It was at the end of a particularly long day of assessing reports and looking at tax returns that I went back to my villa, exhausted. Totavalas was in the atrium, waiting for me, a knowing smile on his face. This alone was enough to make me suspicious.
‘What are you smirking about? You look like a cat that’s been fed a mouse dipped in cream.’
‘It’s not me who’s having a grand day. Cook’s prepared a rather special dinner for you, Severus.’
‘Special? How special?’
‘You’ll see.’
He led me through to the triclinium, where there was an assortment of my favourite delicacies, and some things that I had never asked the cook to make for me. There was a whole platter of seafood, a large dish of oysters with another for the empty shells. Someone had already had a couple. There were sweatmeats and perfumed delicacies from the East that I didn’t recognize, and my smartest pitcher, made entirely of silver, full to the brim with rich red wine. Quietly, elegantly, a couple of slaves came out to serve me while Totavalas took the couch opposite me, eyeing the food lustily.
‘You still haven’t told me what’s going on,’ I said.
‘You’ll just have to wait and see, won’t you.’
‘Like you waited with the oysters, you mean?’ I accused him. A slave handed me a cup. I gave it an appreciative sniff before taking a gulp. It was gorgeous. Warm, full-bodied and smooth beyond belief.
‘What is this?’ I asked the slave.
‘A Falernian, master, a thirty-year-old vintage.’
‘A thirty-year-old Falernian! I don’t have anything half this good in the cellar.’
‘True enough. So stop asking questions and just enjoy it,’ Totavalas said, taking a piece of crabmeat and a slice of avocado.
I wolfed down a few of the oysters then began on the rest of the seafood. After a quarter of an hour I was comfortably full, but there was still half of the Falernian left. I stretched, feeling my shoulder blades and back muscles after long days hunched over dull documents, before yawning tiredly.
‘You don’t want to be yawning for a long time yet,’ Totavalas observed.
‘I’ve got a right to feel tired, haven’t I?’
‘Sure you’ve got a right, but I’ll bet all the gold I’ve got that sleeping is the last thing you’ll be doing tonight.’ He pointed towards the passage that led to my bedroom.
Just to stop the man from prattling on, I humoured him and went to investigate. As I reached the corridor I noticed the scattered rose petals on the floor, droplets of red against the cold, white marble. Turning the corner, I found the passage was lined with scented candles. At last I began to understand.
Up ahead the door to my bedroom stood slightly ajar. Excitement began to course through me as I strode purposefully forward. The door creaked gently as it opened, and my heart almost skipped a beat. There she was, kneeling expectantly on the bed. She had artfully piled the remaining petals around her so that they covered her thighs and her sex, but her curvaceous body was fully on display. Her hips, her slender waist, those beautiful breasts, a smile and a look in her eyes that screamed ‘come here’.
‘Julius thinks I’m visiting an old friend tonight,’ Domitia said.
‘And I am a very old friend, aren’t I?’ I said, advancing upon her. I took off my toga before it began to bulge. I had dreamed about this moment for years. Domitia knelt, motionless. I climbed on to the bed and kissed her tenderly on the mouth. She responded, her tongue darting to meet my lips. I began to enjoy the kiss even more, my hands exploring that wonderful body.
‘Promise me one thing,’ she murmured.
‘Anything.’
‘This will be our secret. Julius must never know.’
I hesitated for a moment. This was my triumph, my revenge for Julius’s betrayal, putting Otho above his oldest friend. It would crush him to know what Domitia was prepared to do, even if it was to help her husband’s career. But would cuckolding him be satisfying enough?
‘I’ll make a deal with you,’ I said, nuzzling her neck. ‘Make this a night to remember, and I swear to Jupiter that Julius will never hear of this from me.’
‘Jupiter, the biggest fornicator in Olympus? Swear on Salonina’s life. You still love her, don’t you?’
‘In my own way,’ I said.
‘Then swear it.’
How could I not, with that quivering bosom beneath me, her nipples hard with arousal, the blonde tresses framing that delicate face? I looked into her brilliant blue eyes and made my vow.
