Soldier of Rome- Rise of the Flavians

by James Mace

  “It is you, who has conquered,” added Otho Titianus, the brother of the late emperor. “And if you wish it, the senate will confirm you as Emperor of Rome.”

  “Oh, fuck me,” Primus snapped. He shook his head. “You disgust me, the lot of you! You, the noble fathers of Rome, who once cast me out of this hall in disgrace, now wish to name me Caesar. And why is that? Because I defeated a mob sent by the usurper, you would allow me to become one myself? No, good senators, while it is the emperor’s intent that I be named Regent of the Empire, but I will not be Caesar. Nor will I accept the consulship. I stand now at the head of the senate merely as representative of Emperor Vespasian, whose rise has been decreed by the gods themselves. The time of usurpers and pretenders is over. The fates have seen fit to cast down the once mighty and noble line of the Julio-Claudians. And now, tempered in the fires of war, has the house of the Flavians arisen. The old families have proven themselves self-serving and corrupt, and so the gods have given to Rome the strongest of men, who comes to us from humbler origins. Vespasian’s rise to become Caesar has been dictated by merit rather than bloodline.”

  An awkward silence followed. The assembled senators knew not what they should say in response. All had at one time or another served within the various factions that made war upon each other. That they now came together again under the same roof was a strange circumstance, yet Primus had demanded it.

  Finally, it was Suetonius Paulinus who spoke up. His words caused an audible gasp from the senators. “You speak with wisdom when you state you are not worthy to be Caesar.” Though most of the senate was appalled, Primus actually grinned and nodded appreciatively. After all, there was a huge amount of respect between the two generals, and not simply because Paulinus had fought beside Sabinus and later helped Primus win the capital.

  “I am glad to see there is at least one member of this once august body who is not prone to false flattery,” he replied.

  Paulinus gave a short nod in response. He then produced the scroll, which he held high. “Senators, the letter I hold comes to us directly from Emperor Vespasian. It addresses his demands of the senate, once the usurper was deposed. It was placed in my hands just prior to the fall of Vitellius and the murder of our emperor’s brother, the noble Flavius Sabinus.” There were a few murmurs at this rather awkward reminder. Those who had sided with the Vitellians were more than a little nervous that Vespasian would seek retribution over his brother’s senseless killing. It was all political theater. For it had actually been Primus who gave Paulinus the message from Vespasian, only the day before.

  Paulinus, who was still smarting over his defeat at the hands of Vitellius’ forces earlier in the year, allowed the senators a few moments of nervous fidgeting before he began to read:

  To the Senate and the People of Rome,

  I, your emperor, Titus Flavius Vespasian, though unworthy of this esteemed honor, and who was compelled to take on the burdens of ultimate service to Rome on the 1 st of July of this year, do bid you greetings.

  Through much of the past year has our beloved empire been wrought by the foulest of calamities; that of civil war. Brother has taken up arms against brother, with fathers and sons slaying each other in the most wretched of all crimes against our very humanity. Therefore, my first decree as Caesar is that nevermore shall Roman draw blade against fellow Roman. Whatever our differences, you, the noble fathers of Rome, are my brothers. Our dear citizens, both plebian and patrician alike, are my sons and daughters.

  I have spent a lifetime in war, yet I cannot truly serve our people as long as Roman blood is being shed through violence. I am therefore resolved to see the doors to the Temple of Janus closed, that we may usher in a new era of peace and prosperity for all Romans, noble and commoner alike.

  That being said, there will be no peace in Rome, as long as those within the patrician class continue to conspire and make war upon each other. My ignominious predecessors saw fit to compel allegiance through fear. So weak was their resolve that they viewed those most loyal as ones who would betray their colleagues and friends. Yet I find such actions deplorable, and make it known that he who would attempt to gain my favor by conspiring against his friend shall find me a most unmerciful enemy. Those who once swore allegiance, however misguided, to any of my predecessors are hereby pardoned without condition. All can confidently call themselves friends of Caesar.

