by James Mace
“With all that has happened over the past year, I almost forgot about the Jewish uprising,” Aula remarked.
“Thankfully, they have been fighting their own civil war. We were simply keeping them contained to the Jerusalem district while they killed each other off. But now that Vespasian has become emperor, he will no doubt want the rebels finished and Jerusalem claimed as a prize for Rome. I doubt anything will happen before spring, though. The roads there are nothing but dirt paths that become impenetrable quagmires during the winter rains. And given the storms upon the seas this time of year, it will probably be another month or so before the eastern armies can begin returning to Judea by ship.” He decided to change the subject from the rather grim undertaking that still awaited the Imperial Army in the east. “But enough about that. What will you do now?”
“With Sabinus dead, I really don’t know,” Aula said. “Primus was sent back to Vespasian, likely because Mucianus could no longer stand the sight of him.”
Both laughed at this assessment.
Aula continued, “With the factions now reconciled, and all the powerful patricians—the ones who survived the war—having their own private couriers, my services are no longer needed. Still, Mucianus has promised me an ‘important’ place at the imperial court once Vespasian returns to Rome.”
“I never much envisioned you as a courtier,” Gaius remarked. “Though I suppose that is more expected, rather than traipsing about the empire in a red tunic, with a sword on your hip.”
“It was an adventure,” Aula said, with her mischievous grin. “Today was my last ride as an imperial courier. You know, there were many days I wondered if I would survive it all. Of course, that is probably a daily occurrence for you.”
“Sometimes.”
The doors leading from the gardens to the entrance hall were opened, and a man wearing a legate’s armor was escorted through.
“General Primus, sir,” Gaius said, instinctively coming to attention.
“At ease, soldier, at ease,” the former Flavian general said, with an easy wave of his hand. He nodded to Aula. “Lady Vale. I take it you told him I was coming?”
“Um, not yet,” Aula said, with embarrassment.
“Wait, you knew he was coming?” Gaius asked. He furrowed his brow as he addressed Primus. “Beg your pardon, sir, but what exactly do you need from a legionary optio?”
“I need you to be more than just an optio,” he explained. “Lady Aula here is rather persistent, to say the least. She told me about your brother—the gods rest him—and how he was a member of the equites.”
“That he was, sir. However, our family only had enough money and influence to see to his career path. I had to find my own way.”
“Yes, and done well, too,” Primus recalled. “I’ve only awarded a handful of Civic Crowns in my lifetime, and I think yours will probably be among the last. However, I did not come to speak about the past, but rather the future.”
“Your family are still members of the equites,” Aula explained. “With Lucius gone, and him having no sons…”
“All rights and titles of his are eligible to pass on to you,” Primus finished for her.
“Are you saying that because my brother’s dead, I can now take up the career path of the equites?” Gaius asked, completely perplexed.
“If you want to put it that way, yes. It’s either that or you can return to the legion and pray they don’t find you medically unfit and cast you out of the ranks. Besides, I think your talents are wasted as a ranker on the battle line.”
“What talents are those, sir?”
Primus sighed in partial frustration. “Really?” he asked. “Do I need to spell it out for you? Damn it, my boy, it’s your skill with artillery that the army can best utilize! You ended the Siege of Tigranocerta by lobbing the head of an enemy general right into the laps of his mates. And it was your skill directing catapult fire that allowed us to breach the Vitellian camp at Cremona…well, right up until the damn thing blew apart in your face.”
He then produced a scroll which he handed to Gaius. The young soldier’s eyes widened as he read the orders:
Optio Gaius Artorius Armiger,
You are hereby discharged from the ranks of Legio X, Fretensis, and are reassigned as Tribune of Artillery to the armies in Judea, under direct command of General Titus Flavius Vespasian, the Prince Imperial.
Signed,
Marcus Antonius Primus
Regent of the Empire
“I…I thought you weren’t regent anymore, sir?” Gaius asked.
