She smiled at that. ‘I’ll go north,’ she said finally. ‘But how much longer are you going to stay in the city?’
‘At least another week,’ I said. ‘Then it will be a new month, and it will be Valens’s turn in the consul’s chair. Let him listen to all the old windbags for a change! Besides, now that this legion in Moesia has mutinied, I need to be in Rome for a little longer than I thought.’
‘And you promise there’s no other woman?’
‘Salonina, you’re the mother of my child. Both my children,’ I said, laying my hand on her swollen stomach. ‘You have always been the most important person in my life.’
‘Promise?’
‘Well, there was my mother,’ I said. Salonina laughed, despite the tears.
‘In one month all this – the mutiny, the birth – will be over. We’ll come back to Rome, all four of us. We’ll be a proper family. You’re just going to have to trust me this last time, and then nothing will ever keep us apart.’
The next morning the wagon was prepared. There were tearful goodbyes, even from young Aulus, but that was more because he wanted to stay in Rome where all the fun was. The sound of a whip cracking echoed in the street, the wagon trundled slowly forward, an armed guard forming a protective line either side of the precious cargo. Totavalas and I were left standing in the road, watching the party head down the hill on their long journey north, Salonina and Aulus waving until they passed out of sight.
‘What now?’ the Hibernian asked.
‘War is coming,’ I said simply.
‘I know that much. Which side are we on?’ He looked at me, knowingly.
‘The side that’s going to win, Totavalas, that’s always my side.’
XXIII
I could smell the place long before I saw it. Publilius guided me through the streets, clamping the edge of his cloak in front of his nose and mouth to ward off the disease. We were in the slum quarter of the city, in the depths of the Aventine, where the city was protected not by walls but by the Tiber.
‘It’s the southern climate, they’re just not used to it,’ Publilius explained. This was where we had billeted the German and Britannian auxiliaries; there was only so much room in the temporary camp we had built on the Field of Mars. We’d received reports of families abandoning their homes and staying with healthy neighbours while the soldiers were made to live together in a haphazard quarantine. Temples were filled with people praying for the sickness to pass. Those that did succumb developed a raging fever, sweating profusely, and many of them would die, shitting their guts out where they lay.
The priests and gravediggers had never been so much in demand. They had to dispose of the bodies of men from countless tribes, all with different beliefs and funeral rites. If a man was lucky enough to have a friend from the same tribe, the proper rituals could be performed. Some bodies were burned, but most were given the obligatory coins for Charon and buried.
‘How many have we lost?’ I asked.
‘Several hundred last week.’
‘And this week?’
‘We passed a thousand yesterday.’
‘Hades must be getting a taste for barbarians these days,’ I observed.
‘We can’t go on losing men at this rate,’ Publilius said.
‘What do you want me to do about it? I’m a consul, not a bloody miracle worker.’
‘We could at least move the men away from the river, that may be what’s causing the sickness.’
‘And I take it you don’t want sick men clogging up the praetorian camp?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Very well, but it’ll mean your men building a new camp and hospital outside the city. And before you start protesting, I know that one of the perks of joining the guard is not having to do manual labour, but we don’t have much choice. They’ve only been under your command a fortnight or so, they can’t have forgotten how to build.’
By now the plebs were coming out on to the streets to watch a consul and a praetorian prefect in their filthy part of the city. The men and women looked overwrought, the children ghostly pale and skinny. I thought of Vitellius dining on his sea-fresh prawns up in his palace.
‘Come on, let’s get out of here. We’ll be late.’
* * *
There were cheers from all sides as imperial slaves tossed loaves of bread into the crowd. The Circus Maximus was as full as it could be; the stand at the south-eastern end was still being rebuilt after the fire in Nero’s time. This race would have surprised even Nero. The animal trainers assured us that they had worked the beasts to breaking point, and that we would have a race of sorts. Two laps round the track; aiming for any more would have been optimistic to say the least, and there were no rules. How could there be rules? How by all the gods would the charioteers control the animals if something went wrong? These details meant little to Valens and Vitellius. They just wanted to watch the inevitable chaos.
