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  Augustus gave an ugly grin. ‘That sounds like you found it boring?’

  I gave a slight cough as I composed myself. ‘Not at all, it was a gripping tale. I was swept along by it, just as everyone else in the audience was.’

  By and large, that was the truth, although the first act probably wasn’t enhanced by seeing it twice, but I kept that to myself.

  Augustus gave me a crooked smile. ‘Hah! What do you know of the theatre?’

  I smiled. ‘I must admit, very little. I’m probably not the best person to ask for literary criticism.’

  Augustus abruptly changed the subject. ‘Your father wrote to me regarding you.’

  I felt the blood rising to my face, but I kept myself calm and took a sip of wine. ‘Really? I wasn’t aware.’

  Augustus snorted. ‘He asked whether I could place you in the Centumviral Court, to act as one of my magistrates.’

  Germanicus piped up. ‘You want to join the Centumviral? You never said! I’d be delighted to have you. You can serve as one of my decemviri. Since Tarquinius left for Gaul, I’ve been restricted to nine.’

  I turned sheepishly to Germanicus. ‘I’ve been following my brother-in-law to get a feel for the law courts. My father served in the Centumviral when he was my age and said it would be a good way to start a career in public service.’

  Augustus gave a cool smile. ‘A service that could possibly take you far. Maybe to enter the Senate at some point?’

  This was getting uncomfortable. That was exactly the plan, although I wasn’t expecting to have to reveal my hand so soon. If I was ever to be granted the command of my own legion, I’d need to serve in the Senate, but I’d wanted to subtly ingratiate myself into the reckoning, not blunder my way into making an inappropriate advance over dinner. ‘Only if you’d have me, my lord? I only wish to serve in whatever capacity that suits you and the Senate.’

  Augustus grunted. ‘The Centumviral Court is out of the question. The magistrates serving there have all served as quaestores, augurs, or in another form of service first. You have no experience.’

  Germanicus gave a short bark of a laugh. ‘I never served as a quaestor or an augur.’

  Augustus threw his adopted grandson a murderous look. ‘You I made sure to advance because of your obvious potential. Don’t make me regret that decision.’

  That was enough to quieten Germanicus, who ruefully gave me an apologetic look.

  Well, there goes that plan then. At least my father can’t say I didn’t try. ‘As you wish, my lord. As I said, I will serve in whichever capacity I can be of use in Rome. I will go where the wind takes me.’

  Augustus gave me a malignant look. ‘The same wind that blew you back to Rome, no doubt. Tell me, did you not hear of my proclamation declaring that the legions of Germany shouldn’t return to Rome? What right did you have to think that this didn’t apply to you?’

  Numeria looked at me with concern, and my heart started racing, but before I could reply, Livia came to my rescue, speaking in a loud authoritative voice. ‘By my directive, my dear. You know that young Aprilis here was carrying out an errand on my behalf, one he fulfilled with no besmirch to his honour. He came back to report to me – isn’t that right, Cassius?’

  I nodded mutely and should have just left it there. But I couldn’t. The injustice of his decree, his refusal to let the survivors of the disaster in the Teutoburg return to Rome, still burned in me. My body trembled with the need to say something, and I clenched my sweaty hands in the effort of restraining myself and keeping quiet.

  Augustus noticed my discomfort. ‘What is it, boy? I can see you’re holding something back.’

  I looked up at him, into that iron stare. His eyes that demanded truth bored into mine.

  Aulus had told me that I couldn’t challenge his decree in the law courts, so it left me just one option, to appeal to the one man who had the power to repeal it, the man responsible for it in the first place. Surely I owed the survivors that much? I cleared my throat. ‘I am afraid to admit that I don’t agree with the decree, my lord. I think it unjust.’

  Augustus eyes narrowed. ‘You do?’

  I was committed now, no turning back. Before I could change my mind, I blurted out, ‘The few survivors of those legions gave everything they could for Rome. They fought to the last, endured much to uphold the honour of Rome.’

  The room was deadly silent. I gulped in apprehension. What was I doing?

  Augustus said in a slow and quiet voice, ‘And you think I don’t realise that?’