“I’m not,” Primus said, with a devious grin. “But that doesn’t mean I cannot sign a set of orders and date them to a time when I was still regent. Anyway, you can thank Lady Aula for this. You are to finish your convalescent leave and then get your ass on the first boat bound for Judea. From there you will report directly to General Titus, and help him bombard the shit out of those Jewish zealots who can’t seem to figure out they’ve been conquered. And now, if you will excuse me, I have a ship to catch for Ephesus.” He nodded to Aula. “My lady.”
Even after Primus left, Gaius stood in a state of shock, clutching the scroll tightly in his hands.
“So that’s it?” he asked. “Just like that, and I am now a member of the equites?”
“It is your right to assume the status vacated by Lucius,” Aula reassured him. “At least that’s how I emphasized it to Primus.”
“I hope you didn’t have to sleep with him as well,” Gaius chuckled.
“Ha!” Aula retorted. “While he is certainly charming and handsome, Marcus Antonius Primus is the worst kind of rogue. Besides, while his wife may not care how many whores or slaves he takes into his bed, the daughter of a patrician she might frown upon.” She placed her arms around his neck. “And anyway, I wanted to save my special favors for someone else.”
Gaius grinned broadly as he took Aula into his arms and kissed her deeply. His life had completely changed. Out of the anguish of tragedy, it seemed he was born into a whole new world. He would be returning to Judea in the next few weeks. He hoped by then he would realize that he was no longer a plebeian from the ranks, but a tribune from the equites. And he would have to leave Aula once more. But now he knew beyond all doubt, that Aula Cursia Vale would be waiting for him.
The seas swelled and waves crashed against the huge warship as the emperor’s personal armada sailed into Athens. Among Vespasian’s entourage that accompanied him on his tour through the eastern provinces, and eventually on to Rome, was the venerable General Marcus Ulpius Trajan. Though reluctant to leave the Tenth Legion, he had already extended his command tour well beyond the normal three-year duration. The emperor emphasized the need for his most reliable soldiers to accompany him into the political teeth of the senate.
“And Bassus will do well,” Vespasian reasoned, as the two stood atop the large forecastle of the ship. “He proved himself during the Siege of Rome, so I thought he would better serve the empire by taking your command of the Tenth rather than returning to the Danube to sit on his ass for another three years.”
“He also understands siege warfare,” Trajan observed. “And is an expert on the employment of artillery.”
“The fact that he was a Flavian loyalist during the civil war didn’t hurt,” the emperor remarked with a chuckle. “Still, I would hope all of our colleagues are now loyalists.”
“Mucianus will likely sort them out well before we arrive in Rome.”
“Given the months it is going to take for us to play political theater in the eastern provinces, I hope he doesn’t get too comfortable in his position as regent.”
“Give him the consulship and follow it up with making him governor somewhere. He’ll be happy.”
“Yes,” Vespasian nodded. “And speaking of the consulship, I think you should sit in the chair for a suffect term next year.”
“A short, suffect consulship would suit me,” the general stated. “And if I may be so bold, Caesar, I think you s
hould take a more proactive role in the senate than your recent predecessors. Historically, the senate seems to function better when the emperor is involved in its daily workings.”
“And to think I avoided actively serving in the senate as much as possible over the last forty years,” Vespasian grumbled, though his face bore a knowing grin. “Since Primus got me elected consul for the full year term, I should at least show up on the senate floor, once we return.”
The two men shared a knowing laugh as the ship continued to lurch forward towards the large harbor. An entire entourage from the imperial governor of Greece awaited them, as did the mayors of Athens, Sparta, Corinth, and Thessalonica.
“I’m beginning to think that Nero’s time spent on the stage was not such a waste after all,” Vespasian said. “I feel like a damn street performer, having to recite my lines exactly, whenever we meet with any of these damned governors and magistrates.”
“Nero was right about one thing,” Trajan observed. “This is a new age for Rome, though he did not live to see it. We have closed out one chapter in the history of the world, and opened another. The Julio-Claudians have earned their place in history. Now it is time for the House of the Flavians to do the same. But here, before we dock and have to put on our best thespian performances, I brought this for us.”
