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as well as I used to since losing the eye and that is becoming a bit of a problem, I’ll admit. I ain’t as sharp as I was and some of the surrounding brotherhoods are getting a whiff of that.’
    ‘Perhaps it’s time to think about retiring and taking life easy; take your patron’s example: he hasn’t made a speech in the Senate for three years now.’
    Gaius brushed away a carefully tonged and dyed curl from his face and looked at Vespasian in alarm. ‘Dear boy, you wonder why, when the last speech I was forced to make was reading out a list of all the senators and equites accused of crimes with Messalina and condemned to death. That sort of exposure makes one very conspicuous and that’s how I still feel three years later, having not even countenanced the possibility of holding an opinion, let alone considered expressing one, during all that time.’
    ‘Well, I’m afraid that you may be dragged out of your self-imposed retirement, Uncle.’
    The alarm on Gaius’ face intensified. ‘Whatever for?’
    ‘Not what but whom, Uncle.’
    ‘Pallas?’
    ‘I wish it were but I’m afraid it’s not.’
    ‘Is that wise?’ Gaius asked after Vespasian had finished recounting his meeting with Agarpetus. ‘If you refuse to meet him, there is still a chance that Pallas may be able to exert some pressure over Agrippina; he might get her to change her mind or at least not oppose you so vehemently just because your boy happens to be her stepson’s best friend. But once you go behind Pallas’ back to Narcissus then all trust and expectation ofloyalty is broken and we lose the best ally that this family has in the palace.’
    ‘But that ally is the lover of my enemy.’
    ‘And so therefore Pallas has become your enemy whilst Narcissus is Agrippina’s enemy thus making him your friend? Dear boy, think: Pallas has done nothing more than protect his own position by allying himself with Agrippina; he has made the sensible choice seeing as Nero is a far more suitable candidate to succeed Claudius than Britannicus, purely because he’s three years older. Claudius won’t last more than two, perhaps three, more years; do you really think that a boy could rule?’
    Vespasian considered the question as the party passed under a colonnade and entered the Forum of Augustus dominated by the vividly painted Temple of Mars Victorious resplendent in deep red and strong, golden yellow. Statues, togate or in military uniform, equally as brightly painted, stood on plinths around the edge of the Forum, their eyes – which exposed Magnus’ false one for the cheap imitation it was – following the public about their business as if the great men commemorated still guided the city. ‘No, Uncle, not without a regent,’ he admitted eventually.
    ‘And who would that be in Britannicus’ case? His mother, thank the gods, is dead so that leaves his uncle, Corvinus, or Burrus, the prefect of the Praetorian Guard. No one can countenance either option so the weight of opinion is favouring Nero because, since his fourteenth birthday fifteen days ago, he has taken his toga virilis. If Claudius dies tomorrow we have a man to put in his place.’
    ‘If Nero becomes emperor, Agrippina will see to it that I’ll never hold office again.’
    ‘Then pull Titus away from Britannicus and the problem is solved.’
    ‘Is it? Claudius would be offended; what happens if he surprises us all and lives for another ten years?’
    It was Gaius’ turn to contemplate the question as they passed through into Caesar’s Forum where the Urban prefect and lesser civic magistrates could be petitioned in the shadow of a greatequestrian statue of the one-time dictator himself. ‘That would be unfortunate,’ Gaius conceded, ‘but highly unlikely.’
    ‘But not impossible. If I’ve earned Agrippina’s enmity, would you deem it wise to try to buy her friendship by earning Claudius’ as well?’
    ‘If you put it like that, then no.’
    ‘So what choice do we have