Masters of Rome: VESPASIAN V (Vespasian 5)

by Robert Fabbri

  ‘Precisely, and she’ll believe it because when she thinks about it she will see that those positions make perfect sense for us in protecting our own interests: Callistus trying to get the wife of his former patron into power and Narcissus and I trying to ensure that power stays in the hands of a woman already known to us. And those are our positions at the moment – outwardly at least.

  ‘To panic Messalina into action, Flavia is to tell her that she heard you saying that the whole matter will be decided very quickly, as the most auspicious day for the wedding has been given as the Ides of October at the festival of the October Horse.’

  ‘That will concentrate her mind.’

  ‘That will indeed. It’ll force her to declare her intentions publicly; she’ll marry Silius as soon as he becomes consul.’

  ‘But then how do you remove him?’

  ‘I’ve a way to deal with that. I’ll need to keep Claudius out of the city by delaying his return from the visit he’s making to the building project at Ostia – he’s leaving tomorrow. That’ll mean he misses Silius’ inauguration … but let me worry about those things. I need you to bring a couple of the wedding guests, using force if necessary, down to Ostia as quickly as possible after the ceremony so that they can confirm the marriage to Narcissus. But on no account must you keep your promise to Narcissus and warn him in advance of this.’

  ‘But Flavia—’

  ‘Flavia will be fine, I’ll see to that. I must have Narcissus taken by surprise; it’s my only chance to outmanoeuvre him. Once he hears the marriage has taken place without his knowledge the consequences will be inevitable and it will be just a matter of time and timing for me to achieve my aim. And this, Sabinus, is how you can repay your debt to me: I need to have a decree ratified in the House the morning following the wedding and then a law changed the moment Messalina crosses the Styx. With your consular status, your right to wear Triumphal Regalia won in Britannia and the fact that you go to Moesia as governor next year should give you the authority that you need to muster enough support to do that for me in the Senate.’

  ‘Which law?’

  ‘The law against incest between an uncle and his niece.’

  The brothers simultaneously sucked their breath through their teeth.

  Vespasian recovered first. ‘That’s one of the oldest and most sacred laws there is, Pallas.’

  ‘Which makes it perfect for my purpose because no one will foresee the move.’

  ‘You intend for Claudius to marry Agrippina.’

  Pallas twitched an eyebrow in appreciation of the insight. ‘It’s the only thing that makes sense. Consider this: we rid ourselves of Claudius’ wife but his son must be allowed to live – for the time being, at least. Now, should he reach manhood and inherit the Purple one of his first duties should be to avenge his mother and I will be a dead man, as, indeed, will be Narcissus and you, Vespasian, despite your son’s friendship with Britannicus, because your part in this cannot be kept secret. Narcissus believes that by promoting a marriage between Claudius and Aelia Paetina and then supporting Britannicus as Claudius’ heir he can avert this, for he will have put the boy deep in his debt. Perhaps that would work, who knows? However, for once he has missed something. If I get Agrippina into Claudius’ bed, she will never forgive Narcissus and Callistus for supporting different candidates even though she technically wasn’t eligible at the time.’ For once Pallas allowed himself a self-satisfied smile. ‘After the Asiaticus affair that would spell at least banishment for Callistus – but hopefully worse – and a massive loss of influence for Narcissus. It will also guarantee my safety from future vengeance by Britannicus – and yours incidentally, Vespasian – by providing a more suitable heir in Lucius Domitius Ahenobarbus, whom Claudius will adopt without too much persuasion because Agrippina will insist on it. And there we have it.’

  Sabinus scratched the back of his head and cleared his throat. ‘But how am I meant to get that legislation through the Senate?’

  ‘The normal way: bribery with the money that I shall give you and appealing to everybody’s common sense. This will finally unite the Julian and Claudian families in marriage and will provide an heir who, if he marries Claudius’ daughter—’

  ‘But she’ll be his adoptive sister!’

  ‘Yes, but that can be easily dealt with when the time comes. When Lucius marries Claudia Octavia and disposes of Britannicus he becomes irrefutably the heir to Julius Caesar and Germanicus and the people will love him. The other consideration is that Agrippina is already forty-two and unlikely to conceive again and cloud the succession issue even more. If the Senate wants stability then that’s what they should have in their minds when they vote to make it legal for an uncle to marry his niece.’

