The Temple of Ceres stood on the slopes of the Aventine Hill. Like every other structure on the hill, the temple had been seriously damaged during the previous year’s fire, just as it had been in a 31 BC blaze. With the temples of Rome receiving first priority in the rebuilding process, and with Ceres being one of the four deities that the Sibylline reading had identified as requiring special attention, the almost six-hundred-year-old Temple of Ceres would have been quickly restored as part of Nero’s reconstruction program.
In going to the temple on the assassination day, Piso would be unlikely to arouse any unusual interest or suspicion from anyone who saw him. But Piso had an ulterior motive for choosing this place, of all places, to spend the time awaiting news of the murder of his emperor. The Temple of Ceres was the headquarters of the plebeian aediles and was also legally a place of sanctuary. No person claiming the protection of the goddess while in the precincts of her temple could be arrested. This was Piso’s insurance policy, for he was wracked with doubts and fears about the fate of the plot. If all went awry, Piso at least could hope to escape arrest and execution, by claiming the protection of the sanctuary.
Infected with this fear of failure, the plot to assassinate Nero Caesar went forward.
Before dawn on April 18, Flavius Scaevinus, the conspirator who had claimed the honor of striking the first blow against Nero, did the rounds of his patrons, then called on Antonius Natalis, the conspiratorial ring’s principal go-between. After sending away the servants, the pair spent a long time discussing the arrangements for the assassination they intended carrying out the following day. Only when he was convinced that every detail had been covered did Scaevinus go home to make his own final preparations.
Methodically, Scaevinus tidied up his affairs. Taking out his last will and testament, he read it, assured himself that it contained all that it should, then closed it with his seal. After handing the sealed will to Milichus, his chief freedman, for safekeeping, Scaevinus reached beneath his tunic and brought into the light of day the sheathed dagger that had been suspended around his neck for weeks. For the first time since he had taken it from the Temple of Fortune, Scaevinus slid the ancient dagger from its sheath. A scowl came over his face, as he saw that the blade was blunted by rust. This was the blade that he intended plunging into the heart of Nero at the races next day, and he wanted it to enter the tyrant’s flesh with ease.
Handing the dagger to Milichus, he said, “Sharpen it on a whetstone, to a keen and bright point.”7
“Yes, master.” Milichus took charge of the dagger.
Scaevinus ordered an extravagant banquet for the evening. His staff noted that he was that day “depressed, and evidently in profound thought” as he went about his usual bathhouse routine. That night, he sat down for his grand meal as if it were to be his last. Over dinner, he called in his favorite slaves and announced that he was manumitting them—granting their freedom. He gave money to several others. These were usually the acts of a dying man. Having astonished his staff, Scaevinus kept up an apparently merry conversation with those family members who reclined around the dining table with him. The last thing he did before retiring to bed was to instruct Milichus to prepare bandages for the next day, as if he were expecting to be wounded.
Milichus, Scaevinus’ chief freedman, was troubled by all this. That night, as he lay in bed with his wife, Milichus told her all about the master’s uncharacteristic behavior and demeanor that day. He showed her the knife from the Temple of Fortune that he was supposed to sharpen. Like Milichus, his wife suspected that Scaevinus was up to something. Both observed that the day was widely considered inauspicious for the sealing of wills. And they knew that their master was planning to attend the games the next day, even though he was not a particular fan of chariot racing. Both knew that their master planned to sit close to the emperor. And then there was this knife. Milichus’ wife put two and two together.
Once Milichus’ wife shared with him her suspicion that Scaevinus was planning to kill the emperor, his first reaction was to hold his tongue, to serve and protect his master, no matter what. His wife scolded him, pointing out that a number of others, both slaves and freedmen, had that day seen exactly what Milichus had seen, had heard what he had heard. She reminded her husband that his silence would be meaningless if others spoke up and warned the emperor; in fact, it would count against him. But if Milichus were the first to speak up, the rewards from the emperor for his information would be his and his alone.