  I swallowed hard, confused by his answer. ‘But my lord, when I heard your proclamation, I thought—’

  Augustus cut me off, grimacing. ‘I feel the loss of those men in the Teutoburg more than you could ever know, young fool, Aprilis.’ His voice once again dripped scorn as he pronounced my name. His voice rose higher in anger. ‘You needn’t tell me what a tragedy it is that Rome has lost three of its finest legions. Three eagles lost to the barbarian horde! Not since the days of Hannibal has Rome suffered such a humiliation, and two hundred years have passed since those dark days. Every day I think of those men who lost their lives in that forest. Every night I toss and turn in anger at Varus’ stupidity in leading those men to their deaths in that damn forest. Every day I punish myself for not heeding the warnings and replacing Varus sooner and saving those men’s lives.’

  Every one of us was shocked by Augustus’ impassioned admission. Numeria leaned over and gripped my arm, whilst Germanicus and Agrippina looked at each other blankly, not knowing what to say. Even Livia looked concerned that her husband had lost his composure.

  I was scared of his reaction myself, but I sat up slightly straighter on my divan and spread my arms wide, saying softly, ‘If that is how you feel, then why blame the survivors?’

  Augustus threw his pottery cup on the ground and it shattered. ‘Because they are sullied with bad luck and ill omens. Anyone associated with that disaster is, including you.’

  I bowed my head, realising I’d made a gross misjudgement in raising the subject. ‘Would you like me to leave Rome?’

  He looked at me in appraisal. ‘If I had wanted that, you’d already be gone.’

  I swallowed hard. ‘Then why have I been spared?’

  Livia answered for her husband. ‘Because he realises that it was you who warned Caedicius of the disaster and enabled him to bar the path of the Cherusci. If Arminius hadn’t been delayed at Aliso, Arminius may have been able to cross the Rhenus unopposed and Roman Gaul would have been at his mercy.’

  Augustus locked eyes with his wife, and it was like watching two giant forces of nature oppose one another; the air seemed to crackle between the two of them. But Augustus hadn’t chosen to spend his life with Livia without reason, and she was possibly the only person in the world with a strong enough resolve to oppose the dominant will of Augustus. He broke off the eye contact and turned back to me. ‘I acknowledge that some debt is owed to you. But I will not have those others return to Rome. They represent our greatest ever failure. I cannot have any reminder of them in our streets, spreading word of our fallibility. Don’t stretch my patience too far on this, Aprilis. I know of the veteran’s colony you have set up for them in Gaul. I never gave permission for this.’

  I stumbled. ‘I just thought it was fair to have—’

  He shook his head. ‘That in itself is a treasonous act. I disallowed former generals of Rome from establishing their own colonies. This can only be done by the Roman state. You know of this law?’

  I did. Former legates used to provide the men of their own legions with retirement parcels of land from their own purse. ‘I do, my lord, but I hardly thought—’

  Augustus raised a finger. ‘I ended the practice to stop the civil wars that once ravaged the Roman Republic. If the men’s loyalty is to their own commanders, it can’t be to Rome.’

  ‘But there are less than a hundred survivors left. They hardly constitute an army.’

  Augustus paced and
then turned to me. ‘If I make an exception in this case, others will want to do the same.’

  This was getting out of hand; I’d never meant to commit treason. ‘My lord, I only wanted to provide the men somewhere to live and not to have to beg on the streets in the Roman provinces.’

  This time it was Germanicus who came to my aid. ‘It may prove useful in the future, my lord. When the legions march back into Germany to reclaim our lost eagles, it may be useful to have a few survivors of the battle, some guides who know the land and to show us where it happened.’

  Augustus looked at Germanicus. ‘If we march back into Germany.’

  Germanicus sat up straighter. ‘Of course we must return!’

  Augustus ignored his adopted grandson’s comment and scanned the rest of the party, settling on Numeria. ‘And who are you? No doubt some loose woman of Aprilis’? I know you’re not married to him. I would have heard.’

  Numeria kept her composure. ‘I am the daughter of Numerius Scipio, a loyal member of your Senate,’ she told him, and I almost swallowed my heart. Had I put Numeria in danger? Why was I so reckless?

