Simon Scarrow - Britannia

‘I see.’ Legate Quintatus smiled thinly. ‘And now that you have had your moment on your high horse and told me your low opinion of me and those like me, I assume you believe that that in some way saves your honour?’

‘On the contrary, sir. I think it renders me a hypocrite.’

‘Hypocrite?’ Quintatus shook his head sadly. ‘Do not feel so bad about that, Cato. The term loses its pejorative burden when you have no choice in the matter. Trust me, I know. But if you wish to be hard on yourself, that’s your affair. Just as long as you serve me, you can pinch your nose against the stench as much as you like.’ Quintatus’s lips curled into a faint sneer. ‘You and that oaf Macro.’

‘Centurion Macro may be many things, sir, but he is no oaf.’

‘I don’t care what he is, just as long as he is on my side. Else he is an enemy.’

Cato felt his stomach give a nervous lurch. ‘Sir, Macro is a fine soldier, but he has no political head. It is better to leave him to get on with soldiering and accept my services alone.’

The legate’s eyes narrowed shrewdly. ‘You told him about my offer?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘And he rejected the chance to serve me?’

‘In so many words, yes. And he’s right, sir. Macro has not got the taste for such a line of work. It is best to leave him out of it.’

‘That’s for me to decide. The centurion is a formidable man, in his way. As the saying goes, it is better to have such men inside the fort pissing out rather than outside pissing in.’

‘Macro is not important to you, sir. He would serve you best if you just left him to fight the enemy.’

‘While I admire your efforts to safeguard your friend, we both realise that Macro has knowledge of certain realities inside the imperial household that Pallas cannot afford to permit any wider circulation. You understand what I am talking about?’

Cato knew all too well what his superior was getting at. Two years earlier, while he and Macro were carrying out an undercover operation in the Praetorian Guard, Macro had caught Pallas and the emperor’s wife in a compromising embrace. Given the lack of mercy that had been shown to the emperor’s previous wife and her lovers, Pallas would not rest easy until Macro was safely contained, or eliminated. Through no fault of his own, he constituted a threat to the imperial freedman, and that was not something the likes of Pallas would tolerate. Cato felt afraid for his friend.

‘Macro is not loose-lipped, sir.’

‘Except when he is in his cups, I understand.’

‘Even then, he has more than enough sense to keep such knowledge to himself. You and Pallas can afford to leave him alone. I give you my word on that. I’ll make sure that he says nothing.’

‘Your word? How noble of you.’ Quintatus sniffed. ‘But since you are not noble, such a pledge carries no weight. I’m sorry, Prefect, but you must persuade Macro to join you in serving me, or I will not be able to protect him. I may even be called upon to silence him.’

Cato felt a cold fury seethe in his veins. ‘If you cause any harm to come to Macro, then I swear by all the gods that I will avenge him.’

‘No you won’t, Cato. Not if you value the life of your wife and your son. Lucius, I believe he has been named, in accordance with your wishes.’

‘My son?’

Quintatus wiped his hands clean on a strip of cloth and smiled without any genuine warmth. ‘I suppose I should really congratulate you.’

‘A son?’ Cato was bewildered. ‘How could you know?’

‘I receive regular reports from Pallas. He tells me anything that might be of use for me to know in my dealings with soldiers and aspiring politicians here in Britannia. So, your good news is my good news, insofar as it gives you a new reason to obey me. All the same, you must be very proud.’

Cato felt off balance. He experienced a surge of joy in his heart, together with love for Julia, and then an acute sense of longing to be with her and his infant son. Then the moment was soured by the cold reality that Quintatus had sluiced over him. His child was a new hostage in the secretive games played by the legate and his ilk. One more means by which Cato could be coerced into doing their bidding. He tried to keep control of his raw emotions as he addressed his superior.

‘When did this happen, sir?’

Quintatus thought for a moment. ‘Nearly three months ago. Your wife named the boy Lucius, no doubt in honour of your close friend Macro, since that is his praenomen.’

Cato reflected on this and nodded. Julia well knew the closeness of their friendship, and that this would please her husband and his comrade in arms. ‘A good name. She chose well . . . What other news of my family do you have, sir?’ he asked, trying not to sound too much like he was pleading for information.

Quintatus was enjoying the power of being able to grant or withhold knowledge that was like food to a starving man. He paused just long enough for Cato to swallow and take a half-step forward, ready to demand or beg him to speak.

‘The mother and child flourish. Pallas has your house under constant surveillance, and you will be pleased to note that your wife has taken no lovers in your absence. Unlike many wives of the senior officers here in Britannia, my own included. There will be a reckoning when I am eventually recalled to Rome. But your wife’s virtue is intact, Prefect Cato. Not that Julia would have found that an easy matter in her pregnant state, and even more so now that she has an infant to care for. Lucky you.’

If it was meant to be a sop of comfort, which Cato doubted in any case, the last words fell flat. He felt confident enough of Julia’s affections to trust her in his absence. And yet there was a moment’s uncomfortable doubt as his imagination played with the notion. After all, his own origins were humble, and the Sempronius family had a long and moderately distinguished tradition. Such aristocrats were notoriously aloof, and though neither Julia nor her father had made Cato feel socially inferior, there was that lingering doubt in his mind about what they really thought of him; the constant needle in the side of all those who had risen above the station they were born into in Rome.

‘You will be equally pleased to note that your wife has not received any visitors on Pallas’s watch list. She is wise to steer clear of those whose influence comes with certain dangers attached. There are still some who wish Rome to return to the days of the Republic, while others are plotting to further the interests of their preferred candidate to succeed Claudius. He won’t last much longer, not if the empress has anything to do with it. There’s not much about poisoning that she doesn’t know. Why, she could do for preparing poisons what Apicius did for cuisine.’ Quintatus paused to chuckle at his small joke, before he became aware of Cato’s stony expression. ‘In short, Julia is giving Pallas no cause for concern, and therefore nothing to add to your burden of worry for her safety, as long as you play your part when asked to.’

He let the point settle in Cato’s mind before continuing. ‘However, her father is a different matter. Senator Sempronius has been observed in the presence of many of the ringleaders of the faction backing Britannicus, and therefore Narcissus, in the question of the succession. Whether he is actively colluding with them is not yet known. But that will not be enough to protect him when Nero becomes emperor. And he will. That is almost certain. When he does, Pallas will clean house to ensure that Nero’s reign starts with as few opponents as possible. So, Sempronius will be likely to feature on the list of those proscribed, unless Pallas has good reason to protect him from such a fate.’