Trajan snapped his fingers and signaled to his manservant, who promptly headed below deck. A minute later, several men were seen carrying an amphora of wine. Cups were passed around quickly to the emperor and members of his entourage.
“What’s all this?” Vespasian asked. “I suppose you are about to give us a great speech in the same vein as Nero?”
“Not quite,” Trajan replied. “Mine will be much shorter.” He held aloft his full cup, as the emperor and courtiers did the same. Trajan then shouted loud enough for all aboard to hear, as well as those on the docks, as the ship glided up beside them. “A toast to Emperor Titus Flavius Vespasian. The Reign of the Tyrants is now over…Hail, Caesar!”
Emperor Vespasian
Appendix A: Historical Afterward
The following are the known or speculated historical fates of select persons from The Year of the Four Emperors:
Marcus Cocceius Nerva became a prominent member of Vespasian’s imperial council, as well as continuing as Domitian’s mentor. He was twice elected consul, the first in 71 A.D., where he served as colleague to Emperor Vespasian. His next term came during the reign of Domitian, in 90 A.D. In September of 96, following the murder of Domitian, Nerva was proclaimed emperor by the senate. Unmarried and childless, he quickly adopted a worthy heir in the younger Marcus Ulpius Trajan. He died on 27 January 98 A.D., at the age of sixty-seven. Though his brief reign would last less than two years, he founded the Nerva-Antonine Dynasty, ushering in a hundred years of peace and prosperity for the empire.
Marcus Ulpius Trajan returned to Rome with Vespasian in 70 A.D., where he was awarded a term as suffect consul. During the reign of the Flavian emperors, he served at least four governorships, including Hispania Baetica, North Africa, and Anatolia in what is now western Turkey, as well as Syria. During his tenure in Syria, his political and military savvy prevented an invasion from Parthia. In later years he became a highly respected statesman, loved by many, and always managing to keep above the political fray. In 96 A.D. his son, who also bore the same name, was adopted by Emperor Nerva as his successor. Emperor Trajan became one of Rome’s most revered and successful rulers of all time, with the empire reaching the pinnacle of its size and power under his reign. It is speculated that his father died either just before or just after his rise to become Caesar. Emperor Trajan honored his father’s legacy on both coinage, as well as naming a city in North Africa after him.
A gold aureus from Emperor Trajan’s reign
Marcus Antonius Primus departed Rome soon after Mucianus replaced him as imperial regent. He refused the consulship, even though the senate begged him to accept, and the promised governorship never manifested itself. This is likely because, while Vespasian was grateful to Primus for winning him the empire, it did not change the reality that he was still a terrible administrator and financier. The famous Roman poet and satirist, Martial, addressed four of his twelve famous Epigrams to the Flavian general. As Primus was such an enigma, he was the perfect candidate for satire. His date of death is unknown, but as the Epigrams of Martial are the last place his name is recorded, it is speculated he died in the early 2 nd century A.D., during the reign of Trajan. Tacitus perhaps best sums him up as, ‘Brave in action, ready of speech, clever at bringing others into odium, powerful in times of civil war and rebellion, greedy, extravagant, in peace a bad citizen, in war an ally not to be despised.’
Gaius Licinius Mucianus remained as regent until Vespasian’s arrival in Rome. He was twice elected consul, in 70 and 72 A.D. And while there are no surviving records of his death, since he is not mentioned at all during the reigns of Titus and Domitian, it is assumed he died sometime before 79 A.D.
Tiberius Julius Alexander was sent to Judea to aid Titus in suppressing the Jewish Revolt and capturing Jerusalem. Because he was a Jew, very knowledgeable of the region and its people, as well as an accomplished military officer in his own right, he became the commanding general’s chief-of-staff. As some sources state he was Titus’ second-in-command, it is possible that Vespasian elevated him into Rome’s senatorial class.
