Masters of Rome: VESPASIAN V (Vespasian 5)

by Robert Fabbri

  Vespasian raced ahead, using his memory from the previous visits to navigate the quickest route down to the gates without using the serpentine path. Leaping over low, ornamental hedges, skirting pools and fountains, scattering deer and fowl, crunching across gravel paths and crashing through carefully laid out flowerbeds, they hurtled downhill through the different themed sections with a complete disregard for the beauty of the gardens. Behind them, the revelry had broken up and the sounds of pleasure and music had been replaced by the clamour of pursuit; calls and shouts rang through the night adding urgency to their flight.

  Bursting through a wall of rhododendron bushes, Vespasian finally saw the exit, just thirty paces away, at the same time as the guards saw the cause of the commotion up the hill; with a quick glance to one another they heaved the grille-gates closed and turned the key in the lock as Vespasian came to a skidding halt on the gravel path. ‘Caeso! Get a ladder up the wall.’

  Caeso ran on to a section of wall a little distance to the left of the gates; leaning the ladder against it, he climbed swiftly, peered over the top and then hastily ducked back down as a fist-sized stone flew over his head.

  Looking through the gate, Vespasian could see only one of the guards, now armed with a sword. ‘Cassandros, take the other ladder to the right.’

  As Cassandros moved off, the guard tracked him, leaving the gate unattended but locked firm. Sabinus crashed a foot against it but it barely shook.

  ‘They could keep us pinned here for a while,’ Magnus puffed, laying down his burden without any ceremony, ‘and I don’t reckon that we’ve got anywhere near that amount of time.’ He pointed up the hill; the fluorescence of massed torches moved through the gardens at speed but at an angle.

  ‘They’re using the path; that gives us a bit of time,’ Vespasian said as Cassandros ascended his ladder. With a cry the Greek fell back, clutching the left side of his face as a stone cracked off him. A shout of triumph came from the other side of the wall. Sabinus gave the ironwork another resounding blow with the sole of his sandal with Tigran adding his weight to it.

  ‘This won’t move,’ Sabinus shouted, retreating as the first guard returned and grinned mirthlessly whilst pointing up the hill.

  ‘Now, Caeso!’ Vespasian called, looking back to see the torchlight less than a hundred paces away.

  The crossroads brother leapt up the ladder and with a fluid rolling motion hitched his legs over the summit of the wall and jumped down the other side. The guard reacted to the sound and raced back. Hollow impacts – fists on flesh – and then iron striking brick accompanied by the strained grunts and snorts of combat ensued as Cassandros picked himself up and Sabinus, Vespasian, Magnus and Tigran all lent every ounce of their strength to the gate; still it did not move. A cry of pain followed by the rattle of breath escaping a dying body added urgency to their endeavours; behind, the cries of pursuit were growing with every corner of the snaking path rounded.

  Cassandros attempted a second ascent and again was forced back by another well-aimed stone as the first guard reappeared, blood smearing his sword arm, vicious pleasure on his face and menace in his eyes; he thrust his gore-slick blade through the gate forcing Vespasian and his companions to back off. ‘Reckon you’re trapped,’ he gloated, withdrawing his sword. ‘Should be interesting.’ His eyes opened wide, his back arched and his body shuddered as he exhaled violently; his left hand reached out for the gate but never made it as his hair was pulled back and a knife exploded out of his mouth like a pointed iron tongue spitting blood. Sextus looked over the dying guard’s shoulder; beyond, Marius drew up in the wagon with the horses attached.

  ‘The key’s on his belt; unlock the gate, fast, Sextus,’ Vespasian urged as Magnus and Cassandros ran back to retrieve the two women. Sextus grinned and then with surprising speed spun his huge frame, side-stepping a thrusting blade, and lashed out with a massive fist, planting it squarely in the second guard’s face; the nose disintegrated into a pulped mush as the man arced back, his legs flying up, and he dropped to the earth as if felled by a ballista shot.

  Sextus retrieved the key hanging from the first guard’s belt and inserted it in the lock; it held fast.

  ‘Turn it the other way,’ Vespasian bellowed in exasperation, looking over his shoulder. Up the hill a posse of naked men came around the last corner of the path, less than fifty paces away. With a roar they burst into a sprint as Magnus and Cassandros made it back to the gate.