  Augustus gave a cold smile. ‘I know who you are. So why aren’t you married? All noble Roman women have a duty to marry.’ Augustus turned back to me. ‘You think it is alright to openly fornicate with a senator’s daughter out of wedlock?’

  Before I could answer, Numeria’s eyes hardened. ‘In fact, Cassius has asked me to marry him, several times. I have told him to wait until a suitable period of mourning has passed after the death of my late husband.’

  Augustus took another cup of wine offered him by a slave to replace the one he’d smashed. He swallowed a mouthful and looked at Numeria. ‘He died in my service?’

  Numeria held her head high. ‘He died in Germany in service to the Seventeenth Legion.’

  I swallowed hard, praying to the gods that Augustus didn’t know the exact circumstances of his death. If Augustus called Otho a coward now, I was worried that Numeria might do more than argue back. Numeria was even more reckless than me.

  However, Augustus wasn’t always an unreasonable man, and upon hearing that Otho had died in the wars, his voice softened and his civility returned. ‘In that case I apologise. I was unaware of your circumstances. I like your father. Numerius is a nice fellow. Too nice at times, but a nice fellow all the same.’

  Numeria nodded and softened her voice. ‘Thank you, my lord.’

  Agrippina, who’d been frowning at her grandfather’s rude manner to her new friend, asked, ‘If you now find her respectable enough, can I show her Drusus before dinner?’

  Numeria said excitedly, ‘You have a son? I’d love to see him!’ She asked Augustus, ’With your permission, my lord?’

  Augustus grumbled, ‘I suppose so, as long as you’re not too long.’ Then he took another sip of wine and added, ‘Maybe you can help my granddaughter change into something more suitable for dinner?’

  Agrippina took affront at that. ‘Change? What do you mean?’

  Augustus turned abruptly to his granddaughter. ‘You know I don’t like you wearing tunics with such plunging necklines. You can change it before you return.’

  Agrippina stood up in annoyance. ‘This dress is perfectly respectable. You don’t think I would have worn it to the theatre otherwise?’

  In fairness, she had a point. There was nothing scandalous about her attire. It was of a fashionable cut you could see daily on the streets of Rome donned by her wealthier citizens. But Augustus wouldn’t budge. ‘It reminds me of something your mother would wear. Go change it at once.’

  Agrippina looked at her husband for support, but he merely shrugged. Agrippina was still angry. ‘You’ve seen me in this long tunic many times, you’ve never questioned it before.’

  Livia joined in. ‘Is it really worth an argument?’

  Agrippina’s face hardened even more, obviously resenting Livia’s interjection. ‘This has nothing to do with what I’m wearing. You’re just in a grumpy mood tonight – the gods only know why!’ She said to her grandfather, ‘I’m a married woman now. I should be treated with more respect.’

  Germanicus finally spoke up. ‘Come on, my love, let’s not make a scene.’

  As she had all three of her family members against her, she finally relented, although very grudgingly. ‘Fine! I need to check on Drusus anyway, and at least it will get me away from your foul mood. Cassius, would you like to join us?’

  I would have loved to. Not so much to see their baby – they always look the same to me – but to get away from the uncomfortable atmosphere in the room. I wasn’t given the chance. Augustus answered for me. ‘You can’t take Aprilis. I want to speak to him. It’s the only reason he’s here.’

  Uh-oh.

  Numeria stood to escort Agrippina out. As Numeria passed me she mouthed silently, ‘Be careful,’ before going over to Agrippina. ‘I’d love to see your child. You must be so proud.’

  Agrippina looked slightly mollified as she walked off with Numeria, discussing her child. ‘He’ll be sleeping now. The slaves put him to bed quite early, but I love to pop my head in.’

  Livia spoke to her retreating back, ‘Be sure to return just before dinner. The slaves will have made a special effort tonight.’

  Agrippina’s only reply was a snort of contempt.

  After they left, Augustus grumbled, ‘There’s too much of my daughter in that one.’

  Livia gave a small smile. ‘That’s not fair, dear. There was nothing wrong with what she was wearing.’

  I certainly didn’t want the conversation to turn to Augustus’ daughter Julia, so I asked Germanicus, ‘So Drusus is your son, named after your father?’

