Masters of Rome: VESPASIAN V (Vespasian 5)

by Robert Fabbri

  Corbulo shook his head in regret. ‘Indebted to freedmen, ordered about by lewd women and surpassed by New Men; I’m thoroughly looking forward to getting back to the certainties of a military camp.’

  ‘And I’m sure the men will welcome you, knowing how much they love strict discipline.’

  Corbulo looked wistful. ‘Yes, at least in the legions decent ancient Roman values still prevail.’

  Rome stood before them, her cluttered skyline glowing in the warm evening sun and crowned with a pall of thin, brown haze: the fumes of countless cooking fires, forges, tanneries and bakers’ ovens.

  Vespasian stared with greedy eyes at the mistress of the world lying languidly on her seven hills, open to all who wished to enter her and share in her pleasures, her wealth and her power, provided they honour her. ‘Six years is too long to be away.’

  Magnus roused himself from the slouched doze into which he had been falling sporadically throughout the twenty-mile journey from Ostia. ‘Mmm? Yes, I suppose so; six years is a long time. However, I’ve only been away for just over two and I’m wondering whether that’s enough, if you take my meaning?’

  ‘I’m sure that my uncle would have done everything within his power to sort out that misunderstanding over the burnt-out tenements.’

  ‘I hope so; but it’ll have cost him a few denarii in blood money and bribes so he’ll be wanting a good return on his investment. I reckon that I’m going to be very busy for him.’

  ‘And I reckon that you’re right; with Sabinus consul this could be a very good few months for the family.’

  ‘It’s always helpful to have a tame consul.’

  Vespasian glanced at the long row of granaries lining the Via Ostiensis, blocking off the view of the Tiber, to his left. ‘And with reports of a good harvest the city should be peaceful and very conducive to business. I intend to make a lot of money.’

  The carriage slowed as beggars gathered around it, thrusting their bowls, clutched in filthy fingers or between stumps, towards Vespasian, attracted by the broad purple senatorial stripe on his toga. A couple of lashes of the driver’s whip cleared the path and the carriage moved on towards the Porta Trigemina in the shade of the Aventine, rising up on the other side of the Servian Walls to their right.

  Paying off the carriage driver – and almost giving him a tip for fighting off the beggars, but then thinking better of it – Vespasian stepped down and, as wheeled transport was forbidden in the city during daylight hours, walked through the open gates and entered Rome. Magnus followed with his own bag over his shoulder and Hormus brought up the rear, struggling with Vespasian’s baggage whilst jerking his head this way and that, looking with goggle eyes at the multitude of architectural wonders within the city.

  A huge roar of an excited crowd from their right, emanating from behind the high frontage of the Circus Maximus, surprised Vespasian and Magnus as they turned a corner into the Forum Boarium, which was awash with chariots, teams of horses and scores of men all bearing one of the four racing faction colours.

  ‘A race day?’ Magnus questioned. ‘That’s unusual only a few days before the festival of Apollo.’

  ‘It’s also inconvenient,’ Vespasian observed, looking at the fenced-off forum filled with the bustling activity of teams preparing for the next race or rubbing down sweating horses who had managed to survive the ordeal of the last. ‘How do we get past?’

  ‘Wait here, sir. There’s bound to be someone here that I know and they can escort us through; no one is going to stop a senator.’ He followed the fence around, looking for an acquaintance from his favoured Green team, leaving Vespasian and a visibly overwhelmed Hormus to wait amongst the crowds of onlookers studying the racehorses.

  ‘Have you ever seen a chariot race, Hormus?’ Vespasian asked with mild interest.

  Hormus looked surprised at being addressed directly in public. ‘Never, master.’

  ‘Then, during the festival of Apollo at the beginning of July, you should go.’

  ‘Go, master? Me? How can I?’

  ‘By walking to the Circus Maximus.’

  ‘But I’m your slave; I can’t leave your house.’

  ‘Of course you can – if I say so. We have a relaxed attitude to personal slaves here in Rome: if they aren’t needed by their masters, they’re free to come and go. You can go to the circus, the theatre, the arenas, wherever you like, so long as you have my permission. You must remember, Hormus, that we free our slaves so that they become freedmen who owe us total allegiance; they can be very useful in setting up businesses by proxy and circumventing certain laws that forbid senators from profiting from trade. If you serve me well I will free you one day; but what use will you be to me if you’ve never been outside of the house and have no contacts and know nothing of the city?’