Sunrise the next day, April 19, found Milichus and his wife outside the gates to the Servilian Gardens, west of the Tiber River, where the emperor was known to be residing while the construction work continued on his grand new palace. The tall wooden gates to the gardens were closed, so Milichus rapped on them, calling for the gatekeepers to let him in.
“I am the bearer of important and alarming news!” he yelled.8
The gatekeepers ignored him, so Milichus continued to bash on the doors and to shout the same message, with increasing desperation. Finally, his persistence paid dividends; the gates were opened, and the gatekeepers warily looked him up and down. After Milichus again repeated the same declaration, he and his wife were escorted to the sprawling villa in the gardens, which overlooked the river. They were brought before Epaphroditus, secretary a libellis, or secretary of petitions, whose job it was to receive and deal with approaches to the Palatium by Nero’s subjects.
Across Epaphroditus’ desk came everything from applications and recommendations for Roman citizenship to legal appeals from citizens convicted of a crime to approaches to the emperor from foreign envoys. With thousands of such applications to deal with, it was no wonder that the three Jewish priests that Joseph bar Matthias had been sent to Rome to free had been waiting now for four years for their cases to be heard. Tacitus would not have a good word to say about Epaphroditus, but Joseph, who came to know Epaphroditus well, would describe him as “a lover of all kinds of learning.” In Joseph’s estimation, Epaphroditus showed “a wonderful rigor and an excellent nature,” and was above all a virtuous man.9
Now, the learned Epaphroditus listened as Milichus gushed out his story of an oddly behaving master, a knife, and that very day’s circus games. Once Epaphroditus had learned of the suspicious behavior of Milichus’ employer, he led the freedman and his wife to Nero himself. Milichus repeated his story for the twenty-seven-year-old emperor’s benefit, warned him of the danger that he felt certain Nero was in, and handed him the dagger from the Temple of Fortune that he had been ordered to sharpen. As Nero turned over the dagger in his hands, Milichus urged him to summon Scaevinus to answer his charges against him.
Before long, a centurion-led party of armed Praetorian soldiers pushed roughly past Scaevinus’ doormen, strode into his house, and placed Scaevinus under arrest. Surrounded by a grim-faced guard, Scaevinus was escorted through the city (which was now one giant building site) and across a Tiber River bridge to the Servilian Gardens and brought before the emperor. To Scaevinus’ horror, Milichus and his wife were with Nero. The emperor held up the dagger, which would have carried an inscription relating to the goddess to whom it was dedicated, and asked Scaevinus to explain how he had come by it.
“That dagger has long been regarded by my ancestors with a religious sentiment,” Scaevinus replied, appearing angry, not afraid. “It has been kept in my chamber, and was stolen by my freedman, using trickery.” To accent his accusation, he glared at Milichus.10
Nero then asked Scaevinus why he had signed his will on an inauspicious day, and why he had given money and freedom to his slaves.
“I have often signed my will without taking into account the observance of specific days,” Scaevinus replied. “I have previously made gifts of money and freedom to some of my slaves. On this occasion, I gave more freely because, as my means are now impoverished and my creditors are pressing me, I distrusted the validity of my will.”11
Was Scaevinus truly in financial trouble? As far as the emperor knew
, Scaevinus’ table was always covered with the best silverware, and his lifestyle was and always had been a luxurious one. Scaevinus shrugged and said he could not doubt that his harsher critics would not approve of his expenditure in the financial circumstances in which he currently found himself.
The question about the preparation of bandages was not one that Scaevinus could be expected to answer easily. But instead of defending the accusation with some trifling excuse, Scaevinus went on the offensive. He claimed that no bandages had been prepared on his orders. “This, and all the man’s other charges are absurd!” He added that if anyone was preparing to murder Caesar, it was Milichus. Turning on the freedman, Scaevinus fearlessly denounced him: “Infamous and depraved wretch!”12
Nero looked at the accused, at his accuser, and at Epaphroditus, unsure as to what to do. It appeared as if the accusations against Scaevinus, unsupported as they were by any evidence or corroborating testimony, were going to come to nothing. As Nero was about to dismiss the accused man, an outcome that would have given Scaevinus an opportunity to have Milichus charged with making false accusations, Milichus’ wife spoke up. To this point, she had held her tongue, but now she reminded Milichus that Antonius Natalis had recently had a long conversation with Scaevinus, with all the servants told to leave the room. And, she added, Scaevinus and Natalis were both intimate friends of Gaius Piso.
