‘I owe you an apology, Severus.’
Now it was my turn to be confused. ‘An apology, Governor?’
‘Yes, an apology. Come, sit, sit, sit.’ He lowered himself on to the bench and beckoned for me to do the same.
‘I was very short with you that day we came back from Vesontio. You were talking common sense, and I was tired, irritable, and dreaming of a golden future. I must admit that when I heard you had convinced the Fourth to swear the oath to the Senate, I stayed in this house sulking for a few days.’
‘You mean you’ve changed your mind, sir?’
‘In all honesty, I would like you to believe that I had changed it already, even before I heard the latest news from Rome. There have been… developments. It seems Nymphidius Sabinus took it into his head that he could legitimately become emperor, on the strength of his support among the Praetorians, and on a cock and bull story that he was the bastard son of Caligula. I ask you!’ Rufus allowed himself a small chuckle. Sabinus’s mother had indeed been an imperial slave, but the idea that he was Caligula’s son was ludicrous.
‘However, the bribes that Galba promised the Praetorians outweighed any personal loyalty they had towards their prefect, and on entering camp a group of them hacked him to death. The next morning, the Praetorians sent a message to the Senate that they were content to have Galba as their emperor. A delegation of senators has been dispatched to sail to Hispania and confer upon Galba the imperial power. They should be landing at Tarraco any day now.’
I was astonished. Despite everything – Vindex’s idiocy, the ambition of Rufus, Valens and Sabinus – somehow every stumbling block that Galba had faced had vanished. The gods must have been smiling over the old man that day he first dreamed of being emperor.
‘So Capito is dead because he didn’t want to be emperor. I suppose I should be thankful that you are the legate of the Fourth and not Valens, otherwise I might have gone the same way!’
I smiled. Well, what can you say to something like that?
‘I must say, you are quite a remarkable young man, Severus.’
‘Me, sir?’
‘Yes, you. Galba thinks very highly of you, why else would he make you a legate before you turn thirty? You can’t expect anything else from him, he’s already promoted you beyond your station, and you still fight his corner. Who knows, if you’d wanted to, you might have convinced me as Valens tried to convince Capito. And yet you didn’t. Why?’
‘What reason do I need other than the fact that Galba is clearly the best man to bring unity and stability to Rome? If you were in my position, wouldn’t you do the same?’
Rufus smiled. ‘I’d like to think so.’
‘If you, or Capito for that matter, had decided to march south with the legions and invade Italy, you wouldn’t have been an emperor, you would’ve been a conqueror. Using the legions entrusted to your command by the emperor and the Senate to start a bloody civil war.’
‘Like Julius Caesar, you mean?’ Rufus asked.
‘Philosophy and ethics were never my best subjects, Governor.’
‘I was only teasing. You are right, of course, Severus. I would have been a tyrant, not an emperor.’
‘On the bright side, sir, when the historians write of how the Caesar dynasty came to an end, they will say that you defeated Vindex and that you were offered the crown but instead you gave it back to the fatherland.’
Rufus cheered at that. ‘Yes, I did, didn’t I? Thank you, Severus.’
‘If you don’t mind, sir, I think I might go back to camp now.’
‘Of course. I’m glad we had this little chat. We understand each other, I think.’
We shook hands, and Rufus had the slave escort me out. The man who defeated Vindex, but declined the crown. He had those words etched on to his mausoleum that very year, but he is still alive today, and going strong. A vain man, but a decent one. Dear old Rufus.
* * *
I gently strolled up the hill and back into camp. My clerk gave me a small pile of paperwork to look through when I got home. Eventually I came to the front door of my villa. The two men on guard both had the hint of a smile in their expression. I told them to pull themselves together, and went inside.
Still perusing the paperwork, I called out: ‘Totavalas, did you get that necklace?’
‘He certainly did,’ a voice replied.
