On either side we were flanked by the men, their procession over but formed up in cohorts to watch their emperor claim what was his by right of conquest, even if conquest was not a word we would use where we were headed. The three of us squeezed through the mass of jubilant, sweaty men until we stepped off the brick of the forum and on to the marble steps of the Senate house, and there waiting for us was Suetonius Paulinus.
‘Sire,’ he said, ‘it is my honour to welcome you to the Senate on the day of acclamation.’
‘Thank you,’ Vitellius began, before pausing uncertainly.
‘Suetonius Paulinus,’ I whispered.
‘Suetonius Paulinus,’ the emperor finished, smiling affably. ‘You and the rest of the Senate will have to forgive me if I breach the imperial etiquette. This is all rather new to me!’
‘If you would like to go inside then, sire?’ Paulinus gestured that Vitellius should go in first. His pale and wispy eyebrows arched questioningly when Valens and I followed suit. ‘These two as well, sire?’
‘Where I go, they go,’ Vitellius said simply.
‘I am a senator of Rome too,’ I reminded the old general.
‘And I’m about to be made one,’ Valens added. That was just the first of his rewards that day. Paulinus gently bowed his head, knowing he could hardly refuse.
The entire Senate was assembled. Indeed the building was probably fuller than it had been for perhaps a decade. Those who had been exiled and had fled Rome in Nero’s time had returned; those who had supported Galba but had hidden themselves away when Otho rose to the purple, they were there too. Vitellius didn’t have an enemy in the world, so what was left of Rome’s elite had felt no fear in gathering to acclaim their new emperor. As one they stood, politely applauding as Vitellius waddled towards them. Valens and I waited in the shadows either side of the Senate doors. This was Vitellius’s moment, not ours.
The emperor raised his hand shyly for silence.
‘Conscript fathers,’ he began with the traditional words, ‘I thank you for your welcome. If you had told me a year ago that I would be addressing this house as your emperor, I would have said you’d been spending too long in my cellar!’
A polite laugh rippled round the chamber.
‘I say “emperor”, but in truth that is for you to decide. I cannot change the fact that many men, far too many, have lost their lives to decide which man should wear the imperial purple. The past is the past. Rome and her people have suffered at the hands of three emperors unworthy of her. I am forever indebted to the army, for their belief and their faith in my ability to rule Rome wisely and justly. But you, Senators, without you Rome is nothing. My men think I should let you return to your homes while I run the empire from some lofty palace on the Palatine Hill. That is not how I wish to rule. Will you join me in the great task, to pull our beloved city out of the mire and make her great again?’
For a moment the noblemen were stunned. This wasn’t the drink-sodden, gambling Vitellius, the friend of charioteers, the Vitellius they knew of old. This man spoke with purpose and humility, with vision and tact. After a brief and stunned silence they cried out: ‘Caesar! Caesar!’
Vitellius called for silence once again. ‘Senators, you flatter me. I am not, never have been and never will be a Caesar. That day on the Rhine I adopted a new name: Aulus Vitellius Germanicus. Call me that if you must.’
And so it was that Aulus Vitellius Germanicus was acclaimed imperator of the Senate and People of Rome, given the honorific ‘Augustus’, unanimously voted the tribunicias potestas, made Supreme Pontiff and granted consular power over Rome and the imperial provinces. The man of whom Galba had said, ‘I do not fear a man that thinks of nothing but food,’ was triumphantly acclaimed by a Senate that harboured men of more talent and more ambition. Such is Fate.
‘My first act as emperor is to grant a general amnesty to all those prosecuted or exiled by my predecessors.’ Cue raucous applause from sections of the assembled nobles. Nero, Galba and Otho had all made enemies, but Vitellius was proposing a clean start for all. ‘And to herald this break from the past, I believe I have the privilege to appoint new consuls for the rest of the year.’
All eyes turned to the two men who wore the consular stripe on their gleaming togas. Neither showed the slightest sign of dismay at losing the most coveted rank that a man outside the imperial family could obtain; they had both been sounded out long before the decision was announced.