Nero’s ears pricked up. “Piso, you say?”
Nero had never forgotten the unproven charge against Piso and his friend Seneca three years earlier. Nero feared Seneca more than he feared Piso; that Piso might be embroiled in this case could also suggest that Seneca was involved and that he might even be orchestrating a plot against the emperor. Nero, with his suspicions heightened, ordered Antonius Natalis brought in for questioning, then asked Scaevinus what his furtive conversation with Natalis had been about.
The morning was still young when Natalis was hustled into the Servilian Gardens. Scaevinus had been taken into another room by the time that Natalis was brought before Nero. Natalis was asked what he had discussed with Scaevinus in their secret meeting. Natalis’ version of what transpired turned out to be completely different from the one given by Scaevinus only minutes before. Nero, knowing that at least one of the men was lying, ordered the pair put in chains and questioned further.
Manacles were placed on the wrists of Scaevinus and Natalis, who were hustled away to the Praetorian barracks on the other side of the city. For the first time in almost a year, Praetorian Prefect Tigellinus once more took center stage. Sidelined by Nero since the Great Fire—perhaps because the fire’s second stage had erupted on Tigellinus’ property and Nero had subsequently kept the prefect at arm’s length in an attempt to dispel the rumors that he had been responsible for the fire—Tigellinus was now called on by Nero to do what he did best and deal with traitors in his own inimitable style.
Taking charge of the prisoners Scaevinus and Natalis at the barracks, Tigellinus showed them his favorite toy, the rack. The very sight of the torture device was enough to unlock the lips of both men. First, Natalis, under separate questioning and promised immunity if he gave the names of other conspirators, confessed the details of the plot and named Piso as the head of it, also mentioning his meetings with Seneca on Piso’s behalf. These names were put to Scaevinus. Believing that Natalis had revealed all, he confirmed these names, admitted his part in the conspiracy, and then proceeded to name all the other civilian conspirators. Yet neither he nor Natalis named any of the tribunes or centurions of the Praetorian Cohorts who were party to the plot. It is likely that in doing so, both men were hoping that the Praetorian officers would now act, lead a revolt of their troops against Nero, and free the accused men.
Word of the arrest of Scaevinus and Natalis had swept through the city that morning. Even as Scaevinus and Natalis were still being questioned at the Servilian Gardens, Gaius Piso received the news from several worried fellow conspirators. The plot was exposed, or soon would be, as Piso knew all too well, for neither Scaevinus nor Natalis had a reputation for courage, and both could be expected to reveal all through torture or the offer of reward. Piso’s friends urged him to gather up his supporters and hurry to the Praetorian barracks, or mount the Rostra in the Forum and take the initiative.
“Test the feelings of the soldiers and of the people,” said one conspirator. He believed that by making the movement against Nero public, Piso would attract many more followers. Nero had yet to call out his guards, he said, and there was still time to overwhelm the emperor before he realized the scope of the conspiracy.13
Another of Piso’s friends felt that it was too late—troops would be on their way to arrest him at any moment. He counseled Piso to take his own life while he had the chance. “Justify your life to your ancestors and descendants,” he urged.14
Piso, undecided as to which course to follow, went out into the street to gauge the public mood. Yet while the news of the arrests of Scaevinus and Natalis was now common knowledge, there was no sense of excitement or of panic in the streets, no talk of joining the movement against Nero, or of the military’s coming out against the emperor. Daily life was continuing as normal. And Piso knew at once that the conspiracy was doomed to fail. Going back into his house, he closed his doors, ordered his servants to bring him wine, and sent for his secretary.
As Piso waited, he dictated a new will in which he heaped praise on Nero and left a portion of his estate to the emperor. This was designed to ensure that Nero would allow Piso’s wife Atria to at least retain her dowry, as Roman law provided in the case of a normal death. Otherwise, the imperial treasury could confiscate Piso’s entire estate, the usual outcome when a man was convicted of treason.
