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area and hears of this. He’ll avenge me and he’s a very patient man the Cripple is; he doesn’t mind if things don’t move fast because he can’t either. So speed is never an issue for him, you see; he’ll take his time.’
    ‘Which is more than you will,’ Vespasian observed as Titus arrived with Domitian.
    Immediately the boy leapt forward, not towards his former captor but at Vespasian, landing on his back and beating him about the head and shoulders. ‘You would have let them kill me! You didn’t try to buy my life!’
    Titus pulled him off as he shouted accusations and tried to claw at his father’s face.
    Vespasian stood, turned and slapped the boy about the ears until he stopped his noise. ‘Listen, son; it was your pride that put you in the greatest danger. I could have made them believe that you were an unimportant slave despite your dress, but you just couldn’t bear it, could you? No, you just had to let them know how important you were and in doing so upped the stakes. We could have had a very neat little exchange of prisoners if you had kept your mouth shut but you just couldn’t, could you? You couldn’t see beyond the immediate present and your pride wouldn’t allow people, people who don’t even matter, to think that you were a slave. Therefore, you forced me into a position where I had to out-bluff them and that could have gone very, very wrong and you would have been the first to die, you stupid little boy. You’ve as much sense of strategy as one of Magnus’ dogs! And that’s being kind.’
    The vehemence of the diatribe shocked Domitian into silence.
    ‘I hope that one day you’ll be able to look back at this and learn from it.’ Vespasian turned back to Cadmus. ‘I’ll forego the pleasure of your lingering death because I think that you might just have been instrumental in teaching my son an important lesson.’
    ‘Very gracious of you,’ Cadmus whispered, the pain evidently now flooding through him as the shock of the attack wore off. ‘But don’t expect the Cripple to hold that into account; he’s not known for his mercy as none was ever shown to him.’
    Vespasian knelt again, drawing his knife. ‘And if I ever come across him he certainly won’t be receiving any from me.’
    ‘Let me, Father,’ Domitian demanded whilst Titus held him back.
    Vespasian turned to his younger son. ‘You will do nothing, Domitian, other than what you are told and now I’m telling you to keep silent.’ He put the knife to Cadmus’ chest and rammed it through his heart.
    The last of the scalded bone fragments were consigned to the urn atop the heap of fine ashes and Sabinus replaced the lid. Using a taper, Vespasian melted wax so that it fell around the rim of the urn, sealing it. Once the wax had solidified, Sabinus placed the urn into the opened tomb and then began a series of prayers before that too was closed and Vespasia’s passing was complete. The brothers could then walk away, their duty to their mother done.
    But Vespasian had one more thing to do in honour of his mother. ‘Hormus,’ he called to his slave standing with the rest of the household, ‘come here.’
    ‘Yes, master,’ Hormus replied, as if he was reviewing in his head incidents in which it could be said that he had been at fault that day.
    As Hormus approached, Vespasian drew a scroll and what looked like a piece of felt from the fold of his toga. ‘Hormus, you have been my slave for fourteen years now and served me faithfully.’
    Hormus’ eyes filled with tears as he and all present could guess what was about to happen.
    ‘You have passed the age of thirty and are now eligible for manumission.’ Vespasian handed Hormus the scroll that confirmed his freedom and the felt hat, the piletus , which was the physical sign of it. ‘Take these in honour of my mother and may you, in her memory, carry on serving me with the same faithfulness as a freedman as you did when a slave.’
    Hormus fell to one knee and