‘How dare you?’ Vespasian recoiled in shock. ‘You threaten me in my own tent? Why, man, I could call out for my guards now and have you, and your brute there, crucified just like that!’ He tried to snap his fingers with a crack but his damp hand made no sound.

The failure of the gesture was not lost on Narcissus and he allowed himself a small smile of satisfaction before he continued in a more conciliatory tone.

‘I fear you misunderstand our relative worth in the eyes of the Emperor. Aristocrats with pretensions to political greatness are ten a sestertius. Some undoubtedly have considerable talents — you are such a one — but they are freaks within their own class. Generations of inbreeding have produced nothing more than idle, arrogant idiots. We — the Emperor — can replace you easily enough. I, on the other hand, am irreplaceable. How do you imagine a mere freedman has been able to rise to become the Emperor’s right-hand man? There is more intelligence, more cunning and more cruelty in my little finger than in your whole body. Remember that, Vespasian. Remember it before you even think to upbraid me.’

Vespasian clamped his mouth shut to stop up the torrent of rage churning inside him. He gripped the edges of his chair tightly and swallowed.

‘Excellent.’ Narcissus nodded slowly. ‘It’s good that you’re smart enough to accept an unpalatable truth when it is presented to you. You will grow to understand the importance of that when you return to Rome. I’m glad I was right about you.’

‘And how were you right about me?’ Vespasian asked through clenched teeth.

‘Your brain rules your heart, and your pride knows its place. Now, be a good fellow and tell me the name of the man the slave girl was supposed to meet in your tent.’

‘Vitellius. She said it was Vitellius.’

‘Vitellius? Now that is very interesting, wouldn’t you say? A senior tribune engaged in a liaison with a slave girl in the legate’s command tent where, no doubt, some very sensitive documents were being stored. I find that very interesting. Not to mention suggestive. Don’t you?’

Vespasian just stared coldly back.

‘Do you still have the letter?’

‘Yes.’

‘You’re clear about what has to be done?’

‘Of course, but finding a wagon dumped in a bog a hundred years ago won’t be easy.’

‘Then you’d better get some good men for the job. Keep the numbers down — the less who know what’s going on, the better — and make sure they are discreet.’

‘I have a few men in mind.’

‘Fine. That chest has to be located and once you’ve got it, guard it with your life. When the Emperor arrives with the reinforcements the chest will be passed over to a special unit of the Praetorian Guard for shipment to Rome. And then you will forget that you ever knew about it. You and those men you choose to carry out the mission.’