  Understand that I will return to Rome with all haste, and only regret that the treacherous seas, brought on by the winter storms, delay my arrival. Until such time as I may enter the gates of the Eternal City, I do appoint my loyal general and confidant, Marcus Antonius Primus, to act as regent in my stead. No one man, not even an emperor, can rule the civilized world alone. I therefore implore you, as both your colleague and friend, to work with me, that we may lead Rome into a new age of enlightenment and prosperity.

  Your humble servant,

  Titus Flavius Vespasian

  Imperator, Princeps, and Emperor of Rome

  Paulinus paused for a second before saying the last words of the letter, adding emphasis to its significance. The senators also took note of what at first seemed a passing remark, regarding the date of Vespasian’s ascension. Of course he would humbly come before the senate, asking them to deliberate thoroughly before confirming or denying his right to be Caesar. This was all a simple formality, but by specifying the date of 1 July, Vespasian was sending a very clear message. During the last gasps of the republic, it had taken the senate several years to confirm Augustus’ powers after the defeat of Marc Antony. Even though Augustus had become emperor in everything but name after the Battle of Actium, his reign was officially recorded as beginning four years later, when his new titles were confirmed by the senate. By specifying the date of his ascension, Vespasian was dictating when his reign as emperor began.

  And should the senate confirm the legality of his rise to power, then Vitellius would be branded as a pretender with Vespasian as the rightful heir to the empire. Thankfully, there would be little debate on this issue. Whether they considered themselves in alliance or opposition to the emperor, every last member of the senate was beaten down by the relentless year of civil war, and glad to at last have peace and stability returned to the empire. Whether Vespasian’s reign was recorded officially as commencing in July or December was a moot point.

  “Unlike the pretender, Vitellius,” Primus began, “Vespasian does not wish to use force to dictate his assumption of the imperial mantle. Nor will he accept his ratification based on flattery, born out of fear of reprisal. If any member of the senate has a legitimate reason as to why Titus Flavius Vespasian should be denied the imperial throne, let him speak now.”

  After a moment’s silence, the general was surprised when Italicus spoke up.

  “As all of you are well aware,” he said, “Vitellius was not only my emperor, but also my friend. I loved him like a brother, and I personally mourn his tragic passing. I must emphasize, however, that Vitellius had no more legitimate claim to the throne than Vespasian. The dilemma we have faced since the death of Emperor Nero has been who holds the most rightful claim to rule the empire? During the dark days that marked the final years of the republic, Rome was embroiled in a series of civil wars. The last one saw Octavian emerge victorious after his defeat of Marc Antony. Our forefathers in the senate willingly created what was then known as the principate . Octavian was named first citizen of Rome and given the name Augustus.”

  “While we are all grateful for the history lesson, Senator Italicus,” Consul Simplex retorted, “what does that have to do with the crisis we face today?”

  “Everything,” Italicus replied. “For by granting the titles and powers to Augustus, the senate ended the republic and created the imperial family. With that line now extinct, we have been afflicted by another series of civil wars; the horrors of which have not been witnessed in over a hundred years. We must not only proclaim an emperor, but also a new dynasty. Vespasian has two grown sons, the elde
st of which has become one of our most renowned generals in recent years. And while personally saddened by the death of my dear friend, Vitellius, I must look to the good of Rome. I propose that we not only recognize Flavius Vespasian as emperor, but that we further name his son, Titus, as his successor and prince imperial.”

  The ‘debate’ over the legitimacy of Vespasian’s succession was concluded quickly. Of even greater issue had been the delegating of funds to rebuild the Temple of Jupiter, while also agreeing to reward Licinius Mucianus for successfully restoring order on the Danube. The other Flavian general would arrive in Rome within two to three weeks, and with relief it was made known that he would replace the hated Antonius Primus as imperial regent. After which, it seemed not to matter at all who was Emperor of Rome, as the various factions soon returned to their daily squabbling and conspiring against each other.

