Achilles’s hooves pounded the frosty turf, and as I came nearer and nearer I saw the men more clearly. Where were the red tunics of the legionaries? All I could see was the occasional glint of the winter sun on metal. Someone must have recognized me or the horse, because the large oak doors swung slowly open as I approached. Looking up at the men on the walls, I saw they were armed with nothing more than kitchen knives.
‘What in Jupiter’s name is going on here?’ I bellowed.
Then my eyes caught sight of a small, wiry man wearing the armour of a legate. What would a legate be doing in my house?
‘Are you all right, master?’ a young Celtic voice called down from the walls.
‘Totavalas?’ I said incredulously.
Behind me, the door to the villa itself opened.
‘Aulus?’
Salonina stood there, a small dagger in her hand. She dropped it and ran towards me, her chestnut hair streaming behind her. I barely had time to get out of the saddle before we were wrapped in each other’s arms.
* * *
Salonina, Aulus and I were seated at our kitchen table. As a special honour, Totavalas sat with us.
‘Why didn’t you ride south as I told you?’ I asked my wife.
She reached over the table and clasped my hand tightly. ‘We have spent too long apart, my love, and now that we’re together again, I wasn’t going to leave you in danger while we rode to safety.’
‘When the mistress said that she was going to stay put,’ Totavalas interrupted, ‘I thought it best to try and make this place defendable. The guards had run off to camp when they heard the trouble, you see, and that left just me and the other slaves. So we made the best of it, all grabbing knives, rolling pins, anything we could lay our hands on. I figured if we put as many armed men as possible up on the walls, nice and visible, they might deter a looter or two. Then I thought, begging your pardon, that if they saw an officer on the walls, well, it could only help us. So I went and borrowed your spare armour, master, and mighty big it was on me too. Thank the gods it never came to a scrap, we’d not have lasted long, that’s for sure.’
‘Totavalas and the slaves were so brave, darling. All they had for armour were a few pots and pans, and they would have risked their lives to defend us,’ Salonina told me.
‘I wanted to fight too,’ Aulus said.
‘Begging your pardon, Master Aulus, but your father would have had my guts pulled out if we let anything happen to you. That’s why I told you and your mother to lock yourselves safely indoors, with a dagger each if things came to the worst.’
‘Well, Totavalas, it sounds as though you’re a better soldier than you are a body slave,’ I began.
‘You could be a little more grateful than that,’ Salonina chided me.
I held up my hand for silence, then continued. ‘You have shown bravery and loyalty far beyond what we could have expected of you. Would you stand up?’
The slave stood up, looking confused, and even more so when I took a delicate dagger from the table. Then I stood, and held the blade to his neck. His eyes looked questioningly into mine. A quick flick of my wrist, and there was the noise of something breaking on the floor. I had cut the cord which held our tablet of ownership.
‘You are now a freedman. Thank you, Totavalas.’ I embraced him, as a grateful husband and father.
* * *
‘Didn’t you hear me? I said you’re a lucky son of a bitch.’
I nodded my agreement, and watched the water splash off my sandals as I walked. Everyone in Colonia with any sense was indoors on that filthy evening a few days later as Valens and I strolled along the forum. It was early evening, the market stalls had long been closed or wheeled back home. We had the place to ourselves, aside from the miserable beggars on street corners, and the stray dogs that roam all cities hunting for scraps.
I had been very lucky in some things. A family that loved me, and I loved them back. Salonina was pregnant, and my son was promised to the daughter of my best friend, a man who would certainly go on to be one of the greatest generals of our time. Totavalas had been an incredible find, and I was pleased when he decided to stay on with the family. Of course he had nowhere else to go until he earned enough money to make him independent. He was here in Colonia with me. That agile mind of his would surely come in useful. My happy thoughts were marred by the brooding presence of the man walking alongside me. Valens, the schemer, the plotter.
Vocula’s words had hurt me. I promised myself I would never become like Valens. All he cared for was himself. I had a higher loyalty, one that I had tried to instil in my son. Pietas. Honour the gods, the family and Rome.