  Hormus raised his eyes a fraction, almost meeting his master’s. ‘Do you mean, master, that I will not always be a slave?’

  ‘Of course you won’t.’

  ‘But, then how will I live?’

  ‘We’ll talk about that when the time comes; in the meanwhile when you’re not busy you should get to know the city.’ The corners of Hormus’ mouth twitched and timidity flickered in his eyes; Vespasian felt a twinge of contempt. He subdued it and continued: ‘If you want to be of use to me then you should ignore your fear and do as I suggest.’

  ‘Yes, master.’ Hormus’ tone was less than convincing.

  ‘You’ll never guess who I’ve found, sir,’ Magnus announced, shoving through the crowd.

  ‘I’m sure you’re right, Magnus.’

  ‘Follow me.’ Magnus headed off towards the Tiber. ‘My mate, Lucius; remember? You saved him from execution in Thracia and then him and a few mates helped us get that disgusting weasel-like priest out of the fortress at Sagadava in Moesia.’

  ‘I recall the incident but I don’t remember him.’

  ‘His dad used to be the Greens’ stable-master and Lucius was a stable lad before he joined up.’

  ‘I remember you getting excited about someone being able to give you decent tips.’

  ‘Exactly; and fifteen years ago he was able to help me with quite a tricky situation involving a dodgy bookmaker, a monstrous consul and your brother’s inability to get elected as a quaestor. Very helpful he was too. Well, he’s finished his time with the IIII Scythica and he’s back working for the Greens as, er … sort of muscle for the faction-master, if you take my meaning?’

  ‘I do; very responsible work, I’m sure.’

  ‘That’s you mocking again. Anyway, he’s meeting us by the gates next to the Aurelian Bridge and he’ll see us through.’

  ‘I’m pleased to hear it.’

  Vespasian did not recollect the face nor did he recognise it when Magnus and Lucius embraced in a joyful reunion under the watchful eye of a contubernium of eight men from an Urban Cohort on duty at the gate.

  ‘It’s an honour to see you again, sir,’ Lucius said, bowing his head to Vespasian once he had got them through the gate. ‘I will always be beholden to you for my life.’

  ‘Then I would suggest that you come to my morning salutio each day and greet me as your patron.’

  ‘I will do that with great pleasure, sir, and I will try to be as useful as possible to you.’

  ‘You can start by telling me why we’re having a day of racing; there’s no festival today.’

  ‘But there is now. Claudius is celebrating the Secular Games.’

  ‘The Secular Games? But they’re meant to be once every hundred years. Augustus only celebrated them just over sixty years ago.’

  Lucius shrugged as he led them through the racing activity. ‘Well, we’re having them again at the moment.’

  Magnus looked at Vespasian and chuckled. ‘The fool evidently can’t count.’

  ‘Either that or he’s really working hard to create a legacy. I wonder what my uncle’s got to say about it.’

  Vespasian knocked on the familiar door of his uncle’s house on the Quirinal
Hill and was unsurprised to see it opened by the most beautiful teenage boy with long flaxen hair and lithe limbs that were barely concealed by the flimsiest of light tunics. ‘Announce me to your master; I’m his nephew, Vespasian.’

  The boy scampered off and Vespasian followed him through the vestibule and on into the atrium dominated by a large homoerotic mosaic of a naked Achilles despatching a doe-eyed Hector.

  ‘Dear boy!’ Senator Gaius Vespasius Pollo boomed, waddling out of his study in a flurry of black-dyed, tonged ringlets and wobbling jowls. ‘Sabinus told me to expect you before his inauguration; I was getting worried that you were not going to make it.’ He enveloped Vespasian in an amply fleshed embrace and planted a moist-lipped kiss on each of his cheeks. ‘It’s in eight days’ time, you know. Have you been to the palace to see Flavia?’

  ‘Not yet, Uncle; I thought that I’d talk to you first. Where’s my mother?’

