Agrippina slipped from Claudius’ lap, working her buttocks gently against him as she did so, leaving him obviously aroused but too transfixed by her spell to notice his public embarrassment. ‘Follow me,’ she purred, turning from him and swinging her hips as she walked away.
Claudius followed as if in a trance.
‘Where are you taking him?’ Narcissus demanded.
‘Not far, Narcissus; you should come too.’
Having no choice other than to follow his patron, Narcissus complied.
‘Shall we go and see what she’s found?’ Pallas asked Vespasian.
‘By all means; although something tells me that you already know.’
‘How could I? I’ve been in Ostia for the last few days.’
Vespasian smiled as he and Pallas followed Agrippina out of the atrium.
Lucius Vitellius trailed in their wake, shaking his head slowly. ‘Such villainy.’
Agrippina took the route that Vespasian and Sabinus had been taken along on the day of Asiaticus’ hearing and soon they were in the familiar corridors of the house that had once belonged to Antonia.
Taking Claudius by the arm as he lurched beside her, Agrippina led him past the formal reception room – the scene of Asiaticus’ hearing – and on into the atrium that Vespasian had first entered twenty-two years before when his uncle had brought him and his brother to dine at Antonia’s request. The high-ceilinged room had changed beyond recognition: it was now stuffed with statuary, furniture and ornaments, some modest, some brash, but all together gave the gaudy impression that the décor had been fashioned by Caligula after a three-day drinking session.
But it was not with Messalina’s lack of taste that Agrippina hoped to demonstrate beyond all doubt her untrustworthiness; it was with the furnishings and ornaments themselves. She said nothing as she held out her arm and swept it around the room, encompassing each and every item on display.
And Claudius’ mouth dropped open in disbelief.
Every item was an heirloom of his house.
Vespasian recognised Antonia’s writing desk and polished walnut dining table with the three sumptuously upholstered matching couches that had once graced her private rooms. The much-copied original bronze statue of a young Augustus painted in breathtakingly life-like detail: in military attire, his right arm raised and pointing the way and with a cupid at his feet; it had been, Vespasian knew, the prized possession of Claudius’ grandmother, Livia. Statues of Claudius’ kin and ancestors going back to Julius Caesar littered the room as if they were just being stored there amongst the elegant furniture, bowls and vases, each with a story to tell about the family that had ruled Rome for almost a century.
‘Where d-d-d-did she g-get all this?’ Claudius spluttered, going up to a statue of his father, Drusus. ‘I’m sure I saw this in the palace on the day I left for Ostia.’
‘Grief and shock can play tricks on the memory, Uncle,’ Agrippina said, taking his hand and kissing it. ‘She’s had this for months. And then look at that.’ She pointed to two statues side by side taking pride of place in the collection as if overseeing the stationary horde. ‘On the left is Silius’ father. Well, his image has been banned by the Senate ever since he was executed for treason by Tiberius, hasn’t it? Her just possessing it is enough to send her into exile. But look, dearest Uncle, look at the one next to it.’
As Claudius examined it, Vespasian drew in a sharp breath; he was shocked not so much that there was a statue of Silius himself in the room but because of what was draped around it: hanging from a baldric over the figure’s right shoulder was a sword in a plain scabbard; a scabbard that Vespasian recognised as belonging to Marcus Antonius’ sword, the sword that his daughter, Antonia, had gifted to Vespasian on the day of her suicide. She had told him that she had always meant to give it to the grandson whom she thought would make the best emperor. Claudius had seen Vespasian with it during his short stay in Britannia and, jealous, had taken it for himself, knowing full well the story behind it.
‘My sword!’ Claudius exclaimed, spraying the scabbard with spit. ‘The bitch has even stolen my sword!’
‘Hush now, Uncle.’ Agrippina laid a soothing hand on his cheek. ‘Now do you believe?’
‘The wanton, the harpy, the goat-fucker, I’ll have her dead within the hour.’
‘You’re so wise, Princeps,’ Narcissus crooned, stepping forward with a scroll. ‘I’ve her death warrant drafted; here it is. You can sign it now.’