  Suetonius Paulinus left the curia that evening feeling both exhausted and vindicated. The empire was still reeling from the trauma of civil war. Their Britannic ally, Queen Cartimandua, had been overthrown, and the Batavians were in revolt. But at least Rome now had an emperor he felt was worth serving under.

  “Senator Paulinus!” It was Senator Nerva who called to him.

  The two men walked over to one of the large pillars, behind which they could talk more privately.

  “It would seem peace has at last come to the empire,” the old general said, a sense of relief in his voice.

  “A little redeeming, was it?” Nerva asked. “Given your… humbling at the hands of the Vitellians.”

  Though the words certainly cut deep, they were not meant to be insulting, nor did Paulinus take them that way. In truth, Nerva had always been a great admirer of the general. The young senator had displayed greater political shrewdness than any during the reign of Nero, as well as all of his short-lived successors, while somehow managing to maintain a sense of integrity and honesty. The one thing he lacked, and that which he had always respected Paulinus for, was military experience.

  “I do not seek retribution against my former adversaries,” the general replied. His mouth turned up in a partial smile. “However, I will confess that watching most of those flippant turncoats refuse to look me in the eye as I addressed them was somewhat satisfying.”

  “I am just sorry I did not have the internal fortitude to stand with you and Sabinus on Capitoline,” Nerva said. He held up his hands and shrugged awkwardly. “But I am no soldier.”

  “You serve Rome in your own way,” the general reassured him. “If only the sword was needed to rule the empire, we would be no better than those we call ‘barbarians’.”

  “Perhaps,” Nerva acknowledged. He furrowed his brow in contemplation for a moment. “You know that my sister is married to Otho’s brother, so that made us family. However, I think you know who my secret loyalties lay with after Nero’s fall.”

  “A good thing, then, that it was Vitellius who faced Vespasian, and not Otho,” Paulinus remarked. “Otherwise you would have been forced to choose. Now then, what is it you wished to see me about? Surely not just to hear if I enjoyed being able to gloat over my fallen enemies.”

  Nerva shifted on his feet awkwardly and looked away for a moment. “There is something I’ve wanted to know,” he asked, looking Paulinus in the eye. “You know how I’ve always admired your skill in battle as a general, and I have always felt that you and Vespasian were the greatest military leaders of our age…”

  “You want to know if I deliberately lost the First Battle of Bedriacum,” Paulinus interrupted, folding his arms across his chest. He sighed and glanced down briefly before answering. “I confess, I feel ashamed, even though I did not say those exact words to Vitellius. That was still the low point of my humiliation; I should have stood defiant to the last, whatever may come. But to answer your question, no, I did not deliberately lose the battle for your kinsman. Once Otho allowed Titianus to overrule me, there was little I could do.”

  “Please,” Nerva said, raising his hand. “My relationship with Otho was flippant at best. And if you must know, had I been compelled to choose between him and Vespasian, let’s just say I may have found myself taking a fast horse east!”

  The men shared a much-needed laugh at this.

  “Had I been placed as commander-in-chief, perhaps I could have defeated the Vitellians,” Paulinus said, returning to the subject of discussion. “But that damned stubborn Otho was determined to give his brother the glory. You know I warned him to wait for the rest of the army after I bested Caecina at Locus Castorum. The Vitellians retreated, after their failed attempts to take Placentia, and I had just beaten Caecina. Primus had three legions scarcely a week’s march away. That damned fool, Titianus, insisted on pressing forward, and his brother listened. I suppose one could say that I could not have lost the battle, since I was not in command.” Paulinus shook his head in frustration at the memory.

  “You had faced overwhelming odds before,” Nerva persisted.

