Emperor of Rome

by Robert Fabbri

  Magnus scowled and took a mighty swig.

  ‘In the meantime, I’ll send warnings to Tiberius Alexander and Mucianus for them to be on their guard. I’ll also order the harbourmaster here not to allow any ships to dock until he’s found out who is on board and has sought my permission; if Galba sent more than one party of assassins I want them arrested as they disembark.’

  ‘You realise that if you were to do that, it would put you in direct defiance of the Emperor? It would be an act of rebellion.’

  ‘I already am a rebel; I’m just trying to keep it hidden until the time is right for me.’ Vespasian looked up as Hormus put his head around the door. ‘Well?’

  ‘You have visitors, master.’

  Before Vespasian could ask who it was, Hormus opened the door fully.

  ‘Thank my Lord Mithras that we’ve come in time,’ Sabinus said, walking into the room with a large leather bag slung over his shoulder and Malichus following, beaming as always. ‘Galba has sent assassins.’

  CHAPTER X

  ‘YOU’VE HAD A narrow escape then, brother,’ Sabinus said after Vespasian had told him what had occurred. ‘We’ve travelled non-stop since we heard that they had been despatched in the hope of overtaking them; I didn’t think we would make it.’

  ‘Well, you didn’t,’ Magnus pointed out.

  ‘I’m sorry to hear about your boys, Magnus,’ Sabinus said.

  ‘Why did you come, Sabinus?’ Caenis asked. ‘Surely Malichus alone would have been sufficient?’

  Sabinus considered the question for a few moments, his face grave. ‘Well, there are two reasons, I suppose. When Galba arrived in Rome at the beginning of October one of the first things he did was replace me with Aulus Ducenius Geminus. I expected to be executed promptly but, despite that, I stayed in Rome. It was Tigellinus’ inability not to gloat that saved me by letting it slip to Malichus that the new prefect of the Praetorian Guard had sent one of his centurions, on Galba’s orders, to deal with you, as he put it. I realised that the reason I hadn’t been executed yet was that Galba was waiting for news of Vespasian’s death before killing me. He feared that if I was murdered first, you would rebel if the news reached you before the assassins, or that if the attempt on your life was botched, as it was, I would be killed anyway as you would’ve been forced into rebellion anyhow. Staying in Rome therefore seemed a stupid option and, as I was no longer the prefect and so no longer obliged to be within a hundred miles of the city, I left with Malichus the night he told me.’

  ‘Why did Tigellinus tell you, Malichus?’ Vespasian asked.

  ‘Ahhh!’ Malichus beamed, his teeth shining like many miniature moons from within his bush of a beard. ‘Because he and his colleague, Nymphidius Sabinus, had turned the Guard against Nero, Galba obviously wanted such untrustworthy men dead. Nymphidius tried to make himself emperor but failed and was executed at Galba’s feet; but Tigellinus managed to survive by grovelling to him and his general, Titus Vinius, apparently claiming that he had saved Vinius’ daughter’s life by hiding her when Nero had ordered her death upon hearing of Galba’s rebellion and Vinius’ part in it. The daughter confirmed it and he was allowed to remain alive but was replaced in the Guard by Cornelius Laco.’

  Caenis tapped the table, applauding in appreciation. ‘Very clever; Tigellinus was always one for backing both chariots.’

  Malichus beamed even more broadly in agreement. ‘Yes, he was boasting to me about just how he had done it and how he, now that he had the Emperor’s ear, was hoping that Galba might send him to be the new procurator of Judaea, a position that he would be highly suitable for seeing as he is an equestrian. He said that I would be advised to be courteous to him as he could well be in a position to make life very difficult for me in the near future. I pointed out that I was high in your favour, Vespasian, and he laughed, saying that you wouldn’t be of any use to me before long and that’s when he told me about the assassins.’

  ‘Tigellinus coming to Judaea would be a fine act of justice,’ Vespasian mused. ‘They deserve each other. Did Tigellinus tell you who he planned to replace me with?’

  Malichus’ radiance faded.

  ‘Well?’ Vespasian insisted.