  A hint of displeasure crossed Gaius’ face. ‘She’s visiting Flavia and the children at the palace, before travelling on up to Aquae Cutillae; she expects to see you there very soon. The owner of one of the neighbouring estates has fallen ill and is not expected to live and she’s concerned as to who will inherit.’

  Vespasian shook his head, sighing. ‘Typical of her to worry about the neighbours’ business. I’ll not go up there to pry; I’ll let her get on with it and see her when she’s back in Rome. How is Flavia?’

  ‘Your mother has been visiting, which means Flavia is in a foul temper. They always have an exchange of views about something – some petty feminine subject, I imagine. Take my advice and don’t go and see her until tomorrow when she will hopefully have got over your mother’s visit.’

  ‘As bad as that, is it?’

  Gaius rolled his eyes and pulled his face into a picture of resigned exasperation and then turned to Magnus and grasped his forearm. ‘What happened to your eye, Magnus?’

  ‘I left it in Britannia after examining a wicker man too closely.’

  ‘Well, I hope it won’t affect your usefulness; I’ve been missing your services, my friend, and I’m glad to have you back.’

  ‘It’s good to be back, senator; but I was wondering if it’s safe to be back, if you take my meaning?’

  ‘Indeed I do; and the answer is yes.’

  ‘I’m relieved to hear it. It weren’t too expensive, I hope.’

  ‘Surprisingly cheap. I managed to persuade your friend, Paetus, in his capacity as an Urban quaestor last year, to delete all mention of the incident from the city’s records. He was very happy to do it without a substantial bribe; which is as well seeing as he is now soon to become family.’

  ‘I’m grateful, sir.’

  ‘And I know you’ll show it in the near future.’

  ‘Indeed. I’ll be off to the Crossroads Brotherhood now to give them the good news. I’ll be back at dawn.’

  ‘Paetus to become family?’ Vespasian queried as Magnus left.

  ‘Yes; a few days ago Sabinus offered him his daughter, young Flavia, in marriage. She’s fifteen now, more than old enough. Paetus has accepted and it’s a good match for everybody. We’ve made a connection with the Junii and Paetus gets to marry a sitting consul’s daughter, which will naturally associate him with the office and stand him in good stead in the future. But come, dear boy, let’s take a seat out in the garden and have some refreshment before we go and dine; Valerius Asiaticus has invited me. I’ll send a message and ask if it will be all right to bring you; I’m sure it will be fine, he’s disgustingly rich now. Did you know that he bought the Gardens of Lucullus about five years ago?’

  ‘Yes, I heard. Narcissus told me when he came north for the invasion.’

  ‘It’s one thing for a Gaul to become a senator and then be the first of his race to make it to the consulship, but then to own the most beautiful gardens in Rome? It’s been the cause of much jealousy.’ Gaius clapped his hands and an elder boy appeared, more mature but equally as beautiful as the doorkeeper. ‘Ortwin, bring some wine and honeyed cakes.’ For the first time Gaius noticed Hormus standing in the doorway to the vestibule. ‘Who’s that?’

  ‘That’s Hormus, my body slave.’

  Gaius raised a well-plucked eyebrow. ‘So you’ve finally gone to the expense of purchasing your own slave? Well done, dear boy; you’re going to have to get used to expenditure now that you have your own house. I’ll have Ortwin show him where to put your things and find him a bed in the slave quarters for the night before you move into the house I’ve found you tomorrow.’

  ‘Of course, they had to give Sabinus the consulship,’ Gaius said, licking crumbs from his fingers. ‘He’s forty-two so it would have been difficult not to have rewarded one of the heroes of Britannia with that honour when he has reached the prescribed age; especially as he’s going to be useful to Narcissus, Pallas and Callistus in countering his senior colleague who, incidentally, will be technically too young for the position.’

  Vespasian passed the plate of cakes over to his uncle. ‘Who’s that?’

  ‘Gnaeus Hosidius Geta.’

  ‘Geta! He’s younger than me by at least a year.’

  ‘But he’s Messalina’s choice and Claudius will deny her nothing. So Sabinus is going to have a hard time of it fighting Geta and keeping Messalina’s agenda from dominating the Senate’s business. However, if he does that competently he will earn a lot of favour from the three freedmen, which can only benefit us.’

