Agent of Rome: The Imperial Banner (The Agent of Rome)

by Nick Brown

Quarto and Scaurus had just embraced, and the host sent the magistrate into the house with an affectionate slap on the back.

  ‘Look at them. Like old friends. I’m told they’ve already forged a mutually beneficial relationship.’

  ‘You’re not giving Quarto much attention then?’

  ‘Not at the moment. But he could be obstructive. I’ve already had a couple of unpleasant encounters with him. Typical ex-legionary: hates the Service more than most. I may have to dig up some dirt on him just to keep him out of my way.’

  Cassius reflected on what he’d seen: the men Marcellinus trusted to govern Antioch and arguably the four most powerful men in Syria.

  ‘So,’ he said, ‘a general, a governor, a procurator and a magistrate.’

  ‘And one of them a traitor to Rome,’ replied Abascantius, standing up.

  ‘Or one of their staff.’ Cassius got to his feet too. ‘Or a wife, or a mistress or a slave. By now, any number of people could know about the flag and the treasure.’

  ‘In theory. But Marcellinus swore them to secrecy – not something to take lightly, given his reputation. If one of them broke their oath, they must have had a damn good reason to do it.’

  Cassius glanced down at the villa. ‘What exactly do you want me to do, sir?’

  ‘First, nothing to draw attention to yourself. If asked, say you are a member of the governor’s staff but no more.’

  ‘Gordio knows I’m here?’

  ‘Of course not. Technically, I should notify him but he has as little to do with me as he can. Try not to think of the Service as part of the army, or even part of the provincial administration. We stand alone, outside all that. It’s what makes us unique.’

  Abascantius took hold of Cassius’s shoulder and turned him towards the window.

  ‘Now listen. You are to watch those four, especially Gordio and Octobrianus. Look at their behaviour: who they’re talking to, who they’re avoiding; how much they drink; whether they look nervous or relaxed; whether they stay or whether they go home early. Your escort will be there to help you.’

  ‘And where is she?’

  ‘See there – the second carriage from the steps.’

  Cassius could see only a fine head of hair, kept in place by a silver diadem.

  ‘Lady Antonia. She’s been most useful to me over the years. Charges a lot for her services but she’s never let me down yet.’

  The carriage arrived at the steps and Lady Antonia stepped down. She was shapely and elegant but Cassius then saw her face. She was old – forty at least! He did a poor job of hiding his disappointment.

  Abascantius chuckled. ‘Typical youth – underestimates the value of an experienced woman.’

  ‘Don’t tell me we’re to masquerade as a couple? I’ll be the laughing stock.’

  ‘Actually you wouldn’t be the youngest man ever to take her arm but no, you’re her nephew, newly arrived to take up your post. You can agree the details between you. Hurry now – she has your ticket.’

  Cassius turned to leave.

  ‘Ah, wait a moment.’ Abascantius reached into his belt and retrieved a pin shaped like a bow. ‘Wear this on your toga. She will know you by it.’

  XX

  Cassius had seen his share of luxurious villas: scores in Cyzicus and his native Ravenna, even a few in Rome; but nothing could have prepared him for the House of the Dolphins.

  Just beyond the main entrance was a reception room of immense dimensions and brazen splendour. The walls were faced with pink Egyptian granite, giving the whole chamber a faint red glow. The guests – three hundred at least – moved between life-sized statues cast in bronze and silver. Running along the floor from each wall to the centre of the room were paths made by immaculately rendered mosaics; mostly fish or other sea creatures. Where the paths met in the centre of the room was a high plinth, and upon it a spectacular white marble bust of Aphrodite, leaning down to touch a leaping dolphin.

  Lady Antonia nudged Cassius and pointed at the tray being proffered to him by a servant. On the tray were glasses of wine. Antonia was already holding one.

  ‘Good for your nerves.’

  Cassius took a glass and shrugged. ‘What nerves?’

  Antonia smiled. She had met him outside with a convincing ‘Hello, nephew,’ before grabbing his arm and hurrying up the steps. They were the last guests to enter and the doors had just been closed behind them.

  ‘Come.’

