweight man lay sprawled in the gutter. He had been stripped of all but his loincloth and the mangled stumps on his hand showed where ring fingers had been cut off. His skull had been crushed by frenzied blows. A short distance away was a bakery that had been smashed and looted. The column was passing through the fringes of the Subura, a district of the city that was notorious for its poverty and crime. The crowded tenement blocks reduced the gloomy light further and the rank air caught in Cato’s throat as their footsteps echoed off the grimy walls.

As they reached the foot of the hill, there was a sudden outburst of shouting from the front of the column and Cato craned his neck to see Centurion Lurco confronting a small crowd of men who had spilled out of a side street into the path of the Emperor and his retinue.

‘Clear the way there!’ Lurco shouted, his high voice carrying above the shouting. ‘Make way for the Emperor!’

‘It’s Claudius!’ a voice responded. ‘Stand firm, boys. Let’s put our grievances to the Emperor.’

Lurco threw up his arm ‘Column, halt!’

There was little co-ordination possible among the Praetorians, Germans and slaves carrying the litters and the column shuffled to a disorderly stop. Over the heads of the men in front of him Cato could see that many of the men in the crowd were armed with staves, axes and clubs. Lurco warily stepped forward to confront the crowd as more people joined it, shouting and gesturing angrily.