XXIV
Domitia was gone when I awoke late the next morning. But what a night it was; I had never known pleasure like it. Julius was a lucky man, but not as lucky as he was, now that I had shared in the delights his wife had to offer. I didn’t have long though to bask in the memories of the previous night: there was an urgent knocking at the door.
‘Master, master!’ a slave called timidly.
‘What is it, man?’ I moaned, wanting to lie there and enjoy the memories a while longer.
‘A message from the palace, master, you’re needed at once.’
‘What for?’
‘The man wouldn’t say, master, he only told me that Consul Valens had some urgent news.’
Cursing, I roused myself and began to cast about for my clothes. I was ready within minutes. A quick splash of water on my face to wake myself up and I was ready to go, even if I was wearing the same clothes as yesterday. A sartorial sin, but Valens wouldn’t have summoned me if it was something he could deal with by himself.
It wasn’t just inside the Golden Palace that the halls were frantic with scurrying clerks and messengers; all Rome seemed buzzing. I received word that Valens was waiting for me in the throne room, along with Vitellius and a deputation from the Senate. Hurriedly tugging at my clothes to hide the worst of the creases I tried my best not to look as though I had just crawled out of bed.
It was quite a gathering: Vitellius and Valens were there, the praetorian prefects Publilius and Priscus standing either side of the emperor, the current praetors, Julius Agricola among them, and a smattering of ex-consuls, Suetonius Paulinus and Verginius Rufus included. There was also a man I did not recognize. Vitellius cleared his throat nervously. The emperor wished to speak.
‘Senators, you will all have heard by now the news that the legions east of Italia have rebelled.’ It may not have been news to anyone else in the hall, but it was news to me.
‘Do we know precisely which legions have come out in open rebellion?’ Rufus asked.
Valens had the list to hand. ‘The Third Gallica, the Seventh Galbiana, the Seventh Claudiana, the Eighth Augusta…’
‘Yes, yes,’ Vitellius said testily, ‘that’s enough, Valens. In all, six legions spread across Moesia, Pannonia and Dalmatia.’
‘And have they followed the example of the Third, sire?’ a praetor asked. ‘Have they all declared for Vespasian?’
‘They have,’ Valens answered.
‘Treason!’ some of the senators muttered, but most did it half-heartedly.
‘And for that reason, I have decided to arrest the prefect of the urban cohorts, Flavius Sabinus. As Vespasian’s brother, I cannot allow him to roam free, spreading lies about me and corrupting his men.’
‘On what charge was he arrested?’ Agricola asked. I could barely look him in the face, for fear of smiling.
Valens answered on Vitellius’s behalf. ‘The emperor doesn’t need charges to safeguard his throne. But if he were to be tried, it would surely be for treason.’
This took the senators aback. Sabinus was an honest, decent man. ‘However,’ I interrupted, ‘we have yet to establish whether or not he is guilty. In arresting Sabinus we stop him from spreading dissent in Rome, and I daresay we are doing him a service in protecting him from the fury of those who love our emperor.’
Valens looked at me with a puzzled expression. He did not appreciate, as I did, that Sabinus was a popular man and that trying him for treason would driv
e many useful men into the arms of Vespasian.
Vitellius, himself an ex-senator, saw the wisdom of my words too. ‘Severus is right, it is Vespasian who has declared himself a traitor, not his brother. In the meantime, Senators, I would ask that you tell your colleagues that their emperor is assured of their loyalty. I will dispatch an army under one of the consuls to bring this mutiny to a swift end. I will of course keep the praetorians here to preserve the peace in Rome.’
‘And the fleet, sire?’ asked the man I didn’t recognize.
‘The eastern fleet can carry on patrolling the Dalmatian coast, Bassus. If these legions are going to invade, we will have to head them off as they cross the Julian Alps. I can’t risk Rome being threatened.’
