by James Mace
“My divine ancestor, the great Augustus Caesar, claimed he found Rome a city of brick and left it a city of marble,” Nero stated. “This was, regrettably, only partially true. For while the temples and government buildings were indeed rebuilt in marble, the vast majority of our citizens lived in tiny flats made of wood. Such housing is only worthy of barbarians, and the gods have now shown us the folly of civilized peoples living in such squalor. Therefore, we will rebuild Rome, and all of it will be in marble. Its beauty will be the envy of the world!”
This drew a number of gasps and surprised mutterings from the senators, which only caused Nero’s grin to grow broader. A few of the more flattering members applauded loudly. The skeptics, including Sabinus and Paulinus, sat with their chins in their hands, in silent contemplation.
“But there is more!” the emperor continued, holding his hands up high. “For what is it that defines Roman greatness? Is it the power of our armies? Hardly! The legions may defend civilization, but they do not define it. The Greeks gave us our first taste of what civilization could achieve with their art, sculpture, architecture, philosophy, poetry, and thespianism. Greece laid the foundations of culture, and it is Rome’s divinely ordained destiny to see it through to its true potential. And that will be realized here, in the Eternal City, where out of the ashes a new Rome shall arise. And there will be more. For every street, every building, will be adorned with paintings and frescoes designed by the greatest artists from all over the world. Rome will become the very definition of beauty, and through such beauty we’ll finally realize our true greatness!”
The emperor’s speech ended, the senate rose to its feet and broke into voracious applause. Its members showered Nero with shouts of adulation. While few bore any sort of genuine love for their emperor, all knew that the public would view this grand vision as their salvation. Nero was obsessed with his personal popularity among the masses, and many within the senate did not wish to alienate themselves any further from the people than they already were. What few noticed, however, was the rather large complex that was marked out on the slopes of Palatine, Esquiline, and Caelian Hills. While Nero promised to rebuild Rome for the people, he intended to have the greatest architectural marvels for himself.
“The city will be rebuilt in marble?” Sabinus asked incredulously, as he and Paulinus left the senate chambers. “I doubt there is enough marble in the entire world to build housing for a million people.”
“It is a grand, and perhaps even noble, undertaking,” Paulinus replied. “But even if there is enough marble to be mined and transported to Rome, how does he intend to pay for it all? Rebuild in stone and stucco, yes. What he’s proposing will bankrupt the empire before half the districts are rebuilt, let alone all of the statuary and artwork he’s envisioning. Beauty is worth nothing if people are starving.”
“Money can always be found, if one knows where to look,” a voice behind them said. They turned to see a younger senator named Marcus Salvius Otho walking over to join them. In his early thirties, the fair-haired man bore a smooth complexion that never required a shave and was somewhat effete in appearance and demeanor. He was also a favorite of Nero, who had noted on numerous occasions the rather coincidental resemblance between them. Rumors also abounded regarding their relationship, given that Empress Poppaea was Otho’s former wife.
“Senator Otho,” Paulinus said with a curt nod. “I did not realize you were still in Rome.”
“Just for a short time longer,” Otho replied. “I would have already departed, though the unfortunate tragedy to befall the capital compelled me to remain in Rome a few weeks longer than I intended. I figured the citizens of my new province will understand.”
“Lusitania is it?” Sabinus asked, referring to the province that covered the western third of Hispania.
“It is,” Otho said with a nod. “Rumor has it that my former wife, our dear empress, compelled the emperor to send me there as a means of getting me away from the imperial court. However, being named governor of a rich province does not exactly constitute exile or a falling out of favor. In fact, Nero promised me a magnificent sendoff banquet. Given the present circumstances, that might be viewed in poor taste.”
Otho’s ex-wife, Poppaea Sabina, had married Nero two years prior and was now Empress Consort of the Roman Empire. Otho had introduced the two at a lavish banquet six years before. Poppaea became enamored with the emperor and, with her husband’s overt consent, the two became lovers. Otho soon granted her a divorce, while at the same time compelling the emperor to be rid of his barren wife, Octavia, and to make Poppaea his wife and consort...or at least that is what the rumormongers said. There appeared to be some veracity to this, as Otho was treated as more than just a courtier, but rather as a personal friend of the emperor.