  Antonia led him along one of the mosaic paths. Whatever her ancestry, it certainly wasn’t Syrian. Her skin was as light as Cassius’s, and her hair a kind of dark blonde. At five and a quarter feet she was what he considered to be the perfect height for a woman. She wore dark kohl around her eyes; and the blackness brought out a green just a shade darker than the emeralds embedded in the bronze viper circling her upper right arm. She was wearing a long, flowing stola, with a vibrant purple border at the neck. Remarkably slim for her age, she was also blessed with high breasts and a pert behind.

  Cassius imagined she would have been quite lovely in her youth. It was a pity she was about the same age as his mother.

  Antonia stopped next to the statue of Aphrodite, taking up one of the few free spaces in the room. She had a placid half-smile fixed on her face, and scanned the room as she spoke.

  ‘Abascantius is becoming more inventive with his choice of operatives. You look every inch the fine young gentleman.’

  ‘Is it beyond the realms of possibility that I am one?’

  Antonia sipped at her drink and looked him up and down. ‘Fine – certainly. Young – obviously. But a gentleman? In the employ of that toad? Unlikely.’

  Cassius chose not to point out that she was also ‘in the employ of that toad’. ‘Then I shall do my best to convince you.’

  ‘I look forward to it. Just let me do most of the talking. Starting now.’

  ‘What—’

  ‘Antonia, my darling!’

  Cassius turned round to see a very overweight man waddling towards them, flanked by two fresh-faced servants.

  ‘Festus, I’ve not seen you in an age.’

  Antonia smiled as Festus kissed her hand. His gaze shifted to Cassius.

  ‘And who is this striking young fellow?’

  ‘May I present Cassius Corbulo. He has just arrived to join the governor’s staff.’

  ‘A pleasure. Hey you, over here!’

  Festus intercepted a slave walking past with a tray. Upon it were several bowls of nuts and fruit. Festus took one full of almonds and offered it to Cassius and Antonia.

  ‘Apparently they stop you getting drunk. My brother swears by them.’

  The shrill tones of trumpets sounded from the other side of the room. The guests quietened as the quartet launched into a triumphal fanfare more suited to an imperial parade than a dinner party.

  Scaurus strode into the reception room, head held high, arms clasped behind his back. His cloak had been removed to reveal a dazzlingly white toga. As the guests parted, he stepped up on to a wooden platform. Cassius noted that his body seemed to have been composed of two different halves, the cherubic face and barrel chest contrasting with the thin, almost spindly legs.

  The trumpeteers finished. Scaurus waved his guests closer until he was surrounded.

  ‘Our venerable host,’ said Festus in a low voice, ‘as self-effacing as ever.’

  He, Cassius and Antonia found themselves at the back of the watching crowd. Scaurus waited for absolute silence, arms still behind his back. Cassius noticed another white marble bust by the far wall: it was of the host himself.

  ‘Governor, friends, welcome – once more – to the House of the Dolphins.’

  The guests broke into spontaneous applause. Scaurus returned the gesture and then quietened them down.

  ‘How long I have waited to say those words. The dark clouds that have hung over this city have finally been banished. Our esteemed and beloved Emperor, Lucius Domitius Aurelianus, has freed us from the tyranny of the Palmyran o
ccupiers. Now is the time . . .’

  Scaurus’s speech continued in this vein for what Cassius estimated to be a quarter of an hour. On at least three occasions, he had to turn to one of his slaves for a reminder of the next line. Cassius guessed the slave – almost certainly Greek – had written the entire piece. Scaurus’s delivery was amateurish: stilted and monotonous; but there was some fine language and the sentiments of liberation and renewal met with an enthusiastic response. The host finished his address by announcing that the formal dinner would start in one hour. Until then the guests were free to roam as they wished; his house was their house.

  ‘You’ve been invited to the dinner?’ enquired Festus.

  ‘Of course,’ answered Antonia.

  The big man looked rather disappointed.

  ‘You shall have to excuse us, Festus. I need some air.’