I looked up. The necklace was right in front of me, nestling just above a pair of shapely breasts. My gaze travelled upwards, to that smooth jaw, those beautiful lips, into her deep blue eyes.
‘Hello, husband.’
XIX
I woke up the next morning with her hand on my chest. It was a glorious feeling. Bear in mind that I hadn’t slept with a woman since a plump little slave girl back in Corduba. To come home and find that my wife had left the convoy and rode on ahead to be with me, well, we spent the whole night celebrating. That is, after she got over the initial shock of discovering that I was down to nine fingers.
There was a blissful smile on Salonina’s face as she lay there sleeping, dreaming of the night before, I hope! Her curls lay strewn across the pillow, and I watched her frame rise and fall with each breath. Gently, I managed to slip out from under her arm without waking her, put on a robe and left the bedroom. I stopped at the door to the spare bedroom, and eased it quietly open. There lay my son, fast asleep after his tiring journey. It was his ninth birthday in two weeks’ time, and he had shot up since I’d last seen him. He had darker, straighter hair like mine, but his mother’s softer features. He would grow into a handsome lad, but if I had one misgiving, it was that Salonina had spoilt him slightly, and that he hardly knew life outside our estates at Vicetia or the villa in Rome. He was a bit young still for the pleasures of Pompeii. But now was the perfect time for him to come to Germania and begin the change from boy to man.
I heard the rustle of silk behind me, and glanced behind to see Salonina in a blue gown that matched her eyes. ‘He’s a beautiful boy, Caecina,’ she whispered.
‘I know, takes after his mother.’
‘Eumenes says that he’s been working very hard at his Greek these last few weeks. He’s even started writing some poems.’
‘There will be some very different lessons for him to learn out here, my love.’
‘I know that, but we can’t have him growing up a little barbarian, can we?’
‘I hated Greek, and I turned out all right!’
‘And you know I’m very proud of you, but we have to think of society, don’t we?’
This was Salonina’s only fault. Society. Everything she did had to be squared with what ‘society’ would think. And her a tradesman’s daughter! Still, we all have our foibles.
‘I have some other big news,’ I began.
‘More news?’
‘On my way here from Hispania, I stayed with Julius Agricola.’
‘How is Julius? And that lovely wife of his…’
‘Domitia. Julius suggested that their daughter Julia would be a good match for Aulus.’
‘Oh.’ She paused. ‘Well, I suppose she would be.’
‘You suppose?’ I asked, not liking the tone of her voice.
‘Well, the Agricola family are a bit provincial, darling. After all, now that you have such excellent prospects, oughtn’t we to be looking a bit higher for our son?’ She caught the look on my face, and said hurriedly, ‘But I know that Julius is your best friend, so we can hardly object.’
‘I think it is an excellent match.’
She paused a moment, looking a trifle crestfallen. ‘Then I think so too.’
We stood there a little longer, watching our sleeping son. Then I took Salonina’s hand in mine, and drew her towards me.
‘What do you think of the villa?’ I asked.
‘Oh, I think I can make something of it.’
‘You’ll have to wait for our furniture to arrive first. I spent the last of my ready money on this,’ I said, lifting up her necklace.
&nb
sp; ‘And it was very sweet of you.’ She kissed me on the cheek. ‘Will you come back to bed?’
‘I can’t, I have to do my exercises, and then some paperwork.’
‘You could always do your exercises with me,’ she suggested.
‘Now that’s a thought…’ and, taking her by the hand, we went back to bed.
* * *
Those months were among the happiest of my life. Salonina revelled in being a legate’s wife, and the highest lady in Mogontiacum society. Rufus wasn’t married, you see, and my fellow legate Dillius Vocula was a first-generation senator, so I socially outranked Vocula and my wife outranked his. She insisted we host dinner parties, attend receptions and so many functions that you’d think being a legate was more a social position than a military one. We must have wined and dined half the province by the time autumn arrived, by which point Salonina had decided who was worth a second invitation and who was not, sifting the social wheat from the chaff. After that she could forge her own intimate circle, and hold court in our triclinium.