  “Only numerically,” the general corrected, knowing the senator was referring to his decisive victory over the Iceni tribes in Britannia. “When that bitch, Boudicca, thought she had me cornered, her army outnumbered ours ten-to-one. However, these were nothing but mindless barbarians dancing about in a frenzy, with no sense of discipline whatsoever. They painted themselves blue, to add to their ferocious appearance, yet body paint does nothing against the pilum and gladius. And since they allowed me to choose the terrain, I held the high ground with impenetrable woods on either side. Those bastards were forced into a narrow channel where their numbers meant nothing. Terrifying though it may have appeared at the time, anyone with a shred of tactical savvy would have known from the moment they charged, the issue was never in doubt. Our javelin volleys cut their lead ranks to pieces. They were ready to break before so much as a single legionary drew his gladius.”

  “I thank you for taking the time to speak with me,” Nerva said earnestly. “Now if you will forgive me, general, I need to find my young ward.”

  “Yes, it is good that Domitian survived the purging of Capitoline Hill.”

  “A slave at the Temple of Concord hid him,” Nerva explained. “I am going to petition Primus to have the man granted his freedom. After he risked his life to save an imperial prince, it is the least we can do.”

  Despite being populated by hundreds of people, mostly slaves, the imperial palace felt strangely empty with no emperor or imperial family to occupy it. A praetorian guardsman thought as much as he wandered down the long corridors.

  Having served under Nero, then Galba, and finally Otho, the guardsman was glad to be reinstated to his post. The past year had seen so many claimants come and go that they were uncertain as to who, if anyone, they should swear their loyalty to. Like most of his companions, he did not care who sat upon the throne; all they wanted was a Caesar who lasted more than a few months, as well as one who paid them the traditional donative they felt they were due.

  “That is, if the emperor ever gets his ass to Rome,” the guardsman grumbled. A sound like the clattering of cups and platters startled him, and he quickly raced down the hall until he came to the emperor’s private dining chambers.

  As he entered the large room, the praetorian saw a man with his back to him, humming loudly while tossing various chalices, serving platters, and other items of décor into a pile on one of the long tables. At least a dozen servants were following his directives, as he told them what to add to the growing pile. The palace was closed to all visitors, pending the arrival of Vespasian, and so the guardsman assumed it was a slave intent on robbing the palace and then fleeing the city.

  Drawing his gladius, the guardsman shouted, “Hold right there, you damned…” As the man turned to face him, he saw not a renegade slave, but the very man who currently lorded over Rome. The guardsman quickly sheathed his blade. “Oh, bugger me…beg your pardon, sir.”

  “Quite alright,” Antonius Primus replied with a dismissive wave. “I’m glad to see someone is
still guarding this place. Otherwise it might get picked clean by looters.” He then shouted at a slave, “Not that! That bust is of the fat prick I defeated in battle. Why in the bleeding hell would I want it?”

  The praetorian was completely at a loss. Here was the man who had defeated the Vitellians and won the empire for Vespasian, yet he was plainly stealing from the imperial palace.

  “Can I…can I do anything to help?” It was a stupid thing to say. The guardsman was so dumbstruck it was all he could think of.

  “Forget what I just said,” Primus said to one of the slaves, ignoring the praetorian for a moment. “That bust is of good quality marble and will go well in my dining room. There’s something rather delicious about supping with Vitellius staring at me through those cold, lifeless eyes, no?”

  As the general laughed out loud and started humming to himself once more, the guardsman slowly backed towards the door.

  “As a matter of fact, there is something you can do for me,” Primus said, at last answering the man’s question. “You can fetch me a wagon. Nothing too large, just one sufficient to haul about a dozen or so crates. And have my chief-of-staff sent to me. I need to let him know that we’ll be having ten…no, let’s make it twenty additional slaves added to the household.” When the praetorian did not move, Primus finally looked at him. “What is it, man? Are you not able to follow simple instructions?”

  “It’s not that, sir,” the guardsman replied. “It’s just that I don’t exactly have a spare wagon with draught animals simply lying about.”