The deputation understood the significance of keeping the praetorians in Rome. Vitellius couldn’t trust the supporters of Vespasian unless he had loyal troops at hand to deter some audacious move by an ambitious man, or men. But that would seriously reduce the size of the army we could send north.
‘You may go now,’ said Vitellius, dismissing the senators with a wave of his hand. The throne room seemed terribly deserted once they had shuffled out. The emperor and his two generals, and the praetorian prefects that his generals had chosen for him; for a moment it felt like it was only the five of us who stood in Vespasian’s way.
‘Well? You’ve all heard the news, what’s to be done about all this?’ Vitellius asked us.
‘We’ll have to send an army north to counter the invasion from Pannonia and beyond, sire,’ Valens’s man Priscus answered.
‘I had gathered as much,’ Vitellius said acidly. ‘What I want is specifics. Who can we afford to send north, how many, how we can stop this revolt from spreading eastwards—’
‘If it hasn’t already,’ Publilius muttered.
‘We can’t know that for sure,’ Valens said. ‘Our information is that the legate of the legion Galba raised in Hispania has taken charge of the rebel army, and it doesn’t seem that he’s all that keen to wait for reinforcements from Syria and beyond. He’ll want to defeat our veterans by himself. And as we know,’ he looked at me pointedly, ‘such over-confidence will almost certainly backfire on him.’
‘So you want to send an army large enough to defeat this legate…’
‘Primus, sire,’ I told him. ‘Antonius Primus of the Seventh Galbiana.’
‘…this legate, Primus, comprehensively.’
‘Yes, sire. If we can do that, it’ll convince all the other legions in the west to rally to our side, take the defeated legions out of the equation and make Vespasian realize that he’s overreached himself. He can’t abandon the eastern frontier to the Parthians and the rebel Jews. If we can defeat this first invasion, I can’t see anyone else in the east having the stomach for another fight.’
‘Severus?’ Vitellius looked at me questioningly.
‘I agree, sire. The only question is who should command this army.’
The emperor smiled. ‘I take it you want that honour?’
That was an understatement if ever I heard one. With command of the army, I could make a present of it to Vespasian; if I wanted to, that is. I had claimed my reward from Domitia, but neither Vitellius nor Vespasian looked assured of victory yet. If I wanted to keep the position of power I held in Rome I would have to be in the north when the rebel legions emerged from the eastern passes of the Alps.
‘I flatter myself I have a special bond with the men, sire. The detachments from Britannia know me from my time serving under Paulinus against Boudicca. The German auxiliaries know I respect their bravery in battle, and their winter clothing.’ Valens snorted in derision. My wearing trousers in the Alps might have raised a few eyebrows among my fellow officers, but it had greatly endeared me to the Germans, costing only my sartorial reputation. ‘And of course there are my own men from Upper Germania. I have commanded armies, sire, and besides, my estate lies just outside Vicetia, a few days’ march from the Julian Alps. I know the land we’ll be fighting in; I doubt Valens can say the same.’
‘True, but at least I can say that I’ve never been defeated. With respect to Severus, sire, he gets along well with the troops, but this crisis calls for an experienced leader, not the men’s friend. Severus almost threw away his entire army before I arrived to reinforce him; my fear is that he’ll do the same again in an effort to impress you.’
‘It was hardly my fault that I was betrayed,’ I argued. ‘Or am I to blame for thinking my oldest friend would choose Otho over me?’
‘Have you forgotten Placentia, and the farce of your siege?’ Valens retorted.
‘What about when my legion and I saved your neck at Bedriacum? You were so keen to win the battle without me that you sent away thousands of good men on a fool’s errand, and nearly lost to Otho’s men, even though they had kept back thousands of praetorians in camp!’
Publilius and Priscus were edging behind their respective generals, trading insults of their own.
‘Will you all be quiet!’ the emperor shouted. That gave us pause. None of us had ever heard Vitellius shout before.
‘Anyone would think you two were on different sides, the way you talk to each other. The matter is easily settled. Both of you are fine generals in your own right,’ he said patronizingly. ‘Severus, you have twice as much experience as any other man your age, and you would be just as good a choice as Valens.’