We had even given instructions, Valens and I, that if at all possible Vitellius’s favourite team, the Blues, should win.
‘I’m afraid we can’t guarantee anything in a race like this,’ the organizer had told us. ‘We don’t have the first idea how the race is going to turn out. We can tell the other charioteers to hold back of course, but that won’t stop the beasts from attacking each other.’
The teams of slaves had real fun and games trying to make sure the four chariots were lined up straight on the starting line, and far enough apart to persuade the animals not to start fighting right from the off.
‘I don’t suppose you fancy a flutter, either of you?’ Vitellius asked us.
Valens looked uncertain. Although profligate with the emperor’s money, with his own he was as tight as an old spinster.
‘I wouldn’t mind a bet, sire, but I’m sure the Blues are going to win.’
‘So am I, that’s why I want to bet on them! What about you two?’ he asked Publilius and Priscus, Valens’s choice for praetorian prefect.
‘If you insist, sire,’ Priscus said.
‘You too, Publilius?’
‘How large a bet are we talking about, sire?’
‘Oh, only a hundred denarii or so.’ Publilius blanched. A hundred denarii was a trifle to Vitellius, and to Valens and me now that we were ruling Rome, but for the two prefects it was no small sum.
‘I’ll choose the Whites then, sire.’
‘The camels? They’re the fastest, but my Blue lions will maul them. Priscus?’
‘A hundred on the Greens and their tigers.’
‘And that leaves you with the Red rhinoceroi. Bad luck, Severus!’ Vitellius commiserated.
Those beasts had been brought in for show, for the novelty. They looked slow, ill-tempered and entirely unsuited to racing, and faintly ridiculous with their horns painted in the team’s colours.
The crowd were clamouring for the race to start. Vitellius was fidgety with excitement; there was no bigger fan of the races in all Rome, and now it was his right and privilege as emperor to begin the race. He rose ponderously from his throne, bringing out a white handkerchief with a flourish. He held it aloft, waiting for the wind to die down. He milked the crowd’s anticipation for a good ten seconds, savouring the attention. The flabby hand released the delicate cloth, and the chariots were off.
The White chariot with its team of camels simply flew off the starting line, the tigers and lions in slow but steady pursuit. My chariot hadn’t even budged, the driver flailing at the backsides of the two beasts with his whip, but it had no effect. The crowd were pointing and laughing. Vitellius was in tears of laughter.
‘Bad luck, Severus,’ he said again, feelingly.
‘I must admit I’m more of a gladiator fan. Two men fighting to the death, now that’s something I can bet on, with a warrior’s eye.’ Valens snorted with derision.
The camels had done half a lap before my chariot got under way. The crowd wanted some action; sometimes there would be up to eight teams of horses, two for each colour, doing s
even laps of the circus. These animals were going a lot slower, and the people were restless.
‘Valens tells me that a legion has rebelled in Moesia,’ Vitellius said to me as casually as if he were discussing the weather. Valens was smiling. ‘He also tells me that you didn’t want to give me the news, hoping to “keep me sweet”. Was that the phrase, Valens?’
‘It was, sire.’
I was taken aback. What possible gain was there to be had in telling Vitellius about the rogue legion?
‘My apologies, sire. I didn’t think there was any need to burden you with the news until we had assessed the situation more thoroughly.’
‘I’m not going to hide the fact that I’m disappointed in you, Severus. It’s up to you if you want to dismiss your wife, but you cannot dismiss me! From now on you will tell me everything I need to know. Understood?’
I could hardly say that Valens hadn’t told him the whole truth, that the legion, the governor and several of the eastern legions were likely to join the rebellion. Vitellius would only flap like a wet hen, hindering Valens and me from saving his throne.
‘Understood, sire.’