“To this day, Poppaea thinks she outwitted me by becoming Nero’s empress,” Otho reminisced. “What she refuses to accept is that it was I who has gained most by their love. By enabling his acquisition of a beautiful, not to mention fertile wife, I have found myself deep within Nero’s inner circle. This governorship is just the latest opportunity I’ve been given to expand both wealth and influence. If Poppaea wishes to view it as a form of exile, so be it. Still, I hope I have greater luck than your brother, dear Sabinus.”
This caused the urban prefect’s mouth to twitch slightly. His brother, Flavius Vespasian, was a brilliant general, with many of his former soldiers claiming that he was the greatest strategist and tactician since Julius Caesar. And yet, his military genius had not been enough to thwart the near constant strain of political disasters. All three men were aware of this, and with Otho, it was difficult to tell if he was being deliberately provocative or just clumsy in his speech.
“To be fair, North Africa is a difficult province to manage,” Paulinus said quickly, hoping to defuse an argument between the two men, both of whom he considered friends. And though he also considered Vespasian to be a personal friend, he was very much aware of the fact that the two Flavian brothers were anything but close. Many times, when Sabinus did come to Vespasian’s defense, it was speculated that it was done more to save the family name, rather than out of familial love.
“Yes, well you seemed to manage alright,” Otho observed.
“I had to deal with its various tribes and barbaric peoples,” Paulinus added. “It is difficult to get them to coexist, even in the best of times. Many of them know nothing but making war upon each other. And if Vespasian was dealt a financial and political blow, it was only because he tried to be fair to the people, rather than impoverish them in order to increase his own wealth.”
“A lot of good it did him,” Otho scoffed. “He tried playing nice with barbarians, and they still pelted him with garbage and shit when he departed.” He noted the stern expression on Sabinus’ face. “Apologies, my friend, for I meant no offense. I have long been an admirer of you and your brother’s military achievements. Emperor Claudius credited you both with almost single-handedly conquering Britannia. All I meant to say is, I hope I have better luck in Lusitania than Vespasian did in North Africa.”
“Do well in Lusitania,” Sabinus said slowly. “And pray you do not suffer the same misfortunes my brother did.”
The rather awkward conversation was soon dismissed, as Sabinus and Paulinus had the matters of rebuilding Rome to oversee, while Otho had a province to run, nearly fourteen hundred miles to the west. He departed within a few days, and was soon forgotten by most of the senators who remained in Rome.
Empress Poppaea Sabina
During his journey, the young governor paid a visit to the city of Tarraco, capital of Hispania Tarraconensis. The largest of the three Spanish provinces, it was governed by an old senator named Servius Sulpicius Galba. Galba had served as Consul of Rome thirty-one years before, along with Otho’s father. And while Otho found his father’s former colleague to be a rather bitter, cantankerous old man, he was ever in the habit of making new friends and political alliances wherever he could.
And since Galba came from one of Rome’s oldest and most distinguished noble families, it was a potential alliance that Otho was willing to go great lengths to maintain. He also knew that whatever difficulties he encountered, whether in his own province or when trying to forge political alliances, at least he was insulated from the turmoil that would soon engulf the imperial capital. The Great Fire of Rome was just the first step in what would soon become an even greater calamity.
Four months passed since Nero’s visionary speech to the senate, and winter was now approaching. The empire was on the brink of an unprecedented financial crisis. In addition to all of the new housing, the emperor had ordered the clearing of over a hundred acres of land at the very heart of Rome near Palatine Hill. It was here the most audacious work began. Called the ‘Domus Aurea’, or ‘Golden House’, it was a massive complex of banquet halls, entertainment rooms, gardens, and bathhouses. It even included its own private lake. The structure was given its name after the emperor demanded its walls be covered in gold leaf. He constantly referred to it as the center of beauty, from which all other monuments would be judged.