‘I was with Vitellius that night,’ Valens continued.
‘Night? Which night?’ I said, coming out of my reverie.
‘New year’s day. Vitellius, me, one or two others. Vitellius has a wonderful cook. He needs to be good, to keep the big man happy.’ He chuckled. ‘Your messenger burst in when Vitellius had his fat face buried in some chicken. Nice touch, sending your standard bearer to the provincial capital to offer him the loyalty of his legion.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Was it also you who told the messenger to acclaim him emperor?’ he asked.
‘The aquilifer speaks for the legion, not me,’ I said, cautiously.
‘I must admit, you stole a march on me. Of course I had my men salute him as emperor the next day, but you stuck your neck out for him. He won’t forget that.’
‘Nor will you, it seems.’ I didn’t like where this conversation was going. This was the man, remember, who murdered an imperial governor for not being as ambitious as he was.
‘You have one legion, and I guess Primigenia support you. I have mine, and there are more legions in Lower Germania than your province. We both have Vitellius’s gratitude. Let us see where it takes us.’
We walked on in silence for the last part of the journey. The governor’s palace loomed before us, flickering torches illuminating the faces of the guards stationed outside. They stood, motionless. Raindrops would fall on the curve of the helmet above the neck, then run off to drip constantly on to their shoulders and back, but they bore the irritation well.
‘Legates Valens and Severus to see the governor,’ I announced. The guards stood even straighter to attention, if that was possible, and we were allowed in. We were led by a slave through a long colonnade, flanked on either side by beautifully manicured gardens. It was a comfort to find luxuries like these on the banks of the Rhine, with barbarian tribesmen only a few miles away. It was a reminder of what Romans could achieve when they put their minds to it. Not gardens, I mean, but you could see the benefits of civilization and Roman rule from Britannia to Parthia, from the cold wastes of Germania to the searing desert of Libya. But all of this is nothing without the army to defend it. Vitellius was a man the legions could follow. Gods, that line looks strange now that I read it back. But all those years ago it seemed true. All of Germania, the veteran legions of the west, had declared for Vitellius. Surely nothing could stop him now?
The slave showed us into a huge atrium, seemingly made all the bigger by the lack of furniture and art that you would expect a wealthy senator to display to his guests. We stood in silence for a time. I had nothing to say to Valens. But there was another question the man wanted to ask.
‘What I still don’t understand,’ he said softly, ‘is why you decided to join me in the first place.’
‘I did not join you, Valens. I came to the conclusion that Galba was not the emperor I hoped he would be. The legions weren’t happy either, so I made my choice for the good of the empire, not for myself.’
‘Bollocks. You were Galba’s blue-eyed boy, why would you betray him?’
‘Did it not occur to you that Galba might want to get rid of me once he was in Rome?’
‘So he shafted you like he did me, eh? Two of a kind, we are. Vitellius is weak; together we will rule our future emperor.’
‘We are not alik
e,’ I told him. ‘Do you want to know why Galba ignored you?’
‘Why?’
‘Because I told him to,’ I said venomously. ‘Because you are a liar, a schemer and a murderer. We all have ambitions, Valens. Yes, I admit that when Galba first brought me into his conspiracy I was excited. Nero was rotting the empire from the top downwards, and Galba promised change for the better, and a career for me. But if you had gone through what I have these past months, you would not relish what we are about to do. Thousands of men have given their lives because of the ambition of men like you, and your scheming has made war inevitable. All I have done is choose which side is the right one for the good of the empire.’
While I spoke, Valens’s face had gone redder and redder, his knuckles almost white. Before he could curse me, we heard a door open, and another slave gestured for us to enter. The two of us walked towards the door.
Valens whispered, ‘So we are enemies, then?’
‘You are no friend of mine, if that’s what you mean,’ I answered.
‘So be it.’
* * *
‘Severus, Valens, you’re just in time. Slave, bring out some more wine. I want to be in my cups before suppertime.’
