In at the Death (Marcus Corvinus Book 11)

by David Wishart

  The plot against Gaius and Macro is not real - at least, not in terms of hard historical fact. What is true is that the people I chose for my conspirators - they are all real people, with the backgrounds I’ve given them - were prosecuted together in the final months of the year, at the instigation of Macro, for either treason (maiestas) or disrespect towards the emperor (impietas in principem), both blanket charges, with no particulars of their actual crimes being offered. Ahenobarbus, Arruntius and Marsus are all brought in on the frequently-used charge, under these circumstances, of complicity and adultery with Albucilla; scarcely credible, as far as the latter two are concerned, given their advanced age and extreme respectability. In Acutia’s case, the prosecutor is named: Decimus Laelius Balbus. It is interesting, in view of the nature of the charges, that Tiberius himself did not intervene or comment by letter to the senate at any point; as is the information provided by Tacitus that he was having very serious last-minute doubts about the succession and about Gaius’s suitability in particular. So, fiction or not, a conspiracy against Gaius and Macro is at least plausible, especially given the timing and with so many high-rankers coming to grief at once; while the emperor’s involvement is just defensible, in fiction terms anyway.

  What, though, is especially interesting for me is how many of the conspirators I’d used before and made to act out of largely hypothetical motives which meshed perfectly and without the need for manipulation with their roles in the present plot: see ‘Germanicus’ and ‘Sejanus’. Apropos of this, I didn’t know myself, until I found it out in the course of my research, that the real Carsidius Sacerdos had been unsuccessfully prosecuted for supplying corn to the enemy in the North African war. That, again given the timing and the fact that he was a fan of Germanicus and the Julian family from childhood, was truly fascinating. For me, as for Corvinus, it plugged a very significant information-gap and provided yet another of these eerie blurrings of fiction and genuine history, this time in retrospect. But, as I’ve said before, coincidences happen. If they are coincidences.

  The Aventine Fire Commission is also real. The fire, earlier in the year, had destroyed a large part of the Aventine and neighbouring Racetrack district, and Tiberius had appointed Ahenobarbus together with the other three husbands of Augustus’s granddaughters to head it. Neither Papinius nor Balbus have any historical connections with the commission whatsoever, but given their respective ranks their involvement - and at the levels I’ve allocated them - is well within the bounds of plausibility.

  On the other hand, Soranus’s coin was a complete invention, and one I feel very guilty about. I’m not at all sure that Germanicus ever was appointed princeps iuventutis (Leader of the Youth), as Augustus’s grandsons Gaius and Lucius were on different occasions; probably he wasn’t, since the semi-military title was given by the equites (narrow-stripers, but the word actually means ‘cavalry’ or ‘knights’, and that is the context here) as a sort of recognition of the emperor’s current tacitly-designated successor. However, I did need all the associations, so once again purists will have to forgive me: I’m only a writer, after all, not a genuine historian. And Felix did say it was difficult to find...

  Lastly, also real - perhaps surprisingly so, but there you are - is the contemporary prediction that a son of Ahenobarbus would be emperor; although of course this could have been backdated from hindsight by the Roman authors themselves. The future Emperor Nero was born to Ahenobarbus and Agrippina on 15th December AD37.

  Tiberius died on 16th March that year, five months after the story closes; helped on his way, so contemporary rumour had it, by Gaius, who then succeeded him.

  I should say that at this point the surviving manuscript of Tacitus’s ‘Annals’ breaks off until it resumes ten years later with the downfall of Claudius’s wife Messalina - who would, incidentally, have been a relative of the real Marcus Corvinus. A huge loss. I will miss Tacitus enormously. My grateful, heartfelt thanks to the ascerbic old bugger’s shade, wherever it may be. He has had his tributary glass of wine poured out, although it was not, unfortunately, Setinian.

  My thanks also, as always, to my wife Rona for her patience; to Roy Pinkerton for the occasional fielded question; and especially to our second dog Annie, whom we found abandoned in the Vosges two summers ago and who turned out a complete - if highly likeable - barbarian, for supplying me with Placida.

  In her case I hardly had to invent anything at all.