“The Domus Aurea is costing more than most of the remaining construction projects combined,” a quaestor complained during a meeting between the emperor and senate. An official posting within the patrician Cursus Honorum, the twenty quaestors were young men tasked with being the empire’s chief financial advisors.
One of the man’s associates added, “And now you are asking that a bronze statue of yourself, standing over a hundred feet high, be erected on its grounds as well.”
“I am not asking you for anything,” Nero corrected in a rather cold demeanor. “I am telling you what will be erected within the grounds of the Golden House.” As the months advanced, with building projects progressing far slower than he wished and the expenses already overwhelming the imperial coffers, his previously optimistic and cheerful demeanor was soon replaced by one of sullen anger. “Rome holds greater wealth than any nation in the history of mankind, so don’t you dare tell me that there isn’t any money!”
“Perhaps,” one of the quaestors said, trying to quell the emperor’s rising anger, “but there is not enough in the treasury. We’ve already raised taxes, while cutting public expenditures to the barest they’ve been in a hundred years. Rome will be bankrupt within six months if this continues...”
“Enough!” Nero snapped, slamming his fist down on the arm of his chair. He stood and took a deep breath. His eyes wide, he shook his head and waved his hand at the assembled quaestors. “You’re sacked, all of you. I will appoint new financial ministers who know how to manage the imperial coffers better.”
“Caesar, please...”
“I said, fuck off!” The emperor was now screaming in rage. He then signaled to the praetorian guardsmen who lined the walls of the chamber. “Get these piles of excrement out of my sight! They should consider themselves lucky I don’t banish them to some rock in the middle of the sea or cut their throats for their insolence!”
Though rumors of Nero’s cruelty had persisted since the time he became emperor, these had mostly been fabrications wrought by political rivals. But now, with his rebuilding of Rome into a true city of marble and gold, which he viewed as his divine destiny, being threatened, some wondered if he might follow through with his violent threats. A few of the older senators, whose sons were among the quaestors, found this outburst particularly unnerving. Their sons’ political careers were now ruined, and no one would dare appoint someone to any sort of magisterial posting who had been sacked by the emperor.
The rest of the assembled patricians maintained their silence as Nero paced frantically along the chamber floor, his hands clasped behind his back. None wished to volunteer their services to take over as the new quaestors. Those who had anxiously awaited such openings for the opportunities it would present their sons or nephews were suddenly silenced. The emperor had been growing ever more unstable over the past few months, with whatever aura of brilliant leadership he’d exhibited in the wake of the Great Fire all but evaporated. What complicated matters further was the plebs never saw this side of him. To them, Emperor Nero was the loving father and savior who would rebuild Rome and bring about a new age of wealth and prosperity. They detested the wealthy members of the senate, yet they adored their emperor.
“I will not allow a handful of old women to deny Rome the will of the gods,” Nero continued to rant. He stopped and held his hand up, his face breaking into an unnerving grin, overcome by a sense of awareness. “Of course, the gods! By Venus, why was I so blind?”
“Explain, if you would be so kind, sire,” Seneca finally spoke up. Even he, who was closer to the emperor than any, had been reluctant to say anything. His influence had been unnervingly waning over the past few months.
“Well, can’t you see it?” Nero asked, in disbelief. “Why, it is so obvious! This great undertaking, the rebirth of glorious Rome, was decreed by the gods. And as it is they who have commanded it, so, too, shall they empower us to fulfill their vision.”
“But surely, Caesar, we have offered prayers and sacrifices daily,” a senator said.
“No, you ignorant old fools!” the emperor snapped, shaking his head frantically in frustration. “Neither Jupiter, nor Juno, nor Saturn, nor Venus will give us any divine intervention, not while their gifts to us already adorn their temples.”
The senate was suddenly quiet once more, as the horrific realization came over its members.
“Caesar, you cannot mean taking the wealth from the temples!” an emboldened and outraged senator said, rising to his feet. “Such actions would be sacrilege!”