The word ‘would’ made my stomach lurch. I knew where this was going.
‘But I need you here in Rome. You’re a gifted nobleman, a man who is at ease among the senators and the mob alike. But Valens here is first and foremost a soldier. I need you, Severus, to fight the political battles instead, helping to keep sweet those who might be tempted to side with Vespasian.’
There was a look of supreme smugness on Valens’s face. It is the look I see whenever I think of Valens these days. No one alive today knew him like I did: Valens the schemer, the plotter, the man who drove me into becoming the bitter, friendless wreck that writes this story. In being chosen to take the army north, while I flattered, cajoled and fawned in Rome on behalf of a man who did not deserve to be emperor, Valens had won a massive victory.
I was summarily dismissed while Valens and Vitellius sat together to draw up their plans of campaign. What was I expected to do? Dash about the city and convince the people one by one that Vespasian was a foul traitor whom the gods would strike down for thinking he could become emperor? But what had Vespasian done that hadn’t already been done by Galba, Otho and now Vitellius? Nothing, except he’d had the sense to bide his time, waiting for the western legions to maul themselves to pieces so he could sweep in with the eastern veterans and knock the latest emperor off the throne. Unless of course the army we sent north could smash Primus and his legions and bring the whole rebellion to a grinding halt.
I barked angrily at the clerks to get out of my way as they scurried through the palace corridors. By the time I had made it to my own office I was fuming. The office door crashed against the wall as I kicked it open. Demetrios looked up, his face apprehensive. Totavalas was perched on the corner of the Greek’s desk, and the two of them had clearly been deep in discussion until I barged in.
‘Is something wrong, Consul?’ Demetrios asked.
‘Well guessed,’ I said darkly. ‘The east is up in arms, Valens has been given control of the army while I kick my heels in Rome, and on top of that I think I just broke my toe!’ The biggest one was still throbbing from when I kicked the door open.
‘Demetrios, can you leave us for a moment?’ Totavalas asked.
‘Why, sir?’
‘Don’t ask, just do it.’ The Greek looked confused as he headed past me. ‘And close the door behind you,’ Totavalas called after him.
The two of us waited in silence for a minute. With a flick of my head I gestured to Totavalas that he should check the door for eavesdroppers, then I pushed past into my own office, that much further from the corridor and hopefully out of earshot.
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‘All clear,’ Totavalas reported. ‘But I don’t understand. This is good news, surely? Six legions in the east declaring for Vespasian, plus the legions in Syria and beyond. Vitellius’s days are numbered, and you do your thing and all will be well.’
‘My thing?’ I asked.
‘Well…’ the Hibernian began, looking faintly embarrassed.
‘Changing sides, is that my thing?’
‘To be fair, you’re a dab hand at picking the winning side, Consul,’ he stressed, as if to make his point.
‘Is that all you think I’m good at, Totavalas?’ I asked.
‘No, of course not,’ he said hastily. ‘You’re a good general, a good politician, and I think you recognize that Rome deserves a decent emperor at last.’
The Hibernian’s words calmed me a little. Yes, I was a good general, and a great strategist. I would hardly have become Vitellius’s right-hand man if I had been neither. And if Vitellius chose not to appreciate my talent or the sacrifices I had made for him, then I was sure that Vespasian would be grateful for my services.
‘But there’s nothing I can do for Vespasian if I’m stuck in the city, placating the Senate,’ I complained bitterly.
‘So in an ideal world you’d like Valens out of the way, so you can lead the army north without him interfering?’
‘Of course I would. I pray every day that Jupiter strikes down the snake with a bolt of lightning, but that doesn’t mean it’s going to happen.’
There was the ghost of a smile on Totavalas’s face. ‘And what if I could arrange that Valens wasn’t around to lead the army?’
‘How?’
‘It’s probably best I don’t tell you. Then if Valens accuses you, you don’t have to lie. Trust me, you’ll be headed north before the week is out.’
The Sword and the Throne Page 29