Captain of Rome

Regulus motioned to the raised seating area in the centre of the room, an open-sided square of low couches around a table lain with a sprawling feast, a banquet fit for a multitude of two.

‘Please,’ Regulus motioned with his hand, allowing Scipio to be seated first as the guest.

Scipio nodded and took the seat vacated moments before by Regulus at the head of the table, intentionally occupying the most important position, a seat normally reserved for the host and only relinquished to the most honoured of guests. It was a subtle point but with it Scipio retook the advantage in the continual power-play that had become almost instinctive after so many years in the Senate. For an instant Regulus’s expression showed disapproval but he instantly swept it aside with a smile and he sat to Scipio’s right, clapping his hands lightly as a signal for the servants to enter and begin serving the evening meal.

For the next thirty minutes the two men talked of inconsequential matters, touching lightly on matters debated every day in the Senate. It was mere foreplay, courtesy and convention dictating that the more serious topics be avoided until after the meal was ended. Regulus however, was unable to contain his curiosity and he blurted out his opening question before the servants had completed clearing the largely untouched food.

‘So what brings you to my humble abode after dark, Consul? Why the need for such secrecy?’ he asked.

Scipio was forced to summon all his will power in an effort to remain calm at Regulus’s vulgarity but his voice betrayed his inner anger as he leaned into the senator.

‘Dismiss your servants first,’ he breathed in a near whisper, the timbre of his voice disguising his anger.

Regulus was taken aback slightly by the request but he complied and within seconds the two men were alone in the room.

‘I have come,’ Scipio began slowly, committing himself fully to the plan he had devised, ‘to make you a proposition, Regulus. I have come to offer you the position of senior consul.’

Regulus was stunned, disbelief robbing him of a response. Scipio was mad, surely unhinged if he believed he could offer such a thing. He was still senior consul but only in name and even that for only a few days more. His enemies in the Senate openly mocked him using the cognomen they had conferred upon him after Lipara. Asina, they called him, the donkey. The word made Regulus smile involuntarily and before he could stop himself he was laughing uproariously at the absurdity of the moment, a morsel of food shooting from his mouth as his face twisted in mockery.

Scipio felt his entire body tense in sudden rage as he witnessed Regulus’s response. His fist clenched into a tight ball and an almost insurmountable urge swept down his arm, his anger screaming at him to ram his fist into the face across from him. He conquered his emotions once more and let Regulus expend his laughter until the room lapsed once more into silence.

‘My apologies, Scipio,’ Regulus said with false sincerity. ‘Since your request for a meeting I have searched my mind for the reason. Believe you me, this was not one I envisaged.’

‘Nevertheless,’ Scipio said, as if Regulus’s reaction had not occurred, ‘I am in a position to offer you the senior consulship.’

Regulus made to respond but he stayed his words. He searched Scipio’s face for signs of duplicity but there were none and he forced his mind to ignore the absurdness of the proposal and examine it anew. Scipio was still a powerful man, a patrician with enormous wealth and, before Lipara, a man with a fearsome reputation in the Senate. It was probable that he still held sway over many of the junior senators, and history had shown that men could recover from calamitous defeat in battle, but again Regulus was wary. Surely it was too soon for Scipio to rise again, to have regained the support of the senior senators and yet Regulus could sense the utter conviction in Scipio’s offer. He continued to stare at the senior consul and for the first time a rueful frown appeared at the corner of his eyes.

‘How?’ Regulus said, all trace of joviality now gone from the room. ‘The election is in two days and Duilius currently stands unopposed.’

Scipio nodded as if the fact was tiresome.

‘And with good cause,’ Regulus added. ‘His victory at Mylae gives him the support of every senator in the house.’

‘Not every senator,’ Scipio replied cannily.

‘Granted,’ Regulus said after a moment’s pause. ‘There are some, maybe even many who would prefer that a “new man” did not become senior consul, but none will challenge him openly, not when defeat is certain and their challenge would gain them a powerful enemy.’

‘But what if he didn’t stand for election?’ Scipio asked.

Again Regulus made to scoff, but he suppressed his natural reaction and continued instead to search Scipio’s hard gaze.

‘Go on…’ he said, trying to draw out Scipio’s reasoning, the specific information he so obviously had.

‘If Duilius did not stand, you could put your name forward for nomination. You have held the position before. You are renowned and well respected. With Duilius’s name removed from the ballot the Senate would favour a senior patrician.’

‘But what of Longus?’ Regulus asked. ‘He is Patrician and his nomination for junior consul is foremost. He would almost certainly strike for the higher position if Duilius withdraws.’

‘Longus is Duilius’s puppet.’ Scipio scoffed. ‘A vote for him is a vote for Duilius and every senior senator knows it. You are by far the better man.’

Regulus nodded politely at the superficial complement, but he struggled to remain guarded, a creeping ambition taking hold within him at the thought of once more holding the highest office, a position he had held when his star was at its zenith many years before. Since then he had become a peripheral figure in the Curia, content to rest on his achievements. Or so he had believed before Scipio’s offer was revealed. He sat forward, his mind already calculating the possible outcome of an imagined vote.

‘You believe the Senate will choose me over Longus?’ he asked.