Upon returning to Rome, Alexander served as one of the Prefects of the Praetorian Guard, which may indicate that he remained a member of the equites. However, as Titus was given the other position, it makes it unclear as to which of Rome’s noble classes Alexander ended up in. Regardless, he achieved a position that was unparalleled by one who was both a Jew, as well as of Egyptian origin. Both carried great stigma in Roman society. In Juvenal’s Satire , he complains of the Forum’s triumphal statues, ‘Here some Egyptian had the nerve to set up his titles. At his image it’s right to do little more than piss!’ This was a sad example of where xenophobia ran rampant, despite Alexander’s lengthy service to the empire. His date of death is not recorded, though history remembers him as the Jewish-Roman who first declared Vespasian Emperor.
Gaius Suetonius Paulinus faded into obscurity, following the rise of Vespasian. As he never held another governorship nor consulship, despite the level of respect Vespasian held for him, it is likely that he had tired of politics and decided to retire to private life. Though his often questioned service as one of Otho’s generals cast a blight on his reputation, his defeat of Boudicca and saving of the Province of Britannia would forever secure his place in the annals of history.
Aulus Caecina Alienus was surprisingly welcomed by Vespasian, given many honors, as well as a place at the imperial court. Little else is known about the rest of his life, except that he proved to be ever the conspirer, and in 79 A.D. hatched a plot against the emperor, with the help of a senator named Clodius Eprius Marcellus. Both men were convicted and sentenced to death. Marcellus committed suicide, while Caecina was executed, most likely by strangulation atop the Gemonian Stairs.
Silius Italicus proved to be a political survivalist in the aftermath of Vitellius’ overthrow and death. For his efforts to mediate a surrender, Vespasian treated him well. He was named Proconsul of Asia Minor in 77 A.D., which appears to be the last significant post he held. He outlived the Flavian emperors without any further political postings or incidents. During his later years he became a renowned poet and historian. He appears to have been on friendly terms with Emperor Domitian, who he posthumously eulogizes in some of his later works. His twelve-thousand line epic, Punica , is one of the most detailed accounts of the Second Punic War still in existence. This was completed around the year 96, just after the rise of Emperor Nerva.
He retired to the region of Campania, where ill health prevented his returning to Rome for the celebration honoring the ascension of Emperor Trajan. In 103 A.D. he was diagnosed with an unknown, but incurable tumor. He soon after committed suicide by means o
f self-starvation at the age of seventy-five, maintaining a rather cheerful demeanor until the very end. The historian, Pliny, states that he was the last senator to die who had once been consul under Nero. Today, Silius’ legacy is far more tied into his histories and epic poems, leading many of his readers to forget that he had lived through some of the most tumultuous times in Rome’s long history.
Quintus Petillius Cerealis was lauded for his valor by his father-in-law, Emperor Vespasian, upon his return to Rome. He was immediately sent to Germania to put down the Batavian Revolt, while being given command of Legio XIV, Gemina Martia Victrix, which had been recalled from Britannia. By mid-70 A.D., he had succeeded in suppressing the Batavians, and the following year he was appointed Governor of Britannia. He brought with him the newly raised Legio II, Adiutrix, and was accompanied by Julius Agricola, who was given command of Legio XX, Valeria Victrix. Together they campaigned against their former allies, the Brigantes in what is now northern England. Though militarily successful, they failed to restore their ally, Queen Cartimandua, to the Brigantes throne.
Cerealis returned to Rome in 74 A.D., where he served his first consulship. He served a second consulship nine years later, where he was colleague to his brother-in-law, Emperor Domitian. And though long since widowed, following the death of his wife, Vespasian’s daughter, Domitilla, he never remarried. Tacitus described him as, ‘A bold soldier rather than a careful general, and preferred to stake everything on the issue of a single engagement. He possessed natural eloquence of a kind that readily appealed to his soldiers. His loyalty to his superiors was unshakable.’
