Read Online Masters of Rome by Robert Fabbri - Free Book Online Page B

couriers that daily set out from Rome on the long journey to the new province; but when he had seen the content of the letter he realised that Claudius’ powerful freedman had been frightened that the missive would be intercepted. As a veteran of imperial politics, Pallas was forever embroiled in intrigue and as Vespasian finished the letter for the second time he shook his head, chewing on his lower lip, his expression strained; even here on the fringes of the Empire he was not beyond the reach of the schemes and plots of his masters back in Rome.
    Hormus slipped through the entrance to Vespasian’s sleeping quarters with his breastplate, helmet and greaves all freshly polished and hung them on his armour-stand. ‘Will there be anything else, master?’
    Vespasian glanced at the letter again. ‘Yes, Hormus; ask Paetus to report to me an hour before dawn. Wake me by then.’
    The slave bowed and went about his errand. Vespasian rolled up Pallas’ letter, placed it with the others on the table, and then blew out the lamp. In the dark of the tent he closed his eyes to the sound of almost ten thousand men settling down for the night and the scent of the smoke spiralling up from the smouldering wick.
    The lamp was burning when Vespasian opened his eyes; he shivered despite being well wrapped in woollen blankets. Feeling more tired than when he went to bed, he sat up; the flap to his sleeping quarters was swinging as if someone had just passed through. ‘Hormus!’ He waited a few moments, yawning deeply; there was no reply. ‘Hormus?’ Untangling himself from the blankets he sat on the edge of the bed, stretching.
    â€˜Yes, master,’ his slave said, walking in, wiping the sleep from his eyes.
    â€˜Bring me some bread and warmed wine.’
    â€˜Yes, master.’
    â€˜Is Paetus here yet?’
    â€˜I’m sorry, master?’
    â€˜You heard me.’
    The slave shook his head looking nonplussed. ‘No, master, he’s not; I only got back a couple of hours ago. It’s at least five hours until dawn.’
    â€˜Then why did you wake me?’
    â€˜What do you mean, master?’
    â€˜The flap was swinging when I woke up – you’d just gone through it.’
    Hormus was looking increasingly confused. ‘I was asleep in my bedding-roll just the other side of the entrance.’
    â€˜Then who came in?’
    â€˜No one; they would have had to step over me; I would have woken.’
    â€˜Are you sure?’
    â€˜Yes, master, no one came in.’
    â€˜Then who lit the lamp?’
    Hormus looked at the spluttering flame and shook his head mutely, his eyes wide.
    Vespasian felt another chill. The hairs on the back of his neck and on his arms bristled.
    â€˜The wick must have just reignited,’ Magnus asserted, looking down at the offending item four hours later.
    Vespasian shook his head, his expression again strained. ‘Impossible, it was completely out; I remember smelling the smoke from it.’
    â€˜Perhaps Hormus is lying; perhaps he did light it and then pretended he didn’t to scare you.’
    â€˜Why would he want to do that?’
    Magnus hunched his shoulders, spreading his hands. ‘I don’t know; perhaps he just doesn’t like you. Or perhaps he’s been planted by the enemy to distract you, take your mind off the campaign.’
    â€˜Don’t be ridiculous. He wouldn’t need to do that; he could kill me in my bed any night.’
    â€˜How long have you had him?’
    â€˜I bought him soon after you left for Rome, so May last year. I’ve had him nearly a year; he’s placid, meticulous, unobtrusive and, I believe, honest, as nothing has ever gone missing.’
    â€˜What is he?’
    â€˜He’s a slave.’
    â€˜Yes, I know that; I mean what was he?’
    â€˜He was born a slave, that’s why I chose him; he’s never known anything else so I wouldn’t have