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kill the doe whilst she was giving birth, it just didn’t seem right, I don’t know why, so we withdrew a bit and waited as nature took its course. Eventually the thing was done and the fawn was tottering around whilst its mother, despite her wounds, licked it clean. So we decided that the best thing to do was to let the pair go and hope that they would both provide good sport in the future.’
    Vespasian felt himself starting to tense up, hoping that what he had just imagined was not going to be the end of the story.
    ‘We hadn’t been gone long when Magnus noticed that Domitian was no longer with us; none of the slaves had noticed him go so he must have just let his pony slow so that the hunting party gradually outpaced him.’
    Vespasian felt his stomach start to churn now he began to be sure that the story would sicken him.
    ‘Well, we rode back to where the doe had given birth and sure enough Domitian was there, but there was no sign of the doe.’ Titus paused and looked at Magnus again.
    ‘The truth, Titus,’ Magnus said, ‘don’t spare him.’
    Titus swallowed. ‘But the fawn was there, stumbling around; and we could hear Domitian laughing and as we got closer we could see what was amusing him so: he had taken the creature’s eyes. It had been alive for less than half an hour and it had been blinded.’
    Vespasian fought to contain the rage that welled within him. His throat tightened; the ending was even worse than he had imagined. ‘How?’
    Titus grimaced and again looked at Magnus, obviously unwilling to go on.
    ‘With his thumbs,’ Magnus said in almost a whisper, ‘they were covered in blood.’ He grabbed Vespasian’s arm to restrain him. ‘Don’t! We told you because you promised to do nothing about it.’
    Vespasian struggled against Magnus’ grip. ‘I’ll thrash the little shit to within an inch of his life.’
    ‘No you won’t, sir; he’s been thrashed enough today from what I hear. But I agree he does need to learn a lesson.’
    Vespasian ceased fighting Magnus and let his body relax; his face, however, remained in the strained expression that he had developed during his time as legate of the II Augusta. ‘What would you suggest?’
    ‘After the funeral tomorrow morning we should all go out hunting; is there a decent-sized wood on the estate?’
    ‘Yes, over on the eastern edge.’
    ‘Good, because I reckon that with the help of a wild boar we could show him the difference between taking life for amusement or sport and wanton cruelty.’
    ‘Seneca?’ Vespasian spoke the name aloud for the second time since hearing it from Sabinus; and still it made no sense.
    They were sitting in his private study – a room off the atrium – and were enjoying the warmth of a brazier and a fine vintage of their own estate’s manufacture after what had been a subdued meal for obvious reasons.
    ‘That’s what he said,’ Sabinus confirmed, ‘and I’ve got no reason to suspect he was lying. He was being eaten at the time, after all, and by a creature that would make you believe that it wouldn’t finish until every last morsel was tucked away.’
    ‘But why would Seneca want to finance a rebellion by the Brigantes?’
    ‘Venutius didn’t say that he financed the rebellion as such; he said the rebellion was financed by a loan from Seneca. I don’t imagine that our Stoic friend questioned Venutius too closely as to what he was planning to do with the loan; he doesn’t care for niceties like that. All he’s concerned about is the exorbitant interest that he charges. He seems to think that he can get away with even higher rates if he lends to provincials.’
    ‘I know; and from all accounts he does.’ Vespasian took a sip of wine and remained for a few moments in contemplation. ‘What have you done with Venutius?’ he asked eventually.
    ‘Nothing; I left him with Blaesus and his pet. I imagine that he’ll behave himself with the threat of being Beauty’s supper hanging over