time.
Sabinus dropped the sword with a metallic clang that rang around the silent courtyard.
Vespasian averted his eyes from the macabre sight and saw Narcissus, the man who had gained so much from Clemens’ actions and yet had betrayed him, give the faintest smile of satisfaction before he turned and walked back inside. ‘Come, brother, it’s done; you have acknowledged Narcissus’ power.’
A third body was heard hitting the ground outside as Vespasian retook his seat but he knew better than to let his contempt for Narcissus play on his face. He looked briefly at Sabinus; his brother was having less success at controlling his emotions.
Narcissus noticed it too. ‘Whatever you think of me for having you execute your wife’s brother is irrelevant, unless, of course, I ever suspect that you are doing more than thinking. If that becomes the case then I will reverse this decision that I’ve been manoeuvred into and I shall make sure that you are not the only one who suffers.’ He glared at Sabinus and then slowly cast his eyes over Vespasian and Gaius as the threat hung over them. ‘But enough of this; back to business. What do we require of you both? Now that Pallas seems to have got his team back together again, I think that he had better explain, as it was his idea originally.’
Vespasian looked at Pallas, realising that his help had not been totally altruistic. Pallas caught his eye but showed nothing as from outside came the sound of another killing blow. ‘Thank you, Narcissus, for the recognition,’ Pallas began. ‘A month ago, after we’d decided to resurrect Caligula’s idea to conquer Britannia, we began thinking about how to make the army respect Claudius enough to get four legions and the equivalent number of auxiliaries to invade an island for him, that the superstitious amongst them – which is virtually all of them – consider to be haunted and rife with spirits. My colleagues were considering paying a bounty, which, to me, was out of the question; so I was looking for a cheaper option. Then I remembered Caligula’s other idea of emulating his father, Germanicus, who restored the army’s pride after Varus’ disaster in the Teutoburg Forest; he won their love forever by pushing back into Germania six years later, and recapturing the Eagles of the Eighteenth andNineteenth Legions. Caligula wanted personally to find the third Eagle that fell in that battle but did not have the patience to see it through.
‘However, I recalled the enthusiasm with which the announcement of this plan was greeted and I realised that had Caligula succeeded he would have been so popular that the army would not have refused to embark for Britannia. So I thought: why shouldn’t Claudius do the same?’ He looked along the row to Vespasian and Sabinus as a dull thump indicated that the fifth prisoner had met his end. ‘Obviously Claudius couldn’t do it himself but someone could do it in his name; then I remembered how you two had gone to Moesia and found and extracted that hideous weasel-faced priest. And there we have it.’
Vespasian and Sabinus looked in disbelief at Pallas, the horror of Clemens’ execution momentarily put to one side. ‘You want us to find the Seventeenth’s lost Eagle?’ Vespasian gasped eventually, unable to believe that anyone other than Caligula could be mad enough to suggest it thirty-two years after its capture.
‘Yes,’ Narcissus confirmed. ‘If we can resurrect Rome’s fallen Eagle in Claudius’ name then we will have the army on his side and they will embark on those ships and they will invade Britannia. Claudius will have his victory; and his place, and, more to the point, ours, will be secured.’
‘And if we do this then I keep my life?’ Sabinus asked carefully.
Narcissus smiled faintly, devoid of humour. ‘No. If you succeed in this you keep your life; although I rather think that if you don’t succeed you’ll probably lose it anyway in the attempt.’
‘I
Sabinus dropped the sword with a metallic clang that rang around the silent courtyard.
Vespasian averted his eyes from the macabre sight and saw Narcissus, the man who had gained so much from Clemens’ actions and yet had betrayed him, give the faintest smile of satisfaction before he turned and walked back inside. ‘Come, brother, it’s done; you have acknowledged Narcissus’ power.’
A third body was heard hitting the ground outside as Vespasian retook his seat but he knew better than to let his contempt for Narcissus play on his face. He looked briefly at Sabinus; his brother was having less success at controlling his emotions.
Narcissus noticed it too. ‘Whatever you think of me for having you execute your wife’s brother is irrelevant, unless, of course, I ever suspect that you are doing more than thinking. If that becomes the case then I will reverse this decision that I’ve been manoeuvred into and I shall make sure that you are not the only one who suffers.’ He glared at Sabinus and then slowly cast his eyes over Vespasian and Gaius as the threat hung over them. ‘But enough of this; back to business. What do we require of you both? Now that Pallas seems to have got his team back together again, I think that he had better explain, as it was his idea originally.’
Vespasian looked at Pallas, realising that his help had not been totally altruistic. Pallas caught his eye but showed nothing as from outside came the sound of another killing blow. ‘Thank you, Narcissus, for the recognition,’ Pallas began. ‘A month ago, after we’d decided to resurrect Caligula’s idea to conquer Britannia, we began thinking about how to make the army respect Claudius enough to get four legions and the equivalent number of auxiliaries to invade an island for him, that the superstitious amongst them – which is virtually all of them – consider to be haunted and rife with spirits. My colleagues were considering paying a bounty, which, to me, was out of the question; so I was looking for a cheaper option. Then I remembered Caligula’s other idea of emulating his father, Germanicus, who restored the army’s pride after Varus’ disaster in the Teutoburg Forest; he won their love forever by pushing back into Germania six years later, and recapturing the Eagles of the Eighteenth andNineteenth Legions. Caligula wanted personally to find the third Eagle that fell in that battle but did not have the patience to see it through.
‘However, I recalled the enthusiasm with which the announcement of this plan was greeted and I realised that had Caligula succeeded he would have been so popular that the army would not have refused to embark for Britannia. So I thought: why shouldn’t Claudius do the same?’ He looked along the row to Vespasian and Sabinus as a dull thump indicated that the fifth prisoner had met his end. ‘Obviously Claudius couldn’t do it himself but someone could do it in his name; then I remembered how you two had gone to Moesia and found and extracted that hideous weasel-faced priest. And there we have it.’
Vespasian and Sabinus looked in disbelief at Pallas, the horror of Clemens’ execution momentarily put to one side. ‘You want us to find the Seventeenth’s lost Eagle?’ Vespasian gasped eventually, unable to believe that anyone other than Caligula could be mad enough to suggest it thirty-two years after its capture.
‘Yes,’ Narcissus confirmed. ‘If we can resurrect Rome’s fallen Eagle in Claudius’ name then we will have the army on his side and they will embark on those ships and they will invade Britannia. Claudius will have his victory; and his place, and, more to the point, ours, will be secured.’
‘And if we do this then I keep my life?’ Sabinus asked carefully.
Narcissus smiled faintly, devoid of humour. ‘No. If you succeed in this you keep your life; although I rather think that if you don’t succeed you’ll probably lose it anyway in the attempt.’
‘I
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