  The lock clicked and the gates swung open. Vespasian and his companions piled through, the women rocking like sacks on Magnus’ and Cassandros’ shoulders; the wagon was open and they were thrown inside as Vespasian, Sabinus and Tigran unhitched the horses and swung themselves up, urging them forward. Magnus and Cassandros followed their erstwhile burdens into the wagon and Sextus jumped up next to Marius.

  The wagon accelerated away leaving a score of naked men standing in the torchlight under the gates of the Gardens of Lucullus.

  CHAPTER XX

  ‘WHY WAS I not warned of this in advance?’ Narcissus’ voice was hushed and it rasped in his throat giving it the sibilant quality of a snake about to strike. ‘Why am I woken in the middle of the night to be told that the Empress has married the new Suffect-Consul and there are two whores covered in coagulated grape juice who can testify to the Emperor that he is divorced and that his ex-wife is going to replace him with a man who wasn’t even a senator this time two years ago?’ His eyes ranged over Vespasian and Pallas, both seated opposite him. ‘Why – didn’t – Flavia – warn me?’ His fists crashed down onto the desk and the hollow thump echoed around the sparsely furnished, newly built room; scrolls and wax tablets jumped and an inkpot slopped a portion of its contents, rocking precariously before returning to the upright position.

  Vespasian held Narcissus’ malignant glare, staying still and straight-backed in his chair. Upon arrival at the new port soon after midnight he had been warned by Pallas of Narcissus’ likely reaction, and knew how to counter it. In fact, he was going to enjoy doing so now that he saw the normally unruffled imperial secretary in such a state of agitation. ‘She didn’t have time to because she didn’t know; no one in Messalina’s circle knew apart from her and Silius. You only know now because of Flavia; she heard about the wedding this afternoon and came to me. There wasn’t any time to come down here and ask for instructions so I just did what I thought best and seized two people who could bear witness to the fact. If it wasn’t for Flavia, Narcissus, you wouldn’t have heard about this until the Emperor walked into the Senate at midday tomorrow to find himself without a wife and with a serious rival. Because of Flavia, you’ve got a little time to take action.’

  This time Narcissus’ palms slammed down. ‘I don’t want a little time; I want fair warning!’

  Pallas leant forward, his face betraying a rare emotion: urgent worry, which Vespasian knew to be false. ‘Dear colleague, this is getting us nowhere. We must react to the situation we have rather than regret what we don’t have.’

  Narcissus took in a great gulp of air and shook his head; his weighty earrings rocked on his lobes catching the lamplight and his be-ringed hands combed through his hair, pulling back his head.

  ‘Vespasian has done the best that he could do in the circumstances,’ Pallas continued once he had regained Narcissus’ attention. ‘He’s left his brother, who’s loyal to us, in Rome to forestall any attempt to convene the Senate earlier than planned tomorrow and he’s brought two witnesses, both of whom, by chance, the Emperor knows, having made use of their services himself on a regular basis. We can use them to persuade Claudius, finally, of Messalina’s debauchery and get him to order her execution.’

  ‘But what if the Senate and the Guard take her side? She’s married to a consul!’

  ‘So it would seem; but is she really?’

  Claudius gibbered to himself, wringing his hands and drooling copious amounts of saliva down his chin and onto his night-robe as he sat on the edge of his bed looking at the t
wo naked whores kneeling before him; each grasped a shaking, imperial leg in supplication.

  ‘We did not know, Princeps,’ Calpurnia pleaded, ‘she told us that you had divorced her.’

  Claudius looked up at Narcissus. ‘D-d-d-did I d-divorce her?’

  ‘Of course not, Princeps; although I have hinted many times that you should.’

  ‘Hinted?’ Claudius’ legs jerked, kicking away the supplicants. ‘Why should you hint such a thing when my Messalina is a perfect wife?’

  Narcissus cleared his throat. ‘As you know, there have been rumours—’

  ‘Rumours? But none of them were true; M-M-Messalina told me so herself.’

  Vespasian felt Pallas’ hand touch his elbow; he stepped forward. ‘But this is not a rumour, Princeps; I saw the nuptial feast and these women witnessed the marriage as they have already sworn to you. Look at them, naked and sticky with the juice of Bacchus; they have told you what the feast was like. I saw Messalina copulate with Silius and then declare that she was Gaia to his Gaius.’