  Although Vespasian knew that Pallas had always thought Britannicus’ chances of survival to be slim – they had discussed the matter five years previously when Pallas had accompanied Claudius to Britannia – it was the clinical way that the freedman made the assessment that gave him a chill. He now saw the boy’s death as inevitable; it was what he dreaded for personal reasons. ‘What about my Titus? What happens to him as Britannicus is culled in this scheme of yours?’

  ‘He will be kept safe, you have my word; after all, what threat is he to Agrippina and Lucius? No one could dream of him becoming emperor.’ Pallas cocked his head and widened his eyes. ‘Unless perhaps there’s no issue from Lucius and Claudia Octavia’s union and the blood of the Caesars runs dry?’

  ‘It would be treasonous to explore that thought.’

  ‘I’m sure that most of the Senate have committed treason in that way. However, for the present, if you both want to advance your family’s position then I suggest you do as I ask; do I have your support, gentlemen?’

  The brothers looked at each other and quickly came to a silent mutual agreement.

  ‘Yes, Pallas,’ Vespasian confirmed, ‘out of loyalty to you and the obvious gain to us, we’ll do it.’

  ‘Good. Flavia must go to Messalina tonight.’

  ‘She will. But I have a favour to ask.’

  Pallas inclined his head.

  ‘If your scheme works—’

  ‘Which it will.’

  ‘Which it will. Then Narcissus will not be in any position to save people close to Messalina.’

  ‘Indeed.’

  ‘So Corvinus will die?’

  ‘Undoubtedly.’

  ‘Will you save him if I ask you to?’

  ‘As a favour to you, yes, I would; but why would you want such a thing?’

  ‘Because I took money off him indirectly in return for his life; I should honour that and in doing so I have the chance to finish our feud once and for all.’

  ‘Then consider his life as being in your hands.’

  ‘I’ve one question,’ Sabinus interjected. ‘What is the decree that you want me to have ratified by the Senate?’

  Pallas got to his feet. ‘A small whim of the Emperor’s that mistakenly got overlooked.’

  Vespasian rolled up the scroll and laid it down on the table, smiling at his wife sitting opposite him on the terrace of their suite. ‘A bankers’ draft from Messalina, redeemable at the Cloelius Brothers in the forum for a quarter of a million denarii payable to the bearer – well done, my dear; I’ll get Magnus to exchange it for another draft issued by the Cloelius Brothers themselves, again payable to the bearer, which I’ll cash in and there’ll be nothing to link the money to Messalina.’ He patted the scroll as if it were a treasured possession of rare beauty and then inhaled a satisfied breath of cool morning air. ‘How did she take the worrying news from a concerned lover who accidentally overheard her husband’s private conversation?’

  Flavia took her husband’s hand over the table. ‘Vespasian, I shall be so glad when this is over and I think that it’ll be soon; she believed me and flew into a rage, cursing everyone from the Emperor and his freedmen to her four personal attendants, one of whom she had whipped in front of her to make herself feel bet
ter.’

  Vespasian thought back to the slave girls who had accompanied Messalina to Asiaticus’ hearing and wondered which had been the unfortunate one. ‘Did she give any indication of what she plans to do?’

  ‘She swore that she’d see everyone plotting against her dead before the Ides of October and then left to go to the Gardens of Lucullus to calm down and meet with Silius.’

  Vespasian contemplated this for a while, gazing over the rooftops of Rome in the direction of Messalina’s ill-gotten gardens. ‘Of course,’ he murmured, ‘that’s where she’ll do it to keep it secret; there’ll be no procession from one house to the other, no veneration of household gods in the street or re-enactment of the abduction of the Sabine women, it’ll just be a private party in the most private gardens in Rome. No one outside her circle will know until the new Suffect-Consul announces in the Senate the following morning that he is now married to the Empress who has divorced the Emperor and he is going to adopt Britannicus. If she really has managed to seduce enough officers in the Guard then the plan has a very good chance of succeeding. All he has to say is: choose between Claudius and Messalina because one of them is going to die; and, by the way, if it’s Messalina who perishes here’s a list of all her lovers, which will make interesting reading for the Emperor. Perfect.’