‘And what better way,’ Vitellius continued, ‘to usher in this new age than by appointing two loyal and brilliant men. One is not a nobleman, but of good equestrian family. The other will be the youngest consul perhaps in all Rome’s history, not counting those from the house of Caesar, given the position more often through birth than merit. These two men have served me from the very beginning, and I know they will serve Rome no less valiantly: Fabius Valens and Aulus Caecina Severus.’
The two of us advanced from the shadows, not to applause but to a babble of concerned whispering. Both of us still carried our swords and wore armour, unthinkable in the Senate house. But this moment had been delicately planned during those long weeks on the road. Behind us two men approached. Totavalas was one of them, the other a slave of Valens’s. In tandem they relieved us of our swords and undressed us from our armour, leaving us both wearing the simple red toga of the legions. Over the top of these our attendants put on a second toga, white with a red stripe, the consular toga. The message was clear: together Valens and I were now both senators and consuls of Rome, but underneath we were still the emperor’s loyal soldiers.
XIX
‘I can’t think why you chose me,’ Publilius said.
‘I’ve told you before and I’ll tell you again, I chose you because you are brave, loyal and you’ve got something between your ears,’ I said, still looking down at my papers.
‘My nose?’ It took me half a heartbeat to be sure he was joking.
‘Valens and I were both asked to propose a man for the post of praetorian prefect, and it was between you, Cerberus and Pansa.’
‘That still doesn’t answer my question,’ Publilius said, ignoring the slaves who were busy kitting him out in his new uniform.
I sighed. ‘Do I have to spell it out? Pansa resents the fact that I’m nearly two decades younger than him and his commanding officer, let alone consul. And I don’t know Cerberus well enough to trust him with this job.’
‘He’d make a more menacing bodyguard than I would,’ my friend pointed out.
‘But you’re not a bodyguard, are you? That’s what the rankers are for. You have to be on constant alert, build up a network of spies to gather information, and most importantly watch that slippery bastard Priscus.’
‘Valens’s man?’
‘Valens’s man, exactly. You’re my man.’
‘Can I ask you something?’
‘You just have.’
He looked at me, unamused. ‘If Quintus were alive, would you still have given me this position?’
I put down my stylus. ‘Quintus wasn’t cut out to be a soldier, or a politician. He tried to find the good in everybody, but in some people the good is buried too deep. You’re a realistic man, Publilius, and now we’re in Rome you know as well as I do you can’t just see everything as black or white. Quintus couldn’t see the murky grey in between. The gods alone know why he fought at Bedriacum. He as good as told me I’d crossed from grey to black.’
I had said more than I meant to. Publilius was listening to me in silence. I cleared my throat. ‘I don’t want to talk about Quintus any more, understand? He’s dead, and life must go on.’
‘Yes, Consul,’ Publilius replied. ‘I do have one more question though.’
‘What is it?’
‘We now have two praetorian prefects, but no praetorians. We disbanded them all after Bedriacum.’
‘That’s simple enough. We’ll recruit them from the Rhine legions.’
‘But won’t that leave the army under stren
gth?’ Publilius asked.
‘Only for a few months or so,’ I said. ‘I suspect Otho’s men will mope around for a bit before realizing that they may as well rejoin the army, even if it means lower pay and more work. Better that than farming or banditry. We’ll use them to fill the spaces in the Rhine legions, them and any others from Italia that want to join up.’
There was a gentle knock. I didn’t have a chance to ask who it was before Salonina popped her head round the door.
‘Caecina, it’s less than two hours until the guests arrive and you haven’t done half the things you promised you’d do.’
‘What’s more important,’ I said, gesturing at the sheaves of papers that littered my desk, ‘tax returns from Macedonia or helping you choose which dress to wear?’
‘You can play with your papers any time. I need your help now. Sorry to drag my husband away from you, Publilius, but if my he doesn’t come now he’ll set me back at least an hour and the finest families in Rome will be waiting in the street, all because he didn’t help.’
‘Two minutes and I’ll be with you, all right?’
‘Two minutes,’ Salonina repeated sternly, then closed the door behind her.