  Antonia grabbed Cassius’s arm and dragged him away towards the throng following Scaurus out of the reception room. Stopping only to refresh their glasses, they moved through three more huge rooms, each faced with a different coloured marble. As the sun was out, most of the guests gravitated towards the wide sward of grass between the villa and the river. Two musicians were seated at opposite ends of the turf: a harpist and a flautist. A group of young men hurried over to the dock to inspect Scaurus’s galley. Cassius noted the large bronze plaque on the vessel’s stern: it was named Radians.

  He then almost lost his glass when nudged by a man trying to avoid Scaurus, who’d just bounded out of the villa with four tall, fine-boned Ethiopian drummers in tow. He lined them up in front of the river and had them strike up a beat. The other musicians were forced to stop, and those guests who’d been enjoying them turned round to watch.

  Scaurus clapped along and tried to get others to join in. Only his entourage and a few lively individuals did so. Undeterred, he leapt in front of the drummers and – with a ribald grin on his face – began to dance. Some of the guests simply laughed, others didn’t know where to look. Governor Gordio and his party were doing their best to ignore the host’s antics.

  ‘Too early perhaps,’ said Scaurus, bringing his mercifully brief performance to an end. ‘Later you shall all dance with me!’

  He grabbed a drink from a tray and disappeared inside. The drummers looked at each other and after a few moments stopped playing. Guests started to drift away to the river or the other musicians.

  ‘Quite a character,’ observed Cassius.

  Antonia nodded towards the governor. ‘They tolerate his vulgarity only because of what he’s done for the city. Without his slaves and donations, half of the buildings wouldn’t have been rebuilt after the last Persian invasion.’

  ‘And I understand he lusts after higher office.’

  ‘I wonder if he really does any more. With displays like that he’ll likely ruin any chance he had. Anyway, hadn’t you better tell me what all this is about? Why are you here?’

  ‘I’m not at liberty to discuss that, but we’re interested in the four members of Marcellinus’s council – the governor and the procurator in particular. Abascantius would like to know of any unusual or suspicious behaviour on their part.’

  ‘That sounds disappointingly mundane.’

  ‘Not at all. A matter of the highest importance.’

  ‘It might be better if we split up. I’ll see what I can find out about Octobrianus. Perhaps you can focus on the governor.’

  ‘How? I don’t know a single person here.’

  Antonia moved so that Cassius could look over her shoulder.‘See the two girls, the twins?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Gordio’s daughters. I’ll have someone introduce you to them. You might hear something germane.’

  Cassius wasn’t concerned about talking to the girls, but the prospect of getting close to the governor unnerved him.

  ‘I can try, I suppose. I’m not really used to this kind of thing.’

  ‘I can see that. Just tread carefully. You assured me you’re a gentleman. Now’s the time to prove it.’

  Lady Antonia was not one to waste time. She immediately recruited a friend named Drusilla and told her that Cassius was interested in meeting the young ladies. Antonia made her way inside, leaving Drusilla to escort Cassius across the lawn. Gordio’s daughters and a third girl were listening to the harpist. Drusilla encouraged him by explaining that single young men of his class were few and far between; most had been called up for military or administrative duty outside the capital. The girls would be delighted to talk to him.

  She was quite right; and before long, Cassius was standing next to the bench where the three girls sat, regaling them with tales of his trip across the Mediterranean. Drusilla listened politely for a while then left.

  The twins – Julia and Junia – looked about fifteen; and they were utterly identical. Unfortunately, they were identically plump and nondescript; but Cassius didn’t let this distract him. Like many of the plainer girls he’d met they compensated by being charming, and he soon found himself relaxing into cordial small talk. It was a pleasure to be among young ladies again and he amused himself by glancing at their cleavage, drawing identical shades of pink from their full cheeks. Their friend Clara was a few years older. She too was rather plain, and said very little; but her few contributions revealed her to be both circumspect and knowledgeable. Cassius was careful, and waited a long time to steer the conversation around to the governor.

  He spoke to the twins of how difficult their father’s job must be and how his peerless reputation had spread all the way back to Rome. The girls accepted the compliments politely. Cassius pressed on, ruminating on the pressures and difficulties of the job, but the girls couldn’t be cajoled into anything even remotely useful, responding only in bland generalisations. It was becoming a one-way conversation, so Cassius moved on.