A gasp from the crowd drew our attention back to the race. The Whites’ chariot had already lapped my Red team, giving the monstrous rhinoceroi a wide berth, but passing the other teams had proved trickier. Vitellius’s lions had the inside lane, leaving only the tigers to pass. But the Whites’ charioteer had misjudged his manoeuvre, and the outermost tiger leapt at the camels that were trying to overtake. There was a blood-curdling scream from the mauled camel and the entire team began to flounder. The rest of the tigers leapt on the anchored camels, and the Whites’ charioteer had the good sense to abandon his race and run to safety.
Priscus triumphantly elbowed Publilius in the ribs. ‘Your damn fault for choosing the camels,’ he crowed. But Priscus wasn’t quite so cocky when he realized that his tigers were enjoying their camel-meat far too much to think about finishing the race. Even my Red team overtook the tigers, having done only half a lap so far. Vitellius was looking smug, and why shouldn’t he? His beloved Blues had already completed a whole lap. There was no way in Hades that the rhinoceroi would be able to catch up.
‘Pay up, gentlemen!’ Priscus grudgingly handed over a pouch brimming with coins. Publilius turned bright red.
‘I’m afraid I don’t have that much money on me, sire.’
‘No matter, you can owe it to me. Severus?’ Vitellius held out his hand expectantly.
‘Not until your team crosses the line, sire.’
Priscus and Valens scoffed. Vitellius took it on the chin. ‘No, Severus is right. The Blues haven’t won anything yet.’
The crowd were still cheering on the lions; they all knew which team Vitellius favoured and only the diehard Reds fans would still support the one team left standing against the emperor’s favourites. The lack of pace gave us plenty of time to admire the rhinoceroi, brought from far beyond the boundaries of the empire. They were just as big as Valens had said they would be, great lumbering creatures that would probably have got up to a half-decent speed if they weren’t dragging a chariot and a driver behind them.
It was now the turn of the Blues’ lions to lap the rhinoceroi, and the charioteer looked to have learned from the Whites’ mistake. The lions were already a good half-length ahead when the Blues’ charioteer turned in too soon. His carriage swerved violently into the path of those unforgiving horns. One of the brutes butted his head against the side of the carriage, sending it off balance so that for a few seconds it rode on one wheel. All the spectators were on the edge of their seats, including me. Another mighty hit sent the Blue carriage crashing on to its side, and the lions were wrenched backwards in mid-stride, right into the path of the rhinoceroi. There were hideous wails and snapping bones as the huge creatures trampled the team of lions, too slow and tangled to get out of the way. I couldn’t help but punch the air in delight, only to be rewarded with a dirty look from Vitellius.
The race was practically over, even though the Reds had only just completed their first lap. There was nothing to do but watch the lucky driver guide his snorting beasts to the finishing line. Wordlessly I held out my empty hand to Vitellius.
‘Not yet,’ he sulked. ‘Your team hasn’t crossed the line yet.’
Whether it was petulance or the hope that the tigers might decide to abandon their meal and win the race just for him, I don’t know, but Vitellius sat, arms folded tightly across his chest. When the painted horns crossed the line, followed by the animals’ bulky bodies, only then did the emperor fish out my winnings before getting up to leave.
Priscus and Publilius prepared to follow, since they were responsible for protecting Vitellius at all times. ‘Don’t worry, Priscus, you can owe it to me.’
Valens and I stood as a mark of respect when the emperor left, leaving the two of us alone in the box.
‘That was a dirty trick,’ I hissed at Valens, once Vitellius was out of earshot. ‘We agreed to keep Vitellius in the dark about Moesia.’
‘We did, but then I decided Vitellius had a right to know.’ Valens turned to leave as well, and had gone a couple of steps away from the imperial box before saying, ‘Well done, by the way.’
‘For what?’ I asked suspiciously.
‘For winning a few coins. You’ve lost the emperor’s trust and now his goodwill, but I’m sure it’s a fair trade!’ He laughed as he sauntered down the steps, leaving me standing there alone, clenching and unclenching my fists with rage.
I was still furious when I got home. I called and called for Totavalas, only to be told by one of the slaves that he was making use of the villa’s baths. He was lying down on a slab in the steam room when I found him, one of my slaves rubbing oils into his back.