Agrippina turned Claudius away from his chief freedman. ‘Come, Uncle, decisions like that should not be made on an empty stomach.’
Vespasian looked at Pallas, puzzled as to why Agrippina should delay Claudius doing the very thing the freedmen wanted, but the Greek was looking down a corridor on the right as if he expected to see something imminently; and he did.
Two silhouetted figures, a boy and a girl, came running down the corridor. ‘Father! Father!’ they shouted in unison.
‘What’s that?’ Claudius asked, turning in the direction of the noise.
‘Oh Uncle, I’ll deal with them,’ Agrippina said. ‘You shouldn’t see your children whilst you’re in such a rage.’
Claudius looked at Britannicus and Octavia as they appeared in the atrium, tears running down their cheeks, and took a step forward as Agrippina spread her arms and stopped them in their tracks. ‘Come on, little chicks.’ She pinched their cheeks and turned them around. ‘Your father is very tired and emotional; you don’t want to upset him further, do you? Let him eat and rest and then you can see him after that.’ With an arm around each of them she led them back down the way they had come. ‘Oh, look at you both, so adorable, I could eat you.’
‘I think that your niece is right,’ Pallas said, walking towards the Emperor. ‘You should eat, Princeps.’ He gestured Claudius towards the corridor that led back to the palace. ‘But first you need to go to the Praetorian camp to pass judgement on Silius and then with a full stomach you should decide Messalina’s fate.’
With red, vacant eyes, Claudius moved off as if spellbound, assisted by Pallas. Narcissus stared at his colleague, unable to read his face and guess his motivation.
Looking forward immensely to witnessing the next choreographed moves in the unfolding drama, Vespasian followed them out, passing Lucius Vitellius staring at all the items crammed into the room.
‘Ahh, such villainy.’
CHAPTER XXI
THE ENTIRE PRAETORIAN Guard crashed a salute for their Emperor as he was borne, on a litter, into the parade ground at the heart of their camp. Birds, perched on the roofs of the long lines of two-storey barrack buildings, were startled into flight as thousands of arms slammed across chests and as many deep voices roared a greeting for the man who gave reason for their existence as a unit.
Yet it was not with unanimous joy that Claudius was greeted; kneeling before a dais in front of the massed ranks of Rome’s élite soldiery were two dozen forlorn figures, dressed only in tunics, humiliatingly unbelted, like a woman’s.
The sound of the Guard’s roar echoed around the camp, bouncing off the brick walls of the barracks, and eventually faded into no more than the fluttering of scores of standards and the complaints of the birds circling overhead.
The litter was placed on the ground and Claudius, resplendent in imperial purple and wreathed in laurel, was helped to his feet by the man who now commanded, for this single day, the true power in Rome. Narcissus escorted his patron up the steps to the dais and saw him seated with as much dignity as an emotionally broken man in his mid-fifties could muster.
Vespasian stood to one side, next to Pallas and Sabinus, enjoying the sight of the two Praetorian prefects, Rufrius Crispinus and Lucius Lusius Geta, approach the Emperor with Gaius Silius grasped firmly between them. ‘They must be feeling particularly guilty if they’re demeaning themselves by acting as prisoner escort,’ he observed to Pallas under his breath.
‘Your brother negotiated with them on my behalf this afternoon
when he brought Silius to the camp.’
Sabinus obviously enjoyed the memory. ‘Once they both understood that Silius wasn’t consul they realised that Messalina’s plot against Claudius had almost no chance of succeeding and were only too pleased to accept the terms.’
‘Which were?’
‘Lenient, considering that almost every man in the Guard over the rank of centurion has sampled Messalina’s wares.’
Pallas watched with satisfaction as Lucius Vitellius mounted the dais and placed himself next to Narcissus behind the Emperor. ‘That won’t help soothe Narcissus’ growing agitation. As to the prefects, all I asked is that they provide two dozen of their number for Claudius to punish however he pleases. How they chose them was up to them. The two prefects keep their posts—’
‘And are well and truly in your debt,’ Vespasian butted in, understanding completely.
‘Precisely; I deemed it safer to hold something over the present incumbents rather than replace them with new ones who might not be as loyal to me as I would wish.’