  Caenis raised her hand, stopping Malichus from replying. ‘I can guess.’

  ‘Can you? I can’t.’

  ‘Mucianus.’ Caenis looked at Malichus, who nodded.

  ‘Mucianus?’ Vespasian exclaimed.

  ‘Of course, my love, he’s the obvious choice: if you, he and Tiberius Alexander are all working together, the sole way that Galba could change things and make himself slightly more secure in the East is by getting one of you in his debt.’

  Vespasian understood the line of Caenis’ thinking. ‘Therefore get rid of one of us and give his responsibility to one of the others, thus securing him into Galba’s debt and keeping the third quiet as he has little choice but to co-operate with his very powerful colleague, unless he wants a visit from a Praetorian centurion with a knife. Yes, it would work.’ Vespasian looked between Sabinus and Malichus. ‘The question is: did Mucianus know?’

  Sabinus shook his head. ‘I wondered that and I think the answer is no. Galba had no need to warn Mucianus in advance; Mucianus wouldn’t have refused having his command doubled after your murder but he might have decided he would be better off siding with you if he had advance warning of it.’

  Vespasian considered this awhile. ‘But we don’t know for certain. I need to have a meeting with Mucianus to look into his eyes and find out for sure.’

  Caenis agreed. ‘Yes, my love, you’re right: we need to be confident that we can trust him.’

  Vespasian looked back to Sabinus. ‘You said there were two reasons for you coming in person; what’s the second?’

  ‘I can’t discuss it here, Brother, not in front of Caenis, Magnus and Malichus.’

  Malichus got up. ‘I will leave you in peace.’

  As the Nabataean king left the room, Sabinus indicated to Caenis and Magnus.

  ‘Oh, come on,’ Vespasian said, ‘you know perfectly well that you can say anything you like in front of them.’

  ‘I know I can; but not this. I need to have a private chat with you, Brother. I believe that the time our father foresaw all those years ago has come and although the oath that he made us swear to, the day before we left for Rome, allows me to overcome the one which our mother made the whole family swear sixteen years previously, it only allows me to talk to you. I’d be breaking the original oath if I discussed in front of Caenis and Magnus the auspices that were read at your naming ceremony, and you need to hear about them now.’

  Vespasian’s heart beat fast as Caenis and Magnus left the room and Sabinus refreshed his throat with another cup of wine.

  ‘Well?’ Vespasian asked, unable to conceal his excitement at finally being told the nature of the prophecy that he had first overheard his parents discussing forty-three years before on the day his brother had returned from his four years’ service as a military tribune with the VIIII Hispana.

  Sabinus looked at his brother and for the first time in Vespasian’s memory gave him a warm, fraternal smile. ‘Well, Brother, it has come to this; you need my help. Our father, may Mithras warm his soul with his light, was right to make us both swear that oath together; it means I can tell you what I remember of that day. It’s very clear, although I didn’t understand what it meant at the time; however, just recently, I’ve put it together.’

  Vespasian could barely contain the urge to hurry Sabinus along as he paused and refilled his cup.

  ‘Do you remember the prophecy read to us by the priest at the Oracle of Amphiaraos all those years ago?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘How did it go?’

  Vespasian thought for a couple of moments and then smiled slowly as it came to him.

  ‘“Two tyrants fall quickly, close trailed by another,

  In the East the King hears the truth from a brother.

  With his gift the lio
n’s steps through sand he should follow,

  So to gain from the fourth the West on the morrow.” Or something like that.’

  ‘That’s exactly how I remember it. Well, I worked out its meaning when I considered the marks on the livers of the three sacrifices at your naming ceremony.’

  Vespasian wanted to slap the cup from Sabinus’ hand as he paused for another sip.

  ‘Well, Galba is not going to last; that has become obvious. People are already calling him a tyrant for his attitude to the army and potential rivals, and cancelling the donative to the army means that he has few friends. He replaced Nero whom everyone in their right minds agreed was a tyrant. So if Galba falls quickly, soon after Nero, then there’ll be a third and, shortly after that, a fourth; so whoever that is will be the eighth Emperor.’