With my first pay packet, I bought Aulus a horse for his ninth birthday, and we would go out riding almost every day. Of course we never went too far; my warhorse Achilles wasn’t built to do miles and miles of cross-country, and I had duties to attend to back in camp. But I was thrilled that, as the weeks went by, Aulus spent less and less time with his tutor, and more and more in camp with me. He watched as the soldiers drilled and wrestled, and I even had one of the drill-masters teach him a little swordplay.
* * *
As idyllic as our existence was, trouble was brewing in the south. Galba had been acclaimed emperor by the delegation of senators, and instead of joining them on their ship back to Rome he decided to take the land route with his new Seventh legion. Their commander, Titus Vinius, a close friend of Galba (some would say an intimate friend), had obsequiously given it the nickname Galbiana. Magnificent subtlety, you’ll agree. All was going well until they reached Gaul.
First, a decree was issued, demanding the execution of all those who had conspired with Nymphidius Sabinus. Along with some of Sabinus’s creatures, this decree included two prominent men, Mithridates of Pontus, once a client king in the Bosphorus but now a resident of Rome; and the consul-designate for the next year, Cingonius Varro. Now these two deaths were justified. Perhaps showing a lack of clemency on Galba’s part, but nonetheless justified. However, also condemned to death was the legate Clodius Macer, whom Galba had persuaded to help turn the screw on Nero by impounding the grain ships on their route from Africa to Rome. His crime was to have raised a second legion in Africa, and this was interpreted as a sign that Macer too harboured ambitions to wear the purple. Of course Galba could not countenance even the slightest risk of a rival, and the list of the dead continued to grow.
News of these grisly events trickled through to us in Germania, and while one might have overlooked the deaths as necessary for the stability of the empire, Galba’s next moves were particularly disturbing. He had the governor of Aquitania executed. His only crime was having dared to ask Galba for troops to put down the Vindex rebellion, as a loyal governor should have done. Verginius Rufus begged me to send a letter to Galba, reiterating his loyalty. I mean, if Galba executed a governor simply because he had wanted to end a rebellion, what would he do to the man who had come so close to challenging him for the imperial crown? Of course I sent the letter.
An even bigger mistake was Galba’s treatment of the various Gallic tribes that had been involved in the Vindex rebellion. The Aedui, Arverni and Sequani had made up most of Vindex’s army, and those who did not march with us had contributed what weapons and provisions they could spare. By way of thanks, Galba reduced their annual tribute to Rome, and gave them new lands. Of course these new lands had to come from somewhere, and Galba thought it fitting to take them from the tribes that had stayed loyal and helped the Rhine legions. The men did not respond well to this. It was as though Galba was going out of his way to denigrate and dishonour the Rhine legions which had been so troublesome to him. The one piece of Valens’s advice that I did take up was to wander through camp after hours. Aside from the run-of-the-mill conversation, the talk was all of the ‘slap in the face’ that Galba had given them, and many wondered why Rufus had not gratefully accepted their support.
In an effort to distract them from this barrage of gloomy news, I suggested to my colleague Vocula that we take the men on a route march, so that they might shed any extra weight they had gained after an idle summer. Vocula, a stoic and silent man at the best of times, agreed that it would be good for them to do some hard work at last.
* * *
A couple of days before the march, I was sitting at my desk, doing nothing in particular, when there was a knock.
‘Come in.’
One of the clerks cleared his throat nervously. ‘There’s an imperial courier here, sir, who has a message for you and for Governor Rufus.’
‘Well, show him in.’
‘He said that he was ordered to deliver the governor’s message first, and he came to ask you to guide him to the governor’s villa.’
‘All right. Have a look through these requisition forms and process them while I’m gone.’
The courier was still in his saddle when I came out. He threw me a smart salute, and I gave a quick nod of acceptance.
‘Ready, then?’ I asked.
