The only event that marred their otherwise total victory had been the one execution that could not in the end be avoided. Cleander had been blamed for it all, but inevitably a little culpability had leaked out to Papirius Dionysus. The emperor had, with a heavy heart, reminded Dionysus that no matter what Cleander did, the grain supply was Dionysus’ sole responsibility. Even had Commodus been minded to be merciful, Cleander had blamed him openly for what happened and the people of Rome would always remember and always associate his name with the disaster. Dionysus had been allowed to take his own life quietly and without fuss, saving his family the ignominy of a trial for treason and allowing his children to inherit.
Rufinus had felt low about that, and had vowed to commemorate the man appropriately. Yet another obligation to add to his list – he really must visit a mason and get that altar made. But they had all known the risks, and the fact that only one of them had fallen had to be considered impressive, all told.
Rome was recovering.
Perhaps better still, almost as though the gods had approved of Cleander’s fall and wished to celebrate it, there were signs that the latest outbreak of plague was finally on the decline. The number of deaths reported was falling daily. The mood of the city was jubilant.
Rufinus still had no idea of his place in it. He had no job as far as he could see, held no rank really, had no business and no property. He had spent the last few days living in the townhouse his father had bought, though it was a poor example, especially given the great villa in Hispania he had sold to finance it. And even then, since the old man had left no will, the house would be contested. Rufinus could fight for it and would probably win, but he just didn’t feel like it and, having spent a few days in the house, he didn’t really want it anyway. He had nothing. Was nothing.
He’d left the Cohort barracks immediately. In the aftermath he had told Pertinax the truth. The prefect had not seemed remotely surprised, though he did not admit that he’d known all along either, and Rufinus left it at that. But, being Rufinus once more, he could hardly continue his career as Centurion Maximus. Perhaps he could still start again in the Cohort as himself, though?
So he’d wandered the short corridors of the dismal town house. He’d sent messages to his patron, Severus, seeking to join him, as Severus surely would have some use for him, but in the wake of such great events and being a consul of Rome, Severus was busy constantly.
In the end, Rufinus had decided that the only way he was going to work out what he was doing was to confront his friends and masters. He needed to have purpose and perhaps enough coin to rent a better house before Publius, Senova and Acheron arrived. And so he had been to Severus’ town house early this morning. There he had been informed that the consul was in a meeting with the emperor himself at the palace. Rufinus had refused to be put off, and had marched off to the Palatine.
The consul was indeed with the emperor, as apparently were Pertinax and the new Praetorian prefect, Laetus, in his aula regia, and so Rufinus had joined the queue of noble citizens waiting for the palace’s morning salutatio and the opportunity to approach and petition the emperor.
The murmur beyond the door grew louder and the crowd began to buzz with excitement. It had been more than a year since the emperor had held his morning meetings in the palace, and longer even than that since a man had not had to go through Cleander to get here.
Finally the door opened and two Praetorians stepped out, making way for the men within. Pertinax and Severus walked into the entrance hall together, chatting quietly, and there the lictors filed out to escort them. Rufinus caught a momentary glimpse of golden Commodus through the door, and contemplated remaining in line for an audience, but decided against it. He had other men to see today.
Slipping out of line, he converged on the two togate men. The lictors, twelve of them traditionally assigned to guard a consul, moved to stop him but Severus noticed his approach and waved his men aside, nodding at Rufinus.
As he fell in with the two men, emerging into the light of a warm summer Roman morning, it struck Rufinus that he was in the company of two of the most important and powerful men in Rome, and yet felt at ease and almost their equal. Few men would even dare approach a consul or Urban Prefect. He was waved over, despite being nobody.
‘Rufinus,’ Severus smiled as they strolled gently down the slope.
‘Consul. I’ve been trying to see you.’
‘Yes, I know. Apologies, Rufinus. Nothing personal, but I do not seem to have a moment to myself these days. Rome and her emperor are demanding of a consul.’
‘I’m unsure what to do,’ Rufinus admitted, considerably more bluntly than he’d intended.
‘You are of a good family, Rufinus,’ Severus smiled. ‘You have my patronage. The world is your mollusc.’
Pertinax frowned. ‘Are you not still officially a Praetorian guardsman?’
Rufinus shrugged. ‘I am officially deceased on the records of the Guard. I know military administration well enough to know the endless circular headaches it will cause if I want my position back. Besides, I’m not certain the Guard is for me, now. There is still too much corruption, despite the fall of their master. I don’t think I would be very popular. There would be many enemies.’
Severus nodded. ‘I tend to agree. The new prefect Laetus thinks he can put it right, but I do not believe so. I think the only way the Guard can return to its former glory would be to be completely rebuild it from the bottom up, using trustworthy soldiers from frontline serving units. I put that very notion to the emperor and Laetus this morning, but have been turned down.’
Rufinus sighed. ‘I fear you’re right. And if the day comes the Guard is rebuilt then perhaps my place is with them, but I’m still not sure about the moment. I wondered if perhaps either of you had a place for me?’