Scipio nodded. ‘Over the years I have amassed considerable credit with many of the junior senators of the house, many of whom owe me dearly despite my current state.’ Scipio said slowly, knowing he had to reveal his innermost hand if he was going to commit Regulus to his cause. ‘I have already called in each of those favours and alliances and to a man they have each put their vote secretly at my disposal.’

Regulus remained silent, his mind examining Scipio’s proposal from every angle.

‘And the senior senators will vote for one of their own,’ Regulus said almost to himself and again Scipio nodded.

Regulus turned the proposal over again. Only one obstacle remained, one insurmountable barrier that Regulus was sure could not be overcome, even by a man as cunning as he knew Scipio was.

‘How will you guarantee Duilius will not stand for election? His withdrawal would be the act of a madman.’

‘He will withdraw’ Scipio said with utter certainty.

‘But…’ Regulus began, unable to assure himself despite Scipio’s conviction.

‘He will announce his withdrawal tomorrow in the Senate and when he does I will look to you.’ Scipio said, his gaze penetrating, intimidating, his force of will filling the space around Regulus. ‘You will have your proof that my plan is sound and I will expect your full cooperation from that point onward.’

Regulus lapsed into silence once more and his gaze shifted from Scipio’s face, his eyes ranging into the candlelit spaces behind the consul as if he was chasing some elusive doubt. His gaze settled on Scipio once more.

‘You would do all this for revenge?’ he asked.

‘It is reason enough,’ Scipio said and Regulus nodded imperceptibly in agreement.

‘Then I accept,’ he said simply.

Scipio stood almost immediately, his sudden movement helping to mask the traces of a smile of triumph creeping onto his face. Regulus stood also and escorted Scipio from the room, this time giving the consul the full deference his position had always commanded. The two men walked into the courtyard and Scipio’s guards formed up around their master, each one visibly tense at the thought of the return journey through the dark treacherous streets. Only Scipio seemed at ease and he bid Regulus farewell with a brief conspiratorial nod, struggling to contain a laugh as Regulus returned the gesture in kind. Once on the street and out of earshot of the senator however, Scipio gave full vent to his pent up triumph. Regulus had been easily swayed, happy and ready to believe that Scipio’s motives were entirely based on revenge against Duilius. They were in part, but Scipio’s ambitions sat well above mere retribution. They were as always set on only one objective, an aspiration that fate had cruelly wrenched from his grasp at Lipara but one which Scipio was determined to regain at any cost. Absolute power in Rome.

CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_4acd35d8-97cd-5b4c-9243-3d8cde2c1c2a)

Day dawned for the Aquila ten miles south of Naples, with an offshore breeze blowing lightly over the aft-deck, the air laden with wood-smoke and waste, the deep musky smell of unwashed streets in the cramped innards of the teeming port. Atticus closed his eyes and opened his mouth slightly as the faint smell washed over the foredeck and he was immediately transported back thirty years to the slums of Locri and the struggling existence of his childhood. He opened his eyes again slowly and drank in the sight of the open sea around him, whispering a silent thankful prayer to Fortuna for the guiding hand that had led him so far from that life.

Atticus’s gaze picked out a dark spot against the strengthening light in the east and he focused his attention on the sky over the low coastline a mile away, watching the silhouette intently as it slowly took shape into the familiar profile of a sea eagle and Atticus found that he was holding his breath in anticipation as the bird approached his ship. At two hundred yards distance the moment came and the bird suddenly withdrew its wings and tucked them tight against its body, the swift change sending the eagle into the beginnings of a graceful dive that transformed the once benevolent profile of the eagle into a deadly spear.

The sea eagle hit the water at an incredible speed and she was immediately swallowed by the calm sea, the ripples of her entry instantly swept away and her existence lost until a second later she broke the surface again with a fish trapped in her beak, the water cascading from her feathers to be caught by the light of the rising sun. She soared heavenward once more, however her success went unacknowledged as Atticus shifted his gaze to a flash of colour immediately behind where the bird had struck. The Aquila was almost past the point, her seven knot speed pushing her inexorably northward and Atticus spun around to look to the masthead. Corin was there, his gaze fixed dead ahead, scanning the waters for the trading ships that would soon emanate from the port of Naples. Atticus looked to the sea once more, the half-image he had witnessed lost once more to the rolling waves. He hesitated for a mere second longer.

‘Hard to starboard,’ he roared. ‘Come about east-south-east.’

The balanced hull of the Aquila swung instantly beneath his feet as he traversed the main deck towards the aft, his eyes locked on a reference point on the coast and as he reached Gaius at the tiller he ordered him to straighten the galley’s course.

‘Steerage speed, lookouts to the fore!’ he ordered and the crew scrambled to the task, Lucius reiterating the order as the Aquila settled low in the water, her two knot speed giving her a gentle headway against the off-shore breeze. Septimus approached Atticus with a quizzical look on his face.

‘Something in the water,’ Atticus said in answer, ‘two hundred yards off the bow.’

‘Understood,’ Septimus nodded and made his way to the foredeck to inform the lookouts stationed there.

Below deck in the main cabin, Varro felt the sudden change in the galley’s course and her drop in speed. He sat up in his cot and planted his feet firmly on the deck, his sudden action triggering a scurrying sound on the floor as cockroaches fled the unexpected movement. Varro reached up for the porthole above him, pulling back the shutter, allowing the early sunlight to flood the narrow confines of the cabin and he caught sight of the last of the ubiquitous insects as they fled for the dark recesses of the room.