The Furies of Rome Read Online Free Page B

military and magisterial ranks that were the career structure for the é lite in Rome, which was far more than most New Men from non-senatorial families could expect; indeed, Sabinus had progressed from the consulship to being a provincial governor and was now the prefect of the city of Rome. Yes, Vespasian reflected, rubbing the thin crown of hair that was all that remained on his otherwise bald head, Vespasia could be proud of her achievement for her family.
    Yet there was one thing that she had left undone in Vespasian’s eyes: she was going to her grave with a secret; a secret almost as old as him. That secret had been enforced by an oath administered, at Vespasia’s insistence, to all who had been a witness to the incident – Sabinus, aged almost five, included. It had occurred at Vespasian’s naming ceremony, nine days after his birth and it had to do with the markings on the livers of the sacrificial ox, boar and ram; what these markings were, no one had been able to tell him because of the oath. He knew, though, that his parents had believed the marks prophesied his future for he had overheard them discussing it, in vague terms, as a youth of sixteen; but what was prophesied, he knew not. And now his mother was going to the shaded land beyond the Styx without releasing people from that oath. However, due to certain strange occurrences and prophecies that Vespasian had been subject to throughout his life, he had formed a reasonable idea of what the omens may have predicted for him all those years ago; and it was an idea that was as outrageous as it was implausible with the political settlement as it was and the Principate in the hands of one family.
    But, should that line fail, what then? If the Emperor were to die childless whence would a new emperor come?
    It had been to this end that Vespasian had been instrumental in bringing about a state of war, still continuing, between Rome and Parthia over the nominally autonomous kingdom of Armenia. The war was seen by the powers behind the throne as a good thing to help secure the young Emperor Nero’s position and Vespasian wanted Nero’s position to be secure; he wanted Nero to rule for some time because he had a suspicion, no, it was more than a suspicion, it was a feeling bordering on certainty, that Nero would run to excesses that would make the depravities of his predecessors seem as mere foibles to be shrugged off with indulgence. If that were to be the case then Vespasian doubted that Rome would tolerate another emperor from the same unstable family. And so to whom would Rome look to fill that position? The candidate would have to be of consular rank with a proven military record and there were many men in Rome like that, Vespasian included; but, Vespasian had reasoned, if it were to be someone like him then why not him?
    And that was what Vespasia was taking to her grave: the confirmation, or not, of Vespasian’s suspicions; and he knew that even if she did regain consciousness he would never be able to get her to change her mind.
    ‘Master?’ A voice intruded into his inner thoughts.
    Vespasian turned; his slave stood silhouetted in the doorway. ‘What is it, Hormus?’
    ‘Pallo sent me to tell you that your brother has arrived.’
    ‘Thank Mars for that. Have our finest white bullock prepared for sacrifice as soon as Sabinus and my uncle have seen my mother.’
    ‘Your uncle, master?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘There must be a misunderstanding; it’s just your brother arriving, your uncle is not with him.’
    Although the atrium of the main house on the Flavian estate at Aquae Cutillae benefited from the underfloor heating of a hypocaust and, despite a raging log fire in the hearth, the chamber still felt chill after the warmth of Vespasia’s dying-chamber. Vespasian rubbed his arms as he followed Hormus across the floor, decorated with a pastoral mosaic illustrating the various ways that the family supported itself through working the land. Before they