The young man looked confused. ‘You’re not riding, sir?’
‘No need. It’s a short walk, and I like the exercise. It’ll give your horse a break too; the poor beast looks like it could do with it.’
‘After you then, sir.’
I waited until we were on the lonely road between the camp and the town, out of earshot of my men, to ask the courier what the message was all about.
‘I’m afraid I haven’t a clue, sir. I was just given the messages by one of the emperor’s freedmen.’
‘It wasn’t by any chance a thin, effeminate-looking man?’
‘How did you know that, sir?’
‘Never mind.’ Icelus Martianus had retained his influence with Galba, then. There were always rumours that Galba favoured his own sex. After all, he had been widowed fairly early on in his life, and had never remarried. And Icelus Martianus had one of those slender figures and pretty faces that didn’t suffer much as he aged.
As I strode down the road and into the town, I wondered what Galba had to say that affected both me and Rufus. The latest reports said that the emperor and his entourage had come as far north as Vienne. Perhaps he was giving us fair warning of an imperial visit? Or maybe Galba had heard how I had stabilized the situation in the province, and that Rufus had given up his designs on the throne? In any case, we had done nothing to merit any punishment, so I was pretty confident that whatever the message was, it contained good news.
Rufus was dozing in a shaded spot in the garden, a half-opened scroll lying on the table next to his chair. The slave who had showed us in gently woke his master.
‘Master… Master!’
The eyes opened in a flash. ‘What is it?’
‘An imperial courier has a message for you, he’s here with the Legate Severus.’
‘Oh. Thank you, Aristides, you can leave us now.’
The courier saluted Rufus, and promptly handed over a tightly bound scroll.
‘A message from the emperor, sir.’
We both stood there in complete silence as Rufus read the letter. After his eyes had flicked from left to right a few times, his whole demeanour changed from alert and upright to a disheartened slump. Another few minutes passed until he finished the letter.
He looked wearily at the messenger. ‘Is he far behind you?’
‘A day or two at the most, Governor. He is not a young man any more.’
Rufus smiled grimly. ‘That is very true. Well, thank you for the message. I’m sure my slaves will find something in the kitchens for you before you begin your journey back.’
The courier took a st
ep forward and saluted the governor once more. ‘Thank you, sir.’ Then he turned right round to face me, blocking Rufus’s view of me. With his right hand he saluted me, and with the left he held out a folded piece of paper which also bore the imperial seal. Moving as little as possible, I took the note and stuffed it behind my belt, smiling my thanks and appreciation of the man’s discretion.
Rufus watched the courier out of the garden, and began to speak only when he was out of sight.
‘I take it you haven’t heard the news already?’
‘Is the emperor coming?’ I asked.
‘No, not the emperor. Someone else.’
‘Who then?’
‘My replacement.’
‘You mean…’ I began.
‘I mean that Galba has relieved me of my command and summoned me to join him on his march to Rome.’
Rufus looked as dejected as a farmer in a drought. His shoulders seemed to sag beneath a heavy load. The letter fell from his limp fingers and on to his lap.
‘The news could be worse, Governor.’
‘Could it? Listen to this: “We thank you for your long years of service in Germania, however we require you to give up these duties so that you may join our entourage as we march to Rome.” Now what do you make of that?’
I saw his point. This, coupled with the summer’s stream of news that Galba had been less than forgiving with his subjects, was ominous. ‘When I was with the emperor in Tarraco, he did say that he would create a council that would advise him until he reached Rome.’
Rufus’s face brightened for a moment. ‘You mean that’s why Galba is summoning me?’
‘Why else should he do so?’
‘Aside from the fact that I command troops who offered me the throne not so long ago?’
‘Is there no hint in the letter?’
‘Not really, the rest was pretty formulaic stuff. No mention of thanks, no mention of my loyalty, no mention of his plans for me once I arrive, nothing. He’s going to kill me, isn’t he?’
The Last Caesar Page 22