The two prefects stamped to a halt in front of the dais and thrust their charge down onto his knees. Claudius began shaking visibly at the sight of the man who now claimed Messalina as his wife. Vitellius laid a firm hand on his shoulder and his body calmed.
‘W-w-w-well, wh-what have you to say for yourself, S-S-Silius?’
Silius held his head high and stared Claudius in the eyes. ‘I am guilty of everything that I’ve been accused of; I took your wife and planned to take your place with her. However, although I am guilty of these charges I am not guilty of conceiving the plan that, in my weakness, I consented to go along with. That was Messalina’s idea alone and if she is to be granted the mercy of a quick death then I ask for myself the same favour.’
Vitellius bent to whisper in Claudius’ ear, keeping his hand tightly gripped on his shoulder. Narcissus immediately began to speak in the other ear. A brief unheard argument seemed to ensue before Claudius eventually nodded at Vitellius and again addressed Silius: ‘Very well, a clean death it shall be. Crispinus!’
The Praetorian prefect swept out his sword with a metallic ring and, standing next to Silius, showed him the blade. Silius contemplated it for a few moments and then bowed his head, stretching his neck forward. Iron flashed, slicing through flesh and bone, releasing heart-pumps of spurting blood that propelled the severed head forward to roll almost to the foot of the dais and stop, staring open-mouthed at the Emperor. Claudius ejaculated a growl of deep satisfaction and smacked his lips as he watched the life flee from Silius’ eyes. The body twitched, and the flow of blood lessened as the heart gave out and silence covered the parade ground.
After a few moments more relishing the sight, Claudius looked at the men kneeling in front of the parade before turning to the two prefects. ‘What crime are they accused of?’
Crispinus wiped his sword on Silius’ tunic. ‘To the shame of the Guard, these men are all guilty by their own account of sleeping with Messalina.’
Claudius looked at the accused again and then threw his head back in laughter. ‘If only a q-q-q-quarter of what I’ve been told in the last few hours is true then that pathetic little group would be less than three days’ work for my ex-wife.’
Vespasian felt Pallas tense.
Claudius snapped out of his mirth as quickly as he had entered into it. ‘Very well, bring them forward.’
Pallas relaxed.
The prisoners, each escorted by a ranker, walked to the dais.
‘On your knees! Escorts, draw your swords.’
Again, Vitellius bent the Emperor’s ear and again Narcissus spoke into the other one and again an argument followed in which again Claudius eventually ruled in Vitellius’ favour. ‘I will not ask for these men’s lives; I will not even ask for one of them as an example to the rest. Instead, I dismiss them from my service and forbid them fire and water within three hundred miles from Rome for the rest of their lives.’
As this news was relayed through the ranks and files of the Praetorian Cohorts a cheer rippled through the formation causing Claudius to incline his head and wave a shaking hand towards his audience.
‘I do this because I’m well aware that there were far more people guilty of adultery with my ex-wife than have admitted it. I now wish to let the matter drop. Let her punishment and that of a few of her closer associates be an end to the matter. I shall decide her fate after consultation with the gods of my household.
‘I’ve been made a fool of by that woman and now rejoice in the fact that I am divorced. Men of the Praetorian Guard, there will be a donative of ten aurei per man to celebrate my new freedom and I charge you to kill me if I ever get married again.’
To the massed cheers of thousands of men now richer by four times the annual salary of an ordinary legionary Claudius turned and hobbled back down the steps, this time helped by Vitellius, whilst Narcissus watched, clenching and re-clenching his right fist as the other hand played with his beard.
Pallas moved to join the imperial party. ‘Without him knowing it, Vitellius’ attempt to steer a neutral course is proving very useful to my cause.’
‘But it looks as if you’ll have trouble persuading Claudius to marry again, Pallas,’ Vespasian observed as Vitellius helped the Emperor into his litter.
‘Not when he finds out just who he can marry.’
Agrippina sighed with exaggerated sympathy and reached along the dining couch to place an understanding hand on her uncle’s arm. ‘I know it must have been hard to show Silius such mercy, dearest Uncle, but Vitellius was right: if you’d not granted him the clean death of a citizen and had acted like an animal instead then you would have reminded people of my poor brother, Gaius Caligula.’