Pertinax shook his head. ‘You did well in the Cohort, and I will provide a good reference for anything you do, but I don’t think it would sit well with the men if you returned. You have lied to them for a year and pretended to be someone you were not. I can gloss over that since you have left, but bringing you back in would be a bad idea. The Urban Cohort is not for you, Rufinus, at least not while I remain their prefect. Sorry.’
Rufinus nodded. He’d expected as much, but had to ask.
Severus shrugged. ‘I have little need for a soldier at the moment. Now that Rome is settled, I rely only upon my twelve lictors. But, the emperor has offered me a post in the new year. Once I lay down my consulate in the winter, I shall be appointed governor of Pannonia which, as you know well, is one of the most powerful positions in the empire. There I shall have great need of men like you. In the meantime, you remain a client of mine. I shall not see you wanting for coin or a roof.’
Rufinus nodded his thanks. He’d hoped for something a little more concrete than a potential future career and to live off the consul’s charity, but it was better than nothing, for certain.
‘Is Rome safe again?’ he asked suddenly, out of the blue.
Severus and Pertinax exchanged a look. ‘Safer than it has been for years, certainly,’ Pertinax confirmed.
‘But remember your time in Dacia,’ Severus reminded him. ‘Remember what you told me and bear in mind that men are lining up. The emperor has no heir, and his reign cannot last forever. Sometime, and possibly soon, men will be vying for power. Best to align with one of them now, lest you find yourself torn apart when it happens.’
The look he shared with Pertinax was odd, then, and Rufinus narrowed his eyes. Were these two men setting themselves up as Clodius Albinus and Pescennius Niger had been? Pertinax was close to power and in a strong position, for sure. And Severus would soon be an ex consul in probably the most powerful governorship in the empire. He shivered. At least he was in with both of them, though even thinking like that saddened him. He could not bring himself to think of Commodus as failing. That glorious golden Hercules would surely rule Rome forever?
‘Someone is waiting to see you,’
Severus said conspiratorially, and nudged Rufinus, pointing off to the side of the path. They were passing Titus’ grand arch now, at the end of the forum, and leaning against the decorative stonework was Vibius Cestius, watching him.
He slowed, and the two leading men of Rome waved goodbye as they continued on their way. Rufinus instead wandered over to the side of the arch.
‘Cestius?’
‘You look like a lost sheep.’
‘I am.’
The man smiled and nodded, knowingly. ‘I wondered if you might now find yourself with free time on your hands.’
‘I am Severus’ client. He will find me a position in his military in the new year.’
‘Perhaps in the meantime you might give some thought to working for me.’
Rufinus frowned. ‘What?’
‘You know what we do. You are more subtle and capable than most. You could flourish in our camp.’
‘A frumentarius?’
‘Don’t look so surprised. I can make it happen. Few men in our ranks are direct appointments. Most are brought in by men from inside. That way we can be certain that we take on only the best men. Men who are strong and capable, but also wise and subtle, and most of all utterly loyal to the emperor.’
Rufinus felt a tiny thrill of guilt over that conversation he’d just had with the other two, and buried it deep where hopefully even Cestius couldn’t see it.
‘I am sort of bound to Severus.’
‘That needn’t be a problem. But I have great need of you, I think. You know what our prime purpose is?’
Rufinus nodded. ‘You are said to slip in among other units and root out treachery and crimes. That’s what they say, anyway.’
Cestius nodded. ‘That is the larger part of what we do. And, you see, the rot may have been halted in the Praetorian Guard, but it is far from removed. The Guard is tainted to the core, and it is our duty to clear it. You were, and perhaps are still, one of them. You could also be one of us. You see?’
Rufinus’ lip twitched. To rejoin the Guard? But also to work for the frumentarii while there? It would be dangerous.
It would be interesting.
An unintended smile slipped onto his face.
Cestius caught it and grinned back. ‘I thought you might not be able to resist.’
‘I couldn’t do much as I was, though,’ Rufinus said. ‘A grunt doesn’t have much authority.’
‘You don’t necessarily need a lot of authority to do our sort of work, but let me speak to Laetus. He has a number of senior positions to fill since the cull. Tribunes, perhaps, and centurions at the very least. And your record speaks for itself.’
Rufinus felt that tiny tug of pride. To be not only a Praetorian again and a centurion at that? Legitimately and under his true name. Of that, perhaps a man could be proud.
‘Alright. I’ll do it.’
Cestius chuckled. ‘I had a feeling you might. I’ve already set the ball rolling. If you return to the Castra Praetoria, report to the headquarters and you’ll find the records of your demise being rewritten as we speak.’
‘Sneaky bastard.’
‘Said the man who brought down Cleander.’ With a laugh, Cestius shook his hand. ‘Go get the records straight. I’ll be in touch.’
Rufinus shook his head. A quarter of an hour ago he’d been a man with no place and no plan, and suddenly all that had changed. His memory helpfully supplied him with an image of the old general Pompeianus in the aftermath of Lucilla’s plot.
Do not relax yourself, my friend. The game has been complicated and tough, and you won it with courage and style, but you know as well as I that it doesn’t end there. There are always more games to be played; always more opponents to face.
Indeed there were.
The great game begins again.