  Flavia tightened her grip on her husband’s hand. ‘What will you do?’

  Vespasian got to his feet. ‘First of all I’m getting you and the children out of Rome. Cleon!’

  ‘Yes, master,’ the steward replied, stepping out onto the terrace.

  ‘Have the mistress and children’s things packed up, enough to last for a month, and organise transport for them to my estate at Cosa. They’ll leave tonight under cover of darkness.’

  ‘Yes, master.’ Cleon bowed and backed away.

  ‘Are you sure that’s wise?’ Flavia asked. ‘I thought you said that you couldn’t move us out of the palace without permission from the Emperor.’

  ‘He’s at Ostia and by the time he comes back to Rome I’ll have that permission.’

  ‘How can you be sure?’

  ‘Because in the struggle between all the would-be masters of Rome I’m backing the winner.’

  CHAPTER XVIIII

  GAIUS SILIUS STOOD before the Father of the House, his toga draped over his head and the most solemn expression etched on his well-carved features. ‘Before you, Jupiter Optimus Maximus, or whatever name by which you wish to be called, I swear, as a consul of Rome, to uphold the laws of the Republic and to give my loyalty to, and protect the life of, the Princeps of Rome, Tiberius Claudius Caesar Augustus Germanicus.’

  ‘That is the first lie of his consulship,’ Gaius muttered, looking at the Emperor’s empty chair in front of the altar. ‘It’s a shame that he didn’t tell it to Claudius’ face.’

  ‘He won’t get the chance,’ Vespasian asserted, ‘he’ll be dead in two days.’

  ‘I hope you’re right, dear boy, it’ll be very awkward for us if he’s not.’

  Silius finished off the oath and, as the Father of the House performed the purification rites, Vespasian sent up a silent prayer to his guardian god for success in his endeavours over the next night and day and a further appeal to the gods of his household to hold their hands over his family.

  As Silius seated himself in the curule chair next to his senior colleague, the younger Lucius Vitellius, the Father of the House removed the fold of his toga from his head and addressed the Senate. ‘Conscript Fathers, the Emperor has been unfortunately delayed in Ostia by matters that only he has the wisdom to deal with. He has therefore asked that we conclude business for today now that the new Suffect-Consul is sworn in. He will endeavour to return by the seventh hour tomorrow and asks that you reassemble in this House then to hear his report on the progress of the new port – provided, of course, that the day is deemed auspicious for the business of Rome. This House shall rise.’

  Vespasian picked up his folding stool and he and Gaius joined Sabinus in the crush to get out. ‘I detect the hand of Pallas behind the House sitting at midday rather than dawn.’

  ‘I hope that I’ll have had a message from Pallas by then.’

  ‘You will have and I expect that it’ll be me bringing it. How are you doing with gathering support?’

  ‘It’s difficult without being able to tell people what they’ll be supporting, but I’ve been spreading Pallas’ money about with vague promises of preferment from the Emperor in return for supporting an upcoming motion and then an amendment to a law. Paetus has been very helpful with some of the younger ones and Uncle has done as much as he’s dared with his contemporaries.’

  ‘Without exposing my position or giving any views, obviously,’ Gaius put in.

  ‘Obviously, Uncle; we wouldn’t want it said that you ever had an opinion, would we?’

  ‘I’ve known people executed for just considering the possibility of having an opinion.’

  ‘I’m sure.’

  ‘However, I am working on Servius Sulpicius Galba to support the motion in order to repay the debt that he owes Pallas for getting him the governorship of Africa so soon after coming back from Germania Superior.’

  Sabinus looked suitably impressed. ‘A man like that from such an old family and with well-known conservative views would be a great asset. Anyway, brother, I have enough people to be able to speak in favour of whatever it is I’ll be proposing.’

  ‘Good. I’ll see you later this afternoon at Magnus’ place,’ Vespasian said as they burst out into the warm morning sun.

  ‘I’ll be there.’ Sabinus clapped his brother on his shoulder and moved off into the crowd.

  ‘What are you going there for?’ Gaius asked.

  ‘We’re meeting there before we arrive unannounced at a party.’ Vespasian sighed as he saw Corvinus standing waiting for him at the top of the Senate House steps.

  ‘Try not to goad him, dear boy,’ Gaius said, watching Corvinus walk towards them.