In quick succession, Praetorian detachments burst into one house and apartment after another across the city. Named conspirators were hauled in for questioning, as were their servants. Most of the arrested men confessed their part in the plot, sooner or later, but three of the accused steadfastly maintained their innocence—Lucan the young poet, Quintianus the senator, and Nero’s erstwhile friend Senecio the Equestrian, the conspirators’ “inside man.” Their attitude changed when they were offered immunity from prosecution if they admitted their complicity and each gave the name of at least one co-conspirator. All three now confessed. Lucan named his mother Atilla as his co-conspirator. The other two men named their best friends. Lucan seemed to believe that if he named his mother, Nero would not stoop to arresting her, which in fact proved to be the case. Lucan and the other two were then set free and allowed to go home.
Nero now remembered, or was reminded, that the freedwoman Epicharis was still being held in custody, and he ordered that she be questioned a second time, this time on the rack. Tigellinus’ men were quick to employ their skills as torturers. Epicharis was placed on the rack, face down, with her arms and legs stretched wide. She was “scourged”—whipped. Red-hot irons were applied to her skin. But she steadfastly denied the charge that she was involved with this conspiracy. So, she was stretched on the rack until her legs were dislocated. Still she denied any complicity and refused to implicate anyone else. By the end of the day, she was cast into a cell in agony, but without having given in to her torturers.
A detachment of Praetorians arrived outside Gaius Piso’s closed doors. These troops were all men from outlying parts of southern Italy who had only joined the Praetorian Cohorts in the most recent draft. The older enlisted men, who had served under the Praetorian standard for many years, were “actually imbued with a liking” for Nero, according to Tacitus. 15 But Nero was worried that those older men might have grown some attachment to the popular Piso after living at the capital for so many years. Recent recruits, youngsters from outside the capital, would not know Piso. So, Nero had given specific instructions that new men be sent to arrest Piso.
The tribune in command of the detachment was informed by Piso’s staff that their master had just this minute severed the arteries of his arms and would soon be dead. The
officer decided to allow Piso the dignity of a self-inflicted death; his troops would remain at the house until it was confirmed that Piso was dead. The officer would then enter and view Piso’s corpse. Drawing his sword, he would cleave off the dead senator’s head. That head would be taken to the Servilian Gardens as proof of Piso’s demise.
Nero, “more and more alarmed” as the plot unfolded before his eyes and more and more names were added to the list of conspirators, ordered the size of his bodyguard multiplied and the city brought under military control. 16 All cohorts of the German Guard stationed at their barracks west of the Tiber were called to arms. The fourteen Praetorian Cohorts were also summoned to duty. Praetorian detachments marched to the guard towers at all the city gates and occupied them, augmenting the small City Cohort detachments on duty at the gates. Armed with a list of suspects, the Praetorians stopped and questioned all persons leaving the capital. Other cohorts marched from the city to take up station along the bank of the Tiber River to prevent accused men from escaping by water.
Squadrons from the Praetorian Cavalry galloped from the city and down the Via Ostiensis to the coast, where, at Ostia, they joined the men of the 17th Cohort of the City Guard, which was then stationed at Ostia, to watch the docks for wanted men. To seek out suspects who were vacationing away from the capital, more cavalry pounded along the highways to outlying towns and villages, where they were joined by men from the German Cohorts, who were at that time stationed outside Rome. According to Tacitus, Nero trusted the German troops more than he did the citizen soldiers of the Praetorian Cohorts, and he now deliberately added squads of Germans to the Praetorian units, to ensure that the Praetorians did their duty and did not fail to round up members of the assassination conspiracy.17
Nero had historical reasons for doing this. Augustus had founded the German Cohorts with the conviction that these foreign troops, who did not hold Roman citizenship, would be unlikely to join any uprising against the throne, which proved to be the case. For the same reason, Tiberius had salted troops from the German Cohorts among Praetorian troops sent to put down a legion mutiny in Dalmatia early in his reign.
The Great Fire of Rome: The Fall of the Emperor Nero and His City Page 15