“Sacrilege?” Nero asked, his eyes still wide. “You dare to talk to me about sacrilege? Me, who by the will of the gods is your emperor, and who you even said should lead like a god? You are all blind, if you cannot see that this is exactly what the divines wish. The centuries of gifts that were bestowed to the temples were not so that they could simply remain in dark vaults, gathering dust. They have been gathered so that, on this day of Rome’s rebirth, we may use them to build the civilization which is our divine destiny.” He then called over his shoulder to his praetorian prefect, “Tigellinus!”
“Sire?” the man said, immediately coming to the emperor’s side.
“Take three cohorts and gather everything of value from the temples,” Nero ordered. His gaze was now fixed on the appalled senators as the prefect saluted and quickly strode out of the chamber.
“It will not be just in Rome,” the emperor continued. “Send messages to every province within the empire. I want every scrap of gold, silver, and bronze taken from every temple within the Roman world. With such wealth, the almighties’ dream of civilization will be realized.”
The senate stood aghast, yet powerless to counter Nero’s obscene decree. Within hours, over a thousand praetorians were storming into every holy place within the city from the Temple of Jupiter Best to the Temple of the Divine Claudius, confiscating every piece of gold, silver, or jewels from within. The priests protested vehemently, while the people who witnessed the plunder were stupefied. Unwittingly, Nero had allowed the façade he’d maintained for so long amongst the plebeians to crack, as they watched in horror while their temples were desecrated.
“He’s gone completely mad,” Senator Piso said, in exacerbation, while hosting a dinner party a week later.
Gaius Calpurnius Piso was a middle-aged Roman statesman of great power and influence. He fell upon hard times during the reign of Gaius Caligula, when the emperor became infatuated with his wife and subsequently had him banished. He later rose to prominence, following Caligula’s assassination, and had the distinction of serving as co-consul to Emperor Claudius during the first year of his rule.
“I would caution against such talk,” one of his friends said.
“Why?” Piso retorted. “By looting all of the temples, Nero has risked inciting rebellion within every province of the empire. And do not forget, I served a term a
s quaestor just five years ago, so I know how much wealth there is within the whole of the empire, to include the temples. Is it substantial? Yes. Will it pay for Nero’s golden house, as well as his city of marble and frescos? No. The wealth stolen—and let us not fool ourselves, for it was stolen—from the temples in Rome will pay for the erecting of that monstrosity of a bronze statue but nothing more. And, I do not think the provincials will take kindly to having their treasures taken to rebuild a grandiose city that most of them have never even laid eyes on.”
Piso’s friends advised him against taking any extreme measures against the emperor. After all, Nero was childless, with no living relatives readily available to assume the role of Caesar.
“He has no Uncle Claudius to replace him,” one of the men cautioned, referring to the murder of Gaius Caligula, who was then replaced by his own uncle.
“I will wait a year,” Piso conceded, “but no longer.”
The following year, with the plundered temple funds beginning to run out and the building projects still not completed, a group of senators and disgruntled praetorians, led by Piso, decided it was time to act. While the prefect, Tigellinus, was unswerving in his loyalty to Nero, his co-prefect, Faenius Rufus, was more easily swayed. A tribune named Subrius, along with one of his senior ranking centurions, helped Piso hatch the plot. All told, nineteen senators, seven equites, eleven praetorians, and even four women became part of the scheme. Motives varied widely, which led to many internal disputes between conspirators.
While a few of the senators stated that Nero’s death would usher in a return to the republic, the rest dismissed this as outright insanity. No matter how beastly or unpopular an emperor may have been, the plebeians, equites, and even most of the senate would never accept leaving Rome without an emperor. Even after the assassination of the despotic Caligula, it was never a question of if Rome should have an emperor, but who. That Nero had no heir made this complicated, for the thought of having a Caesar come from somewhere outside the Julio-Claudian family was almost as absurd as attempting to restore the republic. It was eventually decided that Piso would be named regent of the empire, until the senate could decide upon a successor.