‘When you’ve got a moment, Totavalas,’ I said impatiently.
‘Is something wrong?’ he asked.
‘Never mind that, I need you to deliver a message.’
The Hibernian glanced back at the slave attending to him as if to say to me, ‘Now?’
‘And yes, if you’re wondering, I do mean now,’ I said. ‘You can have my slave scrape you clean in my baths later. Right now I need you to get off your arse and do something useful.’
Quickly, Totavalas grabbed a towel and wrapped it round his waist. ‘What do you need me for, sir?’
‘That’s better. Go round to the house of Julius Agricola and wait in the street until you see his wife Domitia. I don’t care how long you have to wait, stay put until you see her alone. Then say that you have a message from the consul.’
‘Meaning you?’
‘Yes, meaning me. But saying the word consul means she will listen to you, and the message will tell her it’s from me, not Valens.’
‘Right, and the message is?’
‘“When can I claim my reward?”’
Totavalas looked at me hard, understanding the enormity of what I was saying.
‘You sure about this? You’re absolutely sure?’
‘I am. It’s about time I got some bloody respect in this city after all I’ve done for them.’
The Hibernian smiled. ‘One more war, eh?’
‘Unless the Hibernians decide to invade us, yes, one more war.’
* * *
The next day we started to receive reports from the provinces, but the reports were all too similar and all from the west. We still had no idea what was going on beyond the Julian Alps, where Italia gave way to Pannonia and beyond. Governor after governor replied to Vitellius’s call for help, saying they wished they could, but their troops were already spread too thin or they couldn’t be sure of the men’s loyalty. The three legions in Hispania wouldn’t help, for instance, because one was the First Adiutrix, the marines who had fought so ferociously against us at Bedriacum, and the other two were playing for time, waiting to see which would be the winning side. Britannia had already sent what they could, and there were reports from the officers we had left behind in Germania that th
e tribes beyond the Rhine were getting restless, especially in Batavia, and they couldn’t spare a single man. And all the while Vitellius and his court had no clue what was going on in the east.
The only good news from the provinces was that the Rhine legions scraped together a small detachment and sent it towards the Po valley to meet up with the forces we would send from Rome, while in Rome itself it seemed that the worst ravages of the disease in the Aventine were coming to an end. The surviving auxiliaries were glad to move into their own camp outside the city, and happier still were the citizens whose homes they’d lived in for almost two months.
Even Vitellius took a closer interest in the running of his empire, once he’d been made aware of the threat to it. He almost fell off his chair when he saw the treasury figures. So far Rome had spent over 900 million sesterces that year, and a look at imperial expenditure for the last five years dwarfed that sum. Nero’s great building programme, the decoration of the Golden Palace, his orgies and lavish theatrical productions weighed more heavily than six months of Galba’s thriftiness. Otho too had spent a small fortune during his brief reign. When confronted with these figures, the very first thing Vitellius said was: ‘So I suppose the Africa expedition is postponed?’
Now you know the sort of man I had to put up with.
It was made very clear to Valens and me that the budget for Vitellius’s entertainment wouldn’t drop, so we were ordered to find savings elsewhere. Vitellius himself even contributed. He laid a proposal before the Senate, to levy a new tax on all freedmen. This was a sensible enough move, given that the fortunes some freedmen had made in the service of the empire dwarfed that of many senatorial families, and the new tax was greatly applauded among the nobility who resented these men’s wealth. Unfortunately, this did little to improve morale in the imperial administration, which was almost entirely run by freedmen.
Totavalas complained bitterly, arguing that he had not been in Rome long enough to make much money, and yet he was still subject to the levy. I sympathized, and made an amendment to the bill exempting all those who had been given their freedom within the last year. It was no great loss financially, as it was the bureaucrats from Claudius and Nero’s time who had made their millions. It also made my home a more peaceful place to live in, once Totavalas had stopped mooching about the place, as bitter as an out-of-work actor.
The Sword and the Throne Page 28