  ‘Don’t worry, Uncle, I don’t need to; when this is over he’ll be irrelevant to me.’

  Corvinus looked down his nose at Vespasian. ‘Well, bumpkin?’

  ‘Well what, Corvinus?’

  ‘Silius is now sworn in, so what news of my sister marrying him and what is Narcissus planning to do?’

  ‘No news is the answer to the first question and I don’t know is the answer to the second.’

  Corvinus’ sneer was made even haughtier by an incredulous frown. ‘Narcissus is doing nothing?’

  ‘I didn’t say that; he just hasn’t told me what he is doing. If you want news of when your sister is getting married then I suggest that you ask her. But there is one thing I do know and that is that the way things are playing out your life won’t be in Narcissus’ hands.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I mean that Narcissus won’t be able to save you.’

  ‘Who will be able to?’ Corvinus asked.

  ‘Me, if I should choose to.’

  ‘You owe me, Vespasian.’

  ‘I could just ignore that fact, Corvinus, and leave you for dead; which after the way you threatened my family I’d be entitled to do. But I won’t. Now, as far as I’m concerned you are going to be dead in the next few days, so from now on you are dead to me. If I allow you to keep your life, which I will, then do me the courtesy of behaving in my presence as if you are a dead man. Then we’ll be even.’

  A thin blue-grey cloud floating far out over the Tyrrhenian Sea bisected, almost perfectly, the sun, blazing deep orange as it fell into the west. With his shadow lost somewhere in the crowds before him, Vespasian made his way along the Alta Semita assailed by the aromas of thousands of evening meals.

  Fortified by the knowledge that a successful conclusion to the coming events would see his family safe and considerably wealthier, he walked with a firm step and a straight back. The money he had made from Corvinus, Theron and now Messalina made him wealthy beyond the wine-fuelled imaginings of ninety-nine per
cent of the inhabitants of the Empire; it was, however, as nothing compared to many in Rome’s élite. But it was a start and as he passed, dressed in an old travelling cloak and rough tunic, unnoticed through the throngs of citizens whose collective wealth was probably a fragment of his own, he felt an aggressive pleasure in what he had achieved for himself by reacting to the will of others. He thanked Caenis, her face burning bright on his inner eye, for her insight into the accumulation of wealth and the sense of power and enjoyment it gave to be active in its pursuit. So much for the high ideals of selfless service to Rome that he had espoused when he had first entered the city with his father almost twenty-three years before.

  ‘Are you deep in thought or just trying to pass a reluctant turd?’ a voice asked.

  ‘What?’ Vespasian saw Magnus standing in front of him.

  ‘Thinking hard or having a hard shit? Which was it, because it was taking all your concentration and you nearly walked straight past the tavern.’

  ‘Thinking, obviously!’ Vespasian replied with a little more terseness than he had intended. ‘Where’s Sabinus?’

  ‘He’s with the rest of the lads just outside the Porta Collina checking the cart and the horses. I was just waiting for you.’

  ‘Well, I’m here so let’s go.’

  ‘Perhaps you should have a shit first; it might improve your mood.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Magnus.’

  ‘Well, what’s on your mind? It must be pretty weighty.’

  Vespasian took a deep breath as they headed towards the Porta Collina, just two hundred paces distant. ‘I’ve finally realised that after all this time of thinking that I’m serving Rome, I’m not; I’ve just been serving one or other of Rome’s masters or mistresses. No one ever does anything out of altruism in order to benefit the public good. On the contrary, everything that I’ve ever been involved in since arriving in the city has been solely for an individual’s personal gain. I very rarely profit from it directly and Rome certainly never does – or at least the idealistic view that I had of Rome because that Rome doesn’t exist, it never really did. All Rome is really is the pole over which the powerful fight to place their own personal Eagle upon, in order to rally support for themselves in the name of the people. So in the end what difference does it make who holds the power? Claudius, Caligula, Tiberius, Narcissus, Pallas, Sejanus, Antonia, Macro, Messalina, whoever, they’re all the same; some just smell nicer than others. But none of them do anything for Rome other than make sure the people are fed and entertained so that they don’t notice the misery in which most of them live whilst the powerful fill their coffers with what should be public money.’