Vitellius, placed on the other side of Claudius, beamed his gratitude at Agrippina for supporting his point of view to the Emperor; he then helped himself to a stuffed cabbage leaf.
‘I agree, Princeps,’ Pallas said, nibbling on an olive and reclining on the couch to Claudius’ left. ‘The best way to come out of this with credit is to act with dignity as if the antics of an unfaithful wife are too small a matter to unduly upset a man of your standing and nothing more than rightful retribution need be taken.’
Vespasian caught a brief flash of anger in Narcissus’ eyes as he glanced sidelong at his colleague next to him before his face returned to studied neutrality.
‘I-I-I suppose so,’ Claudius said, spilling semi-masticated brown morsels from his mouth and adding to the mess on his napkin. ‘But I would’ve loved to have seen more suffering from him; he seduced my little bird.’ His mouth fell open, disgorging more of its contents as he lapsed back into melancholy.
Narcissus was quick to support his patron. ‘I agree, Princeps; I believe that you were wrong to take Vitellius’ advice; we need to fully secure your position. You would have been better off following what I suggested. To show mercy makes you look weak; you should never have spared those Praetorian officers.’
Claudius mumbled something about the joys of Messalina’s bedchamber, a subject that no one felt any desire to enlarge upon.
Vespasian toyed with his half-full golden wine beaker. ‘But surely, Narcissus, the Emperor’s magnanimous gesture has earned him the gratitude of the entire Guard?’
‘And, of course, their renewed loyalty strengthened by a deep sense of shame,’ Sabinus, next to him, added, earning a brief look of appreciation from Pallas.
Vespasian picked up his brother’s argument. ‘The Emperor has won their love forever by forgiving so many of them who have acted despicably.’
‘And now, Princeps,’ Vitellius said, ‘you can make yourself even more popular with them by choosing a new wife whom they, and the whole city, will respect.’
Claudius was still immersed in his maudlin reverie. ‘What? A new wife? No, I couldn’t.’
Agrippina leant over and kissed him on the cheek. ‘Don’t worry, Uncle; I’ll look after you until we find someone who can see to all your ne
eds. I’m sure we’ll get you just the right person.’
‘There are some very suitable women in my family,’ Vitellius suggested helpfully.
Agrippina gave him the sweetest of smiles. ‘You’re so kind, Lucius, but I think my uncle should look a little closer to home, shouldn’t you, dearest Claudius? And seeing as I’m your niece I’ll be the perfect person to help you judge.’
Narcissus leant forward. ‘Pallas and I both think that you should remarry your second wife, Princeps; don’t we, Pallas?’
Pallas picked up and examined another olive. ‘Should we be discussing this now when the Emperor hasn’t yet decided what to do about Messalina?’
‘Yes, Uncle, what do you intend to do?’ Agrippina shot Pallas a quick look and Vespasian caught a glimpse of something more than mere mutual interest. He realised that they were working much more closely together than he had imagined … She turned back to Claudius. ‘I said that you should decide after a good dinner.’
Claudius’ reply was delayed by a Praetorian cavalry decurion striding into the room. ‘Princeps, Tribune Burrus has sent me to tell you that the chief Vestal, Vibidia, is here on Messalina’s behalf.’
Claudius looked at the tribune, his long face a study in sorrow. ‘I don’t wish to see her now. Tell Burrus to say to Vibidia that I’ll send for that poor woman in the morning and she can plead her case to me then in person.’
‘Yes, Princeps.’
As the decurion turned to go, Narcissus got to his feet and picked up his satchel. ‘I shall go and tell her your words myself, Princeps.’
‘As you wish,’ Claudius said with little interest.
As Narcissus left the room he signalled Vespasian, with his eyes, to follow him.
Vespasian looked over to Pallas who twitched the corner of his mouth into a satisfied half-smile and nodded almost imperceptibly.
After a few moments, Vespasian rose from his couch making his excuses and followed Narcissus out.
Masters of Rome: VESPASIAN V (Vespasian 5) Page 40