  Vespasian mentally tallied up. ‘Yes, so?’

  ‘So, little brother, look at you; here in the East with one of the largest armies entrusted to anyone at the moment. Here because Nero thought that our background was too humble, too lacking in distinction, for you to be a threat, but in reality you are the power in the Roman East, the king even, and I’m your brother, here to tell you the truth.’

  He paused to gather his thoughts, took a deep breath and then began: ‘I remember our father’s expression being one of incredulity as he examined, first, the liver of the ram and then the boar and finally that of the ox; he kept on staring at them and then held them up for all to see. I came forward and saw that there was clearly a strong mark on each of them and I was happy because I was jealous of you and thought that blemishes on all three livers were a sure sign that Mars had rejected you. But then I looked closer and even at that age I knew what the first one of them, the one on the ram’s liver, looked like: it was clearly half an eagle’s head, the eye and hooked beak. The other two I just memorised as they meant nothing to me at the time. Not until Galba entered Rome, and it became obvious that he would not last, did I remember the Oracle of Amphiaraos and realised that it had been predestined that you would be the ninth Emperor. I could not withhold that from you because, armed with that information, your actions may well be different.’

  Vespasian’s throat felt mightily constricted. ‘What makes you think that I will be the ninth?’

  ‘Because the second liver, that of the boar, contained two marks where three veins had come to the surface; one was on its own, a straight line, next to the other two which had crossed: an “I” and an “X”. Nine. An eagle, the imperial sign, and a nine. I had to tell you.’

  Vespasian put his hand across the table and squeezed that of his brother. ‘Thank you, Sabinus, thank you. But tell me, what was the third mark?’

  ‘That was the hardest one to work out: it was a slightly curved vertical line with four or five little bubbles hanging off it very close together. It took me the whole journey here to come up with the answer. Remember you told me how, after witnessing the rebirth of the Phoenix, you were taken to the Temple of Amun in Siwa; you said the god spoke to you? But he told you that you had come too soon to know what question you should ask and you should come back when you had a gift that could match the one laid across the god’s knees?’

  ‘Alexander the Great’s sword. Yes. The god said that a brother would know how to match it.’

  ‘“With his gift the lion’s steps through sand he should follow.” You need to go back to Siwa, and then I saw what the mark was: it was grain. Your route to the Purple will be by taking Egypt and controlling the grain supply to Rome and whilst you’re there you must go to Siwa and consult the god.’

  ‘But how can I match that gift then?’

  ‘I’ve brought it with me.’

  ‘What is it?’

  Sabinus picked up the large leather bag from the floor and handed it to Vespasian. ‘It was something that you gave to Caligula: Alexander’s breastplate that you stole from his mausoleum in Alexandria.’

  Vespasian opened the bag and pulled out the breastplate; it was exactly how he remembered it: dark brown boiled leather, moulded to the muscles it concealed and protected, inlaid with a silver prancing horse on each pectoral; not an ostentatious parade-ground ornament with protruding decoration that could catch a spear-point but, rather, practical battlewear that had once belonged to the greatest conqueror who had ever lived. And there it was: the stain on the left side, the blemish that reassured Vespasian that it was genuine for he had recreated it on the replica that he had replaced it with, which, as far as he knew, still lay on Alexander’s mummified body under the crystal lid in his mausoleum. ‘Where did you get this, Sabinus?’

  ‘After Caligula drove over his bridge wearing it he must have just forgotten all about it; anyway, Claudius found it soon after he became emperor, recognised it for what it was and, wanting to keep it in Rome but, at the same time, needing to avoid causing an incident with visiting Alexandrians, he placed in it the treasury. I knew it was there from my time as prefect of the city so, when I realised what it could be used for, I called in a favour from one of the three vigintiviri who oversee the treasury – as prefect I’d used my influence to get him that position. He simply walked out with it in this bag and handed it to me. And there you have it.’