‘Do you know the secret to a happy marriage, Publilius?’
‘No, sir?’
‘Well, if you ever find out, be sure to tell me.’
Salonina had me doing all sorts of useless chores that she could have delegated to the slaves, but she insisted on my help. She was adamant that the new and expensive additions to our household wouldn’t have the first idea about which wine to serve with which course, which guests to pay particular attention to, yet every time she asked for my help or advice she was either dismissive or ungrateful.
‘Caecina, the peacock feathers are meant to be scattered, not just littered over the floor.’ Or, ‘Well, if you can’t be constructive in your criticism, why don’t you get yourself ready for the party then help Totavalas with the entertainment.’
I didn’t need telling twice. With less than an hour to go I took my time to change, figuring that I was safer in our bedroom than risking Salonina’s ire by stumbling over a drape or putting the wrong dish at the wrong table; self-preservation and all that. Totavalas had had the same idea. He was in the kitchen when I found him, helping one of the cooks pour a cauldron of garum into little serving jugs, working with all the haste of a tortoise that had entered retirement.
‘Working hard, I see!’
‘Someone has to do it,’ the Hibernian said.
‘True enough,’ I conceded, ‘but can’t one of the kitchen slaves do that?’
‘I don’t think your wife wants me anywhere near the smart part of the villa.’
‘I’ve run away too.’
Totavalas looked up, smiling, but when he took his concentration away from what he was doing, the white sauce overfilled the jug and began to ooze on to the table. He muttered something in his phlegm-ridden language, put the cauldron down and looked about for a cloth.
‘She will get used to you, you know that,’ I said.
‘I do. I realize I was never the conventional slave…’
‘I wouldn’t have it any other way. Salonina’s always lived in this rarefied, insular world. Her father was a rich man, she grew up with everything she wanted. You’re a breath of fresh air, Totavalas, with your insolent barbarian charms. I wouldn’t have bought you if I didn’t have the occasional longing for the soldier’s life back in Britannia. Life was so much simpler then,’ I mused.
‘There are some compensations,’ Totavalas admitted. ‘I must be the first of my countrymen to see Rome. It’s an amazing place, I grant you, but it’s not home.’
‘Then why do you stay?’
Totavalas stopped wiping at the spilled sauce, thinking. ‘Curiosity. It’s a grand game we’ve been playing this past year. I’d like to see how it ends. Besides, there’s no way I’m going back to my island without a fair bit of gold. I’ll go to Hibernia as High King, or not at all.’
* * *
The appointed hour approached. I managed to get out of Salonina’s way for another twenty minutes by claiming I’d got lost in the villa. I say villa, but palace would have been much nearer the mark. On arriving in Rome, Vitellius had decided to take the Golden Palace that Nero had built at the foot of the Esquiline Hill, adorned with a huge colossus whose face was sculpted to resemble Nero’s own. Vitellius having set the precedent, Valens commandeered for himself a property on the Palatine where the noblest and richest families lived. Salonina hounded me day and night into leaving my family’s not inconsiderable villa, one that had housed seven generations of the Caecina Severi, for a gaudy affair that stood at the highest point of the Palatine. The rightful owners were given promises of payment and favours to come. I was consul after all, and had the emperor’s ear. In the meantime I had leased them my family’s house at a good rate, filling the coffers very nicely.
Salonina had surpassed herself. Despite what had seemed like chaos everything was ready long before the guests were due. She had a new dress that flattered her heavily pregnant figure, and I told her so, though not using those exact words.
‘Thank you, Caecina,’ she said, squeezing my hand tenderly.
Totavalas was waiting by the door. I had given him the task of announcing the guests as they arrived. For one thing it would be a novelty to have a Hibernian accent calling out some of the most illustrious names in the world, families whose lineage could be traced back to the birth of the republic. Secondly, it would give the freedman the chance to learn the names and faces of the senators, an essential task if he wanted the position I had just offered him.
At Salonina’s signal the musicians begin to play a gentle melody, loud enough to be appreciated but quiet enough that our guests would be able to make conversation. There was a loud knock at the door. The slaves picked up their platters of dainties and delicacies.
