‘They believe that through Yeshua the meek will gain strength in the next life.’
‘Who the fuck are the meek?’ Magnus asked, taking one of Gaius’ lamb skewers from Hormus. ‘I’ve never heard of them. What have they got to do with it?’
Vespasian was thoughtful. ‘I think that in the context of Paulus’ religion the meek are just about everybody in the Empire who’s not of magisterial rank, a merchant or in the army. Comparatively few other people have any wealth to speak of, so aiming a message promising more at the meek who want more is clever.’
‘Fucking meek!’
Gaius pointed a half-finished skewer at Sabinus. ‘The one thing that I can see from all this is that it’s a very dangerous new movement. If you start having these meek people believe that everything is going to be far better in an afterlife so that they stop worrying about what they get up to in this life, thereby lies chaos, dear boys.’ He waved his skewer at the crucified men. ‘Look at those idiots you had to deal with yesterday: they practically nailed themselves to their crosses judging by what you said. Granted, it can’t be a very pleasant way to die, not like lying in the bath with an open vein, but if they think that they’re marching off to another world where they’re not going to be meek any more then we’ll be getting a whole underclass that has no fear of death, and then how will we control them and who will do the work? It’ll be like another slave revolt; there aren’t many people who don’t shudder at the name of Spartacus. If this carries on, the names of Paulus and Yeshua will resonate just as nastily as his still does.’
‘What would you recommend, Uncle?’ Sabinus asked, heading back towards the gate.
‘Kill the lot of them; get them off to their non-meek world as soon as you can before this thing starts to grow. Don’t imprison them or send them down the mines because they’ll just infect other unsuspecting meek people with their twaddle. But most of all you’ve got to find and execute this Paulus and put a stop to the filth that he’s spreading.’
CHAPTER VI
Vespasian admired the fortified walls of Abydos on the Asian shore, just half a mile off to starboard as the trireme rowed by, struggling against the current of the Hellespont and a contrary wind. For what was once such a strategic town positioned at the junction of Europa and Asia it was now a city of little importance, as Roman peace had negated the need to guard against invasion from one continent to the other. Looking to either bank of this mile-wide channel he tried to imagine the bridges that Alexander, Darius and Xerxes had used to transport their armies across and found himself recalling his one-time friend Caligula’s bridge across the Bay of Neapolis; that had been three times the length needed to bridge the Hellespont. The brash young Emperor had ridden across it wearing Alexander’s breastplate in an attempt to outshine those colossi of history. However, the bridge was to be a memorial to Caligula’s folly rather than the proof of his military prowess. Vespasian smiled as he recalled his thoughts on seeing the Pharos in Alexandria for the first time: if you want to be remembered, build something that’s of use to the people. Caligula’s mistake had been to build something that was of no use to anyone — not even himself.
‘You seem pleased with yourself,’ Sabinus said, joining him at the rail looking very wan; he had spent the first two days of the voyage from the closest port to Philippi, another Neapolis, proving yet again just what a bad sailor he was.
‘I was thinking about Caligula.’
‘That’s nothing to smile about; it’s something that I try to avoid doing. I see Clementina’s face as he dragged her off to rape her and then I see her as she lay dying in our house, flayed by a malevolent god.’
Vespasian shuddered and was silent for a few moments as he remembered the confrontation with the god, Heylel, conjured by druids in the garden of Sabinus’ Aventine villa; Sabinus’ wife had suffered a hideous death at its hands. ‘Yes, I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t be; I’ve got used to it now. And it’s a comfort having my son serving as a military tribune with the Fifth Macedonica. It means I get to see him three or four times a year.’
‘Which reminds me, I need you to take the son of a client of mine on as a military tribune.’
‘Whose son?’
‘Laelius.’
‘The chickpea contractor?’
‘That’s the one. I had Pallas get the Emperor to restore him to the equestrian order as part of the deal to come out here.’
‘What’s in it for me?’
‘Call it repayment for having you exonerated of all blame for missing those Parthians.’
Sabinus leant heavily on the rail and breathed deeply to control his churning innards. ‘I’m never going to live that down, am I?’
‘So it’s a deal?’
‘Yes, it’s a deal; I’ll write to Laelius offering the lad a position as soon as I’m back in Thessalonike.’
‘I’m sure his gratitude will be expressed in chickpeas.’
‘As long as it’s expressed I don’t care.’ With a sudden heave Sabinus lost the battle with his guts and shot a thin stream of pale liquid over the side.
Vespasian slapped his brother on the back. ‘I just hope that whatever Tryphaena manages to tell you about the Thracian nobility is worth all this discomfort.’
‘It will be,’ Sabinus said in a high voice as he convulsed again. ‘When we apprise her of the situation she’ll be very anxious to convince us of her total loyalty to Rome so that we will vouch for her if Agrippina’s ever exposed. That’s got to be worth a few potential traitors’ names and suggestions on how to deal with them.’
*
The arrival of two men of proconsular and one of propraetor rank caused a flurry of activity in the recently modernised port of Cyzicus the following day. The two customs officials who waited on the quay for the gangway to be lowered looked at each other in alarm at the sight of senatorial togas surrounded by so many lictors. After a brief enquiry as to the names of such distinguished visitors the paperwork was suddenly deemed to be unnecessary and all thought of searching the ship or charging the exorbitantly high mooring fees disappeared from the officials’ minds, as they tried to outdo one another in their attempts to ingratiate themselves with their illustrious guests. Messages announcing their arrival were sent to Tryphaena and all the other worthies of the city, refreshments were called for as suitable transport was arranged, and flattery and obsequiousness oozed out of every sentence in the firm belief that one can never fawn too much to men of high rank.
Eventually two suitable carriages were procured and the brothers and their uncle were aided into one by many willing hands as Magnus and Hormus were obliged to climb the small gap between the ground and the other vehicle’s step using nothing but their own exertion. The two officials then insisted on guiding the lictors through the town, which was situated on the south coast of an island in the Propontis and connected to the mainland by a causeway a third of a mile long. With expressions of sincere gratitude for having been allowed to be of service, and with heartfelt requests that the Cyzicus customs service should be spoken of in a positive tone should their excellencies ever find occasion to mention it in the high circles that they surely inhabit, the two officials delivered their precious charges to the impressive building that was Tryphaena’s residence. They watched Vespasian, Sabinus and Gaius being received by the great lady herself without noticing Magnus and Hormus emerging from the second carriage, and therefore missed the chance of a purse of silver that Vespasian had instructed Hormus to give them should a tip be appropriate. In mutual agreement that they had done their finest crawling to persons of much importance, they walked away, convinced that they had shown the Cyzicus customs service in its best light, oblivious to the fact that they had totally failed in their duty to collect revenue for the province of Asia in the presence of three of Rome’s élite.