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household had reported that the old man had met his fate with dignity, protesting his loyalty to the last. A pity, but he had long since outlived his usefulness and he knew too many secrets to be left alive.
    ‘A most satisfactory day,’ he welcomed Tigellinus cheerfully. ‘I have never seen the people so proud of their Emperor. King Tiridates was suitably awestruck by my splendour and overwhelmed by the power of their love for me. A triumph. A triumph for Rome.’
    ‘A triumph for Rome’s Emperor,’ Tigellinus corrected. ‘And a triumph for her legions.’
    All the long years in the imperial court and his training at Seneca’s knee had given Nero an ear for nuance. He caught a certain inflection in the Praetorian’s voice. ‘Yes, a triumph for her legions. And it is right that men should fear Rome’s legions. You have news from Judaea?’ A few months earlier the Syrian sub-province had risen in revolt after a punitive expedition against an assortment of religious fanatics had resulted in hundreds of deaths. In the violence that followed the best part of two legions had been wiped out and the eagle of the Twelfth Fulminata lost. It was the greatest military disaster of Nero’s reign and it was imperative that it should be avenged swiftly and mercilessly.
    ‘Gallus has been removed from his command. Vespasian will form a task force from the Syrian and Egyptian legions and lead them against the rebels. Meanwhile, General Corbulo has returned to Antioch and will offer what support he can to Vespasian.’ There it was again, that slight change in tone he had come to recognize.
    ‘Two of our finest generals,’ Nero ventured. ‘And our most loyal.’
    ‘Just so, Caesar.’
    A moment of clarity. ‘But you have concerns?’
    ‘General Vespasian is your own appointment, a
new man
who is intelligent enough to understand that he would never win enough support to aspire to the throne, and his hands will be kept busy for at least two campaigning seasons. General Corbulo …’
    ‘Rome’s most successful commander in the past ten years …’ Nero’s voice rose an octave as he was forced to come to Corbulo’s defence.
    ‘Has been heard to cast doubts upon your policy of reconciliation in Armenia and Parthia. There is talk of giving Armenia away.’
    Nero waved a dismissive hand. ‘A soldier’s grumbles. Even Tiridates told me that I have no more loyal commander than Corbulo.’
    ‘Of course,’ the prefect said smoothly. ‘I venture no accusation, I only caution.’
    The Emperor stared at him, the piggy eyes narrowing. ‘Proceed.’
    ‘General Corbulo was appointed on the advice of Seneca,’ Tigellinus pointed out. ‘He has been in the east, in Asia and Syria, for twelve years, with the same legions. Some would say enough time to create his own personal empire.’ Nero didn’t have to ask which ‘some’; he knew the Praetorian had agents in every military command. But Tigellinus surprised him with his next admission. ‘He is a difficult man to get close to. His senior officers have been with him for years and are unfailingly loyal; the juniors take their lead from the legates. Only now have I been able to place someone in a position of trust, although, as I have said, it is generally known in his headquarters that he has been critical of your policy and your orders to act upon the defensive. His legionaries regard him as something close to a god.’ Tigellinus saw the Emperor stiffen, as he’d intended. Only emperors could become gods. ‘Normally this could be dealt with simply enough. A new posting to some less arduous front. A summons home for some new honour, a long and happy retirement on his estates in the north …’
    ‘But?’
    ‘But the situation in Judaea means that Syria is also vulnerable. It would only take one small spark for the rebellion to spread. Therefore it is important that Syria is in safe military hands, and there are no safer military hands than General Corbulo’s.’
    Nero