The huge Vitellius waddled over, took a moment to change his goblet to his left hand, and then took my right in his fleshy grip. ‘Severus, I want to thank you for the confidence that you have shown in me.’
‘The confidence of my legion, Caesar, more importantly than mine,’ I replied modestly.
‘Quite so, quite so. But please don’t call me that. I am not a Caesar. Gods, my grandfather was Augustus’s steward, only just a knight.’
‘Germanicus, then?’ Valens suggested. ‘He made his name on the Rhine, and could have been Caesar if he wished.’
‘Germanicus, eh? I like it. But we can attend to those matters later. First we must celebrate, feast and drink, preferably all at once!’ Vitellius laughed boisterously, even spilling some wine on the floor.
‘If the gods are willing,’ he continued, ‘I will be emperor. And as emperor, I will need two consuls.’
He drank heavily from his goblet, but still kept his clever eyes on both of us, watching our reaction. Vitellius may not have been a subtle man, but gods he could be generous! Me, consul? Less than a year ago I had been sailing for Hispania, just twenty-nine years old, on the first step of my military career. Now this man was dangling in front of us the highest honour in the empire. Salonina would be wild with delight. The slave brought two more goblets on a silver tray. Valens and I picked them up. Forgetting our differences for a brief moment, we raised them in salute.
‘To Aulus Vitellius Germanicus,’ we toasted. Vitellius smiled, and proposed his own toast: ‘To the men who will give me an empire, and who will receive their just rewards.’
Timeline
AD 14 – Death of Augustus. Imperator, Princeps and Pater Patriae, Augustus cloaks himself in republican imagery while establishing the dynasty that will rule Rome. He is succeeded by his stepson, Tiberius.
AD 37 – Death of Tiberius. Vilified for the rise of treason trials and unleashing the ambitious Sejanus upon Rome, he retreats to Capri, bitter that the throne he had coveted for so long has given him no enjoyment. Chooses Caligula as his heir, allegedly so that his own reign will be remembered favourably in comparison.
AD 41 – Caligula’s reign is short and savage. He declares himself a god, is thought to have had an incestuous relationship with his sisters and displays a flagrant disregard for the Senate. He is assassinated by a group of officers. There are few members of the Julio-Claudian dynasty left, but the Praetorian Guard find Caligula’s uncle, the limping, twitching and stammering Claudius, and declare him emperor.
AD 54 – Death of Claudius. He is succeeded by his stepson Lucius Domitius Ahenobarus, who on his adoption as Claudius’s son takes the name Nero. He ascends the throne aged seventeen. Britannicus, Claudius’s only son, dies a few months later in mysterious circumstances.
AD 58 – Nero’s mother, Agrippina, comes to regret helping her son to the throne. Over the course of three years he strips her of her power and honours, expels her from the imperial palace, and finally has her murdered.
AD 60–1 – Boudicca rebels against Rome. Finally defeated at the Battle of Watling Street by Suetonius Paulinus.
AD 64 – Nero ‘fiddled while Rome burned’. The Great Fire of Rome: Nero blames and persecutes the Christians, then builds a new Golden Palace on the area cleared by the fire.
AD 65 – Gaius Calpurnius Piso leads a conspiracy to overthrow the emperor, because of his lack of respect for the Senate and his increasingly despotic rule. The conspiracy is betrayed and the plotters are executed, including Nero’s old tutor, the philosopher Seneca.
AD 67 – Nero orders his most successful general, Domitius Corbulo, to commit suicide.
AD 68 – Aulus Caecina Severus is posted to southern Spain as the new quaestor.