‘Consul Fabius Valens,’ Totavalas announced. In walked my fellow consul, who was wearing the red-striped toga he had donned for the first time only a few days ago.
‘Consul,’ Salonina welcomed him. ‘We are honoured to welcome you as our first guest into our new home.’
‘The honour is mine, lady,’ Valens said formally.
‘And how smart he looks, doesn’t he, dearest?’
‘Very smart,’ I agreed. Salonina had already gone to greet the next guest, leaving the two of us alone. ‘It doesn’t matter in the slightest, of course,’ I continued, ‘but strictly speaking one only wears the consular toga in the Senate. Socially, you’d wear something like this,’ I said, gesturing at my own blue toga, spun from expensive fabrics in the east and more apt for a summer’s evening in Rome than Valens’s heavier clothes.
His eyes widened in embarrassment. ‘Severus, you know these people better than I do. My palace is a five-minute walk away; do I go home and change?’
‘Of course not,’ I said. ‘It will be refreshing for some of the snobs that someone is bringing a bit of originality to these affairs.’
We were interrupted by the arrival of our lord and master. There were a good dozen or so guests by now, and all of them turned to watch the emperor’s entrance. Vitellius was of course easy to recognize. The vibrant purple of his cloak clashed horribly with the deep green of his toga, but alongside the waddling whale walked a woman. This had to be the wife Vitellius had left behind in Rome, as he was too poor to take his household with him to Germania.
‘Sire,’ I bowed. Salonina had come to stand at my side again.
‘Severus, Salonina, may I introduce you to my wife Galeria?’
I took the lady’s hand and kissed it, then looked into a face that hinted at middle age. Little lines around her eyes creased as she smiled. ‘My lady,’ was all that needed to be said.
‘Your home looks wonderful,’ Galeria said. ‘Especially considering you’ve had so little time to make it your own.’ The two of us blushed, Salonina at the compliment, I because I knew that Galeria was a
friend of the family who had owned the palace. Thankfully a slave broke the tension by proffering a selection of titbits to Vitellius.
‘Thank you. I never could say no to a piece of salmon.’ Or even two pieces, such was the speed of the emperor’s hand. ‘How long until the banquet proper begins, Severus?’
‘Not for another half-hour, sire. We’re still waiting for many guests. I hope in the meantime you find the music and the guests food for the soul instead.’
‘Well put, Severus, well put. Come, Galeria, we are depriving our fellow guests of the enchanting hostess.’
Soon the atrium began to fill. All the Senate had been invited, and I expected the vast majority of them to attend. It would be a brave or unambitious man who refused the invitation of a consul, especially when it was known that the emperor would attend. However, I was waiting for two guests in particular. I could see through the doorway that a fair queue was building up in the street, and Totavalas was coping as best he could.
I was busy being gracious and charming to the senators who knew me before I had taken that fateful journey to Hispania a year and a half ago. Many were vague friends of the family, others merely wished to make themselves known to the new consul. I took particular pleasure in seeing Valens standing in a corner, with only his drink for company. He was a new man in Rome; no connections, no friends in the Senate, just a red stripe on his toga to show he was favoured by the emperor. Many fawners congratulated me for my restraint in not writing to the Senate after Bedriacum, badmouthing Valens for his presumption to write on Vitellius’s behalf. I’d been right; it was for the Senate and no one else to acclaim Vitellius as emperor, and certainly not a jumped-up legate who had a mighty high opinion of himself.
Totavalas caught my eye. They were here. I excused myself and made my way to the door, the hairs on my arms rising as they felt the cool night air. There stood Julius Agricola and his achingly beautiful wife Domitia, the woman who had thought it beneath her to have her daughter marry into my family. Once upon a time that woman had been a pretty girl with lustrous blonde hair, a girl that Julius and I had fought over many times. Only he could marry for love, I had to marry for money. Our friendship had survived Domitia, only to be broken by politics, by Julius’s envy of my success.
The Sword and the Throne Page 23