  ‘Two freedmen, Uncle.’

  ‘Two? What makes you say that?’

  Vespasian recounted the story of Pallas’ ruse to expose Callistus’ true loyalties and how, as far as he could judge from what Corbulo had told him, it seemed to have worked.

  ‘So Callistus is protecting Corvinus,’ Gaius mumbled through a mouthful of cake, having heard Vespasian’s short tale, ‘now that is strange.’

  ‘No it’s not; if Callistus really is secretly supporting Messalina against his colleagues then it’s only natural that he should protect her brother from prosecution.’

  ‘I’d agree if it wasn’t for one fact: Corvinus and Messalina have fallen out.’

  ‘Over what?’

  ‘Power, what else? She loves having it and hates to share it, even with her own kin. Yet, as she has no access to the Senate other than by proxy it’s always vitally important to her that at least one of the Consuls is her creature.’

  Vespasian’s eyes widened with comprehension. ‘I see: Corvinus is still too young, technically, to become consul and yet he sees his sister favour Geta and have Claudius nominate him well before his time.’

  ‘Exactly so, dear boy; Messalina didn’t want her dear brother to have the consulship because she was fearful of the influence that he might try and exert over Claudius, which he would use for his own gain and not hers. The way she sees it is that it’s bad enough having Narcissus influencing the Emperor without risking setting a third party to compete for Claudius’ attention.’

  ‘So Corvinus’ dignitas must be feeling very bruised.’

  ‘It’s throbbing painfully, dear boy, and not just because of that slight. Messalina has been having an affair with an equestrian called Gaius Silius and has persuaded Claudius to raise him to the Senate, which the old fool, in his capacity as censor, did with pleasure for his darling wife. Now the rumour is that she’s trying to get Claudius to nominate him as suffect-consul next year.’

  ‘Becoming consul so soon after entering the Senate?’

  ‘You would have thought it impossible but the precedent was set by Claudius himself, remember; he was only an equestrian before Caligula made him a senator so that he could be his colleague in the consulship. Obviously, he did it as a joke, as well as to show the Senate exactly what he thought of us. This time, however, Claudius will have no idea that the joke’s on him if he honours his wife’s lover.’

  ‘So Corvinus has been passed over for someone too young to be consul and may be so again by a lover of his sister who this time last year wasn’t ev
en eligible to become consul.’

  Gaius’ smile was laden with false sympathy. ‘I know; it’s tragic for Corvinus. He must be so hurt by his sister; but that’s just the way she is: always alienating the people close to her through arrogance and a belief that her power is such that she needs no support. Take Asiaticus, with whom we’re dining later, for example: as you know he was always on very good terms with Claudius, being a favourite of his mother, Antonia – may the gods hold their hands over her shade – as he proved by being so helpful when he was consul by affecting to discover Poppaeus dead in his litter.’

  ‘I prefer not to be reminded of that, Uncle.’ The murder of Poppaeus that, at the request of Antonia, he and Corbulo had committed with Magnus’ help, twelve years before, was not a memory that Vespasian felt proud of.

  ‘Of course you don’t but it has to be remembered that killing Poppaeus left Claudius extremely rich. Everyone involved in the act, either directly or indirectly, has benefited in various ways. Pallas and Narcissus are now the two most powerful men in the Empire, Corbulo wasn’t executed for being the half-brother of Caligula’s Empress, you earned Narcissus’ gratitude and with it furthered your career and saved Sabinus’ life, and Asiaticus helped Claudius invest that unexpected windfall and in the process has become fabulously wealthy.’

  ‘Wealthy enough to purchase the Gardens of Lucullus?’

  ‘Exactly; and wealthy enough to improve them in a lavish manner. Now, being a good friend of Claudius’ he took care to ingratiate himself with Messalina, promoting her business in the Senate last year when he was consul for the second time and offering her the use of his beautiful gardens whenever she feels like it. But, of course, that’s not enough for her; she wants them for herself now. She tried to make him sell them to her and when he refused she told him that the best that he could hope for now was to give them to her.’

  ‘That’s a nasty threat.’

  ‘Yes, very sinister. Asiaticus has declined the offer and has declared that he would rather die than give up his gardens – which, I pray, will not be necessary.’