  Claudius shook his head, trailing mucus from his nose. ‘I must see her face before I believe this; I promised that to my little bird.’

  ‘No, Princeps,’ Narcissus urged, ‘she would gull you again as she has all of us for so many years. It is your duty to act and it is ours to keep you safe.’ He brandished a scroll at the Emperor. ‘You must order her execution.’

  Claudius’ hands twisted around each other, entangling the fingers. ‘But I can’t order the death of the mother of my children.’

  ‘You must, Claudius! Don’t you understand? Is it so difficult to comprehend the danger that you’re in? That all of us are in. Messalina is going to attempt to set herself and her new husband up as regents for Britannicus and that leaves no place for you; you are a dead man in her plans. Whatever happens now your children will lose one parent.’ Narcissus walked up close to the Emperor, closer than deference to his position should allow. ‘Tell me, Claudius, do you want to deprive them of a mother or a father? Because if it’s the latter you might just as well fall on your sword now and we’ll all follow your example. Or you can start acting like an emperor and order the execution of someone who threatens your position. Which is it to be?’

  Claudius seemed not to notice the lack of respect his freedman was showing him but, instead, took his hand and, looking up into Narcissus’ face, burst into fits of ragged, choking sobs; tears now ran from his eyes as freely as the mucus from his nostrils and the saliva from his mouth. Narcissus released the Emperor’s hand and stepped back, his face working hard to conceal the disgust that Vespasian knew he must feel at such a pathetic sight.

  ‘I, I, I …’ Claudius began and then trailed off. ‘I just want to be emperor.’ His voice was barely audible. He looked with pleading eyes at his chief freedman. ‘Am I still emperor, Narcissus?’

  ‘You are, Princeps; and you will remain so if you act like one.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes! Now sign that bitch’s death warrant.’ He thrust the scroll in Claudius’ face.

  Vespasian sensed that it was as much as Narcissus could do to restrain himself from striking the quivering wreck of a man.

  Claudius eased the scroll away. ‘All right, I will.’

  Narcissus heaved a sigh of relief.

  ‘But not here,’ Claudius continued, pushing himself up from the bed. ‘I shall do it in Rome.’

  ‘But why wait, Princeps?’

  ‘I want to be taken to the Praetorian camp; I want them to watch me sign it so that they know the sorrow that it causes me but realise that I have no choice.’

  ‘But, Princeps—’

  Claudius raised his hand. ‘No, Narcissus; you have already overstepped the mark, we’ll have no more. I will sign it there.’ He looked down at the two whores, suddenly distracted. ‘We’ll leave as soon as I’ve … er … got over the shock of the situation.’

  ‘Yes, Princeps.’

  Pallas stepped forward, unrolling a parchment upon which was written out an Imperial Decree. ‘Princeps, as you are aware there are two problems in this issue: the first one you have just dealt with in a forthright manner; may I suggest you deal with the second in the same vein? The problem of Silius being consul can, I believe, be solved by you signing this Imperial Decree, now. Vespasian will deliver it to his brother, who, as an ex-consul, has the right to speak first in a session; and with a decree from you in his hand, no one will gainsay him.’

  Claudius took the scroll and read it, his mouth moving silently with the words. After a short while his slimed face broke into a smile. ‘Yes, yes; it’s what I wanted anyway.’ He took it to his desk, signed it and put his seal to the signature before handing it back to Pallas. ‘Thank you, Pallas.’

  Pallas added a handwritten note before rolling up the decree and passing it to Vespasian. ‘Get this to Sabinus, watch the session and then come and report to us, on the road between here and Rome, as soon as the second vote has been taken.’

  ‘The second vote? What’ll that be?’

  ‘Immensely satisfying.’

  Vespasian found Sabinus waiting on the steps of the Senate House with Gaius. Sweat ran freely down Vespasian’s face, for he had walked as fast as dignity would allow, with Magnus, Cassandros and Tigran clearing the way for him, from the Porta Ostiensis where they had left Sextus and Marius in charge of their horses. ‘Wait for me here, Magnus.’