THE END.
Historical Note
Praetorian 4 was always going to be something of a messy plot, and I’ve known that since this entire arc started in book 2. I was drawing in so many threads, you see. The great game was self-contained, but these last three books have wound through a variety of plot strands. Rufinus has adventures left open to him yet, but here I wanted to bring to an end all those dangling threads. There was Cleander, who had to die. There were the six cavalrymen Rufinus had moved against. There was Severus and his new patronage. There was the devolving of the Guard into Cleander’s private army. And finally there was Rufinus’ own family troubles. All of this I wanted to pull together.
Then there were the two outside influences on the plot. My forthcoming novel Commodus will deal with Marcia and Cleander in some depth and will give a perspective perhaps missing from this tale. To truly appreciate what was at stake here, you might want to read Commodus when it is released in the spring and see how it all interconnects. But also there is the matter of Rufinus’ tombstone. You see, the only real extant reference to Rufinus’ entire family is his own tombstone, which has been found. He has the most incredible career path, and while I might play around over the series with the order in which they occur, rest assured that among his career highlights are listed:
PRAEFECTO CLASSIS PRAETORIO MISENENSIS
CENTURIO COHORS […] URBANAE
So yes. He held those roles.
From 187 to summer 190 Rome was a terrible place. Beleaguered by famine and plague, it had been abandoned by many, and all that remained were those who had to be there and those who were too poor to leave. The rich (the emperor being a prime example) had moved to private estates. We know that the plague, which had been brought back west by Lucius Verus after he crushed Parthia two decades before this, and come and gone in waves. It was one of the worst disease outbreaks in Roman history, known often as the Antonine Plague. It may or may not have been the cause of the deaths of both Marcus Aurelius and Lucius Verus. Certainly it killed many thousands of Romans every year.
What we know about the grain shortage is less sure. Most of what we read is coincidental. We only hear of it in the context of Cleander’s fall. Let me give you our primary sources:
HERODIAN: Famine gripped the city at the same time. Responsible for it was a Phrygian named Cleander, one of the slaves offered for sale by the public auctioneer for the benefit of the state. As a slave in the imperial household, Cleander grew up with Commodus and eventually was raised to a position of honour and authority: the command of the bodyguard, the stewardship of the imperial bedroom, and the control of the imperial armies were all entrusted to him. Because of his wealth and wantonness, Cleander coveted the empire. He bought up most of the grain supply and put it in storage; he hoped in this way to get control of the people and the army by making a generous distribution of grain at the first sign of a food shortage, anticipating that he would win the support of the people when they were suffering from a scarcity of food.
CASSIUS DIO: A famine occurred, sufficiently grievous in itself; but its severity was vastly increased by Papirius Dionysius, the grain commissioner, in order that Cleander, whose thefts would seem chiefly responsible for it, might incur the hatred of the Romans and be destroyed by them.
The entertaining but unreliable HISTORIA AUGUSTA puts Cleander’s death down to something else entirely. put to death on false charges as a favour to Attalus, whom Arrius had condemned during his proconsulship in Asia, Commodus could not endure the hatred of the enraged people and gave Cleander over to the populace for punishment. Given how the other two sources agree and the HA is chronologically distant from these events, I have clearly chosen to go with the grain issue.
Given what we know, then, the details of this famine where Cleander stocks up the grain on the advice of Dionysus, I was given free rein to turn it into a conspiracy. Indeed, Dio largely hints at this with the above passage. This is where writing two series of books becomes really interesting. Marcia’s involvement here might seem quite minor, limited to the meeting in the warehouse, yet she is a prime mover in the plot. ‘Commodus’ will explain and tell her story in more detail. But in Commodus much of
the detail of the actual plot is glossed over, and it is only here in Praetorian where I have been able to reveal that detail. It is my hope that the two books will complement one another well.
During the research into what was clearly going to be one of the most complex bits of plot creation in my life, I read up extensively on the grain shipments to Rome and the subject of piracy. I needed to recreate the attempts of Calvia Crispinilla, who had apparently tried to starve Rome from Africa during the revolt of Macer, also engineered by her.
The first issue I had was the composition and nature of grain shipments. I had seen many times reference to the ‘grain fleets’. I had assumed automatically that the fleets were specifically constructed, maintained and run by the Roman government, especially given that Commodus later built a new fleet in Africa to ensure steady flow of grain. I was wrong. In one of the earliest examples of mass private contracting, grain shipments to Rome were exclusively the province of private traders, retained by Rome on an ad hoc basis and encouraged despite the terrible dangers posed by year-round sea transport due to strong incentives and benefits. Moreover, the ships do not seem to have had any level of escort. The danger was all borne by the ship’s owner. I could easily divert some of these vessels, then, by having a better offer put their way. I did this through Senova. It was quite acceptable, incidentally, and surprisingly normal to find women controlling mercantile concerns for their husbands. They were in charge of the finances for the domus, after all. And so Senova undercut the government and bought out ships, reducing the capacity of the grain fleets available. She could only buy some, though, and probably only ones she could access in Rome and Ostia.
Lions of Rome Page 42