  Vespasian admired the breastplate again, running his fingers over the silver inlays and then smelling the ancient leather. ‘Thank you, Sabinus; this might persuade the god to speak to me again but it doesn’t solve the problem of what to ask him so that I can “gain from the fourth the West on the morrow”. Assuming that I’m going to, that is.’

  ‘I think it’s right to assume it, Vespasian: the Phoenix, Amun, Amphiaraos, the livers, Antonia giving you her father’s sword that she had always said she would give to the grandson she thought would make the best Emperor; and when you told me the story I said: “and why not?” I’ve always had the suspicion in the back of my mind; that’s why I didn’t want to hear the prophecy of Amphiaraos.’

  ‘I remember you saying that you didn’t want to be left behind.’

  ‘Yes, and I meant it at the time; I was thinking that if you heard what the priest had to say then that suspicion would grow into a certainty and you would eclipse me, the elder brother, and I would be left behind. I couldn’t bear that thought. Remember how jealous I was of you? How much I hated you? How I always called you “you little shit”? Well, it changed after Amphiaraos when you turned on me and insisted the priest read the prophecy aloud; I saw a will within you and from that day on I started to respect you.’

  ‘And to lose your fear of being left behind?’

  Sabinus smiled. ‘You little shit; yes, if you want to know. It’s receded over the years; I can cope with it now, and especially now as I see it as being inevitable that you will eclipse me and leave me behind.’

  ‘I’ll not leave you behind, Sabinus; if what you, and perhaps I, believe comes to pass then you will always be the prefect of the city in my Rome. But anyway, none of what you say absolutely confirms my destiny.’

  ‘How much more do you want? And then, of course, there’s Myrddin, the immortal druid of Britannia, who said that he had seen your future and it scared him because one day you would have the power but fail to use it to bring an end to whatever he thinks is going to kill true religion.’

  ‘That doesn’t mean that I’m destined to be emperor.’

  ‘Well then, what does it mean? He put enough effort into luring you, on your own free will, to the place that he had chosen for your death so that the prophecy that he had seen would be void because you had voluntarily chosen to die. But anyway, whatever you might think of Myrddin, everything else points in your favour, so, if I were you, Brother, I would start planning what course of action to take as soon as there is a change on the Palatine, because there will be one soon.’

  ‘I have.’

  Sabinus was visibly surprised. ‘I thought that you just said that none of what I’ve told you confirms you will become emperor.’

  ‘I did. But that’s different from thinking it possi
ble. Mucianus, Tiberius Alexander and I have an understanding: we have agreed that should the eastern legions make a move against the West, I am the obvious figurehead, as Tiberius Alexander is a Jew and Mucianus is … well, he doesn’t have a son. Planning it is different from believing that it will happen. Making a bid for power is one of the most dangerous things anyone can attempt and it often ends up in death, not only for the person in question but also his entire family; remember Sejanus? Remember that I was in charge of his children’s garrotting? Do you remember that, because it is unlucky to execute a virgin, I had to order the gaoler to rape the seven-year-old girl? Do you remember, Sabinus?’

  Sabinus’ face was dark with the memory. ‘Yes, I do, Brother; and I imagine it’s not a deed that you are proud of nor is it a memory that you cherish.’

  ‘Right on both counts. But I saw then at first hand just what a failed bid for power can do. I remember Sejanus giving me some advice just before he died: he told me that if I was ever in a position to attain power, seize it with both hands, do not wait for it to be given you as someone else may grab it first and they will kill you for coming so close to the thing they now own and covet.’

  ‘That was good advice.’

  ‘I know; and that’s why I will take it. I shall make sure that I don’t put myself in a position whereby I can attain power without knowing that I can seize it before someone else does; I have no wish to be the cause of the extinction of our family, Sabinus. Either I immortalise it or I stay as an unremarkable New Man from an undistinguished background with no ambition to go any further than the, frankly, surprising heights that I have already achieved; a safe pair of hands in other words. Vespasian the mule-breeder with the Sabine accent and the manners of a bumpkin; that’s how many people see me; Corvinus used to taunt me with it at every opportunity. Well, that’s how I’m going to stay unless there is a clear chance that I can surprise people and be something completely different.’