  ‘Well?’ Sabinus asked as Vespasian mounted the steps.

  Vespasian handed him the Imperial Decree. ‘Here it is; read it out before any other business is discussed. There’s also a note in there for you.’

  Sabinus unrolled the scroll, perused it quickly and then looked at Pallas’ note; a broad smile of satisfaction crept over his face. ‘It would seem that I’m not only paying off my debt but I am also to do Pallas a favour for which he will reward me handsomely.’

  ‘What with, dear boy?’ Gaius asked, interested, as always, in any patronage offered the family.

  ‘Moesia.’

  ‘A province with two legions! That shows great favour.’

  ‘With the added financial incentive of Macedonia and Thracia.’

  Gaius rubbed his hands together. ‘That’s enough to secure your finances for a long time.’

  ‘As well as further my military ambitions.’ Still beaming, Sabinus turned and made his way up the steps.

  ‘What has he to do?’ Gaius asked Vespasian as they followed.

  ‘I don’t know, Uncle; but if Pallas has offered him so much it must involve being conspicuous.’

  ‘I hope that’s not the case, dear boy.’ Gaius grimaced. ‘Nothing but the animosity and jealousy of others ever came from being conspicuous.’

  Gaius Silius turned from the altar and presented the assembled Senate with the unblemished livers of two geese; gifts to Rome’s guardian god. ‘Jupiter Optimus Maximus favours us; the day is auspicious for the business of the city.’

  The senators sat down on their folding stools, murmuring gratitude to the Junior Consul for conducting the sacrifice as he threw the livers into the altar’s fire and wiped his hands.

  ‘He’s got no idea just how auspicious it really is,’ Sabinus whispered, the broad grin still on his face.

  Silius walked forward to his curule chair and sat with exaggerated dignity.

  The Senior Consul, Lucius Vitellius the younger, waited for him to finally settle. ‘Gaius Silius wishes to address the house.’

  ‘My thanks, colleague. Conscript Fathers, I appear before you for the first time as consul since being inaugurated yesterday to that most prestigious position. However, since my induction—’

  ‘Senior Consul,’ Sabinus interrupted, standing and brandishing the scroll, ‘I have here an Imperial Decree that I’ve been charged by the Emperor to read to you in his regrettable absence.’

  The Senior Consul did not hide his puzzlement. ‘Why has it been given to you to read out and not sent to the Consuls or the Father of the House?’r />
  ‘It’s not my place to question the Emperor’s motives. All I know is that he has entrusted this task to me as a man of consular rank.’

  ‘Then the ex-Consul should read it to us.’

  Sabinus stepped out into the middle of the floor, holding the decree in both hands. ‘“I, Tiberius Claudius Caesar Augustus Germanicus, out of respect for the ways of our ancestors do decree that from this day on, the day before the calends of October in the year beginning with the Consuls Aulus Vitellius Veteris and Lucius Vipstanus Messalla Poplicola, that all consuls at their inauguration should swear the ancient oath that they shall always strive to prevent the return of the King.” Would the Senate now vote to ratify this law?’

  The Senior Consul hastily called for a vote on this latest, seemingly innocuous, piece of legal pedantry; it was passed unanimously.

  Sabinus looked at Silius once the vote had passed; he remained unmoved by the development. ‘It would seem, Conscript Fathers, that this was made law by our learned Emperor the day before Gaius Silius took his oath, therefore the oath he took was not complete.’ Sabinus walked forward and handed the decree to the Senior Consul.

  Lucius Vitellius glanced at the seal and date and then at his junior colleague next to him. ‘I agree; it looks as if you have not completed your oath, Silius.’

  ‘A formality,’ Silius replied, waving a dismissive hand, smiling imperiously and getting to his feet. ‘I shall swear the line immediately.’

  ‘Would that it were so simple,’ Sabinus said as Silius headed for the altar, ‘but as we all know if there is a fault in any ceremony then it is void and the whole process has to start again from the beginning. The fact that you were willing to swear the extra line just now means that you acknowledge that your oath isn’t complete, does it not, Silius?’

  Silius turned, his face betraying the first vestiges of concern. ‘What of it? We shall just start the inauguration again now.’

  ‘Of course we will; but first of all the correct sacrifices have to be made so that we know whether the day is auspicious.’