  A large smile lit up Germanicus’ face. ‘Yes, we’ve been lucky to be gifted such a healthy young boy.’

  Augustus leant on the back of one of the divans but remained standing. ‘Don’t worry about that now. I want to talk about Germany.’

  Livia gave a slight shake of her head. ‘Can’t it wait?’

  ‘You thought this a good idea, so why wait?’ Augustus’ eyes bored into me. ‘No, we wanted Aprilis here for this reason. Let’s find out what he knows.’

  I swallowed hard. ‘Know about what, my lord?’

  Augustus explained. ‘I have received a letter from a tribal chief in Germany. He’s from the Cherusci, but unlike the rest of them, he claims to be loyal to Rome.’

  I saw Livia’s calculating look and realised then that it was her idea that we were meeting tonight. Her spies in the palace had probably informed her of who her grandson was planning to invite to dinner, and she’d used it to plan this evening. I answered her husband as best I could. ‘There are many factions in the Cherusci tribe. But how can we trust any of them after what happened?’

  Augustus nodded in agreement. ‘His name is Segestes. He says he was taken prisoner by Arminius and had no part in the engagement.’

  I remembered the giant Segestes. The last time I’d seen him he’d tried to make a break for freedom after being confronted by Governor Varus regarding his loyalty. ‘That much is true. I saw Arminius’ guards knock him unconscious and drag him away. We thought Arminius had killed him, but I later learned that he still lived. Has he escaped from Arminius’ clutches?’

  Livia joined in the discussion. ‘He claims to have. He also claims that he warned Varus of Arminius’ treachery.’ Her eyes narrowed, and she asked sharply, ‘Is this true?’

  My stomach clenched as I realised all three of them were now looking at me very closely. Careful now, I told myself. If they sense a lie now, you’re finished. I looked Livia directly in the eye. ‘That is also true.’

  Livia just looked at me calmly, as if expecting the answer, but both Augustus and Germanicus were enraged. ‘By the gods,’ whispered Germanicus, whilst Augustus threw his fresh cup of wine on the ground, smashing another one, and demanded of me, ‘Why didn’t the fool listen?’

  I needed to keep as close to the truth as possible, but I wasn’t ab
out to tell them that I’d witnessed and ignored the same warning. ‘Varus thought Segestes was just saying it to save his own skin. The accusation only came out after he had been accused of the same crime.’

  Augustus’ temper burst again. ‘And what made Varus believe Segestes was the culprit and not Arminius?’

  I kept my voice as even and calm as I could. ‘Segestes’ son, the Cherusci champion Ewald, had been seen by a survivor of one of our patrols. Ewald was leading the men who butchered the peace delegation sent by Varus. It seemed an obvious connection that his father was involved too.’

  This confused Augustus, and he gave me a quizzical look. ‘You mean he wasn’t?’

  Again, just stick to the truth. ‘Ewald was standing by Arminius’ side when he sprang the trap. I saw him myself. Ewald was a creature of Arminius. We only found this out too late.’

  Livia asked softly, ‘His own son betrayed him?’

  I nodded. ‘That betrayal confused the issue. German tribal politics is complex to say the least.’

  Germanicus breathed softly. ‘Maybe Varus wasn’t such a fool.’

  That was the wrong thing to say in front of Augustus in his current mood. The imperator turned on his adopted grandson, spitting out in anger, ‘Does that excuse Varus from campaigning in late September? Does that excuse him from leading three legions into a blind canyon? Allowing himself to be surrounded by hostile tribes who held a position of overwhelming tactical superiority? He was a fool alright, and it is the biggest regret of my life that I never saw it sooner.’

  Germanicus quickly took it back, ‘Yes, of course, sorry, I didn’t mean …’

  His grandmother interceded on his behalf. ‘Yes, yes, we know what you meant, just that the situation was more complex than we originally thought. Isn’t that right, dear?’ she asked her husband.

  Augustus sighed heavily. ‘I suppose so. But why did he need to take all his legions with him based on a hunch? Surely he must have seen the danger when he entered the forest?’

  I wasn’t going to make excuses for the dead Varus. ‘He was warned by Numonius Vala, amongst others. But the governor ignored all their warnings.’