  He asked about Zenobia; and the three girls suddenly became animated. They took it in turns to tell him what they’d seen of her and – though careful not to suggest any kind of admiration – it was obvious Zenobia’s beauty and charisma had made a lasting impression on them all. When the talk turned to her fate they became quieter, almost sad, and – not for the first time – Cassius felt regret that he wouldn’t get a chance to see the fallen queen in the flesh.

  Interesting though all this was, Cassius had made no progress. He looked around for Antonia and was about to make his excuses when a slave announced dinner.

  For about two-thirds of the guests, this signalled the end of their involvement in the evening’s proceedings and they were guided to the door by Scaurus’s numerous servants. The remaining guests – about a hundred – congregated outside the dining room.

  Feigning interest in a wall dotted with antlers and tusks, then a huge mosaic of multicoloured dolphins, Cassius successfully detached himself from the girls, thus avoiding an encounter with their father. Once the governor’s party was safely inside the dining room he joined the queue. Just ahead was the vast bulk of Magistrate Quarto. He seemed jovial; laughing and joking with the men around him.

  Scaurus hurried past, hauling a pet leopard by a leash, reprimanding various servants who trailed along in his wake, trying not to get too close to the big cat.

  Cassius suddenly felt something dig into his left arm. He looked down and saw a bronze viper head.

  ‘Sorry,’ said Antonia. ‘Any progress?’

  Cassius matched her whisper. ‘No. You?’

  Antonia took a small mirror from her purse and examined her make-up. ‘Possibly. I’ll tell you when we’re seated.’

  The senior attendant knew Antonia by sight and they were swiftly escorted to their places. The marble that covered the dining room floor and walls was striped with sea green. Not far from the doorway was another huge statue – a silver rendering of the Tyche. Beyond, three lines of tables had been arranged to form a U facing the statue. Antonia and Cassius were seated to the right, not far from a doorway through which sweating slaves brought platters of food from the kitchens.<
br />
  Cassius tucked Antonia’s high-backed chair in behind her, then sat down. He thought he saw a bread roll on the floor but then realised it was part of an ingenious mosaic, designed to look like abandoned food. All the crockery on the table was silver, including a ruby-encrusted goblet for each diner. Cassius drew Antonia’s perfume into his nose as she leaned close to him. It was delightful.

  ‘This Octobrianus is quite the enigma,’ she whispered. ‘Drusilla’s washer-woman’s brother works at his stables. Apparently he’s refused three potential marriages in the last few years.’

  ‘Perhaps women are not to his taste.’

  ‘On the contrary – there’s hardly a maid at his villa he’s not tried it on with.’

  As they spoke, Cassius and Antonia washed their hands in the bowls of scented water in front of them.

  ‘Anything else?’

  ‘He often goes out alone at night, sometimes not returning until close to dawn.’

  Cassius elected not to mention the procurator’s possible Palmyran connections. If Antonia knew of anything, she would surely have said so.

  ‘It’s always the quiet ones,’ she observed, gazing across the room. Octobrianus was sitting almost exactly opposite them. He was leaning back in his chair, dictating to a slave who knelt nearby, nodding continuously as he wrote.

  ‘Certainly works hard,’ observed Cassius.

  ‘How pretentious,’ scoffed Antonia. ‘Probably a shopping list.’

  She pointed at the Gordio twins. ‘It seems you’ve made quite an impression on the girls.’

  They were sitting next to their father, who had been been placed close to the centre of the middle table, as had General Ulpian. The girls waved. Cassius waved back. Thankfully, Gordio was busy talking to his wife.

  ‘I must concede that they seem convinced of your gentlemanly qualities,’ said Antonia with a slight smile.

  ‘And you?’

  ‘I’ll tell you at the end of the evening.’

  Having dispensed with the leopard, Scaurus strode back into the dining room, a huge goblet in his hand. A servant in his path dodged quickly out of the way, losing his grip on the heavy bronze dish he was carrying. The dish was empty but struck the floor with a thunderous clatter. The servant quickly picked it up. Before he could get away, Scaurus put a hand on his shoulder.