Historical Note
I always make a point of reading the historical note, even the reams in the Flashman Papers that detail the lives of exiled maharajahs and tomahawk-toting tribesmen. But I don’t think I’ve ever seen a hat tip to Wikipedia, and probably for good reason. I must admit that before writing this book, the ‘Year of the Four Emperors’ was little more than a phrase I had chanced upon in my studies. My tutorials in Roman history had focused on the period from Hannibal to Claudius, and there had been a centuries-wide gap until the fall of the Western Roman Empire. I knew that I was going to write a Roman novel; the question was when to set it. This is where five minutes on Wikipedia gave me a story worth writing. Strictly speaking, this period should be known as the Eighteen Months of the Five Emperors, though I can see why the name didn’t catch on. Imagine my surprise on finding such a wonderful central figure in Aulus Caecina Alienus, a soldier and politician intricately involved in the chaos of AD 68–9.
Like every aspiring historical novelist, I am sure, I set out with the intention to remain as close to the facts as I possibly could. The trouble is that we know next to nothing about Caecina before his betrayal of Nero for Galba. We know that he had been born in Vicenza, and that Tacitus calls him ‘young, good-looking, tall and upstanding, as well as possessing inordinate ambition and some skill in words’. We also know that Galba had recruited him to his conspiracy once he had arrived as the new quaestor in southern Spain. When searching for what sort of background he came from, I wasn’t able to find any other members of the Caecina Alieni tribe, but a few from the Caecina Severi. The fact that Alienus can be translated as ‘the stranger’ was too good an opportunity to waste. There had been a precedent for bestowing illustrious Romans with a new cognomen to honour their achievements, hence Coriolanus and Africanus. Given the fate of Caecina at the end of this period, why shouldn’t a cognomen be used to shame a Roman? The other liberty I have taken with Caecina’s background is to have given him a role in Boudicca’s revolt. It was customary for young men from the senatorial order to serve as tribunes for the first years of adulthood. For reasons of plot I had decided to make Caecina a close friend of Julius Agricola; so why not have them serving together in Britain, given they were the right age to have taken part in the campaign?
The Vindex Rebellion has also been left as unchanged as possible. Julius Vindex, a Romano–Gaul, did indeed write letters to his neighbouring governors. Most of them would probably have reported Vindex to Nero for fear of being accused of treason. Only Galba was brave enough to raise his head above the parapet. Again for reasons of plot, I added the father of the historian Tacitus to the early stages of the conspiracy, though we know very little about the historian’s family background. As far as we know, Caecina most likely stayed in Spain for the spring and summer, diverting funds from his province to Galba’s campaign, and was rewarded with the command of a legion several years before the usual age for the post of legate. However, placing Caecina in the Vindex rebellion allowed me to demonstrate Caecina’s talent for command and politics lon
g before his decision to back Vitellius, and to show what it must have been like for a Roman to lead a barbarian army against his own kind.
The rest, as they say, is history. Or as close as I can make it. The dazzling Salonina, the scheming Valens, the indulgent Vitellius: all are historical characters who together engineered a civil war that would claim thousands of lives and establish a new ruling dynasty. I am indebted to the likes of Gywn Morgan for his book 69 AD: The Year of Four Emperors, to Kenneth Wellesley for his work on the same subject and to two St John’s graduates, Philip Matyszak for his sharp and informative Legionary: The Roman Soldier’s Manual and Adrian Goldsworthy for Roman Warfare. More importantly, I should be grateful that the works of the historians Tacitus, Suetonius and Plutarch have survived to this day: and more importantly still, that my parents made me read Asterix & Obelix when I was a boy, which gave me the Roman bug!
Henry Venmore-Rowland, 2011
Acknowledgements
To Simon and Peter, fishers of books and men.
To my parents, for their patience and advice.
To Edward, for reminding me how a story should begin.
To Flurry, for braving the snows and driving me to Peter’s door.
Next in The Aulus Severus Adventures:
The Sword and the Throne
AD 69: Aulus Caecina Severus has thrown in his lot with the hedonistic Vitellius, preparing his legions for a gruelling march over the Alps.
Find out more
First published in the United Kingdom in 2012 by Bantam Press, an imprint of Transworld Publishers
This edition published in the United Kingdom in 2018 by
The Last Caesar Page 29