“I am ambitious, sir,” Pilate answered, “and I would take great pleasure some day in joining the equestrian class here. But whether I am able to achieve a villa at Baiae or not, I am determined to follow explicitly the Prefect’s instructions and desires.” His hand on the marble balustrade, Pilate studied the movement in the bay. Then he faced the Prefect. “But you said a moment ago, sir, that there was still one more provision?”
“Yes, Pilate.” Sejanus pointed to the chairs beside the lion-legged table. “But let’s sit down and have some more of the Falernian.”
As they took their seats, a slave who all the while had been hovering attentively near-by came forward quickly and filled the goblets. Sejanus sipped slowly. “Surely you have guessed that the Emperor and I confer at times on matters of particular intimacy, such as the problems of his household, even the affairs of members of his own Imperial family?”
“I can see, sir, how the Emperor would wish the Prefect’s counsel in matters of every kind.”
“That is true.” Sejanus toyed with the wine glass, then abruptly set it down. “This is the provision, Pilate, and I think it not unreasonable. In fact, I might explain that it was at my suggestion that Tiberius has included it. And were I in your position, Pilate”—his eyes brightened, and he flattened his lips against his teeth—“I would be delighted that such a provision had been made. She is a beautiful woman, young, possessed of every feminine appeal, and a woman to be earnestly desired and sought, at least in the opinion of one old man who”—he smiled—“can still look, appreciate, and imagine.”
“A woman?”
“Yes, Pilate. The Emperor expects you to marry his stepdaughter.”
“Claudia!” Pilate said in amazement. “The granddaughter of Augustus?”
“Indeed.” Sejanus was eying him intently. “And of Antony, too, and Cleopatra, I’ve always understood.” A sly smile again crossed his face. “And, if I’m a capable judge, a woman possessed of everything Cleopatra had.”
Pilate seemed oblivious to the Prefect’s description. “But why should he want me, the son of a Spanish...?”